The Sheikh's Purchased Bride

by Holly Rayner

THREE

  Amie paced around her bedroom, fiddling with the small collection of knick-knacks and faux crystal jewelry holders she’d come to collect atop her dresser. She kicked her feet as she walked, stopping briefly to do a few yoga stretches before pausing in front of her full-length mirror.

  The oval-shaped mahogany mirror had simple detailing and spun vertically to reveal another mirror on the other side. The vintage statement piece was in stark contrast to the rest of her generic, big-box furniture. It had been a splurge purchase with a hefty price tag at an antique market just one month after she moved to Chicago. Her father’s house was filled with antiques and vintage items, and she supposed, in some way, buying the piece was some attempt to feel closer to home.

  She stared into the mirror and noted the bags under her eyes; she’d hardly slept. After her meeting with Malik she’d managed to catch the last hour of the wrap party for the play. It had been an endless night of compliments and laughter, not to mention congratulations for securing her high-paying new gig.

  And drinks. Lots of drinks.

  She was lucky enough not to be too hungover, but nervous anticipation for her early morning meeting had kept her up most of the night, wreaking havoc on her appearance. She sighed at her reflection and dabbed on another dollop of cover-up before turning, unsatisfied, from the mirror and throwing her thick hair into a high ponytail.

  Amie was well-versed on what to wear to casting calls, but she wasn’t exactly sure what this meeting would entail, so of course she tore her closet apart. Clothes lay scattered about on the bed as though an atomic-blouse-bomb had gone off in the center of the room. She finally settled on fitted jeans and a black blazer. Casual, yet professional.

  She could hear her cab honking from outside her window and quickly made her way down the stairs, grabbing her purse and the napkin on which Malik had written the location of their meeting. She sat behind the cab driver and read the address out from the napkin.

  Then came the wait. Early morning Chicago traffic agreed with them, yet it still felt like the drive was taking forever. She looked over her resume and list of theater references before tucking them away in her purse. Even though Malik had already said she had the job, she figured it couldn’t hurt to bring along some references, just in case.

  She tested her breath against her hand and then let out an unwilling sigh; after more than a half hour of driving, she couldn’t help but notice how far out of the city they’d already driven.

  “Do you think we’re coming to a stop anytime soon?” she asked curiously as they slowly came upon an area of town she’d never seen before.

  “Yeah,” the driver said plainly, pulling to an almost comical stop. “This is it.”

  “This…” she began sarcastically, “is an airfield.”

  “What can I say, this is where your address took me,” the cabbie said in a thick Mexican accent. He gave a subtle frown and looked back down at his GPS before offering Amie a grin. “Yep. Seems to me like that may just be your ride.”

  The driver pointed out the window and Amie’s eyes went wide with disbelief as a she caught sight of a small white jet in the distance. Standing beside it were a small group of three or four people, along with Malik.

  She blinked hard before fumbling through her purse to pay the cabbie; fighting the urge to tell him what an absolute rip off his price was. This was why she normally guided cabbies personally; otherwise, they’d take the longest routes, preferably lanes with traffic or street work. Oh, they loved going through street work. Too bad she couldn’t navigate her own way to a… private airfield?

  She opened the door and was quickly met by Malik, who greeted her with another formal handshake before starting to guide her over to the jet.

  “Welcome,” Malik smiled. “These are some of my associates,” he said quietly, leaning into her ear as he gestured to the small group of people boarding the jet. “I’ll introduce you all once we get in the air.”

  “We’re… flying?”

  “That’s generally what jets do.”

  “I guess if it didn’t you’d be in for a massive refund,” she said, laughing nervously as her eyes looked over the glossy white aircraft.

  Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, almost digging her heels into the tarmac. “Wait, so, what are we doing here? Going on a Chicago-style air tour of the city?”

  “Oh,” he gave a half-hearted frown. “Didn’t I mention that we’d be whisking you away?”

  “Okay, yes…” She turned to face him with a giant smile that bordered somewhere between flirtatious and horrified. “But I didn’t think you meant like, right now. I didn’t even pack!”

  “You have your purse with you?”

  She paused. “Yes…”

  “And your passport?”

  “Well, yeah, in my purse but—”

  “Then that’s everything!” he finished cheerfully.

  “Hey there, did we miss the part where I don’t even have luggage? I’m pretty sure wherever we’re going will require that I wear clothes—and if it isn’t then I’m not sure it’s a place I’m willing to go!”

  Malik laughed and signaled one of the men on board to give them a minute. He turned back to her and smiled. “The jet features an onboard wardrobe. Anything else you need will be provided to you.”

  “Yeah, but…” she looked down at her purse in vain and then back up at Malik. “I don’t even have any makeup with me.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re a natural beauty,” he grinned. His sentiment didn’t receive the reaction he’d hoped for and he raised both his hands in front of him as if to reason with her. “Makeup, clothing, long-distance charges to your cell phone, expenses for your home here in Chicago… all will be taken care of.” He sighed blithely and continued, “I did tell you the project would be starting immediately.”

  “Okay, but maybe next time you could be a teeny-tiny bit more specific? Like, ‘Oh hey, so that job I was telling you about? Prepare for anything! Sandy, rocky, mountain, valley – and be ready at 8am!”

  Malik watched her carefully, before stifling a laugh. “My apologies. Can we stop fighting now?”

  “Are we fighting?” She blinked and felt her cheeks burn with a blush. Was she mouthing off to her new agent? “I mean, am I even allowed to fight with you? You are my boss and all.”

  “…And yet here we are.”

  She crossed her arms loosely and suddenly felt overly attached to her purse. Was this seriously the only personal item she would be taking on a six-week vacation? She sighed inwardly; her mom was right—this was her personal karma for always over-packing.

  She looked at the jet and then back at Malik, smiling once more and trying to remember that this was a job, after all. “All right, I’m game.” She continued walking towards the jet. “Where are we headed?”

  “Let’s leave that a surprise for now.”

  She laughed. “Seriously?”

  Now she wouldn’t even have time to mentally prepare for what was possibly the strangest role she’d ever taken? Amie stopped once more on the staircase ascending to the jet. She felt a tingle of apprehension in her stomach and then quickly inhaled. She was doing this for half a million dollars. Half. A. Million. She pressed forward and stepped on board.