The Sheikh's Purchased Bride

by Holly Rayner

THIRTEEN

  With renewed vigor, Amie spent the whole evening prepping herself for a night of romance; choosing a beautiful dress, curling her hair, and slapping on as much makeup as she could without looking like she was trying out for the world’s oldest profession.

  Rabayat City was set in a narrow valley filled with rich history: temples, tombs and monuments from the early years of civilization. With all of its architectural gems, it was no surprise to Amie how beautiful their theater looked, and just as grand and breathtaking as Azim had described, way back on her first night in the country. The outside was beautiful brick with an Old-Hollywood style marquee; the inside bustling with excited locals coming to see opening night of the newest production.

  Ah, opening night. Back in Chicago, Amie hadn’t experienced opening night of Carolina and the Bridge like the rest of her cast had, but the energy backstage had still been unmistakable; a nervous, palpable excitement running through every actor as they whispered their lines and prepped their costumes over and over again. It gave her butterflies just thinking about it.

  Malik took her to their seats; a private box, offset from the center balcony. The theater was a fair size, and had meticulously-carved designs down the walls, as well as that signature red curtain shielding the actors from the audience.

  Amie gripped Malik’s arm and whispered excited giggles into his ear until a hushed, anticipatory silence filled the room; the play was about to start.

  Malik took a look around, surveying the rest of the audience, before taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze as the first scene began.

  The play was a Middle-Eastern take on Romeo and Juliet; star-crossed lovers held back from one another by their warring families. While spoken in Arabic, the plot was easy enough to follow, which was probably why Malik had chosen it in the first place. Still, every few moments he would lean closer to her, whispering translations of the dialogue in her ear.

  Seeing a play in another language proved easier than Amie had anticipated. With this story—a classic—she almost didn’t need Malik’s updates; she could feel the actor’s emotions playing across the stage. That being said, her heart nearly stopped each time she felt his breath in her ear, ghosting over her skin; their proximity to one another sending shivers down her spine.

  As promised, Malik made sure Amie was able to meet some of the actors after the play. To her surprise, two of the leads knew exactly who he was and gave their best regards to his father. She shook their hands and had Malik translate what a beautiful job she thought they had done, and wished she could hear their inflections in English as they thanked her for her support.

  Malik told the leads that Amie was a renowned actress from America. Hearing this, they instantly seemed bonded to her; telling her to always keep her talent in the theater. Even though Malik was over-exaggerating her success, their advice touched her all the same.

  Not wanting the night to end, Malik suggested that the two of them grab a drink after the show. Unsure what the nightlife would look like in Rabayat, Amie imagined Malik would take her someplace fancy; upscale. She pictured crystal glasses with thin stems and liquor that cost more than her wedding dress had.

  With this vision in mind, Amie was shocked when their car pulled up to a bustling nightclub with a playful, inviting atmosphere. Once inside she thought that the club felt younger than she imagined Malik enjoyed, with purple and pink uplighting and a heavy play on Middle-Eastern décor. The ceilings piqued to a domed roof, while in other areas vibrant red and purple fabrics were draped to give the place an exotic, romantic feel. Colorful lanterns hung everywhere and were the centerpiece of most of the couched seating areas.

  There was a band playing on stage. They were singing in Arabic, but for the second time that evening, Amie realized she didn’t need to understand the words to appreciate the performance.

  After speaking with the host, Malik got them a table away from the crowded interior, on the expansive patio, where brick pillars housed oversized lanterns and low-set tables were surrounded by long wooden benches for seating. Bright pillows covered each seat and added to the fun and flirty ambiance.

  Amie and Malik sat down on a small loveseat, sipping gin and tonics as they nestled up beside each other.

  “I like translating for you,” Malik said with a smile, watching Amie as she pulled her hair into a high set ponytail.

  “Translate this song for me then?” she said cutely, leaning into his chest as she inched closer to his body.

  “Okay, okay.” He put a finger to his mouth as he strained to hear the lyrics from inside the club; squinting and frowning as if to exaggerate how hard he was concentrating. “They’re saying…” he paused. “They’re saying ‘I want to pet a million cats.’”

  Amie burst into a fit of tipsy laughter and pushed Malik gently. “No, they’re not!”

  “They are, I swear it!” He smiled, unable to stop chuckling at her reaction. “Would I lie?”

  “I don’t know,” she narrowed her eyes playfully and moved closer.

  Malik stared at her for a moment longer before leaning back into the chair, sighing tiredly.

  “Would you?” She stared ahead, her back to Malik’s chest as she waited for his answer. Finally, she turned and look at him with a wry smile. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” she stammered.

  “I’m not nervous,” he said, raising his brow with a smile.

  “I know,” she giggled. “But you’re still cute when you are!”

  “You’re drunk,” he smiled.

  “Nu-uh!”

  But he was right, of course.

  Amie had never gotten properly buzzed around Malik. Her faced flushed; she hoped she was being a lady. Still, the more she looked at him, the more she inwardly dared herself to touch his face; to stroke it like they did in the movies. She liked him.

  A lot.

  Every time he touched her she felt consumed by lust. His hands were so soft and strong; his voice was absolutely perfect, and she hung on every word he said. Why… why… why! Why choose to care for him now, when he was an admitted player and she had only four days left in Rabayat to be with him.

  “Malik,” she said quietly, tapping his chin with her finger. “You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family these past few weeks. By that I mean mostly you,” she paused. “And not Zafina.”

  Malik gave a laugh and smiled at her. “So have I,” he chuckled out.

  “I know, but…” she paused, sitting up straight so she could look at him properly. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. You’ve opened up to me like few people ever have. When you showed me your favorite places, and the statue of the couple, and all these movies… It just…”

  Don’t.

  “Well, it just…”

  Amie, don’t be an idiot!

  “It made me really, well, like you.”

  Her eyes went wide as soon as she heard herself say the words, and suddenly she found herself setting down her glass and playing with her hair, solely to avoid making eye contact with him.

  Feeling the sudden need to backtrack, she shrugged and tried to explain. “Even though I know…” She raised an eyebrow with a tipsy, hollow laugh. “Of course I know that this whole thing is just an act. I know we’re just ‘acting’,” she said using finger quotes. “You know, so you can go back and have like, fifty girlfriends without upsetting anybody. I know you like your freedom, and I respect that, but I guess I just wanted to say that… well, you charmed me.”

  Suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe; like an eternity had passed since anyone had said anything. She turned nervously and finally met Malik’s eyes. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  His eyes moved in ways she suddenly couldn’t interpret. He let out a nervous exhale and stared into his drink for a moment before looking back up at her. He cocked his brow, watching her carefully as he said, “I don’t know if that’s true anymore.”

  “What?”

  What?
!

  “What don’t you know?” she clarified.

  He shrugged and set his drink down. “I don’t know if that’s what I want for my life.”

  “What do you mean?” Amie asked with a shocked laugh. “This is… why we’re doing all this, isn’t it?”

  “Of course,” he nodded. “But I feel… different. Ever since the night in Giza—since before then, actually—I can’t get you out of my head.” He laughed suddenly, despite himself. “Wow, this is difficult. You made it look so easy.”

  “No,” she stressed, “I made it look ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously easy then,” he teased.

  “So…” she began, desperately wanting to get away from the joking banter and backtrack to his previous statement. “Like, in a ‘I can’t get you out of my head—she’s so annoying!’ kind of sense, or…?”

  “No,” he said seriously. “Everything happens for a reason, and I can’t help but think that you’re my reason.”

  “For what?” she asked in a small voice; almost unable to process exactly what she was hearing.

  Malik seemed to think on this question for a moment, swirling his drink in his hand before setting it on the table. “For change,” he said simply.

  She stared at him for a long time, unsure how to respond. She’d been so resolute in her decision not to dredge up her feelings. Still, if she didn’t lay it all out now, she never would.

  Moments of silence passed between them until finally Amie sat up straight and leaned into him, unable to hold back for a second more. His lips were perfectly shaped, fading into his face as if a graceful artist had put intense thought into them.

  She was lost for words, so instead, with a devilish grin on her face, she leaned in closer to him and whispered: “I really think you should kiss me now.”

  Malik didn’t reply, but answered her request immediately, with hungry passion. Their lips met, and danced around one another in a gesture that was unfamiliar, yet intoxicating. Amie’s heart raced and she wished she were strong enough to listen to the voice in her head that was telling her to stop before things got out of hand.

  It wasn’t long after they shared their first embrace that Malik called for the check. They practically raced back to their faux homestead, barely speaking a word to one another in the limo as Amie sat close to Malik and he rubbed his hand up and down her thigh with excited anticipation.

  Once inside the palace, the pair quietly made their way to Amie’s bedroom; a familiar surrounding he knew she’d be comfortable in. There was a nervous passion in the air that asked what would happen next.

  Malik reached his hands across her face, running them through her hair quickly. After going so long without his kiss, the aggressive feeling of his lips making their way around hers and wetting them with small flicks of his tongue sent piercing butterflies through her whole body, tingling at every sensation.

  He leaned over until she was lying underneath him, his hands having easily slipped her dress down off of her body. She opened her eyes and watched him kissing her until Malik saw her and smiled, breaking the kiss.

  Every breath and moan he let out made her blush. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she would swear Malik could hear it, all the more so as their eyes locked and he took his lips away from hers; his breath warm on her face as their eyes flicked back and forth, communicating wordlessly.

  He pulled off his clothes until there was nothing left to reveal. He beamed as he looked at Amie in a light he had tried not to for weeks; his chest now feeling the warmth of hers pressed against him.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered.

  He moved his head down to her navel, kissing around her stomach before coming back up to her neck.

  “Are you sure about this?” Malik asked, ever the gentlemen, and she gave him a sound nod.

  She leaned back, looking at the smooth white walls behind her and smiled. She propped her head back up and brought her lips to Malik’s, flicking her tongue across his, shaking slightly with anticipation of the events to come.