The Sheikh's Secret

by Knight, Kylie

  “Be quiet. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Doesn’t it? That’s my son. If anything concerns me, it’s him.”

  Even his father seemed shocked by this, shocked enough to be silent. Now that she had everyone’s full attention, she looked shy, but she wasn’t willing to back down. What kind of secrets must she have in her past to be willing to stand up for him now? For the first time, Aasif considered what it must have been like for her, for his father. He had been the product of an arranged marriage, too. Maybe at least one of them had loved someone they were never permitted to be with.

  “Do you love her?”

  Aasif nodded, afraid to even speak. He knew that if he did he would lose control of himself, and he couldn’t let that happen now.

  “Do you hear that? He loves her. He loves her, and if you don’t let him do this thing, we will lose him forever. He’s made his choice, now it’s time to make yours. Is she who we expected? No, not at all. But it’s who he wants. Can’t you let him have her? Let him have a piece of both worlds. Let him have a part of the past and the future at the same time.”

  Aasif was certain that his father refused. He stepped in front of Beth at the first step his dear old dad took, terrified of what he would do to her. But instead of angry words or, even worse, some kind of violence he wouldn’t be able to take back, his father pushed him aside and took Beth gently by the hand. Beth looked to Aasif quickly for some kind of instruction, but he had none to give. He hadn’t thought something like this would happen. He had no idea how to respond.

  “Let me be the first to welcome you, my dear girl. And let me apologize for my manners. You will come to understand, in time, what it is that drives a man like me. It’s difficult to teach an old dog new tricks, but I’m willing to try. If it’s what my son really and truly wants, I will try.”

  Aasif moved forward and swept Beth up into his arms, kissing her passionately despite the amazed and scandalized response of his family. He knew now that nothing could stand between them. He would become the Sheikh as he was supposed to, and Beth would be by his side. She was strong enough, and he would be strong enough just by being near her. They would love each other as they were meant to and it would sustain them. It was the strangest outcome he could have imagined, but it was his and he could not have been more grateful for it. For the first time in his entire life, he felt at home. He had finally become the man he was supposed to be.

  THE END

  Her Passion

  Ori Herd was in the habit of giving nicknames to the customers who came regularly to her little bookstore in the heart of Seattle’s Pike Place. The names came from either her first impression of them, the books they pored over or, sometimes, the imaginary alternate lives Ori made up for them to amuse herself.

  Like the woman with the plain clothes and nervous demeanor was The Dominatrix, who spent her time in the store reading erotica that would make a stripper blush; the teenager with tattoos and a potty mouth was Bound for Priesthood; the old man who loved history books, and who adored Ori, was Wish You Were My Dad. Ori would work silently beside these readers, knowing exactly where to point them for their next read, bringing them coffee from her little espresso machine.

  The bookstore had been her passion, her haven, her place of business ever since she’d walked away from the career that had paid for it all. Astoria Vine had been the biggest rock star on the planet when she’d suddenly, abruptly, disappeared from public life. With her bleached blond mane, violet eyes, and perfect face, Astoria had been the envy of millions…but the woman underneath, the twenty-four year old ex-classical music graduate, had hated the business, the sycophants, the endless parties to which she was expected to attend, the sexism, the presumption that she would sleep with any of the revolting head honchos just to get ahead, the drugs that people tried to force on her. Ori had endured it for five years until, one night after a sold-out gig at Madison Square Garden, she’d found herself sobbing on the top of a New York skyscraper, wondering if it would be easier to just jump. It was only the thought of her younger sister, her beloved Yasmin, that kept her from falling. Then and there, she packed a suitcase and checked out of the hotel and moved across the country to the place she felt she could escape. Seattle.

  Now, three years on, and having reverted back to her natural dark brown hair and ditched the contact lenses in favor of spectacles to hide those violet eyes, Ori had at last found where she belonged. Yasmin, now nineteen and tall as a willow, was in college in the city and they lived in a simple apartment out in Queen Anne with their beloved rescue dachshunds, Hamish, and Flea.

  If her customers ever recognized her, they didn’t say a word. With her long dark hair piled up on the top of her head, her uniform of jeans, tee and sneakers and a face free of makeup, Ori looked so far removed from that painted and polished rock star as she ever could. She supplemented their income by giving piano lessons, sometimes in the shop, at the old piano she’d gotten from a yard sale. Hamish and Flea guarded the shop dutifully – when they weren’t curled up asleep on one of the sofas with reading customers.

  Today, as Ori opened delivery boxes packed with new books, she heard the jingle of the door and heard the skitter of tiny paws on the wooden floors; the dogs greeting of their favorite customers. One of Ori’s favorites.

  “Hey, little buddies.”

  Ori felt her stomach quiver at the warm voice. She swallowed before looking up, mentally preparing herself for the effect this particular customer always had. She looked up into his green eyes, so familiar now. Yasmin had nicknamed him ‘Come to Mama’, but Ori just called him The Delicious Dude. He’d been coming in for the last few weeks, always very friendly, always making Ori feel like she was the only person in the world. He was tall, his hair almost black and cropped short around a face Michelangelo would have been proud of. It was just his grin which stopped him from being too classically honed – a wide mouth cheeky, a boyish grin which took over his whole face and was impossible to resist.

  Ori had been impressed with his reading choices too: Murakami, Auster, Bradbury. They’d bonded over a shared hatred of Animal Farm and a fascination with The Secret History. He’d come in for the first time as she was dealing with a rare difficult customer, a scraggly blonde who was complaining about the bonk-buster she’d bought not having quite enough ‘bonk’ in it.

  “I thought it would be about a guy who’s a stud who gets all the ladies. Instead, it’s this weird creepy dude that pretends he’s this other man.”

  She handed a bag to Ori, who pulled out a copy of The Talented Mr. Ripley. She glanced up to see if the woman was kidding and met the clear green amused eyes of The Delicious Dude. A look passed between them and Ori had to struggle not to bust up then and there. Instead, with a nod to him, she bore the woman off to get something more appropriate.

  When she returned, T.D.D. was grinning at her. “A happy customer?”

  Ori smiled back at him, noticing that his dark hair curled around his ears in a way that made her want to run her fingers through it. “Let’s just say I found her something a little less stabby.”

  Since that day, he’d been in every afternoon, three-thirty regular as clockwork, so much so, Ori would glance at the clock automatically ten minutes before and switch the coffee machine on.

  Now, as he fussed over Hamish and Flea, she smiled fondly at the dogs and at him. “Coffee?”

  He stood up and smiled. “On one condition. You’re always so busy – sit with me and have a break.”

  Ori, her face flushing, looked around at the pile of boxes she had yet to deal with and made a doubtful face at him. He touched her arm gently, leaving her skin burning.

  “What if I promise to help you with that lot, afterward?’

  She considered. ‘Okay, deal. But first…”

  “What?”

  “You have to tell me your name.”

  He laughed and stuck his hand out. “Milo Shaw.” His huge hand closed over hers and held it a beat too long.
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  “Ori Herd.” She reluctantly pulled her hand away and went behind the counter to pour their coffee. She brought it over to the couch he had commandeered and curled her legs up under her. He was playing with the two dogs, who crawled all over him, trying to lick his face. Lucky dogs, Ori thought, then pushed the thought hurriedly away, worried he could see the naked lust on her face. She felt tiny next to him, his long denim-clad legs stretched out for miles, his broad frame taking up half the couch. Ori rescued him from Hamish, at least, pulling the little dog’s wriggling body onto her lap for moral support. Milo Shaw’s presence made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time…

  Milo Shaw lived for these afternoons. Three weeks ago, stuck in an interminable meeting with his accountants and his chief advisor Brandt, he wondered how the hell he’d gotten to this point. His media company was drifting farther and farther away from what he’d envisioned when he’d set it up. His love of music had made him eschew the family oil business and set up his first independent record company and his unerring eye for talent sent the business into the stratosphere. Now, sitting on a billion dollar fortune, Milo was bored. Nearing forty, he no longer spent his time at gigs, following tips around the country, discovering new artists. He spent it in strategy meetings or discussing the company’s online presence or, god forbid, discussing gaming with the nerds from I.T. and feeling very, very old.

  He’d escaped the meeting and took off into the city, aiming to grab a coffee and chill out in the cold Seattle sunshine. Instead, he’d found himself pushing open the door of the bookstore that was stuck between two coffee shops and changing his life forever.

  He’d seen her right away, the tiny, curvy woman with a mass of dark chocolate hair piled up into a messy bun, smooth, unblemished olive skin and the incredible, somehow familiar violet eyes. She’d looked up at his entrance and given him such a lovely smile that he’d wanted to take her in his arms immediately, kiss that deep pink mouth. The spell had been broken by the rude blonde woman but the amused look he and the owner had shared had given him the perfect excuse to start talking to her.

  Now, all these weeks later, he studied her – Ori – as she curled herself into the sofa across from him and sipped her coffee. The violet eyes were surrounded by long, thick dark lashes and the way they swept down onto her faintly blushed cheeks made his groin tighten.

  “So, how’s your day been?” Really, that’s the best you can come up with?

  Ori smiled. “Busy but busy is good.”

  Milo sipped his coffee. “Agreed….if it’s something you’re passionate about.”

  “What do you do?”

  Milo smiled. He liked that she didn’t know who he was, obviously not caring about the social scene in which Milo orbited, the uber-rich eligible bachelor tag which he hated. He could be anyone he wanted. “I work in the music business…well,” he corrected himself, not wanting to lie to her, “the media business. Music is one of our subsidiaries.”

  Ori’s eyes had taken on a wary look that he didn’t understand and when she spoke, she didn’t quite meet his eyes. “So, um, what’s your role in the business?”

  Milo smiled sheepishly. “I kind of own it.”

  Ori almost choked on her drink and then laughed. “Well, okay then, I’m officially embarrassed. What’s a C.E.O. doing ducking out every afternoon to come spend time with me?”

  As soon as she’d asked the question, the answer was so obvious that she flushed, her cheeks taking on the deepest rose pink. Milo put his coffee down and slid over to her side, taking her cup from her hand and setting it down on the little table. She was trembling when he cupped his hands around her face but as he pressed his lips to hers, he was gratified that she kissed him back. Her soft lips moved against his and as he pulled her onto his lap, her fingers slid into his hair, the soft stroking making his senses explode.

  Breathless, they broke off and stared at the other for a long moment, then burst into laughter.

  “That was unexpected,” Ori confessed and he tightened his arms around her waist, trailing his lips along her jawline, kissing the hollow at the base of her throat.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for three weeks now.”

  Ori flushed again – damn, that color was glorious – and he kissed her again. “Ori?”

  She had her eyes closed as he kissed her. “Yes?” Her voice was breathy and he could tell she felt as excited and bemused as himself.

  “I have a craving for pizza. Have dinner with me?”

  Ori opened her eyes and grinned at him. “You had me at pizza.”

  ***

  Milo was true to his word and helped her unpack the rest of the delivery. By the time they were finished the sun had gone down and they were both covered in packing dust. Ori grinned as she looked him up and down. He wore standard jeans and tee but closer inspection revealed that the t-shirt had been artfully and no doubt expensively made to look vintage, the jeans were cut beautifully to fit his huge frame. He must be at least six-five, she thought now, then as he caught her eye, she cleared her throat, embarrassed.

  “Look, it’s late…”

  Milo shook his head. “Nuh-uh, I’m not letting you blow me off. You promised.”

  Ori smiled. “You didn’t let me finish, impatient boy. It’s late, but I have some cold beers in the back, shall we just get pizza delivered? Because I don’t know about you, but I’m filthy.’

  Milo’s eyebrows shot up suggestively and Ori blushed for the millionth time that day. “I mean, I’m dirty…oh hell, I give up.”

  Ori hadn’t laughed so much in one day for a long, long time. While she called Yas to tell her she’d be out late, she watched Milo play with the dogs. For such a big man, he sure was bullied by the two dachshunds, who weaved and skittered around him, play-growling and yapping.

  Yas answered on the first ring. “Yo, sis, I’m almost at the shop.”

  Damn. “Um, Yas, I kind have to talk to you, could you go home instead?”

  “Too late, I’m here….oh.”

  Ori looked up to see her little sister pressed against the main window, staring with a wide open mouth at the scene inside. Ori watched as a wide smile spread across Yas’s face. Her sister made a ‘well done’ signal to her. “I’ll be fine, Ori, you take your time. You’ve got protection, right?”

  Ori scowled at her sister. “Yasmin Herd, you’d better…”

  “Kidding! Kidding, sis, I meant the dogs, of course.”

  “Go away now.”

  Beaming, Yas gave her double finger-pistols through the window and disappeared. Ori turned to see Milo laying on the floor, Hamish and Flea jumping on his big chest.

  “Help,” he shouted in mock-panic, “the wolves have gotten me.”

  Ori laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, pal, nothing I can do. You’re dead meat.”

  They’d shared a pepperoni pizza and laid waste to six beers by midnight, chatting and talking as if they were old friends. Ori couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to him, and when he leaned over to kiss her again, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

  “You should know,” she said, when breathless, they broke apart, “I’m not the sort of girl who…goes all the way on the first date.”

  “Goes all the way? Excuse me, ma’am, are we in the 1950’s?” He was smiling. “I’m just kidding. Besides, this isn’t our first date?”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Nope. That’s tomorrow night.”

  Ori grinned at him. “You’re very confident, Mr. Shaw.”

  He pretended to consider then nodded. “Yes, yes, I am. Seriously, though, I’m fine about…that. I don’t want to rush anything here, Ori, I want to savor every last minute with you.”

  His words made her stomach warm. Who was this man? He was the kind of man she didn’t think existed anymore: funny, intelligent, romantic. Was it too good to be true?

  He was watching her. “I see what you’re thinking but I swear, no bs. I’m too old to play games anymo
re.” For the first time, she saw doubt creep into his eyes. “Ori…I’m guessing you’re what…mid-twenties? Would the age gap bother you?”

  Ori could answer confidently this time. “Not in the slightest. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. And thank you for being…a gentleman.”

  Milo gave a short cough of laughter. “Well, not so much…can I interest you in a little under-the-clothes action?” And he slipped his hand under her t-shirt and stroked her belly. Ori couldn’t help the moan of pleasure that escaped her and she pulled his lips down to hers.

  “This isn’t at all the way I thought this day would go,” she murmured, hearing him chuckle as he maneuvered her under him on the couch.

  It was getting light again before they fell asleep, a night of talking, kissing and caressing, a night that neither of them would forget. Milo wrapped her up in his arms and for the first time in an age, Ori felt completely safe and happy.

  ***

  The rattle of metal screens being pulled up woke them before six. Despite the lack of sleep, they smiled at each other and Milo kissed her before she could object.

  “Argh, my morning breath,” she protested but he shrugged.

  “Mine too…we cancel each other out.” He kissed her again then they both made faces. “Well, maybe not.”

  She extracted herself from his arms, grinning. “There’re spare toothbrushes upstairs – and a shower if you want.”