SHEIKH'S SURPRISE BABY: A Sheikh Romance

by Knight, Kylie

  Aimee felt like she wanted to throw up. Her nausea rose like a boiling water, tickling the back of her throat. She rested her elbow on the arm of the couch and propped her head against her hand. Was this really to be her life? Could she live here, with him, like this? She couldn’t stand the thought of touching John. Not after the way Xavier had treated her.

  She wanted to forget that night with him, but it had changed her. For once in her life she was happy. He respected her, cared about how she felt. Everything with him felt as it should be, as life should be. Now he was going to prison for robbing a bank, and she just couldn’t—

  Her eye caught a glimpse of something between the cushion and the wall of the couch. Aimee slipped her fingers into the crack and pinched the small piece of paper. When she withdrew her hand, she was looking at a crisp $100 bill.

  She grabbed the side of the cushion and pulled it up to see the zipper for the cushion cover slightly open. Money was looking at her from that small space.

  Xavier hadn’t robbed the bank. John did. The police never said cash was stolen, just that it was robbed. She thought maybe Xavier had forced them to do an electronic transfer of money at gunpoint. That’s what they always did in the movies. He was so powerful, she believed he could do anything.

  As it turns out, she was wrong. The echoing beat of footsteps came down the hall again and Aimee swallowed her heart. She shoved the bill back into the crack and looked up just as John appeared in the room.

  “Are you still—“

  His eyes looked at her hand, and then her face. She was sure that no matter how much she was trying to look neutral he could tell something was wrong.

  “Ah hell,” he said with a sigh.

  Xavier stood when the officer at the jail door called out his name. The other inmates there for anything from drunken misconduct to traffic violations perked up for a second at the activity and then went back to ignoring the dismal life around them.

  “I’m him,” Xavier said as he approached.

  The door squeaked as it slid open. “Your alibi checks out. The charges against you are being dropped.”

  “I have no idea why you thought I would have done this in the first place. During the interrogation you said you had an eye-witness put me at the scene? Was that all you had to go on?”

  “You can get your things at the counter up there,” the officer said, ignoring everything Xavier said.

  It was the flimsiest police work he’d ever witnessed. After signing the papers and gathering up his personal belongings — what little there was after being arrested in his underwear — he stepped outside to see Roland already waiting for him.

  After going home, showering, and changing clothes, Xavier just couldn’t calm down. They didn’t have to tell him. He knew Aimee was behind his being arrested. She probably was working that day, and saw him glaring at her.

  She probably thought she’d have the last laugh! Well he’d show her. Xavier picked up the phone and called her. When she didn’t answer, he called again, and again. He called fifteen more times, positive that she’d pick up. She didn’t. He texted her. At first it was scathing, unleashing his full fury. When she didn’t respond, guilt over how he was behaving started to settle in.

  He realized he wasn’t giving her any reason to answer him back. If he was just going to yell at her, there was nothing to talk about. So he apologized. Then he begged her to talk to him. He realized how crazy this was all coming across as. He sent a text explaining about how he wasn’t a stalker, he was just upset that she’d sent him to jail. Then he sent another text explaining how he knew that saying he wasn’t a stalker was exactly what stalkers said!

  By that point, he started to become sincerely concerned. She would’ve responded by now to something, anything. She would’ve made a joke, or told him to stop messaging her. Something was wrong.

  “Okay, “he said to himself, “if we’re playing the role of stalker, then let’s go for the gold.” Xavier went to his computer and did a ping on her phone number, tracking where her cell phone was. What came up was a mobile home park not far from her town.

  He immediately had Roland drive him over to the address, making sure he understood that any speeding tickets would be paid for, and any marks against Roland’s license removed. They made it in record time.

  It didn’t matter anymore what she’d done, or how she felt about him. She could hate him. That was fine. He just needed to know she was okay. As long as she was angry, but fine, he’d leave her alone forever. It was during that drive that he realized what he was feeling wasn’t actually anger, it was hurt. Her rejection had been so painful, he just didn’t know how to respond to it, so it turned to anger. Now that didn’t matter. Nothing did — only Aimee.

  Roland pulled up to the address and Xavier ran up to the flimsy door. Somewhere in his mind he suspected that just knocking would get him some form of STD, but that was just a risk he was going to have to take.

  After a quick rap against the door, a large man answered. Her boyfriend. Xavier recognized him from that time behind the restaurant. Now that he saw him up close, Xavier mentally remarked on the vacancy behind the man’s eyes. There was zero thought going on behind those glassy orbs.

  “What?” the man asked.

  “Is Aimee here?”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen her.”

  Xavier tilted to the side to try to see past him, but couldn’t see her anywhere. “Really?”

  The man glanced to the side, and Xavier saw fresh scratch marks across his cheek and neck. So fresh, in fact, they were still beading with blood. “Yeah man, I said I haven’t seen her. Not for days. Now get out of here, all right? Or I’ll call the cops.”

  “Hey, my mistake,” Xavier said, holding up his hands and backing away. “If you see her, tell her I’ll talk to her soon, okay?”

  “Whatever man,” the boyfriend said and closed the door.

  Xavier went back to his car, and no sooner had he closed the door than hit send on his phone. When the man answered on the other line, a cold calm settled over Xavier.

  “I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

  Aimee tried not to cry, but sound escaped as small whimpers without her intending to. She couldn’t help it. The last thing she wanted to do was get more attention from John, but her emotions overruled her choices, and the whimpers escaped.

  The closet door slid open flooding her with light. “Your little boyfriend just came to my house.”

  John threw her cell phone at her. If she hadn’t dodged her head to the side it would’ve cracked her right in the skull.

  “He’s called you like a hundred times. How does he know where I live?”

  Fear gripped her heart. She tried to tell him she didn’t know, but her words were muffled by the duct tape over her mouth. John pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.

  “I’m going to kill you either way, but whether it’s slow or fast is up to you. I’m only asking one more time, so you better stop lying to me. How does he know you were here? How does he know where I live?”

  Aimee sobbed and shook her head again.

  “Stop lying to me! I’ll kill you, him, and everyone you care about! Tell me!”

  All she could do was keep shaking her head, but John yelled over and over for her to tell him. She just didn’t have an answer for him.

  Wind suddenly buffeted against the walls of the mobile home. It was nighttime now, but blinding white light flooded the entire inside of the mobile home. Aimee heard the front door burst open, and John turned and fired his gun. Aimee screamed, trying to duck down further in the closet, but her wrists and ankles were duct taped together and didn’t really allow for a lot of movement.

  There was a quick gunfight, but for her it lasted a lifetime. John threw his gun at whoever was coming in and he tried to run. Aimee saw four men in full riot gear chase after. Two more men stopped at the closet and pulled her from it.

  They didn’t bother with the duct tape, but instead just carried her o
ut the door to safety. As they did, she saw John stuck halfway through the window of his bedroom. Half a dozen guys were there pulling him threw, and she knew there were the ones that had come up behind him. He had nowhere to go.

  The men carrying her sat her behind a large armored truck. A spot right where Xavier was crouched and waiting. He pulled out a pocket knife and cut free her wrists and ankles, then pulled the duct tape from her mouth.

  “You did this?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “I knew something was wrong, but I knew the police wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “These men are yours?”

  “What? Of course not. It’s illegal to employ a private standing army. I just know a few guys that owe me favors. Perpetually. That I donate money to.”

  Her heart soared and she wrapped her arms around him. “It was John, he was the one that robbed the bank. The money is in the couch cushions. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

  Xavier nodded to the men around them and they ran back in the building, presumably to check the couch. “It’s okay,” he said to her. “I believe you. I’m sorry for my part in all of this. What say I take you home?”

  Aimee swallowed, knowing she wouldn’t see him again. Xavier helped her to stand and they walked to his limo. Roland was there waiting for them.

  She knew it wouldn’t be long before they were at her place, so she clung to Xavier and held to him as long as she had with him. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and stroked her hair softly. She felt so comfortable and safe that she didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep.

  Xavier nudged her gently with his elbow. Aimee woke, surprised she’d slept, and looked around. She was not at the café. They weren’t even in the town anymore.

  “Where…?”

  “Home. Our home.”

  She looked at him.

  “I want you to come stay with me.”

  “Xavier, you can’t be serious.” She studied his features. “Are you?”

  “Absolutely serious. Look me in the eye. Tell me you don’t want to be with me and I’ll have Roland take you wherever you like.”

  “I can’t do that,” she said. “It would be a lie. But Xavier, I don’t fit in your world.”

  “Stay with me,” he said, taking her hands. “We’ll make a new world together. I can’t imagine my life without you. I finally found the one person I truly connect with. I’m not letting you go.”

  Aimee relinquished all doubt. She never felt like it could be real, that he could really want her. After what he’d done for her, and now begging her to stay with him, she had no more excuses. She tried to talk herself out of it to convince herself this wasn’t real, but that voice was gone.

  All that remained was Xavier, and the way he looked at her now. She knew that she didn’t want anyone else to look at her the way he did. He was everything for her, just as she was to him.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll stay.”

  It was the first step in a long and happy life together.

  THE END

  Trusting My Bad Boy

  “That guy is watching you,” Darlene said. She couldn’t have imagined that something intended as an innocent joke would have sent a cold chill down Sophia’s spine.

  “What does he look like?” she asked, trying to stay calm.

  “Cute. About five ten or so. Sandy hair. Can’t see his eyes in this light.”

  “They’re brown,” Sophia said.

  “Oh, you know him?” Darlene smiled past her shoulder and started to raise her hand but Sophia stopped her.

  “Don’t wave at him, don’t even look at him,” she said between gritted teeth.

  But it was too late. She could feel Phil draw close. “Hello, Sophie.”

  She sighed. “Hello, Phil.” She didn’t look up at him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Not your business. Never your business. Leave me alone. “Out with friends.”

  “Hi, I’m Darlene.” She extended her hand but Phil ignored her.

  “Female friends?” he asked.

  Darlene said, “Cold in here. I need another drink.” When she got up and left, Phil slid into her chair.

  “You have another man in your life now?” he asked softly. His quiet voice was his dangerous voice.

  “Phil, you need to leave me alone. We’re not together anymore and I don’t answer to you.”

  “I’m just concerned for your well-being,” he said as he brushed a tendril of blonde hair back from her face. “I’ll always think of us as belonging to each other.”

  “I don’t belong to you!” she told him, finally turning to look at him, trying not to shiver when she saw that look in his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Don’t I know everything there is to know about you? If that isn’t ownership—”

  “It’s not. Now go away. I mean it.”

  He got up. “I’m watching you, Sophie.”

  “Sophia.”

  “Sophie,” he repeated, and faded into the crowd.

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She was terrified, angry, despairing of ever having a life where she wasn’t looking over her shoulder for fear that Phil would be standing there.

  They had been together for two-and-a-half years. The last year they’d lived together, and it had been the worst, most harrowing time of Sophia’s life. He’d been so attentive when they met, so kind and thoughtful. He always remembered her birthday, what kind of flowers she liked, how she took her coffee. He always remembered what was on her calendar so he could remind her, he said.

  But the truth was that little-by-little, he’d tried to own her. Knowing everything about her was like laying claim to her very soul. And the calendar thing? That was so he always knew what she was doing when she wasn’t nearby. She hadn’t even realized it until he began to question her about her business meetings.

  “Thought maybe you could use this.” Darlene was back. She set a vodka gimlet in front of Sophia. “So who was that?”

  “My ex.” She didn’t elaborate.

  “Cute, but no social skills, huh?”

  Sophia sighed. “You could say that, I guess.”

  “So, does he want to get back together again?”

  She shrugged.

  “You thinking about it?”

  The question, though innocent, set Sophia off. “I would rather eat ground glass,” she said. “And now I’m going to stop talking about him.”

  “Wow, okay, touchy much?”

  “Look, if talking about Phil is the price of this drink, you can keep it.” She shoved the glass at Darlene. “He made my life miserable. I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Jeez, okay, okay. Just keep the drink.” She got up and wandered off.

  No one there knew her story. She hadn’t talked much about her life with Phil with anyone from work because it was embarrassing and not their business even though Phil’s behavior in that last year started to make it their business. He would obsess about her work life and what was going on in her office.

  Sometimes he’d show up unexpectedly, to take her to lunch, he’d say. Or to bring her something she’d left at home (something he’d taken out of her purse when she wasn’t looking, she was sure of it.) Then he’d hang around and watch the people nearby. When she got home, he would grill her about the men in her office.

  “Who’s the guy in the next cubicle?” he’d ask her. “What was his name? Erik? Has he ever tried to touch you? What about your boss? He’s never made a pass at you, has he? Has he ever tried to touch you?”

  The touching thing was weird. At first she assumed he was perhaps being over-protective. She told herself that perhaps he had family or a friend who had been molested and he was sensitive to that kind of thing. But she began to realize that he obsessed about men trying to touch her. He’d told men in clubs to keep their distance from her, and once in an elevator, he’d gotten into a fight with a man who, he said, had been deliberately
standing too close to Sophia so he could touch her. Predictably the man took offense and it came to blows. The police were called and Phil got arrested, but not until one of the cops had asked Sophia what she’d done to provoke the fight.

  The unfairness of men sometimes boggled her mind, especially since Phil blamed her too. “You were leading him on,” he’d accused on the way home from the police station.

  “I got in an elevator with him. Should I have waited for an empty one?” she’d asked.

  “I’d have preferred it, since you’re always coming on to other guys.”

  That night was the beginning of the end. Phil’s possessiveness grew worse as Sophia’s tolerance stretched to the limit and then broke. The day she left, she’d met him at the door with her coat on and her packed bags ready.

  “I’m going to stay with my folks for a while,” she told him. “I can’t stand dealing with your jealousy and control anymore.”

  He’d been angrier than she’d ever seen him, but when he stepped toward her with his hand raised, she was ready. She pulled a can of pepper spray out of her pocket and aimed it at his eyes.

  “I won’t hesitate,” she told him.

  “I will take that away from you and make you eat it.”

  Somehow his anger made her calmer. “Phil, you may be able to hurt me, but believe me when I tell you that I will hurt you too. I’m prepared to kill you if I have to. I’ve thought about that a lot, and I know I can do it. I even put a knife in my pocket in case you forced me into defending myself. So you make your choice. I walk out of here now, or we will both end up injured.”