The Sheikh’s Forbidden Tryst

by Rayner, Holly

  Leona was wrong; she had to be. I still cared about things—my family, the business, Bruno. Just because I didn’t care about her didn’t mean that I couldn’t. No, she was completely wrong. Yet, as I sped down the freeway in my car, the queasiness in my stomach suggested something else.

  Halfway home, I pulled over into a fast food parking lot and called up Gina. She was surprised to hear from me.

  “A date, right now?” she replied to my spur-of-the-moment question.

  “Yes. I thought of you, and I couldn’t wait.”

  A pause, then, “Okay!”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up in 15.”

  Gina was less than five minutes away, but I needed to sort my head out first. Leona had really put me in a bad mood, the dramatic prima donna. Sure, we might have been on different pages on what we’d wanted, but that was no reason to throw a ridiculous temper tantrum and accuse me of being some kind of sociopath. So what if certain things like girls and nights and drinks had started blurring together? That didn’t mean she was right.

  Once I picked Gina up, I started feeling a bit better. She was a nice distraction, laughing at my jokes and delighting in the rooftop bar I took us to. Before I knew it we were back at my place. I almost couldn’t wait, had to have her there and then, release this stupid tension that was all coiled up in me. Bruno eyed her warily as I tossed her onto my bed. He was used to this by now.

  Afterwards, as I lay in bed with the Spanish beauty sleeping beside me, I stared into the dark.

  I couldn’t sleep. All I could hear were Leona’s words resounding in my head, over and over again: “I would tell you to go to hell, but by the looks of it, you’re already there.”

  No matter how I tossed and turned, I couldn’t shoo the phrase from my thoughts. Leona was wrong, clearly. And yet, when I turned to look at Gina beside me, as I swept the chestnut wave of hair off the face of the girl who’d gushed about how much she’d missed me a mere hour ago, I felt nothing.

  No, even as I did a mental scan of the women I’d been with these past few months, face after face slipped by inconsequentially. They were all part of a pointless reel, a swapping of one girl I didn’t care about for another. Sure, they were fun, pretty, enjoyable to be with. Yet, the longer I thought about it, the more it hit me—I didn’t really care for any of them.

  No, all I could think about and wish was that I was with the girl I hadn’t had yet—my personal assistant. Lucy Morrison.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy

  I had the day off, since Khabib wasn’t going in to the office for some reason. It was a normal, boring day without the excitement of work or Khabib’s company. I played cards with Mom, and she gently chided me about what I was and wasn’t doing.

  “Enough of this card-playing with me, why don’t you go out, do something fun? Maybe you’ll meet a cute boy! Ask your friend Sandra to go on the hunt with you.”

  I could only roll my eyes at her, so she wouldn’t catch how much her words affected me.

  “Sandra has a boyfriend. And I don’t have the time, energy, or prospects for one.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to switch it up a little.”

  Just like you did, Mom? I almost said, but didn’t.

  It was true, though—Dad had been her “switching it up”, her flirting with badness. She’d told me the stories: them racing down the highway on his motorcycle, dancing on street corners, making love on the train track. Yes, Dad had been her “living on the wild side”, her fun, and we all knew how that had ended up. He was gone, and we were alone. Saying that, bringing him up, would be cruel and unnecessary. Mom had enough sadness now as it was.

  Still, as I went through the rest of my day, Mom’s words kept coming back to me. As I went to my usual grocery store, picked up the usual bread, ham, eggs, and blueberries. As I walked Oscar on our same route, as he peed on his favorite tree. Back home, once the TV was on and I sat with a bowl of stir-fry, which I made for dinner every Wednesday, I dared to glance at my calendar, which didn’t have a single personal plan written on it—just work events. I sighed and curled up further under the blanket on my couch. Maybe Mom was right.

  She was right, actually. But it didn’t matter.

  * * *

  The next day, I was back at work, and Khabib had us on a busy schedule. We went to the store I’d ordered his ties from on my first day. The shopkeeper was nice, almost too nice. As Khabib tried on his suits, the slim young man chatted me up.

  “So, you’ve been working for the Sheikh long?”

  I shook my head.

  “Only a month or so.”

  “Oh yeah? How do you like it?”

  It was at this point that I noticed his gaze flitting to my chest. I turned away slightly.

  “I’m really enjoying it actually; the Sheikh is a good man to work with, and my job is interesting, always changing.”

  “Mhmm. He seems pretty lucky to have you all to himself.”

  Thankfully, just then, Khabib emerged, clad in a deep purple suit that only he could pull off. He looked incredible, and my breath caught in my throat.

  “This suit is extraordinary, no doubt about that. The only question is: can it be tailored further?”

  The young man’s dark eyes slid to Khabib, and he shook his head.

  “No way to know for certain unless you talk to Pa. He’s down in the shop.”

  As Khabib walked off, presumably towards the shop, I followed him. At the door, however, he paused.

  “You wait here, Lucy.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded and, leaning in, lowered his voice.

  “The owner’s pretty old. I don’t want to disturb his routine—or worse, give him a heart attack—with the sight of my stunning personal assistant.”

  I giggled with my hand over my mouth, hoping Khabib couldn’t see the furious blush that was sure to be spreading rapidly across my face. Then, Khabib was gone, leaving me alone with the young man.

  Walking to the door, he changed the “Open” sign to “Closed”, then revolved on one heel so that he was facing me.

  “How about a private tour of our changing rooms, babe?”

  Before I process what he was saying, he was grabbing my hand, pulling me towards the dressing room Khabib had just been in. I pulled myself away.

  “What are you doing?”

  His smile was unsettling, all spaced-out yellow teeth and glazed-over eyes.

  “We have a good hour. Pa talks people’s heads off. I saw the way you were looking at me.”

  I shook my head and tried to push my way past him, back out into the store.

  “I think you’re mistaken.”

  Now he was the one shaking his head.

  “C’mon, you know you want this—”

  “Excuse me.”

  Standing at the door was Khabib, looking at him like a bull about to charge.

  “Oh, sir, I’m sorry. I was just—”

  “I saw what happened.”

  Striding forward, he ripped off the suit coat and the shirt underneath, revealing his tan, muscled chest. He dropped both garments on the floor, then grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. As the young man muttered apologies, excuses, and blame on me, Khabib strode back to the door.

  “Let’s go, Lucy.”

  When I had joined him, he returned his fierce glare to the shopkeeper.

  “You have lost my business, permanently. Goodbye.”

  And then we were walking out of there, down the street. It was only once we were in the car that Khabib spoke.

  “Lucy, I am so, so sorry. I would have never taken you there with me had I known he was such a creep. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine! It’s fine. I—”

  He took my hand and squeezed it. His touch was soothing, though my heart still hammered in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was from the close call with the creep, or from the closeness between the Sheikh and I in that moment.

  “I swear, I will
never let any harm come to you. I’m glad you’re all right.”

  And, as he stared into my eyes, I forced mine to look away, to not search to determine if I’d seen what I really thought I’d seen in those deep, warm brown eyes of his. Affection.

  Chapter Six

  Khabib

  After the tailor incident, the rest of the week and weekend passed by uneventfully; I made my plans for the next week, loaded up the days. Monday was Angelica, Tuesday was Kristy, Wednesday was Diana, and Thursday was…Lucy, by accident.

  I saw her when I went to the gym, huffing and puffing away adorably on an elliptical machine. She took a while to notice me, but when she did, she looked shocked, then shyly pleased. She got off the machine to greet me.

  “Khabib. Hi.”

  “Nice to see that you’re using the job perks.”

  She nodded, her pink face going pinker.

  “It’s actually only the second time I’ve used it, to be honest.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I…” Her gaze flit away from mine. “I’ve been distracted, had a bit of extra time to kill. Thought I’d try to be productive.”

  As I took in her nervous expression, a smile formed on my face. Could it be that she, too, had been distracted by exactly what I had been, lately? Was it that she, too, was making the most of the clear glass wall separating us?

  “Are you finished? I was thinking of going for ice cream.”

  As soon as the ridiculous proposition was out of my mouth, I felt my own cheeks redden. Both of us now blushing idiots, she snuck a glance at me.

  “Really?”

  No, I thought, but “yes” was what I said. Really, after the weights I hadn’t even done yet, I was supposed to meet up with Gina and let her know gently that things weren’t going to work out. But, suddenly, all I wanted to do was have ice cream with my ravishing personal assistant.

  As if suddenly remembering she was only wearing track pants and a sports bra, Lucy crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Mind if I get changed first?”

  I waved my hand.

  “Not at all. I’ll wait at the front.”

  And there I waited, staring absently at the gym attendant, who was fiddling around on the computer. What on earth I had gotten myself into, and why was I so damn excited about it? Thankfully, after a few minutes, Lucy emerged, looking less red, and even more beautiful, clad in a soft-looking green dress.

  I grinned at her as she walked up.

  “You look great.”

  Her face went red again.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, got any favorites?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, though Scoops is where I normally go. For their vanilla cone. My Mom and I always go for those.”

  I chuckled and nodded my head in approval.

  “A classic kind of girl, yeah? I like that.”

  Another blushing, awkward “Thanks”, then, “What about you?”

  I shrugged.

  “I like to change it up every time—vanilla soft-serve in a bowl, cookie dough or mint sundae, banana split, chocolate cone, whatever. I love it when they introduce new flavors, because by this point, I’ve tried just about everything.”

  “You’re adventurous.”

  “Yeah, I get bored easily.”

  I said it casually, yet, once the words were out of my mouth, they sounded strangely sad, prophetic.

  Luckily, we were at the nearby Scoops already. It was nice going to a gym right downtown, close to everything. That way, you could reward your workout with a nice, big, fat ice cream sundae afterwards.

  Inside Scoops, Lucy, true to form, ordered her vanilla cone, while I settled on a bubblegum sundae. Despite her protests, I paid for both, then steered us to a little table in the corner. Seated face-to-face there, she tried mine and I tried hers, although we both laughingly admitted we preferred our own. Once all that was left of her cone were some stray crumbs on her napkin, I gestured with my spoon in her direction.

  “So, you only come here with your mom?”

  “My old boyfriend from high school, too. We’d share a banana split, although I secretly always wanted a vanilla cone.”

  I laughed.

  “Ah, young love.”

  She smiled and shrugged.

  “You know how it is.”

  And the way she looked at me, as if I knew the slightest thing about love, made me feel like a giant fraud.

  “You say old boyfriend—you seeing anyone now?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, I…I’m not dating anyone. Have to concentrate on my career for now.”

  “Ah, trading relationships for work, I get you. Be careful with that; it’s a slippery slope.”

  Lucy looked at her hands sadly.

  “I know what often happens, the risks…I just don’t have much choice.”

  And she looked so miserable there, I almost wished I could go back in time and take back what I’d said, or at least have the courage to hug her. Instead, I just patted her hand.

  “Ah, forget what I said. You’ll be fine.”

  Glancing up at me, she visibly brightened.

  “You think?”

  I almost wanted to chuckle, it was so touching. Just how oblivious to her magnetism she was.

  “I know it. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders.”

  Her smile was so wide that dimples appeared in her cheeks.

  “Thanks. You probably get this all the time, but you seem to, too.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. And a good brain, and heart, and eyes and…”

  Suddenly remembering herself, she fell silent.

  “Sorry. I got carried away. You’re my boss and—”

  I patted her hand again.

  “Lucy, really, it’s fine. We’re just having an ice cream, a nice chat. It’s nothing.”

  But the mood was ruined, now.

  Rising, her face still red, Lucy could barely look at me.

  “I really have to get going. I need to walk my dog; he’ll be waiting for me.”

  I rose as well.

  “Okay. Thanks for a fun time; it was nice running into you. See you tomorrow.”

  She smiled, this time the dimpled grin spreading even to her eyes, turning them into upside-down half-moons.

  “Thanks again. See you.”

  As she walked out the door, I sat back down to watch her go. Poor woman, she had no idea, probably figured that was the end of it. Because really, I was just getting started.

  On my car ride home, I called Donna.

  “Bethany Griffiths can still make it as my date to the car launch, right?”

  “Yes, sir. She called a few hours ago to confirm.”

  “Okay, great. Tomorrow morning, call her to cancel.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have other arrangements. She’ll understand.”

  I hung up to emphasize how sure I was. Yes, I had a much better idea for who I’d have on my arm tomorrow night. Something more fun, more…risky.

  Chapter Seven

  Lucy

  By Friday, I’d mostly kept my word to myself. Despite my little ice cream setback with Khabib, I’d been good at work. I’d kept my conversations with the Sheikh as brief and professional as possible. I’d kept my distance, and done my job. It wasn’t that hard; it had been a busy week after all. We’d been planning almost non-stop for Samara Motors’ biggest car launch of the year, so calls and meetings had pretty much consumed my entire week.

  Now, however, my hand on my glass door, I was face-to-face with Khabib, who looked as surprised as I was. With a laugh, he stepped back and gestured for me to come out.

  “My apologies, Lucy. I just came to ask you something.”

  “Oh, sure. What’s up?”

  “About our big launch tonight—”

  “Yes, I know you said I’ve done enough already, and if you really don’t want me to be there, I won’t come. I just think with all the happe
nings and events…” I trailed off, seeing his amused face.

  “Sorry for cutting you off.”

  He shook his head.

  “Not at all. It’s just funny. I was actually here to ask you something to that effect.”

  “Oh. To come?”

  “Yes, but not in the way we discussed. As…my date.”

  I gaped at him. My study of his face—gaze flicking to the right corner of his lips, which lifted when he joked with me—revealed nothing. The longer I scrutinized Khabib’s face, the more I saw that he was not joking.

  “My date—a beautiful yet unreliable Hollywood starlet who will remain unnamed—dropped out at the last minute. And, while I was sitting at my desk over there—” he swept his arm over in the direction of his marble artwork of a desk, “I glanced over here and thought to myself: why don’t I invite a woman who is both more reliable and beautiful?”

  For a moment, I stared blankly at him. Then, as my face transformed with comprehension, Khabib’s smile broadened.

  “So?”

  When I opened my mouth, I had to stop myself from bursting out with hysterical laughter.

  “Khabib, sir, are you sure?”

  He grinned again.

  “Nope.”

  “Uhh…”

  “Well, Lucy, how can I be sure, when you’re rejecting me already?”

  I caught his merry eye and we laughed together.

  “Fair enough. All right then, I’ll go. I just… Thank you, Khabib.”

  He waved his hand.

  “And don’t worry about a dress. I chose one out a few minutes ago online. It should go beautifully with that beautiful golden mane of yours. You’ll have it on your doorstep by the time you get home tonight.”

  We stood there for a few more seconds, grinning stupidly at each other.

  “You’re making me feel like Cinderella or something.” I giggled nervously. “Well, I’m gonna go on my lunch.”

  Khabib nodded.

  “Yes. You should. I’ll be leaving early again today, though. Got lots to do.”