The Sheikh's Purchased Bride

by Holly Rayner

She left the house terrified that Malik would realize she’d gone and come rushing after her. Usually, when she stormed away from a man she expected him to follow after her, and if he didn’t, he’d be in a world of trouble. This time, though, she didn’t know what to say to him, or how to explain herself. So she rushed to Malik’s personal driver instead.

  Amie took the private car and instructed the driver to take her to the airport. She’d worried at first that he might make a phone call to Malik first, but he instantly complied and made no protest.

  She arrived at the airport in what felt like no time. Funny how all these weeks leaving Malik’s home felt like it took half a day just to get into the city, but the moment she knew she wouldn’t be coming back, the time just flew by.

  The airport was just as she remembered; large, modern and bustling with people. She walked up to the attendant at the information counter and, after a few nervous breaths, requested a ticket on the earliest flight to Chicago O’Hare.

  “That leaves in 90 minutes, if that isn’t too soon for you,” the woman said cheerfully, waiting for Amie’s instruction to proceed with the transaction.

  “That’s fine, thanks,” Amie said flatly.

  This was it. She was going home, never to see Malik or his family again. Maybe he’d show the note she’d left to his family. ‘See? She couldn’t go through with it.’ The thought made her sick. She didn’t want his mother to think she would do that.

  But, she supposed, that’s exactly what she was doing.

  She just couldn’t keep doing this; making the wrong decisions in her life. Pretending to be a couple was a lot different than pretending they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Maybe not entirely different, but it sent her moral compass flying all the same.

  The attendant was staring at her expectantly and Amie blinked as she realized the woman must have said something to her. “I’m sorry, what?” she said clumsily.

  “The price of a one way, non-stop ticket is $1,470. How would you like to pay for that?”

  Ouch.

  “Credit card, definitely,” she sighed and fetched one from her purse, hoping the transaction would go through. Not only had she just lost out on the pay she would receive from this ridiculous job, but now she was out more than a grand trying to escape her bad decision. Great job Amie, great job.

  Lucky for her, the card went through and she was promptly handed an airline ticket. She made her way across the unfamiliar airport to her departure terminal and sat in the waiting area as high-priority ticket holders lined up for boarding. She watched them pass, one by one, with their oversized luggage and overpriced airport coffees, waiting to fly back home to whatever awaited them in the world.

  She stared down at her feet and realized that, much like when she’d first arrived in Rabayat, she still didn’t have any luggage with her. In fact, she hadn’t even grabbed a change of clothes, nor any of the goodies she’d picked up on her adventures. She was also painfully aware that, unlike many of her fellow passengers, there would be nothing waiting for her when she got home.

  Perhaps this was the universe’s way of telling her she needed to buy a cat.

  She sighed once more, finally standing as they called her ticket class number and a long line quickly formed. Passengers here were no different than in America, she thought; all rude, trying to push ahead so they could board first. Why? To sit and stare until the plane took off, apparently.

  Approaching the flight attendant, she handed over her ticket and showed the woman her passport. It was only when she reached the stairs that she heard a familiar voice shouting her name. She frowned and turned back, bumping into passengers making their way to board.

  “Amie!” came the desperate plea.

  It was Malik; his clothes haplessly tossed on and his hair still wet from the shower. “Amie, thank goodness,” he said, panting for breath. “Don’t do this, I’m begging you.”

  She stared at him, feeling strangely numb. The butterflies that once filled her stomach had turned to stone. “I’m not interested,” she said coldly.

  “Please,” he repeated, grabbing her hands and slowly pulling her away from the departure gate. “Please, Amie, I need you. Please just help me wrap this up and I’ll never ask a thing from you again.”

  And then there was that. He’d scouted her at the theater, made her feel special, and pretended that he had the role of a lifetime waiting for her. Then he’d done the same thing to her that he likely did to their faux wedding officiant. He’d probably gone to see the man’s play and then gushed to him about a private job that would be just perfect for his acting chops.

  Her heart sank. Was it one of the actors from the play the other night?

  Suddenly she felt even more disgusted than before. Maybe Zafina was right, maybe Malik really did hate the theater. Maybe he only went there when he needed a favor done.

  Amie hated where she was; that place where she was disposable to someone. Where she was just a girl to be lied to, and to be used as a lie. Was this just bad luck, or was this the complicated web she’d created for herself?

  She could feel Malik’s eyes on her but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  “I need you, Amie,” he said sweetly, grabbing her hands and tilting his head down to try and look at her face.

  It was as though the man before her had suddenly realized she would be emotionally immovable, no longer done in by his charms, when he tried another tactic.

  “I’ll pay you double.”

  Her heart sped up.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s one million dollars,” he said, as if daring her to say no. “One million because you are that talented an actress and I am that desperate a man. Please see this through with me, Amie.”

  She sneered as she thought it over. One million dollars was a lot of money, for what was admittedly a morally reprehensible job. Still… she could use it. Ridiculously so.

  She stared at him with fire in her eyes; fiery anger for him making such an offer, one he knew she couldn’t say no to.

  Amie sighed audibly and finally nodded. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll honor the wording of my contract, which clearly I need to re-read. I will be your prim and pretty little actress,” she mocked, “but the moment the job is over, I’m done. I’m leaving the night of the ceremony, and after I get my money, I never want to see you or hear from you again. Understand?”

  He looked sullen; the hurt wildly apparent as his features fell into sorrow. He stared at her for a moment, blinked, and then nodded silently.

  “If,” Amie finally added, “that’s what you want.”

  She stared at him, searching his face for any emotion other than sadness. Part of her still hoped he would change his mind and let her look at him the way she used to.

  This was not going to be her happy ending, however, as he quietly affirmed: “Yes. It’s what I want.”