The Sheikh's Tempted Protectress

by Holly Rayner

  more as a fan led her to know exactly where he was talking about: The Delphi—a small, classy bar situated in a nook across the street. The architecture was beautiful and intricate; the wood beams and interior craftsmanship showing the building’s historic character and elegance… And besides that, they made a mean sangria.

  TWO

  Amie had never changed so fast in her whole life. She frowned in the mirror, at the gross sweatpants and ridiculous sweatshirt she’d come to work in. Of all days, why couldn’t she have worn something a little more dignified?

  She told Michael she’d likely be late to the after party and raced across the street at lightning speed. Luckily, The Delphi was small enough that she easily spotted her mystery talent scout and made her way over to him.

  “Amie Shaw,” she said as she sat down, reaching across the table to shake the scout’s hand.

  He looked her outfit over and, though he never changed his expression, Amie could feel a definitive judgment about her less than stellar wardrobe.

  “I came to work straight from the gym,” she lied sheepishly.

  He squeezed her hand and released her from their overdue introduction, smiling charismatically as he said, “Please, call me Malik. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us some champagne, I hope that’s all right.”

  “Perfect,” she smiled and adjusted herself at the high-top table; minding the incredible chandeliers that hung over each tabletop.

  “I figured you’d be in the mood to celebrate.”

  She laughed and twirled her hair in mock-seduction. “What tipped you off, my amazing performance tonight, or do I just have the face of a drunk?”

  “A little of both,” he said with a wink. “You’re confident. I like that. You seem perfect for a role I have in mind.”

  “That’s amazing,” she smiled and gracefully picked up her champagne flute. She’d been to this establishment enough times to know how ridiculously expensive the bottle was, and inwardly chided herself for taking a giant gulp instead of sipping at the beverage like a lady. “Oops,” she said in a silly tone, referencing her chugging the champagne. Yeah, good job Amie, try and act a little more like someone who was raised in a barn!

  “So, what’s the job?” she asked smoothly in an attempt to transition the conversation.

  “Well, it’s… it’s a little unconventional. Kind of like a live-action drama piece.”

  “Oh, neat. Like a reality show, or something?”

  “Something like that.” He frowned playfully and then leaned in from over the table; a broad smile crossing his lips. He looked to be in his early thirties; short dark hair and a sharp jaw. His eyes were what intrigued her most; deep hazel, framed by dark lashes which accentuated the color.

  “Picture this…” he said breathily, as though he were about to sell her something. “You’ll be whisked away from this cold Chicago weather to someplace warm; historical. You’ll be playing a bride-to-be to a sheikh of a foreign land. A prince, really.”

  “A prince… So romantic,” Amie said absent-mindedly as she pulled a notepad from her purse and began furiously scribbling notes. “How long will the project run for?”

  “Six weeks,” he said plainly, staring down into his champagne, yet making no move to drink from it. “It will require the utmost class, charm, and tact.”

  She tapped her nose. “Act like a lady. Got it.”

  “Any questions so far?”

  She nodded. “Yes. When do I start, and how long will rehearsals go on for?”

  “That’s the thing,” he pursed his lips and pressed his fingertips into a steeple. “How do I put this…? It’s an immediate start, as in tomorrow. And there aren’t any rehearsals. Think of it as an improvisational work.”

  Amie paused for a second. She was a good actress and everything, but she wasn’t that good… or was she? She did get a standing ovation and a job offer immediately after her first performance, after all.

  She sipped her drink and furrowed her brow. “The ultimate improv… I love it!”

  Malik exhaled with relief and offered up another charming grin. “Fantastic. I’m pleased to hear it. I was feeling a bit doubtful that I’d ever find the right actress for the job but, well, when I saw you I just knew you’d be perfect.”

  “I’m floored,” Amie said, with no small amount of shock.

  “Your role will be, as I mentioned, playing an American fiancée in a foreign land. It will involve some preparation, and a bit of travel,” he said hesitantly, gauging her response carefully.

  “Right…” Amie blinked; watching the well-dressed patrons of the bar come in through the door and make their way to the ornately-carved bar. She couldn’t believe all of this was happening. She was finally getting her big chance, and she would get to travel to do it? Suddenly it hit her. If she was traveling, who was going to pay her rent?

  She bit her lip and quickly regained her composure. “I have a small concern,” she said politely. “If I’m going to be traveling, I’ll still need to be… you know, paying my rent and bills and the like.”

  “Money shouldn’t be an issue,” he said flatly, suddenly all business.

  “If only we were all so lucky,” she teased.

  “You will be paid $500,000 for the project, but only after the job is complete.”

  Amie gaped at the man; eyes wide as an unfamiliar noise escaped her throat. “Half a million dollars?” she repeated, dumbfounded.

  “Only once the job is complete,” he affirmed calmly, as though he hadn’t just made the most insane offer she’d ever heard.

  She cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs in what she hoped was a play-it-cool vibe. She tapped her fingers against the stem of her glass and quipped, “Yeah, um, so excuse me while I pick my jaw up of the floor. That’s absolutely amazing!”

  “Fantastic,” Malik said, unfazed as he quickly removed a sheet of paper from the briefcase that he held.

  “You were that sure I’d say yes, huh?”

  His eyes met hers in a confident, playful manner as he slid the sheet across the table. “This is a contract for the job. Just initial, date, and sign and print your name at the bottom of it. Please take as much time as you need to look it over.”

  “Yeah,” Amie said emphatically as she skimmed the page, eyeing the eye-watering sum printed in bold, and quickly signed her name. “I have to say, I’m pretty jazzed about this. Not exactly going to turn down the most amazing opportunity of my life, am I?” She slid the contract back across the table using her pointer finger and smiled back at him. “So, when do we get started, boss?”

  He looked down at the contract with a bemused, if not puzzled stare before scooping the sheet of paper back into his briefcase. “Tomorrow morning, 8am,” he said crisply, standing from his chair. He leaned over and grabbed her bar napkin, scribbling down a time and the address of where they would meet.

  Before she could make a smart comment about their early meeting, or blurt out the million thank-you’s she could feel welling up inside her chest, Malik had reached his hand out to hers and given it a firm, professional handshake. He nodded curtly as he released her hand; the charm he had oozed just moments earlier suddenly seeming so far away.

  “You’re an incredibly talented young woman, Amie,” he said smoothly. “You’re going to be absolutely perfect for this project.”

  “Thank you so much,” she finally managed to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”

  THREE

  Amie paced around her bedroom, fiddling with the small collection of knick-knacks and faux crystal jewelry holders she’d come to collect atop her dresser. She kicked her feet as she walked, stopping briefly to do a few yoga stretches before pausing in front of her full-length mirror.

  The oval-shaped mahogany mirror had simple detailing and spun vertically to reveal another mirror on the other side. The vintage statement piece was in stark contrast to the rest of her generic, big-box furniture. It had been a splurge purc
hase with a hefty price tag at an antique market just one month after she moved to Chicago. Her father’s house was filled with antiques and vintage items, and she supposed, in some way, buying the piece was some attempt to feel closer to home.

  She stared into the mirror and noted the bags under her eyes; she’d hardly slept. After her meeting with Malik she’d managed to catch the last hour of the wrap party for the play. It had been an endless night of compliments and laughter, not to mention congratulations for securing her high-paying new gig.

  And drinks. Lots of drinks.

  She was lucky enough not to be too hungover, but nervous anticipation for her early morning meeting had kept her up most of the night, wreaking havoc on her appearance. She sighed at her reflection and dabbed on another dollop of cover-up before turning, unsatisfied, from the mirror and throwing her thick hair into a high ponytail.

  Amie was well-versed on what to wear to casting calls, but she wasn’t exactly sure what this meeting would entail, so of course she tore her closet apart. Clothes lay scattered about on the bed as though an atomic-blouse-bomb had gone off in the center of the room. She finally settled on fitted jeans and a black blazer. Casual, yet professional.

  She could hear her cab honking from outside her window and quickly made her way down the stairs, grabbing her purse and the napkin on which Malik had written the location of their meeting. She sat behind the cab driver and read the address out from the napkin.

  Then came the wait. Early morning Chicago traffic agreed with them, yet it still felt like the drive was taking forever. She looked over her resume and list of theater references before tucking them away in her purse. Even though Malik had already said she had the job, she figured it couldn’t hurt to bring along some references, just in case.

  She tested her breath against her hand and then let out an unwilling sigh; after more than a half hour of driving, she couldn’t help but notice how far out of the city they’d already driven.

  “Do you think we’re coming to a stop anytime soon?” she asked curiously as they slowly came upon an area of town she’d never seen before.

  “Yeah,” the driver said plainly, pulling to an almost comical stop. “This is it.”

  “This…” she began sarcastically, “is an airfield.”

  “What can I say, this is where your address took me,” the cabbie said in a thick Mexican accent. He gave a subtle frown and looked back down at his GPS before offering Amie a grin. “Yep. Seems to me like that may just be your ride.”

  The driver pointed out the window and Amie’s eyes went wide with disbelief as a she caught sight of a small white jet in the distance. Standing beside it were a small group of three or four people, along with Malik.

  She blinked hard before fumbling through her purse to pay the cabbie; fighting the urge to tell him what an absolute rip off his price was. This was why she normally guided cabbies personally; otherwise, they’d take the longest routes, preferably lanes with traffic or street work. Oh, they loved going through street work. Too bad she couldn’t navigate her own way to a… private airfield?

  She opened the door and was quickly met by Malik, who greeted her with another formal handshake before starting to guide her over to the jet.

  “Welcome,” Malik smiled. “These are some of my associates,” he said quietly, leaning into her ear as he gestured to the small group of people boarding the jet. “I’ll introduce you all once we get in the air.”

  “We’re… flying?”

  “That’s generally what jets do.”

  “I guess if it didn’t you’d be in for a massive refund,” she said, laughing nervously as her eyes looked over the glossy white aircraft.

  Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, almost digging her heels into the tarmac. “Wait, so, what are we doing here? Going on a Chicago-style air tour of the city?”