Stealing From The Sheikh

by Holly Rayner

  As soon as the call connected, before Alex could say anything, Riley spoke. “Hey Alex. Listen, I’ve been thinking about our arrangement a lot the last day or so and I don’t think it’s going to work out.” She took another breath. “Even if I was okay with biting the hand that feeds me, I’m not even getting any information that would be of any value to you. It’s a waste of that half million you say you’ve got set aside for me, and the role. If you’re not getting anything out of this then there’s no reason to keep going. I think we should just part ways on this and let—let fate figure it out.” She paused; Alex didn’t say anything and for a moment, Riley wondered if somehow the call had gotten disconnected in the midst of her monologue.

  When the silence got to her she continued. “I’ve been feeling really guilty about it from the beginning, and I guess—I mean, I know you’ve got a role you’re willing to promise me, but it just seems wrong to go about getting ahead that way, and even if it takes me another five years of tiny jobs, I’d rather go ahead and do it my way—the honest way.” Riley felt lightheaded, her knees rubbery as the last of the words tumbled out of her; she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Once more the silence dragged on, filling Riley’s ears. She looked at the screen, certain that she’d somehow gotten disconnected, but the timer on the call showed that Alex was still on the line. Her heart started beating faster in her chest, and Riley sat down heavily at her table, dreading what Alex would have to say in response to her confession.

  “I’m sorry you feel like you’re not useful to me,” Alex said, his voice utterly level, and Riley’s stomach twisted inside of her. She knew Alex well enough after dating him for longer than she should have to feel uneasy at the fact that he was reacting so coolly. “But I don’t want you to make any rash decisions, Ri-Ri. I think you can be useful to us.”

  “I just don’t think so,” Riley said. “I mean—I haven’t been able to give you any worthwhile information yet, and you’ve been checking in every day. You probably know more about the production than I do, and you’re not even on the set.”

  “Before you make up your mind, I’d like to meet with you. I have something I’d like to show you.”

  Riley looked down at the tabletop, frowning as her sense of dread increased.

  “When do you want to meet?”

  “Tonight,” Alex said quickly. “I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible. I’ll text you a location.”

  Riley pressed her lips together and debated agreeing to the meeting for a moment. She wanted nothing less than to meet with Alex, but Riley was certain that if she refused, he would find a way to make it happen—even if that meant sacrificing Riley’s current job in the process. It would be just like him to roll up on set and make sure everyone knows who he is before finding me, Riley thought.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll meet with you tonight.”

  “I look forward to it,” Alex told her. “It won’t be anywhere fancy; don’t worry about dressing up.”

  Riley said goodbye and ended the call, finally releasing the breath she’d been holding in a sigh. Suddenly she wasn’t sure if she could even keep breakfast down if she somehow managed to force herself to eat it.

  THIRTEEN

  As Riley parked in the lot outside of the tiny, run-down diner at the address that Alex had sent her, she thought bitterly that it was exactly the kind of place that she would expect someone like him to go. Greasy, probably failed at least three health inspections in the last ten years, and I’ll bet that the bathroom is out of paper towels more often than it has them.

  Riley took a deep breath, telling herself that she would just go straight in, find out what it was Alex wanted to show her, make it clear that she was formally backing out of their deal, and make her exit.

  She had dressed carefully for the meeting, picking an outfit that looked—to her eyes at least—more professional than sexy; clean and straightforward. She’d twisted her hair into a tight bun, and put on some makeup, thinking of it as a kind of war paint.

  Riley stepped through the doors and looked around, surprised at how crowded the diner was; the impression she’d gotten from the exterior was borne out by the smell of hot grease and frying meat that greeted her at the door. She spotted Alex sitting at a table in a corner, away from the flow of traffic, and straightened her back and shoulders. She told herself once more that she wouldn’t let herself be swayed no matter what Alex had to say, and started towards the booth he was sitting in.

  Before she even sat down, Riley spoke. “Look—nothing you have to say is going to convince me to change my mind,” she said, keeping her voice as firm as she possibly could. “I’ve made my decision, and I’m not going to go back on it.”

  Alex raised one eyebrow slightly and glanced around the room. Riley took a moment to look him over; he looked out of place in the diner with his tailored suit and expensive jewelry, but Riley knew that beneath the flashy exterior, he was no better than any other lowlife.

  “Have a seat,” Alex said smoothly. “I’m not going to keep you very long.”

  Riley hesitated for just a moment, but told herself that since she’d agreed to the meeting, she owed it to Alex to at least hear what he had to say.

  “Fine,” she said, sitting down on the bench across the table from Alex. The cushions were worn, little white threads poking up out of the false leather in a few places.

  Alex glanced around the busy diner once more before taking something out of his pocket. Riley recognized it as a digital recorder, and her heart began to beat faster.

  “I think you’ll find this very interesting,” he said, smiling in a way that left Riley torn between disgust and anxiety.

  Alex pressed play. For a moment there was a murmur of confused sound, and then Riley heard her own voice. Her cheeks burned as the playback continued and she recognized exactly what it was: Alex had recorded the conversation where she had formally agreed to become his mole on the Galaxy Wars set. Her voice was crystal-clear, but Alex’s was disguised somehow, unrecognizable. It was obvious what she was agreeing to—she had let Alex goad her into being exact as to what she would do, and what she would get paid in return.

  When the recording ended, Alex slipped the device back into his pocket.

  “Technology is so convenient,” he said with a sleek, confident smile before his face fell into serious lines. “I think you probably catch the drift of this already, but just to be clear: if you try and back out on me, I’m going to leak this to all the right people. If you thought it would ruin your career for people to find out that you became a star by selling out a production company, imagine how bad it is when you’re a nobody.”

  Riley stared at Alex in horrified silence, trying to wrap her mind around his threat. Somehow, the possibility of him blackmailing her had never occurred to her. Are you really surprised? She clenched her teeth, her hands tightening in her lap. You know exactly what kind of snake Alex is. It should have been obvious that he’d do something like this. You should have insisted on meeting him in person, making sure he wasn’t recording it.

  She took a quick, deep breath, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. “Honestly, I don’t even know why you’d bother,” she said, shrugging. “I mean, even if I don’t back out it’s not like I have anything valuable to give you. No one ever tells me anything.”

  For a moment, Alex stared at her; the next instant he laughed out loud, throwing his head back. “Your acting skills are really underrated,” he said, smiling as he finished with a few guffaws. “Do you really think I don’t know who your new boyfriend is?” Riley felt cold all over and then felt as though she’d been pitched into a pot of boiling water as the blood rushed into her face. “I fully expect you to take advantage of your new position with the executive producer; I couldn’t have asked for a better chance to get privileged info.”

  Riley’s humiliation transformed into rage, and she had to hold herself back from launching herself across the tabl
e to wipe the smirk off of her ex-boyfriend’s face.

  “You think you can tell me how to conduct my love life? We’re through, Alex. You have no right to control who I do and don’t date.” She paused, thinking quickly of another aspect of what he’d said. “How do you even know about it, anyway?”

  “Oh, my dear,” Alex said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve been having you followed ever since your first day on the set. I had to protect my investment—make sure you were telling me the truth, that you weren’t sneaking off somewhere in your down time.”

  Riley’s mind flashed on the memory of the man in front of her building, and her heart pounded in her chest. The fact that she could have someone following her for a week and not even realize it sent her spinning into a churning maelstrom of anger and horror.

  She stood quickly, determined to walk out of the diner and never speak to Alex again—no matter what threat he might try and levy against her. As she turned to climb out of the booth, Alex’s hand closed around her wrist, tight enough to hurt, and Riley stopped unwillingly.

  “Don’t think of trying anything cute, Ri-ri,” Alex said, his voice pitched low so that only she would hear it. “I have ears everywhere in this city, and if you try to cool things off, I’ll know about it.”

  Riley’s hands shook slightly for a moment; but then anger overcame fear and she jerked her wrist free of Alex’s grip, not even flinching at the pain that jolted through her. She turned away quickly and strode out of the diner as fast as she could, trying to suppress the shudders working through her and the fact that her knees felt like rubber.

  Riley barely knew how she got home; one moment she was fumbling with her keys, and seemingly the next she was pulling into her parking spot, her heart still pounding, her blood roaring in her ears. Her cheeks felt stiff and Riley realized that she’d been crying—though whether from the stress or the horror of knowing that Alex was spying at her, or the sense of betrayal that she felt, she wasn’t sure.

  She made it into her apartment and locked the door firmly behind her, trying to work out what her options were. “What am I going to do? Right—because I totally have a choice in that at this point,” she muttered to herself, careening onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling. The leverage that Alex had on her—the recording of her agreeing to spy on the production and feed information to a rival company—meant that she would have to keep dating Mansour, and keep feeding information that she got either from the executive producer or from her days on the set.

  Riley caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it for a moment, feeling the tears beginning to sting her eyes once more. She could call Mansour; she could call off their next date, make some kind of excuse. “I have ears everywhere in this city,” Alex had said. Riley’s stomach pitched inside of her; he could very well have somehow tapped her phone.

  With mounting alarm, Riley realized that Alex could have had one of his minions break into her apartment and plant some kind of bug. In an instant she threw herself off of the couch, tumbling onto the floor, and stood quickly, darting into her room.

  She walked along every inch of the four walls, ducking down to look around her vanity, behind her dresser; anywhere she could think of that someone could conceal a listening device. She checked the bathroom, shuddering at the thought of a hidden camera recording her showering—it would be just like Alex to add a voyeuristic thrill to his surveillance. She checked her bedroom again, diving into her closet, and ran around the living room, pulling the couch free of the wall, almost crawling under her coffee table in the search for something that could be transmitting her conversations—both on the phone and with herself—to Alex’s waiting ears.

  After minutes of examination that felt like hours, Riley’s panicked fury began to subside; she couldn’t see anything that she didn’t recognize—although that didn’t necessarily mean that there was nothing there. If he hired professionals, they’d put it somewhere I’d never see it. I can’t possibly check out every last inch of this apartment to find something when I don’t even know what it would look like.

  She collapsed on the couch, exhausted, and grabbed at the plush throw she kept for cooler days. She didn’t even have enough energy to take off her clothes and makeup and crawl into bed; she felt a lump forming in her throat, but she was so tired and upset that after a moment Riley realized that she couldn’t even summon the energy to cry.

  She sighed, burying her face against the couch cushions. She had no choice; if she wanted to get through the weeks and months ahead without losing her mind entirely, she would have to shut down her emotions, treat her relationship with Mansour—if it developed past a second date—as nothing more than a job, and pump him for whatever information she could, just to get out of the bind she’d let Alex put her in. “Don’t let yourself fall for him,” Riley murmured into the couch cushion, for the moment uncaring of whether Alex had her apartment bugged or not.

  She almost laughed as it occurred to her that her predicament had given her the biggest single acting challenge of her entire life. Alex did say my acting talent was underrated, she thought bleakly. She would just have to find out how much of that compliment was the truth—and how much was his particular brand of insulting flattery.

  FOURTEEN

  The week went past more quickly than Riley would have believed possible; particularly during the long days on set, while she waited for her scenes to come up, it seemed impossible that Friday, and her next date with Mansour, would ever arrive.

  Alex didn’t call as frequently as he had during the first week, but when he did, his comments were pointed: he wanted her to go on as many dates with Mansour as possible, and take every opportunity to get him alone and pump him for information.

  Riley was torn between relief and dread that she didn’t have any opportunities to get Mansour alone during the week; she barely even saw him at all, except for a few fleeting moments across the set, hard at work while she sat around with the other nonessential talent. Part of her wished that she could get Mansour alone—not to pump him for information, but to see if their second kiss together would be as good as their first. Another part of her mind was glad that she didn’t have any opportunity to get the information that Alex wanted. A third part of her mind worried that Alex might think she was deliberately avoiding Mansour—that he would put his blackmail plan into motion on a whim, and she’d be called into the production company’s offices in disgrace.

  As she got ready for her second date with Mansour, Riley thought to herself that it was just as well that she had never had aspirations of becoming a spy; she knew now for sure that she wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of pressure on a continuous basis. Her hands shook as she applied her makeup—so badly that she had to wipe off smeared eyeliner and lipstick more than once and try again. She debated again and again whether to call the date off; but Riley knew it was pointless to pretend like she even could.

  When Mansour arrived, Riley had somehow managed to finish getting