Secret: The Maid And The Sheikh

by Lara Hunter

  “That’s me,” she said, smiling. The smile felt false.

  “Let’s take you to the airport, then. You’re going on an adventure.”

  “That I am,” Kate said, her eyebrows high. “I can hardly contain my excitement.”

  The taxi driver weaved through traffic down the highway, playing bouncing Cuban music that allowed Kate a moment of respite from her manic thoughts.

  As a child, she’d posed in front of the bathroom mirror, arching her back. She’d practiced her catwalk and devoured fashion magazines, hiding stacks of them beneath her bed. And the moment she’d been discovered at a local talent search, she’d broken down into tears, realizing that her dreams were coming true.

  But now those dreams were souring.

  The airport appeared before her on the horizon, several dozen signs pointing toward her terminal. The taxi driver helped her from the backseat and onto the sidewalk, giving her a gap-toothed grin. “You have a grand adventure now,” he told her. “You deserve to feel free.”

  Kate hadn’t heard words like that before, and the driver’s optimism caught her off-guard. She smiled stupidly and waved as the taxi skidded away, then lifted her suitcase and stomped toward the entrance of the airport, making eye contact with a security guard who assessed her greedily. She would have to get used to looks like that, she told herself. Men ogling her would be a constant over the next few days.

  She swept her long legs forward and, moments later, dropped her suitcase on the turnstile. “I’m going to Panama City,” she told the attendant, tossing her passport forward. “I’m checking one bag. Is there alcohol on this flight?”

  A little under two hours later, Kate boarded the plane and tucked herself into her window seat, strapped beside a large woman whose breasts nearly spilled from her blouse. The woman told Kate she was taking herself on a solo vacation after a terrible divorce and was looking forward to “countless cocktails by the pool.”

  “What are you going to Panama for?” she asked.

  “I’m going for work,” Kate said, smiling. “I’m in marketing. I have a big meeting.”

  “Oh, well, good for you. Must be nice to have a career like that. I gave up my career for my husband. Never do that. Never!”

  Kate grinned, enjoying living the lie. She turned to gaze out the window and watched as the plane lifted from the tarmac, tucking its wheels beneath its belly and flying into the clouds. She leaned her head back, waiting for the drinks cart to make its way down the aisle, knowing she needed that extra ounce of comfort.

  ***

  The plane landed at sunset, when oranges and reds and magentas clouded the sky. Kate couldn’t help but admit that it was breathtakingly beautiful—that, if she’d been an exiled princess, she probably would have chosen this marvelous landscape as her safe haven. After accepting the job, she’d learned from Monica that the Prince’s home was in a secret location, somewhere deep in the surrounding rainforest, and that a blacked-out limousine would greet her at the airport and take her there. “It’s of the highest importance that no one follows you, my dear,” Monica had told her. “You understand? The Prince values his privacy above all.”

  Outside the airport, Kate’s green eyes scanning the horizon. She found the blacked-out limousine waiting out front, and she hopped into the back. The driver hardly turned around to look at her.

  “You the model?”

  “Kate Adams, yes. That’s me.”

  Without another word, the driver revved the engine and squealed the tires, racing off from the airport and toward the distant rainforest. He was wearing a black hat and appeared to be bald beneath it. Unlike the taxi driver who’d taken her to the airport, he played no music, and he gripped the steering wheel with two strong hands, never moving them.

  Kate considered asking him how long he’d been working for the Prince; she considered making small talk, asking if he would attend the party later that night. But she kept her lips closed and gazed out the window, her eyes wide.

  The city petered out quickly, the limousine turning onto a tiny road that blended in completely with the surrounding trees. The rainforest was dense, green, vibrant. She brought her fingertips to the windowpane, almost as if she could touch it, but the moment she did, the limo driver barked at her.

  “Hands off the windows.”

  Kate removed them and clutched her hands together in her lap, her head bowed. If she was going to take any photos that evening, she would have to play by the rules for a few hours, first.

  Her relationship with Ella would surely come back to center when she returned, Kate thought then. Just because Ella had asked Kate to go out of her comfort zone and attend this “legendary party” for the sake of her career didn’t mean Kate had to hold it against her forever. She had to give her friend some slack, especially since she was offering her an immense cut of the paycheck.

  Besides, Kate thought as they drove deeper into the rainforest, she was seeing a world, a culture, a landscape she’d never glimpsed before. It was impossibly beautiful. The smog of New York City and the plastic of Miami hadn’t followed her there. Maybe, just as her taxi driver had said, she was free. If only for a moment.

  Deep in the forest, the trees seemed filled with secrets. Kate couldn’t understand how her driver knew the twists and turns of the road, especially without anything but his headlights to see by. She pressed her nails into the skin on her thigh, feeling anxious, prepared for an accident.

  But several minutes later, the limousine turned sharply down a tree-lined path, and Kate caught sight of a stunning mansion tucked on a hillside in the center of the rainforest. The exterior looked to be made entirely of glass. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Yep. That’s normally the reaction,” the driver said, laughing slightly.

  He parked at the rear of the mansion, near what he called the “staff door,” before turning toward her, revealing his face for the first time. He had a massive scar down his left cheek, which joined with the side of his lips.

  “This is where I drop you,” he said gruffly. “Go in that door and find the dressing room on the left-hand side. The party has already started, but you’ll find a few other models still prepping downstairs. The high-profile guests won’t know they are just props that way. You see?”

  “Sure,” Kate said, feeling her confidence slice in half. She lifted her hand to the handle of the car, shivering despite the humidity. “And someone will take me back to the airport tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be here at eight sharp,” he informed her. “I’m guessing by then you’ll have had enough.”

  Kate gulped; it was going to be a long, long night.

  She only hoped that the paycheck would make it worthwhile.

  SIX

  Kate jumped from the limousine and carried her suitcase with her toward the staff entrance. She heard the bumping of a stereo system coming from inside the house. A curvy woman peered down at her from the third-floor window, her breasts jiggling in her bikini. She waved, stretching out her fingers, as if she knew they were of the same breed.

  I’ll be joining you soon, Kate thought to herself before heading through the back door. Whether I like it or not.

  Inside the staff entrance, she found chaos. Performers, many of them in circus garb, were scrambling around, collecting props, including several bowling pins and circus hats. A woman in a leotard stretched back and then turned her stretch into a flip. She bounced on her feet, eyeing Kate with childlike eyes. “Are you one of the models?” she asked.

  Kate nodded sheepishly. “I am,” she said.

  “Head to the side door. You can prep in there.” The woman winked and then flipped again, seeming like a cartoon figure.

  Kate hadn’t been told the theme of the party, since her duty was simply to show up and don a provided bikini. She entered the dressing room to find several other models marching around in various stages of undress. They eyed her, disinterested, and continued to apply makeup to their bony faces.

  To
the side of the dressing room was a series of lockers. Kate’s name was listed on the second-to-last one, along with a smiley face written in blue marker. She opened the locker to find a minuscule golden bikini and a pair of skyscraping heels. She shivered and began to undress, knowing the other girls were probably entirely uninterested and unimpressed by her body. She just wanted to get it over with.

  The moment she had her outfit on, she shoved the small camera Ella had given her into the right breast, grateful that the other models seemed almost completely unaware of her presence. She just might get away with this.

  After clipping her heels into place, Kate strode toward the mirror at the side of the room and assessed herself, flipping her hair. Grimacing slightly at her appearance, she applied makeup to her eyes and lips and then fluffed her hair with mousse, knowing it would be mussed by the humidity of the party in no time at all.

  “You look good, girl,” one model told her as she squeezed her feet into strappy black stilettos. “The gold with your red hair, it’s really working for you.”

  “They must have known,” Kate said, shrugging.

  “They always know,” the girl murmured. She dropped eye contact and continued to prep while Kate stretched her legs toward the door. She could hear the thumping bass of the party above them, and she suddenly wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

  Kate left the dressing room and found the foyer empty, save for a few bowling pins left behind by the juggler. She headed the steps and followed the sounds of the party, her heart pounding in her chest. When she’d been twenty-one, greedy and on top of the world, she would have entered a party like this as if she belonged. Now, at twenty-four, she longed to be anywhere else.

  She found the party on the third floor. Fifty or so people stretched out before her, drinking and dancing in a raucous display of wealth, decadence, and greed. Models in skimpy bikinis wandered around with trays of drinks, including champagne and martinis. Kate hung back, suddenly nervous, and grabbed a glass of champagne from a bartender near the corner.

  Many of the partygoers were high-profile celebrities, and she recognized several of them from television or film. More models, even more scantily clad than Kate, all of them supremely tanned and thin, surrounded Prince Francesco. He laughed maniacally, clutching a bottle of wine. After a sweep, Kate realized that none of the women were the ones she’d seen with Prince Francesco in the tabloids, meaning those models had already been disposed of.

  Kate sipped her champagne and watched as the Prince danced. His movements were easy, and his face was vibrant and red, hinting at drunkenness. The girls around him cooed and laughed, like actresses in an old Hollywood film.

  Kate wondered if she should be acting like that, and then she promptly realized she didn’t have it in her. The bright light of her early twenties had long flickered out. She would stand around half naked in a bikini, sure, but she’d do nothing else.

  As she stood, a man who’d once starred on one of her favorite television shows approached her, carrying a beer. His eyes drooped. “Hello, darling,” he said, revealing that he was actually English even though his character had been American.

  “Hi,” she murmured. She pulled several strands of hair behind her ear, wishing he would go away. “Are you having a good time?”

  “I am,” he told her. “Been to several of old Francesco’s parties now. He always keeps the alcohol flowing, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, I do,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly. “What’s your name?”

  “Dan,” he said. “Dan Jarman. I assume you recognize me, you sexy thing?”

  “Perhaps,” she said lightly.

  “And your name, darling?” he asked her, sipping his beer.

  “Alexa,” she said, feigning a smile.

  Moments after their introduction, someone on the dance floor popped a bottle of champagne. The froth exploded into the air and the Prince cried out. “Now it’s a party!”

  With Dan suddenly distracted, Kate left him alone, shimmying back into the crowd, hoping he wouldn’t follow her. As she wound through the revelers, she noted that the party was raucous, certainly, that people were drunk and flirting, that a man had pushed a model against the wall and was kissing her with reckless passion, that another actor had two models on his arm and couldn’t decide which to focus on, but the situation wasn’t out of control. No one seemed to be doing anything illegal, and she hadn’t seen a single sign of drug use.

  It seemed that the Prince wasn’t quite living up to his reputation, but Kate reminded herself that it was still early.

  She remembered what Ella had said to her over the phone. “I need photos that would cause a scandal,” she’d said. “Photos of the Prince engaging in some kind of reckless behavior. Jumping from the roof to the pool, or making out with three models at once, or—or—”

  “I think I get the gist,” Kate had said. “Make him look worse than ever.”

  “Right. Because we all already know how arrogant he is. We know his playboy status. With this party—and with you on the inside—we need to see another side of Prince Francesco. If you can get the shots, Katie, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

  But now, in the center of the party, Kate was struggling for a photo opportunity.

  She slipped behind a large plant and lifted her camera from its hiding place. With a clear view of the Prince, she snapped a shot of him sipping champagne alongside several semi-naked models. Each looked jovial, sweating with drink.

  She turned the camera toward the stage, where the circus performers had begun their routine. As a man juggled bowling pins, a woman stretched out beside him, diving into the splits and then lifting her leg all the way over her head. She turned her face to the audience and winked playfully before ripping off her outfit and flinging it from her body. Beneath the costume, she too was wearing a flimsy bikini, and several audience members gasped and roared with pleasure.

  The contortionist brought her leg back from over her head and then sprang to her feet. Kate took several shots of her, hoping to set the scene of the party. Perhaps the headline could be: “Nearly naked contortionist sells out billionaire’s party.” But she’d leave the writing to Ella.

  After taking several more shots of the performers, the guests, and their host, Kate spotted the bar and bounded toward it. She smiled companionably to the bartender, whose eyes never left her breasts.

  “Don’t you get used to these standing here all night?” she asked him.

  “What?” he asked.

  Clearly, her voice had been lost in the cacophony of the party.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just a bad joke. Can I have a Tom Collins, please?”

  “Quite strong for you,” the man said before beginning the cocktail. “Has the Prince flirted with you yet? All the girls are bragging to me about it. I just want to tell them they’ll all be replaced next weekend—including you.”

  Kate’s eyebrows rose high. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that,” she lied.

  The man snickered and poured the drink into a highball glass before handing it to her. “Nothing, miss. And look at you. You seem even older than the others.” He winked.

  Kate downed the cocktail quickly, trying to remind herself that she was only twenty-four. She set the empty glass on a side table and took several more shots in between faux-friendly encounters with men at the party.

  “Look at that hair,” a man sad, his words sloppy. “I’ve always been attracted to redheads. You need someone to take care of you, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” Kate said sweetly. “With that in mind, do you think you could grab me another Tom Collins? I seem to be fresh out.” She gave the man a pouty face.

  To her delight, the man came back with a Tom Collins just a few minutes later. He clinked his drink with hers. “Were you at the last one? With the tiger?”

  “A tiger?” Kate asked, incredulous. “There won’t be any wild animals at this one, will there? With the circus theme and all?” Her hea
rt quickened with hope. If she could snap a shot of the Prince with an endangered species, she knew Ella could sell that for big money.

  But the man shook his head. “Sadly not. Only the models could make it.” He placed his hand on her bony shoulder and began to ease it down her gleaming skin, toward her breasts.

  Disgusted, Kate flung herself from his touch but maintained a grin. “I see. I always like a good menagerie.”

  “You’re using big words like that. Did you go to college or something?” the man asked, nearly tumbling toward her.

  “Easy there, killer,” she said. “Why don’t you sit down? You’re looking a little woozy.” She turned from him swiftly, anxious to flee, and bounded toward the side room. She leaned heavily against the wall beside two other models, a blonde and a brunette. They each gave her sad smiles.