The Sheikh's Second Chance Surrogate

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Jaylen

The deeds were done.

The surrogacy procedures carried out.

She was now pregnant with his child.

The chain of events honestly felt a bit anticlimactic, her now lazing about in a hotel room she had been staying in ever since she had caught him doing the deed.

Outside of her doctor’s appointments, she felt awfully lonely, really. Based on the document they signed agreeing to the surrogacy, she was to stay in Bahir until the health of both her and her child were absolutely confirmed after she gave birth.

Something that felt so distant. She didn’t even look pregnant yet. She didn’t even feel pregnant yet.

The only reason she knew was because the doctors told her as such. She supposed she’d be feeling it soon enough. Every woman takes the process a little bit differently.

She reached for the remote, ready to flick through the channels.

A knock on the door distracted her and made her put it down as quickly as she picked it up.

She made her way over to it, opened it up.

Then she tried to close it again.

Dhamar.

“That’s no way to treat the father of your child,” he said, as he tried to push his way into the hotel room.

“I don’t want to see you, Dhamar,” she replied, continuing the door based tug of war game they were playing. “I’m having the baby, what else do you want from me?”

“For you to come back to the palace and be cared for like the sheikha that you are.”

“I’m not your sheikha anymore, Dhamar.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I think I renounced that title when I made my desire to get a divorce quite loud and clear.”

“Until... no, if that happens, you give up the title then. For now, though? You are the sheikha of Bahir.”

She relented and let him inside the hotel room. She wasn’t crazy about drawing attention to the struggle next to the door, and realized that with Dhamar’s strength, he was merely humoring her more than anything else.

“All of that is besides the point, my dear Jaylen. I want what’s best for my child, and what’s best for the mother of my child. You will be cared for completely by the staff there, never having to lift a single finger.”

“I’m fine here, thank you very much.”

“Ah, but I insist.”

“I counter-insist.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You agreed to it, my love.”

“I didn’t agree to anything.”

“Ah, but you did. You signed the contract, and it gave me the power to make such decisions.”

“The contract?” Her eyes narrowed his way.

Legalese and all that stuff, it was the domain of lawyers. It all seemed on the level according to the guy she hired, and now she was suddenly doubting him since Dhamar was paying for him too. She wasn’t told the details, and she couldn’t make sense of it herself, honestly, but the lawyer said everything seemed on the level.

That there was even an option to cancel the divorce part of the agreement if she wanted after this was all over.

Dhamar insisted that be a clause, she learned. Smug bastard was so sure he was going to win her over and make her forgive him.

He made his playful moves, just like he always did. Looming over her, getting closer to her. “I want you back at the palace, my girl. I want you waited on hand and foot. I want the absolute best. You cannot tell me you actually want to rot alone in this hotel room. It’s not even a very good hotel room.” He gestured around him, to the mid-range room around him, not like the fancy hotels that he would typically stay in when resorting to faraway accommodations.

“I’m not a sheikha anymore, so I’m getting used to being a normal person again. That means not staying in five-star hotels all the time.”

‘You still are. For at least nine more months. As such, you will continue to live as you are.”

She grit her teeth. “I’m not going to be sapped in by your money and comforts, Dhamar.”

He moved closer, smiling. “I’m not asking you to be.”

She had an easy way of escaping this time, but strangely, she wanted to stand her ground, even if it meant letting him get closer. Intoxicating her with his presence. “This is professional only from now on. I’m not your wife. I’m not your lover. I’m not your...”

All of her protests were suddenly silenced when he struck.

A kiss. A simple yet powerful gesture.

Their lips locked, she leaned into it, her unconscious self leaning into it, yearning for him and his touch.