The Sheikh’s American Love - A Box Set

by Holly Rayner

  As she looked around, Aurora saw people darting back and forth. Obviously they were getting the ship ready for departure; she saw crates moving across the dock, watched personnel load them onto the yacht while a supervisor checked over other items, consulting a clipboard. Her heart beat slightly faster as she took in the fact that most of the crew she saw getting onto the boat were dressed in black pants or skirts and white button-down shirts—the same kind of outfit she had put on that very morning, for her uniform at the café. This could be your chance, she thought.

  Aurora glanced around, making sure that there were no security agents bearing down on her, coming to tell her to move away from the private slip. It’s now or never. Can you do it? Aurora took a quick breath and unzipped her hoodie, taking off her shoulder bag and slipping out of the light jacket. She stuffed the sweater into her bag, slung the bag back over her shoulder, and with a final glance around to make sure she wasn’t being watched, quickly jumped over the closest velvet rope.

  TWO

  Aurora hurried into the flurry of staff coming and going on the dock, looking straight ahead and trying to appear as if she belonged. Her work uniform was at least a close enough match that anyone just watching casually wouldn’t notice her at all.

  Making sure to keep her head down, she found the boarding ramp. She tried not to look around too much as she stepped onto it, her skin crawling as she anticipated that at any moment, someone would tap her on the shoulder, asking who she was and what she thought she was doing getting onto a private vessel.

  No one stopped her, though, and Aurora made her way onto the boat in as few steps as she possibly could, holding her breath until she was on board. She sighed with relief and followed one of the other crew members across the deck, finally taking a moment to look around her. The yacht had looked enormous even from a distance, but up close, Aurora’s eyes picked up seemingly impossible details: a huge, sparkling pool on the deck, gleaming wood tables and lounge chairs with pristine white cushions, a decorative monogram, “KA”, on the wood flooring of the top deck.

  Aurora ducked into the body of the ship and drank in still more luxurious details: a lounge with a crystal chandelier, all of the floors either polished hardwood or thick carpet, everything shined and gleaming.

  Members of the crew walked past her, on one errand or another, and Aurora tried to look as if she knew where she was going, as if she had something important to do. As she passed by a supply closet—open, but abandoned—she slipped her bag off of her shoulder and stuffed it at the back of the uppermost shelf, under some linens, where she hoped it wouldn’t be noticed by anyone.

  Moving away from the closet, Aurora’s eyes widened at the sight of gold decorating the handles and fixtures. Everything was beautiful, ornate, dripping with wealth. Aurora was torn between wonder and disgust at her opulent surroundings, trying to wrap her mind around the incredible vessel. Who has the kind of money to afford this?

  She felt a tap on her shoulder and Aurora bit back a yelp, turning quickly on her heel. She found herself face to face with a crew member—a woman with dishwater blond hair tied back in a sleek bun, minimal makeup, and the same white shirt and black skirt that Aurora was wearing.

  “Steph—what are you doing wandering around?” Aurora’s heart pounded in her chest as the woman shook her head at her. “You’re late.”

  “S-sorry,” Aurora said, feeling her cheeks burn. She stepped back slightly, hoping that the woman’s mistake on her identity would hold up at least for a few minutes more; enough time for her to get away, maybe slip deeper into the yacht. Find somewhere you won’t be noticed. There’s got to be unused rooms somewhere.

  “Yeah, well, the Sheikh is waiting for his breakfast, and you know how he gets when his meals aren’t on time,” the woman said, starting to turn away. She frowned, and Aurora’s heart stuttered again in her chest. “What are you wearing that for?” The woman pointed to the flower that Aurora had tucked into the pocket of her blouse, secured with a safety pin. “You know personal jewelry is against the dress code.”

  “I—uh—someone gave it to me earlier, and…”

  “Get rid of it when you get the chance; you don’t want demerits for breaking policy,” the woman said blandly. “Go grab the Sheikh’s breakfast from the kitchen and take it to his room; he’s waiting.” The woman pointed down the hall to an open entryway and then turned away again, hurrying towards the sundeck. Aurora stared after her for a moment, amazed that she had somehow managed to get through the situation.

  She took a quick, deep breath and started down the hall, following the instructions the woman had given her. Aurora shook her head, thinking that what she was doing was insanity. The Sheikh? Aurora considered the other woman's comment as she stepped through the entryway into the kitchen.

  The staff in the galley were all busy, putting supplies away and prepping food for the next meal. She spotted a big tray set aside, laden with plates and cutlery: obviously a breakfast. There was a small, stainless steel carafe that Aurora reasoned must be coffee, a hot, covered bowl which she assumed must be porridge, an almost-overflowing bowl of fruit, a jar of honey, a ramekin filled with chopped walnuts and almonds, gleaming silver and two folded white napkins. Aurora’s stomach lurched and she wished longingly that she could grab something of her own to eat; she’d been so upset by Jorge’s news that she hadn’t even had a breakfast of her own.

  What do I do now? Aurora picked up the tray—it would at least give her something to do, a purpose that would distract anyone from noticing that she wasn't supposed to be there. But as she left the kitchen, she realized she had no idea where the Sheikh’s chambers were.

  Shit, shit, shit. Aurora moved briskly along the corridor, looking straight ahead just as she had on the quay. She couldn’t ask anyone where she was supposed to be going, that would blow her cover straight away. God. This was a mistake. A huge, enormous mistake.

  Aurora debated the possibilities as she kept moving forward. She could drop the tray somewhere, sneak off of the ship, and maybe find a less heavily crewed yacht to stow away on. Or she could sneak onto one of the cruise ships she'd passed by—surely one of them would have similarly nondescript uniforms? Aurora bit her bottom lip and began to slow down, looking for a place that she could drop her burden off without it being noticed immediately.

  Just as she began to formulate a plan, however, Aurora felt the floor lurch underneath her feet and her stomach fell to her knees. The sound of the ship’s horn blared out, and she realized it was setting sail.

  “Well, shit,” she murmured. There would be no way to escape now. Even if jumping off the deck was a realistic way to get off the yacht, it would be far too conspicuous—both to the people on the ship and to anyone watching from the docks. She could only hope to brazen through the task she’d been given and then maybe—if she was lucky—find an unused compartment to hide out in until the vessel reached its destination.

  Aurora began walking again, trying to avoid the other members of the crew as she searched for the Sheikh’s quarters. One corridor led into another, and gradually, through the process of elimination, Aurora found the room she was looking for. She breathed a sigh of relief as the huge double doors of an enormous suite loomed in front of her at the end of a hallway; it was the second-largest entryway of any of the rooms on the yacht, and the only bigger one had led into what looked like some kind of ballroom.

  Aurora took another quick, deep breath and opened one of the doors, slipping through it with the tray balanced on one hand. She would go in, drop the tray off, and then get out. With any luck, the Sheikh—whoever he was—would be somewhere else on board. Otherwise, she hoped that the man she was there to serve would mistake her for “Steph” just as the woman who’d given her the assignment had.

  Well, there's only one way to find out, Aurora thought, closing the door behind her and stepping into the room to face her fate.

  THREE

  The stateroom was enormous, and for a moment Aurora w
as too shocked to go through with her plan to simply find the closest table, unburden herself and leave.

  The suite boasted a huge living area, with plush, jewel-toned couches, low tables, and a thick rug over the hardwood floors. Like everything else on the yacht, the furnishings and details gleamed with polish, almost dazzling her eyes.

  Off to one end of the room, Aurora saw a king-size bed dressed with thick pillows and a heavy comforter, a closet, and French doors leading out to a balcony. From the other end of the room, Aurora heard the sound of running water, and a brief look told her that the noise was coming from an ensuite shower which was clearly in use.

  Get the job done and get out of here! Aurora gave herself a shake and tried to decide where she should put her tray down; was there a particular spot that the Sheikh wanted his breakfast delivered to? Did it matter? She eyed the various tables in the room, thinking of where she would want to eat if it was her room, her breakfast.

  She thought the best place to eat would probably be the balcony; it had the best view, and with the ocean rolling past she was sure it would be spectacular. But the doors to the balcony were closed, and when she tried one of the knobs, she found it locked.

  Aurora decided on the low coffee table in front of the plushest of the couches and set the tray down quickly; but just as the heavy wood clunked down on the table, she heard the water cut off in the next room. “Shit,” she whispered, looking around in a panic.

  Before her frazzled nerves could slow down enough to give her the opportunity to think, Aurora caught movement in the corner of her vision. A man emerged from the bathroom and as she turned to look at him, her knees went weak.

  The man was tall, lean and muscular—she could see precisely how muscular as he had emerged wearing nothing but a towel. His skin was a warm, bronze-olive tone, his chest hairless down to the washboard abs that cut off at the hem of the white towel. He had slightly angular features with a Cupid’s bow mouth and the ghost of stubble on his cheeks, his hazel eyes framed by dark lashes and darker, finely-arched brows. His deep brown hair was slicked back from his forehead, damp curls lying flat against his skull.

  “Thank you; I was just wondering if my breakfast might have arrived,” the man said, smiling to reveal straight, bright white teeth. His voice lilted slightly with an accent, the tone low and almost caressing. The smile flickered for a moment, almost becoming a frown before rebounding. “You look new; what’s your name?”

  “Aurora,” she said, smiling nervously. “And yes, I’m new. Is there—is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Her heart hammered in her chest, rabbit-fast.

  “Ah—yes, if you could please take this to be ironed,” the man said. He took a few steps across the room towards an open suitcase and pulled out a three-piece suit. “I probably shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to pack, but this is why I have an onboard laundry, isn’t it?”

  Aurora nodded her agreement and stepped forward, accepting the suit from his hands. Shit. The longer you keep this up, the more likely you are to be caught. Idiot!

  She smiled politely in spite of her inner panic. “I’ll get this right down to the laundry for you,” she said brightly.

  The man smiled again and turned away, and Aurora gave herself the momentary liberty to watch him as he strode back into the bathroom; his back and shoulders, lean legs, and the shape of his buttocks against the tightly-wrapped towel were every bit as intriguing to look at as his front had been.

  When the Sheikh entered the bathroom once more, Aurora turned away and found the door to the quarters. She hefted the suit on her arm and fumbled briefly with the doorknob before getting the door open and plunging through it, back into the corridor.

  She closed the door quietly behind her and snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. Until she’d gawked at the Sheikh heading back into the bathroom, she’d never understood the phrase “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.” Stop being a lech, Aurora, she told herself firmly. You have a job to do.

  She took a deep breath and started down the corridor, trying as best she could to look as if she knew where she was going. In a certain light, the idea of getting away from her old life by pretending to be a member of some wealthy Sheikh’s yacht crew was exciting; it was a story to rival anything she’d done in Vietnam, certainly. But that was only if she managed to pull it off. What’s the law about stowaways? If we’re in international waters—does he have to obey any laws at all?

  Since she’d wandered the ship so widely in her attempt to find the Sheikh’s room, Aurora had much less ground to cover to locate the laundry room. She made her way down one hallway and up another until she began to smell the telltale scent of detergent, and followed her nose. She found the discreet room, door open to vent some of the heat and scent out to the corridor, and quickly stepped into the space, sliding the suit off of her arm and onto a pile of clothes beneath a sign reading “To Be Ironed.”

  The suit jacket slipped down the pile and Aurora moved to catch it, but just as she got it back up onto the table, she heard something clink, and then clatter heavily onto the floor. “What was that?” Aurora murmured. Frowning, she crouched down next to the table and looked around. A dull metallic gleam in the shadow of the table revealed itself to be a large watch, and Aurora sighed, picking it up off of the floor.

  Looking at it, Aurora's eyes widened; the Sheikh had left something truly precious in his pocket. The watch was elegant, with a leather band and gleaming rose-gold face. The hands moved silkily, and Aurora saw the word Cartier emblazoned in small, perfect letters just below the 12. God, this has to be worth thousands—tens of thousands, she thought, shaking her head at the kind of excess that would move someone to not only buy a multi-thousand dollar watch, but also to forget it in a suit pocket.

  Aurora sighed and put it into her skirt pocket, telling herself that she would find somewhere to leave it later. Her errand finished, she made her way out of the belly of the yacht, moving through the corridors until she came to the entrance that led onto the deck.

  She blinked as the bright, late-morning sunlight hit her eyes, and then stepped out into it, basking in the warmth and light. The yacht was moving so smoothly through the water that she hadn’t even really felt it while she was navigating the interior, but as Aurora walked to a railing, she could see that the boat wasn’t just moving smoothly—it was moving fast, cutting through the water at a rapid clip.

  She looked out over the beautiful blue and green and strained her eyes, barely discerning the shapes of the dock along the coast as the ship headed away from it. “Well, I managed at least to get away from the city,” she said quietly, sighing to herself.

  She knew she couldn’t dawdle for very long on the deck; if she wanted to convincingly portray a crew member, she would need to make herself scarce or pretend to be doing something as much as she possibly could. Surely they get breaks, at least from time to time. Ten minutes shouldn’t be too long.

  Aurora’s phone vibrated in her other pocket and she glanced around, wondering if maybe there was some kind of staff policy on phones. Even if there is one, surely people break it all the time, she reasoned. She slipped her phone out carefully, turning her back to the deck.

  Unlocking the screen, Aurora saw that she must have missed it vibrating earlier; there was a missed call listed, along with a voicemail. The buzzing she had just felt was a text message from her father. Please call your mom or me when you get the chance, honey. We haven’t heard from you in a while. Aurora grimaced at the lurch of guilt the message sent through her body.

  Checking the missed call, she didn’t recognize the number. She took a quick breath and brought the phone as unobtrusively to her ear as she could while dialing her voicemail, bending slightly over the railing and pretending to look out over the water. “Aurora,” the familiar voice filled her ear. “You know who this is. It’s a nice try, getting a burner cell, but you’re not the only one who can do that. And I’m not any closer to forgetting the
money you owe me. I may not know where you are yet, but I’m pretty sure I can convince Jorge to tell me.” The message ended abruptly, and Aurora shivered.

  She gave herself a shake and deleted the message before slipping the phone into her pocket. “I’ll think about it later,” she murmured to herself. It wasn't like there was anything she could do about Jon in her current position.

  Almost of its own volition, Aurora's hand slipped into her other pocket, where she could feel the weight of the watch she’d retrieved from the Sheikh’s suit. Just how much is a watch like this worth? She pressed her lips together, feeling anticipatory guilt as the thought started to worm its way into her mind: if the Sheikh hadn’t even remembered that he’d put the watch in his pocket before sending it to be ironed, would he miss it at all? He probably had a dozen designer watches, more than he could keep possibly track of. If she could make it off the ship without being caught, she might be able to sell it to someone, and if she could do that, maybe she would stand a chance of paying off her debt. It’s got to be worth more than I owe, too, Aurora thought hopefully.