The Sheikh's Bargained Wife - Completed.

Chapter Thirteen

Can you get away?

Depends on where to. 

Ghazi gave her all the freedom she wanted to do as she pleased, if not attending some function or charity event. The rest of the time was hers, even if she enjoyed being in his company, like when they played the piano together.

A once-off, never a redo.

How about Harrods? Let's say an hour.

Okay. 

She saw no problem with that, and it would be good to see him and find out what was going on. And why he did what he did, headed towards the wardrobe and changed from her jeans and grey cashmere top she enjoyed wearing around the apartment.

Needing something a bit more upmarket than the usual sloppy pants and top that she wore around her one-bedroom apartment. Changed into a skirt and kept the grey top, because it's smart, kicked off the slippers and placed on court shoes, since she had an hour. She could take her time and walk there, so needed more sensible shoes than the high heels she wore out as his wife.

As he had said, it's all about appearances.

Grabbing her handbag, now armed with a credit card, she might even buy a charm to join Happy, use his money then transfer via the app from her account into his new one that was designed for clothes and other necessary things to play her part, not trinkets.

She touched the bracelet that she hadn't removed unless having a shower since her brother had bought it for her, even if using her money. If it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't buy it.

With a spring in her step, she left the bedroom and headed towards the office. "Good morning, James," she greeted as they passed each other.

"Good morning, Dale," bringing a smile to her lips.

Finally got past all the lady thingy to her first name. Never in company, but it was good when it's just them. Often she sat at the table in the kitchen keeping Margaret company while she cooked, and even helped sometimes once Margaret got over the shock of her asking.

Sharing their history, Margaret's Scottish background, and those little words sneaked in now and then, while James' upper English accent was always there, and had a great sense of humour.

Dale knocked on the Ghazi's office door, then popped her head around the ajar door. "Just hitting the shops. Do you need anything?" Not that he did. "A treat of some sort."

Usually, he said he was fine, and waved her on her way. This time, he swung in the seat and stood. "Where are you planning to go?"

"Um, down the road, probably end up at Harrods. Haven't been there before."

"You plan to walk all the way there?" His eyes swept over her outfit, shaking his head.

"Maybe?" then shrugged. "I guess I can always flag down a taxi."

"I don't think so. How would it look for my wife to be seen flagging down a taxi, let alone walking the streets? You can't do that anymore. Now you have entered my world. Anyway, I wouldn't mind a breather. We can eat at one of the restaurants." Not quite what she had planned, yet couldn't reject his suggestion that she would enjoy. 

Excitement fluttered in her belly.

She only saw him at breakfast and dinner if free, or when they went out as husband and wife and she couldn't fault on his attention towards her, always the gentleman. Saw to all her needs.

Also, made her smile, even laugh.

Then back home, he shuts himself away in his office.

"That would be nice. How long do you need?"