The Billionaire's Christmas Bundle Of Joy - A Secret Baby Romance

by Holly Rayner

  “What?” he said, a choke of laughter in his voice. “You’re making a face.”

  “No! No face!”

  “I hired you because I believe you’re a fantastic actress who’s up to the challenge.”

  She laughed into her hands. “Thank you.”

  “This is going to take a lot of skill and a considerable amount of improvisation on your part. Saying that, you just need to follow my lead and we’ll be fine.”

  “Oh! I didn’t realize you’d be taking part, too.”

  “What, you mean I don’t scream ‘actor’ to you?”

  She shrugged. “You don’t really scream ‘casting director’ or ‘real estate guy’ either, so…”

  “A man of mystery, I’ll take it.”

  The two laughed and slowly the cabin went silent once more, aside from the constant hum of the engine.

  As the hours passed, Amie found she had all manner of things to do to pass the time. The jet was outfitted with a television, an extensive collection of movies, old and new, as well as Wi-Fi and a small library. Malik gave her a brief tour of the jet and after several hours of polite, occasionally flirty chit-chat, Amie finally decided to get some shut-eye. She sprawled across the queen bed, unable to believe just how comfortable being on board a jet could be.

  By the time she awoke it was almost time to land. Malik had walked in and gently woken her, and she freshened up in the washroom before meeting him back in the bedroom.

  “I have something to show you that I’m told is something of a… thrill, to women.”

  She tussled her hair with her fingers and raised a curious brow. “Am I going to have to put on a sexual harassment video?”

  “Trust me, you’ll like it.” He grinned and pulled open the closet doors to reveal the most intensely decorated closet Amie had ever seen, bursting full of a range of gorgeous gowns and professional attire. “Since we’ll be landing shortly, and our performance is about to begin, it’s important that you look the part.”

  “Oh my gosh…” she gaped; her eyes practically glistening with cartoonish sparkles as she ran her hands along the sequins, lace and feathers. “W-well,” she stammered with delight. “What kind of scene are we going into? What should I choose?”

  “Think… meeting the parents. Nothing too sexy, but still suitable for a warm climate.”

  “Warm climate, hmm?”

  She skimmed through the vast wardrobe, resisting the urge to salivate, and eventually settled on white kitten heels and a floor-length navy blue gown with capped sleeves. She felt like the combination of navy and white screamed classy lady, while the silhouette of the dress said success.

  “Warm climate,” he nodded. “I suppose I should tell you now that we’re headed to my home country, Rabayat.”

  “Rabayat…” she repeated with some hesitation. “Which is…?”

  “It’s a small nation in the Middle East,” he laughed. “With that, said I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me, and we’ll get to those shortly, but for now I think it’s best you compose yourself and get ready for your opening night!”

  When Malik had left the room, Amie slid into her gown. She had just enough time to refresh her curls and makeup before Malik was calling for her to fasten her seatbelt in preparation for landing.

  FOUR

  So, this was the Middle East. Images of camels, markets, and pyramids filled Amie’s head, and she nearly swooned. Along with the rest of Malik’s team, she descended from the jet and was quickly ushered into a limousine that was waiting outside on the tarmac. The airport behind them was silver in color and vast in size. There was something sleek and almost futuristic about the architecture. The next thing to hit her was the heat; a humid 76 degrees.

  The small group sat inside the limousine and Amie couldn’t help but steal a glance at the clock. 9am. The flight had lasted 15 hours, so by Chicago time, it would have been somewhere around midnight. Still, Rabayat was eight hours ahead, making the time difference something of a shock to her system.

  She stretched back into the comfortable leather seats of the limo, the cushions seeming to hug her back. She couldn’t help thinking that her current surroundings sure beat the trashy cab she’d been in earlier. She could hardly believe the splendor she’d encountered so far, and had a feeling that that was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Before leaving the jet, Malik had presented her with a crisp leather case, inviting her to take a collection of her choice of items from the incredible closet. She looked around the limo and felt like giggling. The last time she’d been in a limo was… wow, prom.

  Amie breathed slowly and stared out the windows, trying in vain not to listen to the conversations happening around her. This crew clearly had a lot of money to spare, making her wonder just how big the production was going to be, let alone what the theater would look like. She could just imagine a grand, old building encrusted with jewels and sand bricks.

  Why would it be encrusted with jewels? Why not! This was her fantasy theater, after all.

  After some time driving, Amie awoke with a start, as Malik lightly shook her shoulder. Looking through the window, she could see they were pulling into town.

  “You nodded off,” Malik explained with a laugh. “This is the capital, Rabayat City—it’s nearly time for the performance to start.”

  “Is this where the theater is?” she asked sleepily.

  He cocked a brow and smiled, obviously wanting to remain tight-lipped about the job. “Sort of,” was all he said.

  Sometime later the limo finally came to a stop—but not in front of a theater. Instead, before them stood what looked to be a huge, grand art gallery with beautiful Arabic lettering scrawled across the front.

  While she couldn’t make out the text, it seemed to Amie like there was some kind of ball being held inside. Beautifully-crafted stone statues lined the gold carpet that led inside; crowds of people waiting in line to enter the building.

  “It’s a gala,” Malik confirmed, suddenly seeming nervous. “My family are patrons of the gallery.”

  Before Amie could ask what they were doing at a gallery and not a theater, she was distracted by the brilliantly shining ring—an engagement ring—her employer now pulled from his pocket. The ring was white gold, with an oval-cut diamond in the center.

  He gestured for her hand and when she gave it, he slipped the ring easily on her ring finger.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me already,” she joked.

  “As of this moment, you’re officially in character,” he said quickly. He gave her a curious look that she couldn’t quite decipher and suddenly Amie felt her face go white.

  “What’s… going on?” she asked with a raised brow, as her new boss let out a bashful sigh and bit his lip. “What?” she repeated; her worry mounting.

  As the driver opened the door, Malik exited the limo and assisted her out, looping her arm through his and grabbing her hand.

  Oh no.

  She could feel sweat suddenly forming down her back as everything started coming together. She wasn’t going to be starring in a play or taking part in a reality show—she was going to be playing Malik’s fiancée!

  ***

  Amie gritted her teeth as she walked alongside Malik, into the gala. She wasn’t sure whether she should scold her new boss, or crawl back to the limo with her tail between her legs. It was so like her to pick up the world’s strangest role.

  Taking a deep breath, she told herself that as long as she was here, she would be game for anything. She walked further inside and was shocked again by the grandeur of the gallery. Ancient statues stood behind velvet ropes next to intricate, abstract paintings all among a crowd of important-looking people.

  An older gentleman suddenly shouted something at Malik from across the gallery and started making his way over. He was elderly, perhaps 70 or older, and wore a black and gold robe with a black and white keffiyeh on his head. He may have been a little older, but he sure had style.

&nb
sp; “My apologies, Azim, Amie doesn’t speak Arabic!” Malik shouted back with a laugh.

  “My dear, my dear,” the man began in his best English. His smile was bright and genuine as he nodded towards Amie. “Beautiful, just as you said,” he continued, looking at Malik.

  “My love, this is Azim, one of my family’s oldest and dearest friends, as well as a very busy diplomat,” Malik explained, and she smiled towards the man. “Azim, this is Amie Shaw.”

  “Soon to be Bin Malehdi,” Azim corrected. “Sheikh Malik’s American fiancée,” the man mused. “So tell me, Ms. Shaw, what is it that you do? Where in the States do you come from? Have you set a date for the big day? Malik has been so tight-lipped about you; you’ve been his little secret!”

  “One question at a time, Azim!” Malik chuckled. “Amie is an heiress, who happens to own a theater. The most historic theater in all of Chicago, actually.”

  “Ah… the theater,” Azim said wistfully; his eyes suddenly elsewhere. “Don’t you just love the theater?”

  “Oh, who doesn’t,” Amie said nervously.

  “How are you liking Rabayat? And our gallery! What do you think of our gallery? Tell me Malik is taking you on a tour of the theater. You’ll adore it. Not quite American in style—even more beautiful, in fact!”

  “Azim!” Malik laughed, setting his hand gently on the older man’s shoulder. “Don’t overwhelm her, we’ve only just arrived!”

  Amie let out an elegant laugh and gently batted Malik on the arm. “Oh don’t be silly, darling! Azim, I may have only just arrived, but I am absolutely charmed by Rabayat. It’s so beautiful here, and I have no doubt that if Malik intends to charm me further, he’ll be showing me all the sights.” She laughed once more. “Forgive me if I turn into a stomach-turning American tourist, but I cannot wait to see more of your country.”

  “Oh!” Azim’s mouth went wide in an ‘O’ shape; his expression quickly turning to one of delight. “That American charm,” he said in a sing-song voice, addressing Malik. “You’re in for trouble.”

  A moment later, a lady that Amie guessed to be Azim’s wife had made her way over. She wore a matching black and gold gown, with a beautifully embroidered hijab covering her head. Though older, her eyes were done up with black liner and she looked every bit the polished and elegant older lady. She grabbed Azim’s hand and whispered something into his ear.

  Azim smiled at the woman and touched her cheek lightly, whispering back in Arabic. The connection between them was so electric, Amie almost started to feel jealous. The last relationship she’d had was more than two years ago, before she moved. She’d actually ended it, not because he was a cheating jerk or because their goals were different; simply because she was moving and his job didn’t allow him to follow her. Since neither of them thought they could handle a long-distance relationship, it ended. Since then, she’d had a brief two-month stint with an extra she’d met on an independent film, but that hardly counted. They only kissed a few times; not exactly “lifers”.

  Amie refocused her attention on the magnetic couple before her, offering a broad smile to the woman at the center of the group.

  “Amie, this is Azim’s wife, Galina.”

  “What a beautiful name,” Amie said, and gave a small curtsey to the woman. “Your husband is full of questions.”

  “Aren’t we all?” the woman said with ease; her voice soft and young. “Malik has been a window of secrets about you. We were so worried when he decided to stay in America. If we’d known he was going to meet someone as lovely as you, perhaps we all would have slept better.”

  “It sounds like Malik has some wonderful people looking out for him,” Amie laughed. “Thankfully, there’s no more need for worries. My love is right where he should be.”

  “It’s good you’re so confident,” Azim said with a chuckle. “Because you’re about to meet some very important people in Sheikh Malik’s life.”

  Amie’s eyes felt like saucers as she laughed with surprise. She turned to Malik for guidance and in return he only offered her a playful wink.

  “They’re harmless,” he whispered with a smile. While he sounded as confident as could be, she couldn’t help but notice his grip got a little tighter around her arm.

  The man who approached was also elderly. He was short—shorter than Amie—and wore a green robe and gold chains around his neck. He regarded Amie briefly before speaking to Malik in Arabic; a huge grin forming on his lips.

  The young woman standing next to him was absolutely breathtaking. She wore a red gown with quarter sleeves and deep-plum eyeshadow with smoky black, winged liner. She had brown eyes and perfectly-arched brows.

  “Father, this is Amie.” Malik turned to his faux-fiancée then gestured towards the man. “Amie, this is my father, Mahumet.”

  Mahumet looked her over carefully; with purpose. He turned back to Malik and narrowed his eyes before finally giving him an approving nod. “As-salaam ‘alaykum,” he said smoothly, then took his leave from them both.

  Amie smiled and returned the nod; completely unaware as to whether doing so was an acceptable custom or not. After all, if Malik was a sheikh, wouldn’t that make his father some kind of king or something? She gave an awkward smile to the young woman still standing in front of them and the woman also gave her the once-over; her final expression not at all approving.

  “He said ‘Peace be upon you,’” she said harshly. “Assuming you don’t speak Arabic?”

  “No, but thank you. Now I know who to turn to for a fantastic translation.”

  Azim and Galina both offered a polite chuckle, but the woman before them just looked bored.

  “Oh, Zafina, please!” came Galina’s hearty laugh. “Give the poor girl a chance. She’s his fiancée, after all!”

  “You remember my sister,” Malik said quickly.

  Sister… Check.

  “Well, we’ve never had the pleasure,” Amie winced.

  “Yes,” Malik said through gritted teeth. “But I’ve told you all about her, haven’t I?”

  Zafina laughed at that. “So nice to meet you, Amie. I’m sorry to say that while Malik has told you all about me, he’s hardly said a word about you.” She continued sizing Amie up, adjusting her head covering slightly as she did. “In fact, the subject of your engagement came up at quite the opportune time.” Zafina raised her hand to her mouth as if to say Oops! and laughed once more. “Pardon me. I mean, came up quite suddenly.”

  Amie tilted her head to the side and smiled, rubbing Malik’s arm gently. “I’m sorry to hear that. He must have been worried I wasn’t going to make this trip. I had a… work-related emergency that I wasn’t sure I could get away from. He probably didn’t want to disappoint any of you.”

  “And what a disappointment that would have been,” Zafina smirked.

  With that, Azim and Galina politely excused themselves to a nearby painting and warmly expressed their delight in meeting Amie, as if to subtly scold Zafina for her behavior.

  “So…” Zafina frowned, and gave a knowing smile to Malik. “How was it you two met, again?

  “We met at a bar,” Amie said with a dazed smile, taking her best guess at it. She could tell she’d made the wrong guess, however, when Malik’s face suddenly fell.

  “Hmm,” Zafina enunciated. “Malik said you met through his work in real estate.”

  “Right, right… I had made an appointment with him about buying a new condo, but I run a theater in Chicago and we had a wrap party that night at a local restaurant. I had an early meeting so he kindly agreed to meet me there.” Amie grinned. Take that, Zafina!

  The sister nodded and gave an arrogant smile. “The theater… how fascinating.”

  It was time for Amie to reassess her situation; she was now dealing with a culture she had no clue about, and a mean, jealous sister who clearly had beef with Malik.

  The strange thing was, while she was standing there, mortified, Malik actually seemed jovial; an endless chatter of conversation and a c
ontagiously playful laughter spilling forth from him.

  “You Americans, you love games, yes?” Zafina asked, grabbing Amie’s arm and walking her further into the gallery.

  They walked past three paintings, the designs on each canvas combining to make a single image of a fallen soldier. The details within the thick brush strokes were left to interpretation, but to Amie, the hero looked decidedly happy to have fallen.

  “So,” the sister continued, “who said ‘I love you’ first?”

  “Malik did,” Amie smiled her best adoring smile. “In the rain, after seeing our first play together.”

  “Looks like my big brother has some class after all!” Zafina said playfully, smacking Malik lightly on the shoulder. “And how did he propose?”