by Krista Lakes
As the three of us entered the airy room, a young man stood and gracefully padded over to greet us. He wore a western outfit of gray slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt with a collar. He couldn't have been more than a year or two older than I was, with perfect olive skin, dark eyes, and eyelashes that seemed to go on into infinity. He broke into a bright smile as he held out his hand to greet us.
"This is my son, Rashid." The sheik introduced the young man, a proud smile lighting his creased face. It was easy to see that Rashid was his father's pride and joy. Owen shook the younger man's hand, and then followed the father toward the dinner table.
"Please, call me Roger. It's so much easier that way," the young man said without a trace of his father's accent. He reached out his hand to shake mine. I took his hand, surprised at the strength and heat in his fingers. He stared into my eyes, making my cheeks flush when he didn't release my hand. The blush only seemed to amuse him, and he gave me a crooked smirk, knowing that he had flustered me.
I withdrew my hand and hurried to the table. I sat down next to Owen, and Roger took his place across the table from me with his father. The two business men jumped into a conversation regarding their oil dealings almost immediately, using the dinner as a sort of informal business meeting. Roger and I sat quietly as they spoke, his eyes catching mine as often as he could. I shifted in my seat. I was unable to put my finger on it, but something about him made me anxious.
Roger grinned at me, making sure he had my attention as he licked his lips suggestively. I felt the blush start again, but I tried to ignore the flustered feeling rising in my stomach.
I was with Owen. I thought it was fairly clear that I was taken, but Roger didn't seem to care, flirting openly with me across the table, even with Owen right there. I didn't want to do anything that could jeopardize Owen's business dealings, and making the sheik's son unhappy would not indenture any good will, so I sat quietly and focused on the food in front of me, avoiding his smiles.
It wasn't hard to concentrate on the food, though as I had never experienced anything quite like this. There were roasted scallops with black truffles, pan-fried sea bass in a zesty lemon caper sauce, freshly sauteed dandelion root with onion salad, and for dessert something called la sfera. It was a beautiful creation of vanilla cream, violet crème brulee, and cassis sorbet that resembled an edible Faberge egg.
We ate until I was sure I couldn't eat another bite. As a waiter quietly picked up the empty dessert trays, Sheik al-Saffar leaned back in his chair, musing over something Owen had said. He and Owen had spent the entire meal debating various points of the contract that Owen was attempting to secure for Jack's company. This dinner was never meant for me, so I didn't mind the two of them talking shop the entire time. From what little I could understand of their oil jargon, it seemed to be going well.
I was slightly unnerved, however, by Roger's constant attention. He hadn't said a word over dinner, but his eyes had never left me. I felt like he wanted to have me for dinner instead of the sea bass, and he was just waiting to find the opportune moment to catch me. I shivered slightly, but not from cold.
The sheik and Owen stood as soon as the last plates were cleared away, and they walked somewhat sedately toward an attached room with a large TV screen. They wanted to look at one of the advertising campaigns Owen had created for selling al-Saffar's oil to new markets. I smiled for a moment as I knew that meant Owen's task was going well, but then frowned as I realized it meant that Roger and I were left alone at the table.
"Have you ever been to Paris?" Roger asked, playing with a water glass. There was something to the motion that made me uncomfortable. I pushed aside my feelings of discomfort, determined to do my best to help Owen out. If I was going to be traveling with him, I would have to get good at being a well-behaved guest.
"No. This is actually the first time I've been out of the country. Well, other than to the Caribbean, but that almost doesn't count." I gave him my most diplomatic smile and hoped he wouldn't see right through it. I didn't really want to talk to him.
"Would you like to?" He dipped his finger into the glass.
"Um, maybe someday. I've never really had the opportunity to travel, so I've never really thought about it." I gave myself a mental pat on the back for the smooth answer.
"I meant, would you like to go there with me?" He raised his wet finger to his lips, sucking the moisture from his fingertip. I swallowed hard.
"As long as Owen gets to come too," I answered. I hoped that reminding him that I was here with Owen would make him back off. I didn't like how this conversation was going.
"I was thinking just the two of us. It is the city of love, after all." He smiled suggestively at me. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My brain was scrambling for a diplomatic answer, one that wouldn't make the situation more awkward. Something that would help Owen land this contract.
He laughed, delighting in my discomfort. I played with my water glass, biting the inside of my cheek. If I had been back home I would have told him off. I would have walked out or found someone else to talk to, but I couldn't here. I had to be polite and not do those things for Owen's sake. I couldn't let him down.
"That's a kind offer, but I'm afraid I'm not interested." I finally managed to get out the words, even punctuating them with a smile. His eyes narrowed on me and I felt like a bug caught under a magnifying glass.
"What would you like to do tomorrow, then?"
Nothing with you, I wanted to scream. I glanced over to where I had seen Owen last, glad to see him heading back my direction.
"I'm afraid I have a very busy schedule." That sounded diplomatic enough to me.
"You and I are going to see each other. I'll see to it. I think we could do some amazing things together." The way he said it almost sounded like a threat.
"You'll have to clear that with Owen. He is the one in charge of where I go and who I see." Owen and the sheik paused in a doorway, talking like old friends. I hoped Owen would come back to the table soon. This conversation was making me very uncomfortable, and I wanted it to stop. I didn't want to be diplomatic to Roger anymore.
"That won't be a problem. He and my father have business meetings all day tomorrow. It can be just the two of us." I was an ant again under his magnifying glass.
"I'll still have to clear it with him. Thank you again for the offer," I said hastily, standing up and stepping away before he could say any more. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was see him tomorrow. If I had my way, I would have set him down hard, told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interested, but I needed to be tactful for Owen's sake. His contract negotiations hinged on the sheik's favor, and thus, the sheik's son's favor as well.
Owen's brows tightened for a moment as I walked over to him, but he quickly relaxed his face before the sheik could see it. He put his hand on my back, his touch feather light but sending a bolt of security through me. I was safe with Owen. I could see Roger still lounging at the table, a frightening grin on his face. He knew I had fled because of him, and he liked it.
"Thank you for the wonderful dinner. I will make the adjustments you suggested and get back to you in the morning." Owen gave the sheik a perfect businessman smile. I liked the one he gave me better, but I knew the effect that smile could have on people.
The sheik barely batted an eyelash as he reminded Owen of a key point he wanted changed. No wonder the man was worth a fortune if he could evade Owen's charms. The two of them shook hands one final time, and Owen guided me out toward a waiting car. The night air was cooler than I had expected, but the shiver that went through me wasn't from the breeze. It was from Roger's eyes following me out the door.
Chapter 18
"I'll be back in time for us to go get something for dinner tonight. Are you sure you'll be all right staying in the hotel today? I can get someone to show you around the city or something." Owen frowned slightly as I adjusted his tie. I made sure it laid straight and then smoothed the fabric acros
s his shoulders. I loved these simple moments. They may never make a scrapbook, but that will stay in my mind forever as perfect.
"I'll be fine. I think I'm still a little jet-lagged, so staying in sounds nice today. Maybe I'll go down to the spa or something later," I said, smiling up at him. His blue eyes still held a pout, so I added, "Besides, Dean will be here with me today if I change my mind."
Owen glanced over to the kitchen where Dean sat reading a newspaper. He sighed and looked down at me. "You're sure you don't want to do anything today?"
"Yes! Now get going, or you'll be late!" I said, pushing him toward the door. The worry vanished from his eyes as he picked up his briefcase and reached for the doorknob.
"I love you, Kaylee," said Owen, catching my eyes with his. I could feel a happy warmth surge across the connection, filling me with an inner light.
"I love you, Owen. Now, get to work!" I gave him a light peck on the cheek and he grinned before disappearing out the door. The door clicked shut, and I leaned my back against it. I closed my eyes and counted the hours until he would be home, finding them far too many. I hoped that Rashid wouldn't follow through on his threat to come by. I didn't say anything about it to Owen. I didn't want him to worry. Besides, it was probably just an empty threat anyway.
When I opened my eyes again, Dean was standing in front of me.
"Why don't you want to go anywhere today?" he asked softly, his light blue eyes intense as he read the worry on my face. I sighed.
"Rashid, the sheik's son. He makes me uncomfortable, and last night, he said we were going to do something tomorrow. If I stay in the hotel, then I'm hoping he won't bother me."
Dean nodded. "You know I won't let him do anything, right?"
I smiled. Dean, while tall and in amazing shape, appeared lanky and unimposing. I'm sure he could hold his own in a fight, but he didn't look that scary to me. I wondered how he had gotten the job of guarding billionaires, but I always figured he just had other talents that made him a good bodyguard. I knew he was smart, and if he was good at preventing a bad situation, then that was always better than being scary enough to stop one.
"Thanks, Dean. I know I shouldn't let him get to me, but just something about him set my teeth on edge." I shivered at the memory of him looking at me.
"I've learned to trust those gut instincts. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you today."
"Dean, what about tomorrow though? He's the sheik's son. If things keep going as well as they have between Owen and the sheik, I'm going to have to see him again. There is already another dinner scheduled for tomorrow night." I leaned back against the door again, my shoulders slumping.
"Has he done anything to actually make you concerned?" Dean's eyes narrowed as he contemplated my options.
"No. Just implied. I have no real reason to be afraid of him. He just makes me nervous is all. If I can avoid him, I want to."
Dean nodded, then gave me a warm smile. "Well, don't you worry about him. He's probably just a weird kid who never learned to be polite because he has so much money he never had to. Let Owen know, though. Owen won't stop scheduling things that involve Rashid if you don't tell him. He'll understand."
I fiddled with the groove in the tile of the entryway, pushing the hem of my yoga pants into it with my toes. "I'll tell him. I just don't want him to be upset or do something that will endanger his contract. It's pretty obvious the sheik thinks his little boy is the best thing since sliced bread and will take any affront to Rashid as an affront to him. I don't want to ruin the contract because some punk makes me nervous."
Dean put his hands on my shoulders, and said in a low voice, "Owen knows how to handle situations like the one with Rashid and his father. You have to trust Owen to do the right thing."
I nodded. "I'll tell him when he gets home. I just feel like I'm overreacting, and I don't want to mess things up."
Dean gave me a squeeze before letting go of my shoulders. His quiet confidence and the way he approached a problem reminded me a lot of my dad. I could see why Emma trusted him as much as she did.
"So, what are you going to do today?" Dean asked, taking a step back into the main room. I glanced about, and my eyes settled on the kitchen. I loved cooking, and I hadn't had time to cook anything more than a frozen pizza for weeks. I had been itching to try out some new recipes after all the good food I had been eating.
"You like pancakes?"
Dean nodded and rubbed his stomach. "Can't you tell?"
"Then get ready for the best pancakes you've ever had. I'm cooking today."
"You have the list?"
Dean gave me a look that very clearly said Of course I have the list. Stop asking.
I went through the recipes one more time, making sure I had everything. I only wanted Dean to go out shopping for me once. He said he was happy to go do it, that he even knew of a market close by, but I still felt bad. I didn't want to leave the hotel, so I was just going to stay in the room. Dean was all right with that, because I couldn't possibly get into trouble. Besides, if anything did happen, hotel security was on speed dial.
"Remember, fresh cilantro if they have it," I reminded him one last time as he slid on a baseball cap.
"I'll remember. I be back in thirty minutes," Dean said, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked loudly in the quiet room.
I stood staring at the door for a moment, wondering what I should do until he got back. While playing checkers with Dean all day, we had started talking about food. When our favorite homemade meals had come up, I had told him about my mom's secret recipe for "Cheeseburger Pie. Dean suggested I cook it for Owen, along with some chocolate chip cookies. It wasn't exactly scallops with black truffles, but I thought Owen would enjoy it and it gave me something to do. The hotel-stocked kitchen had most of the main ingredients, but I needed some fresh things that I couldn't substitute. For a small slice of my infamous Cheeseburger Pie, Dean had agreed to get them.
I went to the kitchen, pulling out the various pots and pans I would need for cooking and prepping what I could without my fresh ingredients. I found myself humming as I put water on to boil for the potatoes and set out the cutting boards to prep the salad. I was looking for a second mixing bowl when I heard a noise in the other room. Dean was faster than I thought.
I peeked around the corner to the living room, and my blood ran cold. Rashid was on the couch, sitting there like he owned the place. I nearly threw the wooden spoon in my hand at his head, but decided that probably wouldn't be the best reaction. A fair reaction, but not the best.
"How did you get in here, Rashid?" I hoped my annoyance was apparent. I didn't want him here, and I wasn't going to be polite after he broke into my room. I could be diplomatic, but that didn't mean I had to be nice.
He gave me a chastising look. "It's Roger." Then shrugged his shoulders as if getting into a locked hotel room were nothing. "I believe the expression is 'I know a guy.' I get whatever I want, and I wanted to come see you."
I swallowed hard, glancing at the clock. Dean wouldn't be back for another fifteen minutes at the earliest. I hoped there wasn't traffic or that he didn't take his time looking for fresh cilantro. Roger stretched out on the couch, then patted the seat next to him. I stayed standing.
"What do you want to do today, Kaylee?" He looked me up and down, undressing me with his eyes. I fought the urge to cover myself with my hands. He couldn't see through my shirt and yoga pants, no matter how much he wanted to.
"I want you to leave."
"Aw, Kaylee. I can't do that. I came all this way just to see you. Don't be a bad hostess," he said as he stood. I was suddenly very aware of just how much taller he was than I.
"Please leave." I tried to say it forcefully, but it just came out as a whisper. I didn't want to mess anything up for Owen's contract with Roger's father, but I desperately wanted him to go away. He just smirked at me, knowing exactly the position I was in. He knew I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the contract and he was counting on it. H
e took a step closer to me.
"You don't want that, baby. You know you want me." His voice was smooth like oil, sliding over my skin and making me feel dirty. I bumped into the wall behind me, not even aware that I had been stepping back. He gave me a smug smile, knowing I had backed myself into a corner.
I spied the phone on a small table. With my left hand, I reached for the phone's receiver, but my right hand never got to the numbered buttons. As fast as a snake, he grabbed my hand. The receiver fell out of my hand, and I looked up at him with fear in my eyes. I struggled, but his hands were bigger and stronger than mine, and held me easily. I tried to bring my knee up into his groin or at least to drag my foot down his shin- anything to cause him pain- but he was pressed so close to me I couldn't move. I was powerless to stop him, no matter how much I fought and squirmed.
His cologne filled my nostrils. It was strong, like he had bathed in the bottle instead of a shower, and sickeningly sweet. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to be anywhere but here, with anyone but him.
"Please, don't," I whispered, struggling against him. He just laughed, the sound striking fear deep into my bones. Where was Dean?
"Just relax, Kaylee. You'll enjoy this so much more if you just relax," he said softly, his breath giving me unpleasant chills. The calmness and surety in the way he moved told me this wasn't the first time he had done this.
"Get away from her." A commanding voice boomed from across the room. I felt my knees go weak with relief as the door slammed behind Dean. Roger turned his head to glance at him, but didn't let me go.
"This isn't your problem, man. Beat it." Roger turned back, leering at me. He wasn't afraid of Dean.
Before I could move, Roger was ripped off of me like an old band-aid and thrown to the ground. He lay on his back, a dazed expression on his face as Dean stood over him like a tiger about to pounce.