by Holly Rayner
“You’re the first virgin I’ve come across, which seems pretty serendipitous. You seem like a bright, kind woman, so I’d like to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. One where I get my virgin bride, and you get the financial support you need—for both yourself and your family.”
Still, the poor woman was gaping at me like I’d just told her that fairies were real, so I wrote the amount I was willing to offer her on a napkin and slid it over to her. At this very inopportune moment, the waiter returned.
“And how are you two enjoying your meal?”
The answer was obvious in our tense faces and untouched meals, but I gave him an easy smile.
“Fine, thanks. In fact, we were thinking of maybe you packing this up to take home and getting us the bill.”
“Oh, is that so?”
I glanced at Lacie. “What do you think?”
Her still-stunned face managed a shaky nod.
Once the waiter finally sped off, I turned my attention to Lacie. I took her hands, which were clammy.
“I’m sorry for throwing all this at you at once—I realize how out-of-the-blue and overwhelming it must seem. But, please, just consider my offer tonight. Think it over, eat some spaghetti, and let me know. I fly home tomorrow at noon; I can give you my cell number now.”
By the time I’d entered my number into Lacie’s phone, the waiter was back with the bill and had boxed up our food. After I’d paid, we stopped at the door of the restaurant. I tried to catch Lacie’s eye, to no avail.
“Can I get you a cab home?”
She still wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“I can get the bus, thanks.”
“Okay, Lacie, I…” I took a step forward so that we were face to face. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not just asking you because you’re the first virgin I came across. You seem like a genuinely good woman, and although we don’t know each other well, we would have a little time to become acquainted before the wedding.”
She gave me a shy, shaky nod, and I kissed her on the cheek before turning away.
“Good night, Lacie. Whatever you decide, I will understand.”
And then, I walked away to hail another taxi in the bustling Manhattan night, admitting to myself that although I would understand if she turned me down, I wouldn’t like it in the least.
Chapter Eight
Lacie
The bus ride was bad—bumpy and slow, but getting home was worse. With Rashid’s words echoing in my head, my shabby apartment building looked even more run-down than I remembered.
Every step sagged under my weight as I made my way up to the apartment, while the front door wasn’t even shut properly. Even hurrying down the hallway couldn’t stop me from spotting how each corner was filled with the dust and trash that had somehow managed to accumulate in the week since I’d last cleaned.
It smelled dank, it was dark, and the entire place had an air of depression about it. One of my roommates had their TV blaring, and I was glad that at least the other, creepy one wasn’t splayed out in the common room, his gaze trailing after me longer than it should have.
Once I got to my room, I was so exhausted that I collapsed onto the bed, ignoring the pile of laundry atop my sheets. All I had strength for was rolling under the threadbare blanket and closing my eyes.
Yet, drained as I was, my mind wasn’t ready for sleep, instead insisting on filling with images of today’s occurrences: the video, Rashid’s words about our possible arrangement, that devilishly handsome, almost excited-looking face.
Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, I sat up straight in bed and asked myself the question I was really pondering: Would this—agreeing to Rashid’s offer—make me happy?
The answer was as vague and hazy as my room was in the darkness. There was no way of knowing, not now. All I knew now was that I wasn’t happy with my life as it was; that was for sure.
I only realized I had fallen asleep when I awoke to knocking on my door, so violent that every blow sent the whole wooden frame shaking. Stumbling out of bed and yanking open the door found me face to face with Dave, my landlord.
At the sight of me wearing last night’s work clothes, his gaunt face sneered with a patronizing disgust. “Rent. You’re a week late.”
A cold blanket of despair fell over me.
“Oh, God. Sorry, Dave. I…my parents—I had to pay for some new medication for my mom and I…” At the sight of his unmoved, grey eyes, I trailed off. “Sorry. I’ll get it to you ASAP.”
At this, his eyes narrowed so much that they almost looked closed. “I don’t want it ASAP; I want it last week.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I mumbled.
For a minute, I was worried he wouldn’t leave, with the hostile way he was eyeing me. But, finally, with one last sneer, he turned and stormed off.
As I stood there, feeling numb, the enormity of the situation hammered down upon me. The dismal reality was that I didn’t have the money for rent—and wouldn’t, not for another two weeks, at least.
My hand reached into my pocket of its own accord.
Out came Rashid's napkin, on which was written the amount he’d promised me, as incredible as before: $1,000,000.
I stared at it. That amount would cover rent for years, along with all the costs to care for my parents, and even the tuition fees for finishing my neurology degree. With that kind of money, I’d never have to worry again.
A weary glance at the clock revealed that it was 6 a.m. Dave had actually come in here and woken me up at dawn, he was so determined to get his money. I crawled back into bed and closed my eyes for what felt like only five minutes.
I opened them to my alarm beeping obnoxiously. It took me a few hits to get it to stop. Rushing around my room to get ready proved valuable; the traffic was bad that morning, and I managed to clock in with one minute to spare. I resisted the urge to do a little dance for this small victory, and instead got to work setting up the store, unlocking the door at eight sharp.
The morning dragged on. Every customer that came in seemed either extra-surly or indecisive, but maybe it was just me being on edge. Finally, when I was locking the shop door to go on my lunch, he appeared, wearing another perfectly-fitting, expensive-looking suit and an indefatigable smile.
“I know, I know, I said I’d give you time to make your choice.” He held out an arm. “But I wanted to take you out again so I can show you what I have to offer. We’re going to brunch.”
At his words, I raised a brow. “Are we?”
Smile not budging, he nodded.
“Yep, we’re going to have a nice chat. You’re going to ask me all the questions you’ve thought about, and I’ll answer all the ones you haven’t even come up with yet. If you still refuse, I’ll just kidnap you in my personal jet.”
I kept my lips sealed shut to stop the smile that was edging onto my own face, but he could see that I was caving to his plan.
“Is that a yes?” He tilted his head at me, sending a perfect dark brown wave of hair over his forehead.
With a sigh, I took his proffered arm. “Well, it’s not a no.”
And so, we were off.
“Thanks for this, by the way,” I said shyly.
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see the spot I’ve picked out.”
By the time we got to the restaurant Rashid had picked out, I was too speechless to say anything, let alone thank him.
It was a literal Arabian paradise. The waiting area was a small arboretum with colorful birds, luscious plants galore, and bubbling fountains. Meanwhile, the restaurant itself was nothing short of spell-binding. Patrons were seated on lavish crimson pillows, while food was placed on low walnut tables before them.
When our waitress, a woman dressed in an iridescent white and pink robe, had departed with our drinks order, Rashid turned to me.
“Too casual, right?”
He waited a second, before that upturned corner of his mouth gave him away. Together, we
shared a chuckle. I enjoyed that I could laugh with Rashid, even if the circumstances were odd. He had such an easy humor about him that put me at ease; few men could pull off what he did.
I accepted the glass of mango iced tea he offered me, poured from the jug we’d decided to share. As I drank, I eyed him over the rim of my glass.
“You’re quite the jokester, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been told so. It was my way of having fun when I was a child, and now, as an adult, I find it’s good to laugh as often as possible. The world is bleak and boring, otherwise.”
I met his eyes. “Are you an only child, too?”
His gaze flicked away. “I, uh…yes.”
He gave me a small smile. “So, I assume you’ve given the arrangement some thought? Any questions, decisions, worries?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “No, everything seems pretty straightforward. A no-brainer, really. I just go to a country I’ve never heard of, get married to a prince I met a day ago, never see my family again…what’s there to worry about?”
Once again, we chuckled together, then I met his gaze once more.
“Yeah, I’ve got some questions. How long have you got?”
Rashid glanced at his diamond-encrusted watch and waved his hand dismissively. “For you, all day. My jet can wait for me until I need it.”
“Well, I have to get back to work after lunch, so I’ve got about an hour.”
He gave another wave of his hand and a half-shrug. “I’ll take care of that.”
I eyed him steadily. “I’m serious. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I may still need this job.”
His smile was irreverent. “And I’m serious, too. I can make some calls. To your boss, to someone who could replace you for the day—whatever you need. Your wish is my command.”
To my dubious look, he winked. “Money solves a lot of problems.”
“Tell me about it,” I murmured incredulously.
“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised to find that a girl as beautiful and bright as you is…not taken.”
I gave him a grateful half-smile for not saying the word. Each time I heard the word “virgin”, even when it had nothing to do with me, it made my skin crawl.
“Yeah, you and pretty much every other person I’ve met who’s found out.”
He nodded, though his gaze on me was steady. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Is there anything I should…know about? Any, I don’t know, issues that wouldn’t make you the ideal person to join my life to?”
Suddenly, under his searching gaze and blunt words, I grew annoyed.
“Listen, buddy. You were the one who proposed to me after knowing me for all of thirty minutes. If you want to ask prying questions about who I am, you’ll have to wait to find out as you get to know me, like any normal person. Just because you’re offering me a good deal of money doesn’t mean you’ll get me to spill my guts about my life story.”
A furrow of irritation appeared between his dark eyes. “So, is that a ‘yes’?”
I leaned in so that our faces were inches apart.
“I’ve never had a long-term boyfriend and I’ve spent my entire life worrying about my parents or working so I can pay for their care. So, if your question is if I have issues, the answer would probably be yes. And no, I’m not going to sit here and lay out my life and every little thing that may or may not be relevant to you wanting me as a partner. I don’t know you well enough for that, and you’re the one wanting to marry someone you barely know in the first place.”
Now, his face was apologetic. He took my hand. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. It was inappropriate of me to ask.”
I pulled my hand away, just as the waitress returned.
“Some bread to start for our most valued guests,” she said in her singsong voice.
She set down a basket filled with half a dozen different kinds of breads, all of which looked and smelled delicious. I stood up from the table.
“Lacie?”
I enjoyed Rashid’s worried look, and gave him an easy smile.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
And then I strode off.
Inside the little marble-paneled room, I took my time washing my hands, really rubbing in the lavender-scented soap. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to return. Even the thought of this whole arrangement was turning out to be much more intense than I had bargained for.
On top of that, there was just the reality of spending time with Rashid. There was no denying how I now felt, even though I’d hardly spent more than an hour total with the man. I was attracted to him, yes, and he was good company—easy to talk to, charismatic, and funny. But did that make him marriage-worthy? Surely my future husband wasn’t supposed to make me feel such a mess of emotions—one second, I was enraptured by his charm, while the next, I couldn’t believe the nerve he had to be so forward.
I ran my hands under the dryer four times. Each time, I told myself: Now, you will make up your mind. You will walk out the door and either go home or return back to the table. But each time I reached the bathroom door, I was as undecided as when I’d had my hands under the dryer.
Finally, I walked to the door and out. And back to the table.
Rashid looked relieved to see me. “I thought you’d left.”
I sat down and smiled shyly. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. But here I am.”
Rashid reached for my hand, thought better of it, and merely nodded.
“I’m glad you came back.” He gestured to a piece of bread on my side plate and said, “Dig in.”
Seeing it, I could only laugh in response. Carved there on the crispy surface, with clumsy, shaky lines, was my name.
“I had to do something to occupy all my waiting time.”
I glanced at the already half-empty bread basket.
“Looks like you had time to do quite a lot.”
Rashid took a hearty bite of the flatbread in front of him and grinned.
“I like bread.”
By the time the waitress arrived with our meal—one colossal dish of kibbeh and another of couscous—we’d finished the bread and fallen into easy chatter.
“So, what about you?” I asked mid-chew.
Rashid took a minute to swallow and sigh before responding.
“What about me?”
“Are there any problems I should know about regarding my possible future husband?”
Rashid’s face grew grave. “Oh God, I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that.” He gave a regretful shake of his head. “Well, I’m an addict. And I have no plans to quit anytime soon.”
I raised a brow and waited for him to explain.
“As you could probably already tell, carbs is one. And caffeine. Though I make up for the carb addiction with my gym addiction.” I took a moment to briefly appreciate his sculpted body, which was, in truth, god-like. “The coffee thing could pose a problem if you won’t enjoy learning how to use a new top-of-the-line coffee machine every month.”
Laughing in spite of myself, I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“You won’t even answer your own question.”
Now, his face wasn’t mock-grave anymore. “It’s like you said; we don’t know each other well enough yet.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Why ask a question you aren’t willing to answer yourself?”
He lifted his chin. “Good point. You are the clever one, aren’t you?”
I shot him a smirk. “Nice move changing the subject.”
Dessert was an elaborate pastry with spiced fruit inside. As we ate, Rashid explained his reasoning for choosing the beautiful restaurant.
“I just wanted to give you an idea what life would be like, living in an Arabian palace.”
“Oh, really?”
He shook his head. “Nah. It’s half off food today.”
I was s
o concentrated on taking in my surroundings, with its sweeping curtains separating the different sections and vases of lush plants towering over the pillows, that I almost didn’t notice the mischievous glint in his eyes.
Unthinkingly, I jokingly smacked his hand, then froze.
“Oh, Rashid, I’m sorry, I…”
Shaking his head and smiling softly, he put his hand on mine.
“Don’t apologize. If you’re going to be my wife, then you’re going to have to consider me your equal, not some pompous prince you have to toady to.”
“It’s so easy to forget you’re a prince. You’re so down-to-earth. I am really so sorry.” I felt myself blushing deeply.
He kissed the back of my hand—just a brush of his lips, but it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.
“Lacie, please. We’ve been talking together easily enough so far. If I wanted someone to bow and stumble all over themselves when talking to me, I’d have married one of my servants.”
I eyed him with curiosity.
“You have servants?”
Rashid nodded nonchalantly. “We call them attendants, and we certainly pay and treat them much better than servants, but yes.”
I sighed. “Is there anything you don’t have in this wonderful, paradisiacal country of yours?”
Without hesitation, Rashid said, “Yes.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.”
Our eyes met.
“Good answer.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes wouldn’t leave mine, and I found my face drawing closer and closer to his. His gaze flicked to my lips, and I was just thinking, He wouldn’t dare, would he? when the waitress returned.
Once again, Rashid paid for the meal, despite my protests.
“We can write it off as an expense of being my wife, if you like.”
“Rashid…”
But already he had taken my hand and was pulling me out of the restaurant, back out through the bird and plant-filled entrance.
Outside, we stopped.
“How do you like gondolas?”