Servant To The Sheikh

by Holly Rayner

  “Ha,” Audrey said. “Is my lack of love for you so apparent?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jibril said, taking her off guard.

  With a final flourish, Audrey zipped the suitcase the rest of the way before drawing herself up tall and turning toward him, giving him a confident grin. “See? I suppose I don’t need you as much as I thought I did.”

  “Well, I did,” Jibril said. “You were a marvelous personal assistant, and I’m sad to see you go.”

  “Did you hear if your secretary has hired anyone back home?” Audrey asked.

  “Some girl who just graduated from San Diego State,” Jibril said. “Apparently she majored in public relations and is looking to get her foot in the door.”

  “The only door she’s going to get her foot in is your ex-girlfriend’s when she has to go walk the bulldog,” Audrey teased.

  “I should just pay her off or something, tell her no more dog. I didn’t even want the dog to begin with, but she was hot, so I went along with it,” Jibril said, making fun of himself.

  “Oh, well, if she was hot, then you’re definitely not to blame,” Audrey said, sounding sassy. Tugging her suitcase from the top of the mattress, she let it skid to the ground, feeling her muscles flex. “But as much as I’d like to stand here and talk about all your ex-girlfriends, it’s time for me to dump you once and for all,” she said.

  “You’re dumping me as my fake girlfriend?” Jibril asked her.

  “That’s right. I think the time has come to say our good-byes,” Audrey said, her heart hammering. Could he tell this was only half a joke for her?

  “I have to say, this is a letdown for me,” Jibril said, sounding genuinely sad. “I saw a future with you. Children. Grandchildren.”

  “Probably more dogs,” she teased.

  “No. No more,” Jibril said, laughing.

  Audrey stepped forward, wrapping him in a light, friendly hug. “It really was a treat to see your country, Jibril. And I’ll see you back in San Francisco, yeah? I’m still your PR rep, and we have a lot of work to do back there.”

  Jibril nodded, swallowing harshly. “You’re taking a taxi to the private airport?”

  “That was the plan, yeah,” Audrey answered, her voice quiet. “Why?”

  Jibril allowed silence to fall, the tension between them rising. He looked hesitant, eyeing the corners of the room, unable to look her directly in the eyes. After a slight cough, he found words. “I don’t think you should go,” he finally said, his voice firm.

  Audrey felt the heaviness of his words. Remarkably, they lightened her, causing butterflies to come to life in her stomach, her spine to lengthen. Her breath left her as she absorbed his request, filled with questions.

  “What do you mean?” she finally asked.

  “I don’t think you should go. I won’t be here much longer, and my mother will be simply heartbroken if you can’t make it to my party. As my date.”

  “Jibril, she’s going to discover the truth about us sooner than you think,” she said. “What’s the point of keeping the ruse going?”

  “The point is that I want to,” Jibril said honestly, his dark eyes on her, so fierce in his gaze. “And the point is, I need a date for this ceremonial, 30-year-old dance I’m meant to do. I’ll look like a complete fool if I don’t have a date. My mother, she’ll tell me I’ll die alone, and I just don’t want to have that conversation right now. You understand, right?”

  “I never want to have it. I understand,” Audrey said, her voice soft. Her mind raced, knowing full well that his mother hadn’t said anything about a ceremonial dance the previous day at lunch. Was Jibril making it up?

  “So, you’ll stay? For the sake of the ceremonial dance?” Jibril asked her.

  Audrey paused, her heart hammering with desire for the ceremony ahead. Just having Jibril’s body before her, holding him, his biceps flexing, filled her with lust. She couldn’t have imagined saying no. That possibility seemed impossible.

  “I’ll stay on one condition,” she whispered, her eyelashes flashing. “I’ll stay if you teach me the dance. I don’t want to look like a bumbling idiot out there in front of your mother’s friends.”

  Jibril wrapped his arms around her shoulders, lifting her gruffly into a hug. “Yes! I knew you’d say yes,” he cried, obviously overjoyed. “You won’t be disappointed. I can promise you that,” he said, combing his hands through her hair.

  His lips were mere inches from hers, filling her with longing. If he just tipped forward, connected with her, they would be kissing. Audrey swallowed harshly, knowing she couldn’t hope. She couldn’t dream.

  “In return, I’d like to take you out for dinner tonight,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Nobody deserves it more than you. You’ve been riding out this horrible personal assistant job for far too long. And now you’re being forced to put up with my mother.”

  “She’s wonderful,” Audrey admitted, biting her lip. “But that doesn’t mean I would ever turn down a dinner.”

  “Great,” Jibril said, “because I’ve been dying to show someone this new restaurant in the old part of the city. Then—” He snapped his fingers, an idea shimmering in his eyes. “Then we can come back here and I can show you the ceremonial dance.”

  “Do you think I’m too uncoordinated to do it?” Audrey asked him, poking fun at herself. “I am an American after all. Our idea of dancing is a square dance.”

  Jibril laughed. “I think you’ll find that a ceremonial dance has a few more flourishes, but it is still, essentially, a square dance.” Pointing at the suitcase, he gave her an earnest look. “Now, unzip that thing and get ready for tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “Okay,” Audrey said, her soft voice barely hiding her joy. She whipped her hair behind her ears, giving him a bright look.

  The tension stretched between them once more, Jibril looking at her curiously, almost as if he thought he should kiss her just to figure out what it would feel like. They were already dancing on thin ice, with Audrey conscious of how fast she was falling for him. If this was the act he showed all his other girls, she would be horribly disappointed. But at least he’d allowed her to feel something, something meaningful, for the first time in years.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jibril knocked on her door at seven on the dot, sending countless jitters through her body. Audrey was positioned on the edge of her bed, having been dressed and prepared to leave for nearly an hour, her makeup shimmering on her face and her eyelashes curled and black, making her look doe-like. After grabbing her purse, she opened the door with a flourish. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hey there,” Jibril said. He wore a black suit with a black shirt beneath, and he had his hands in his pockets, making him appear cool and unfazed.

  His soft lips parted, making Audrey yearn to lean forward and kiss them. They stood in a haze of lust for several seconds before Jibril gestured toward the elevator, telling her, “We should go. I have reservations.”

  “Of course,” Audrey said, the spell now broken.

  They sped down to the ground floor and entered the foyer in full view of the staff, who eyed Audrey’s low-cut gown and Jibril’s outfit with curiosity, perhaps unaccustomed to Jibril bringing women to the hotel.

  “Do you often bring your personal assistants on your trips home?” she asked him, her voice slight.

  Jibril considered this for a moment, opening the passenger side’s door of the black rental sports car with a flourish. “You know, I never have,” he said, not making anything of it. “Usually I’m in between personal assistants, I suppose.” He winked at her, tucking her into the seat and then walking to the driver’s side, giving the valet a stern wave.

  He drove them deep into the old town, just a few blocks away from the old palace, and parked in a dirt lot. The sun ducked lower in the sky, giving everything around them an ethereal bluish hue.

  Slipping in through a narrow arch, Ji
bril led them through a small alleyway and then deep into a garden, which was decorated with hanging lights, gorgeous, Mediterranean-looking trees, and several intimate tables, each with a bouquet of flowers on top. Only two other couples dined alongside them, each speaking quietly, enhancing the secretive nature of the restaurant.

  Jibril ordered three different meals from the waiter, telling him, “I know the chef. Tell him Jibril wants the three specials from two months ago—extra spice. He’ll know what you mean.”

  The waiter bowed his head and said “yes, sir” before shuffling back toward the kitchen with the news.

  Audrey gazed at him, impressed. They sipped their wine in a comfortable silence, Audrey realizing she’d spent more time with Jibril in the past two weeks than she had with almost anyone else since she’d begun her career. Her heart ached with a feeling of closeness.

  “Jibril?” she murmured, breaking the silence.

  “What is it?”

  “I didn’t want to go back to San Francisco anyway,” she told him, feeling like a child. “Thank you for telling me to stay.”

  As expected, their dinner was superb. The meal included spiced lamb, countless vegetables, a beef dish, and even a falafel dish, as Audrey had mentioned that falafel was her new favorite food. They ate languidly as their conversation flowed from one thing to the next. Several times, Jibril broke out into laughter, his stomach shaking.

  “It’s bizarre, Audrey. It’s like you were made just for me. We have so much in common.”

  Audrey’s cheeks burned red with delight at this. She pushed her shoulders back, giving him a sassy look. “I wasn’t made just for you,” she said, giggling. “I’m sure I have an interest that’s just my own—like ice skating, for example. When I visit my parents in Alaska, that’s what I like to do. Bet you don’t like that.”

  “Actually,” the Sheikh said, countering her, “I visited Austria last winter and took up the hobby. I can’t tell you how relaxing it is to glide across the ice like that…”

  “Well, I’m sure I’ll find something,” Audrey teased.

  “In the meantime, I think we can conclude that we have more in common than most people,” Jibril said.

  “Until further proof is found,” Audrey said, sipping her wine and feeling playful.

  “I don’t know how I ever went on dates with those girls back in San Francisco,” Jibril said, dropping his fork with a clatter. “They never wanted to talk about anything but their menial lives—their nails, their makeup, their casting calls. Jesus, it was boring. But with you—” He stopped, recognizing he was stepping into impossibly strange territory.

  “It’s okay. I can talk about how I do my hair if it makes you feel more comfortable,” Audrey said, ending their conversation in laughter.

  Jibril paid for the meal and led them back to the car, having not drunk enough in the several hours they’d spent at the restaurant to have to leave it. Audrey leaned her head back, enjoying the silence as the car careened back to the hotel, the bright lights of the magnificent desert city whizzing past her face. Everything seemed amorphous, strange. She should have been on a plane to San Francisco, but instead she was here with Jibril. And she couldn’t have been happier.

  Upstairs, Audrey prepared to part ways with him at the elevator, sensing the late hour. As she raised her hand in good-bye, he stopped, placing both hands on his hips.

  “Don’t you remember, Audrey?” he said, his eyes playful and glittering. “We’re going to practice the dance. You have to know it by tomorrow.”

  “Right,” Audrey said, giggling. “How could I forget? The ceremonial dance.”

  “Come along then,” Jibril said, gesturing toward his suite.

  They couldn’t get enough of each other. Jibril pushed the door closed behind Audrey, setting the mood between them, one of excitement, apprehension, and sexual tension. Removing his dinner jacket with a flourish, he turned toward her, taking her hand in his. “Now, the first thing you need to know about the ceremonial dance is this—”

  “What?” Audrey asked, laughing.

  “You need to know that nobody really knows how to do it that well, so if you mess up at all, they won’t notice. They’ll just tell you—and most especially my mother—how beautiful you are, and that will be enough for everyone.”

  “Oh, I see,” Audrey said, playing along. “So even if I do a bit of improvisation in the middle—”

  “They’ll probably think it’s from an ancient ancestor or something and won’t question it,” Jibril said, taking her other hand.

  He led her in the dance, wrapping one arm around her lower back and guiding her three steps to the left before spinning her in a dramatic motion and then catching her again. Her eyes blinked wildly, trying to reduce her dizziness.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Just caught me off guard,” she said.

  They continued, Jibril bending her backward so that she lifted her leg high, stretching her back, and extended her foot like a ballerina’s. After completing the dance, they repeated the motions again and again until they became almost second nature to them.

  “You said you haven’t done this since you were a child?” Audrey asked him mid-twirl.

  “No. But luckily, the dance is a lot more difficult for women,” Jibril said, laughing. “I knew you’d have to do all the work.”

  “How foolish was I to think you actually wanted me by your side!” Audrey teased, stopping mid-twirl and gazing up into his eyes. The tension was palpable, and she struggled to breathe. “Just another one of your girls being tossed around, trying to please you—”

  Seemingly on impulse, the Sheikh leaned forward and captured her lips with his, kissing her passionately and parting her lips, gliding his tongue along hers. Audrey made a soft noise in the back of her throat. A rush of lust burst through her, and she responded to his kiss with incredible passion, leaning heavily into him and sucking at his bottom lip.

  She couldn’t believe it was happening.

  As they continued to kiss, Jibril wrapped his hands around the base of her head, feeling the softness of her hair, nudging her closer to the bed. He moved his hands to her dress’s buttons and undressed her with tentative motions, handling her softly. Audrey helped him slip off his shirt, watching as his muscled chest glowed in the soft light of the desert moon.

  Audrey and Jibril made love atop the comforter on the hotel suite bed, finding passion and understanding as their limbs tangled together. Audrey hadn’t made love in ages, and she found the experience to be mind-bending, opening her soul to the possibility of raw emotion. She gratefully clung to this man, her boss and now lover, feeling her adoration for him blossoming.

  The couple collapsed beneath the comforter over an hour later, falling asleep in one another’s arms at nearly four in the morning, each exhausted from making love, from dancing, and from the intensity that had followed them since their trip began. Finally, their bodies had been allowed the pleasure they’d been yearning to share.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Audrey couldn’t have imagined a better time of her life. Before heading out to meetings the following morning, Jibril kissed her passionately while she remained stretched out naked in his bed, feeling cozy and warm. After another hour of daydreaming, during which her emotions grew stronger, Audrey drifted out of the bed, dreamlike, and wandered back to her room, knowing she had only a few hours until she’d need to prepare for the birthday party.

  Once back in her room, she received a message from Jibril’s mother, telling her she’d have a traditional gown arriving for her at five that evening, along with a makeup artist. Laughing, Audrey texted Jibril, saying, “I’ve never had a makeup artist before…”

  He responded, “Of course, she’s at it again.”

  “She can’t be stopped,” Audrey said back.

  “And if you even try, you know she’ll take you down.”

  Audrey allowed it all to happen the way Amara had planned it, with a long session of makeup and
hair that commenced at exactly five o’ clock. She enjoyed listening to the makeup artist’s upbeat traditional music as she sat, relaxing in a large, green-cushioned chair in her hotel suite.

  Jibril would be arriving to take her to the ceremony at six-thirty, giving her just a few more minutes of full-throttle panic before she’d be revealed as the Sheikh’s “real” girlfriend at his 30th birthday party.

  Of course, she wasn’t his real girlfriend. They’d only made love once, which didn’t solidify anything. As makeup was brushed over her face, Audrey remembered Jibril telling her that he didn’t want to live the traditional life of his parents, that he’d broken away from all conservative values. Sleeping with her wasn’t conservative, but that didn’t mean he’d want to do it again, either.

  The moment she opened the door for him at six-thirty, however, Audrey abandoned all her fears. Seeing him dressed in traditional, colorful Ash-Kahlbi clothing, including a pair of silk pants and a regal-looking, shoulder-padded jacket, her breath caught. At a loss for words, she gazed at him, wondering if this was what people felt when they saw their future husbands for the first time.

  “In that moment, just knew,” they always said.

  “Hi,” Jibril said, halting the silence.

  “Hi,” she responded. “You look—”

  “You look beautiful,” he said, speaking over her. “Honestly. I’ve never seen anyone so—”

  He paused, not wanting to go too far. Lifting his elbow toward her, he watched, almost sheepishly, as she slipped her slim arm through it, allowing herself to be guided toward the elevator.

  Her orange, yellow, and purple gown glittered, showing a slight hint of cleavage, and gave her an otherworldly quality. Looking in the mirror of the elevator, Audrey was shocked by how well she and the Sheikh suited each other—not just in their outfits, but in their faces and their bodies. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it before.

  They simply worked.

  Neither mentioned the evening before. They simply eased into conversation as if they hadn’t stopped, Jibril telling her about his meetings from the afternoon as he eased the car from the hotel toward a palace in the outskirts of the city.