Sheikh's Command

by Sophia Lynn

  He hung up the phone, ready to make his apologies to Olivia, but she was gone, her plate empty and nothing to show that she had been there at all. For a moment, it felt like a heavy loss that struck his heart, but he shook it off. He had known her for less than an hour. It wasn't something to mourn.

  As Makeen got up to call over the waitress, however, he smiled. She had taken his card.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Olivia took the long way back to the apartment she shared with her family. It wound through twisting streets and dark alleyways, and she comforted herself by thinking that it was only a matter of time until she could escape this, escape all of this. This wasn't going to be her world for much longer.

  When she walked into the dark apartment, met with the smell of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol, Olivia was reminded very clearly that it was still her world for now.

  “I'm home,” she called, and she could see from the door that her father was asleep on the couch. Asleep or passed out drunk, it didn't matter much, and she was content to let him lie. In the kitchen, however, she found her mother, pacing back and forth, chewing on her cigarette butt and listening intently on her phone.

  Olivia had her mother's dark hair and rich complexion, but where Olivia was curvy her mother was rail thin, as if life had worn her away. Olivia sometimes wondered if her mother had been soft and gentle once, and how long it had taken for that to wear away. Perhaps she had still been kind when David was a little boy, before Olivia had come along. She certainly hadn't been when Olivia was born.

  Finally, Mayellen ended the call, turning towards her daughter with bloodshot eyes. Olivia braced herself, ready to hear a diatribe about how useless she was, how she was leeching off of her family's resources, how she wasn't earning her keep with her silly little violin.

  Instead, Mayellen wavered as if she was on a boat at sea, and her hand gripped the back of the kitchen chair.

  “Mom?” Olivia asked, and her voice came out soft and scared as it hadn't been in years. “Mom, what's the matter?”

  “That was Stavros,” she said, her voice hollow with fear. “The cops conducted a sting on the warehouse. They took your brother.”

  Olivia gasped, her fingers tightening on her violin case's handle until it hurt.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  Her family originally came from the United States, but they hadn't been back since she was a little girl. When she was a child, it had all felt like an adventure, roving the world and never staying in one place for any length of time. There had always been new people to meet, and though the periods of poverty were grinding, there were times when her father was flush too, and the gifts came rushing in.

  Olivia was almost thirteen before she realized that her father was a criminal. Large grifts and small were what he used to keep his family afloat, and more than once, they lit out ahead of the cops growing wise.

  They had come to Zahar almost eight months ago, and Olivia knew that this was going to be the end of the line for her. She was leaving all of them. She wouldn't be a part of this life anymore. While her brother got involved with the local toughs, she sent out her audition tapes over and over again, and over and over again, she got rejections.

  She was getting close, though. She had received a notice that she was under consideration in Berlin and Johannesburg. She knew that she had to be patient, but she wasn't sure that anything had ever been harder. Soon, she knew that she would escape all of this, but at her mother's words, it all came crashing down.

  David …

  David had always been there for her. He was the one who had gotten her her violin, he was the one who had taught her to drive, he was the one who had protected her from her father's rages, and her mother's cruelty. It was David who always cheered her on, grinning at her with that crooked smile, always so sure that she would go further than he ever could.

  Her mother shot her a scornful glance. “Look at you acting so shocked and concerned. Don't bother putting on that face, missy, we all know that you're going to fly the coop as soon as you can and to hell with the rest of us. Everyone knows that you're not going to be any help at all.”

  Her mother's words hit her like a hammer, and they awakened something in Olivia that felt as if it had been sleeping all her life. She knew that she was clever, and she knew that she was tough, but she had never felt such pure rage and determination before.

  Instead of falling back in front of her mother's words, she stood up, and for a moment, a shocked Mayellan took a step away.

  “No. That's not me,” she said fiercely. “I'm going to save him.”

  She strode out of the apartment, her violin still in her hand. On the table by the door was the mail. On top of the pile was a cream-colored envelope marked with a return address to Johannesburg. She didn't give it a second look.

  Instead, she left the apartment and climbed the rickety stairs to the roof. The stars were beginning to come out, and even in the midst of her wild despair, she looked up on them in wonder. Zahar was still a city, and she knew that they were faint, but local ordinances to reduce light pollution were in effect, meaning that they were brighter than any she had ever seen.

  Zahar was a beautiful place, she thought. If only I was a different person.

  She shook the thought off, because right now, she needed her wits about her. She took out her phone, and hands trembling, she dialed the number on the thick cardstock.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Makeen was in the middle of a busy club when his phone rang. For a moment, he was confused, because as far as enforcement squad went, he had been told that it was all wrapped up.

  The afternoon and evening since receiving the call had been a long one for him, even if it was intensely rewarding. The sting operation that the department had been working on for close to a year had finally came to fruition, and he knew that life was going to get much, much better for his country. In the five years since his father had died and he had come to power, he had learned and learned well that there were very few things that could be considered complete wins. Compromises were made, agreements were reached, and some things were simply left.

  This was an uncomplicated, unarguable win, and he and several of the other personnel were determined to celebrate.

  The club flashed red and gold lights, and the women surrounding him were eager to get his attention, even if they didn't know who he was. He grinned at a tall blonde who was running her fingers through his hair, and smiled at a sultry brunette who eyed him as if he was something good to eat. It had been a while since he had taken a lover. He wondered if his next woman was here tonight.

  Unbidden, his mind conjured up a small woman, almost a girl, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to see right into his soul. He had called her a bird, and indeed, she had taken wing. Why did he still think of her? He tried to shake the thought of her off, but it was too late. A pall came over the proceedings, and he shook off the women to stalk to the bar.

  He was halfway there when his phone rang. After the initial moment of confusion, he veered towards the outside porch area, which was blessedly empty. The caller was only a number, no one who had called him before, and when he answered the phone, he was cautious.

  “Who are you?”

  The words were strange, but the voice was automatically familiar. “Olivia,” he said, his voice brightening without his will. Just a few moments ago, he thought that he would never hear from her again. To hear her voice after that was like balm on burned skin.

  “Yes …” She suddenly sounded unsure. “I mean … you remember me? The girl from today, with the violin?”

  Makeen chuckled softly. “I am not in the habit of forgetting beautiful women who play the violin as if they sold their souls to the devil,” he said. “You used my number.”

  “I did … Makeen … I need you to tell me who you are.”

  That caused him to raise an eyebrow. “That's a strange question. I am the man you met today. I bought you lunch.”

  “Y
ou are dodging the question,” she said, her voice impressively stern. “That cop backed off of you. You weren't scared of him at all. I have lived all over Europe and the Middle East, and I know that means something. Now tell me, who are you?”

  When she spoke like that, there was nothing in his mind that could deny her. “I am Sheikh Makeen al-Hamidiya of Zahar,” he said, standing a little straighter. That was more than a title. It was his true self. He had only shown a portion of himself to her earlier that day, and perhaps that had been deceptive. He would make up for it now.

  Makeen heard her pull her breath in and then release it slowly.

  “Oh my God,” she said quietly. He wondered for a moment if he could hear tears in her voice.

  “Olivia? Olivia, what is it?”

  “Can you … will you meet me? Please?”

  “Of course,” he said instantly. Later that night, he would wonder at his eagerness, at the complete lack of doubt he had when she asked him that question.

  “Tonight,” she said, and she named a café that was halfway across the city.

  “I can be there in an hour,” he said, already moving towards his car. “Only, Olivia, are you safe?”

  Her response was a laugh that was a little wild. It sent shivers up his spine. His mother would have said that it was a premonition of change. Things were shifting around him, and there was no way to tell where they would end up.

  “I want to be,” she said, and she hung up.

  ***

  Olivia had never been a woman who wanted frilly, lacy things. She had always thought that they were foolish, a waste of time and energy. Now, though, as she was getting ready to go to meet the man she had met that afternoon—the sheikh!—she felt a deep despair coming over her.

  She rummaged through her scanty closet, dismissing outfit after outfit. Finally, she came up with a simple black dress, one that she had purchased from a used clothes vendor in the bazaar. It was long, falling almost to the tops of her feet, but the neckline was cut daringly low. Olivia had bought it with some hope of using it in audition videos, but the neckline had proved too revealing for that purpose. It was, however, perfect for tonight.

  When she put on the dress, she hesitated over her makeup. Her hands were trembling as she applied the stuff. It felt foreign on her face, and when she looked into the mirror, her eyes looked too large and dark, her mouth looked too red.

  Olivia glanced at the clock. She had to leave now. There was no time, and the way she looked would have to do, no matter how unskilled it was.

  When she made her way through the apartment, her mother looked at her from the table, an expression of pure contempt on her face.

  “Well, look at you. Heading out for a hot date while your brother's in trouble?”

  The woman she was the day before would have shrank away. However, this version of herself, the one with a goal and a cause, only gave her mother a withering look. She didn't have time to correct the woman's misunderstanding. All she could think about was her meeting.

  It was astonishing how things could change. Just a few hours ago, all she could think about was progressing on to the orchestra and escaping her life in Zahar. Now, all that mattered was that she'd be able to save her brother.

  Are you ready? Olivia asked herself. Are you sure?

  The answer to both questions was no, but she had to move forward anyway.

  The café where she had decided to meet Makeen was one with an antique charm. It was one of her favorite places in Zahar, and not only because it was open all night with free coffee refills. It took over two floors in an old house, and there were plenty of nooks and corners where two people could have a private conversation. It had served as her refuge from her family.

  She entered the café, surprised to see that Makeen had beaten her there. He received two cups of tea from the woman at the counter, who shot Olivia a curious look. Olivia ignored her. She only had eyes for the man in front of her.

  “You came,” she said in relief, and he inclined his head.

  “I gave you my number for a reason, but I never guessed that you would use it so quickly,” he said. “You look shaky, come and sit down.”

  He was right, and when they were tucked into a private corner of the tea house, she felt herself start to shake.

  “Here, hold on to this.”

  She felt better wrapping her hands around the hot tea mug. He waited patiently for her to calm down a little, sipping his own tea and watching her over the edge of the mug.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “I … I didn't know what I was going to do.”

  “Are you in trouble?” he asked. “Is that why you asked what I was?”

  She bit her lip. “I'm not in trouble, no, but someone very important to me is.”

  His expression flickered. “Someone important to you?”

  “My brother David,” she said softly. “He's … he's the most important person in the world to me. He's always been my protector, my rock, even when things were going poorly. He's in trouble.”

  Suddenly, it was as if she were seated across from a stranger. His face was cold, and he looked at her as if she were a specimen underneath a microscope.

  “And he was taken today—by the police.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “How could you know?”

  “Because my people have been targeting a crime ring of car thieves that have been operating in my country. A sting operation took down the organization today, and we netted many foreigners, Americans among them.”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes wide. “You have my brother.”

  “And he will pay for his crimes,” Makeen said, his voice ice cold, and Olivia fought to keep herself from crying.

  “No, please,” she said, aware that she was begging. “He is not a criminal. He … he was swept up in bad company, he doesn't …”

  “He doesn't know any better?” Makeen mocked. “Olivia, you are young but surely you are not naïve. If he was caught today, that means that he was knowingly and willingly breaking the law.”

  “Even if it was to save his family?” she asked challengingly. “Even if it was to protect me?”

  His gaze flickered at that, but there was something there that gave her hope.

  “Please, I am asking you to have mercy,” she said, her voice shaking. “He's just … he's just one man. Surely you can let him go. Surely there are others that are worth more than him.”

  When Makeen was slow to answer, Olivia bit her lip. She had no money to bribe this man. She had nothing, except …

  “I … I'll do whatever you want,” she said softly. “That is how much he means to me. I'll give you whatever you like …”

  Makeen thrust himself back from the table as if he had found something disgusting in his tea. The contemptuous, incredulous look on his face made her heart sink. She knew that her cheeks were bright with embarrassment, but she forced herself to keep going.

  “Please, Makeen, I swear, I will do anything …”

  “Do you even know what you are offering?” he asked, his voice cutting. “When you look like you are barely out of school?”

  “I'm twenty-four,” she responded defiantly. “I'm old enough to decide what I want to do.”

  Makeen's dark eyes glittered like those of some kind of predator that hunted only in the dead of night. When she had met him, she had thought him to be kind. Now she saw the other side of him, the one that could easily destroy something that displeased him. This was the man who held the power of life and death over her brother, and she knew that David's life hung by a thread.

  “I really don't think you know what you are offering,” he said, his voice low and almost silky with menace. “I think that you are a foolish child.”

  Olivia could feel her heart beat faster, this time with rage as well as with embarrassment. She wasn't a child, and now she had to prove it to him. She thought about arguing further, but that had gotten her nowhere. Instead, the time had come to take action.

&
nbsp; Makeen looked startled when she stood. Perhaps he thought she would flee in humiliation and never return, but that only meant that he did not know her so well. She was a woman who was intent on making her way in the world, and her soul was full of steel.

  She set her hands on his shoulders to hold him still, and then her lips came down on his. It was a desperate gamble. He might have decided that he was disgusted with her display, storming off in distaste, but she had seen the way his eyes flickered at her form in the black dress.

  For a moment, Makeen was utterly still, and then his hands came up around her hips, dragging her onto his lap. She nearly struggled, but Olivia reminded herself that this was precisely what she had wanted to happen, and gave herself to the kiss.

  For a moment, he simply let her kiss him, but she could feel the shift when he began to respond. His hands tightened on her body, and his mouth slanted harder on hers. His tongue started teasing her lips, opening them so he could taste her mouth.

  Olivia had kissed men before, but never a man like Makeen. She had never been with a man whose power and passion touched something deep inside her and who could draw forth a powerful response from her merely with his mouth. Without willing it, her body pressed closer to his, and she tilted her head so that he could kiss her precisely as he liked. She lost herself in the moment. She knew that she was kissing him for a reason, but as the pleasure took her over, she forgot that they were kissing for any reason except to be kissing.

  Olivia gasped when he pulled away. She stared as he stood, dumping her rudely out of his lap. She might have fallen to the floor if he had not caught her and set her right. For a moment, he looked completely furious, but then he covered it.

  Makeen pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her. “Here, wipe whatever it is you have on your face off,” he said. “It's terrible on you.”

  She took the handkerchief, but instead of using it, she only stared at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaken. It could have been because she was worried about what he might do, but it was more than that. She had never been kissed the way he had kissed her. She had never felt her body rise up and cry out with desire that had been briefly granted and then taken away.