The Sheikh's Purchased Bride

by Holly Rayner

  TWO

  Even after all the time she’d spent on the train, Zoey still had six blocks to walk before she reached her mother’s building. The creepy guy from the subway could have been trying to follow her surreptitiously, so she walked directly toward the first NYPD officer she saw. He broke off his pursuit, and Zoey pointed him out to the police, before heading toward the miserable day that waited for her. She tried to focus her mind on her upcoming date, and cling to the tiny bit of hope it afforded her.

  Eventually, she arrived at a block that was dripping with affluence. Every building featured impressive aesthetic touches; elegant hanging plants and outdoor torches. Each building had a clean, modern look that was somehow appealing, despite the fact that everything inside them was ungodly expensive. Zoey glanced at a fashion accessories store across the street from her workplace, wincing as she remembered, from personal reconnaissance, that the cheapest thing in there was priced at eighteen hundred dollars.

  Zoey turned to face Melinda Forde Singles, a striking building fronted with gold-flecked black marble. The name was written in letters of burnished gold above the brass-handled glass doors. Zoey let herself in, determined to push through the day as fast as possible.

  Inside, the agency looked a lot like the lobby of a boutique hotel. An intricately-patterned carpet, handmade by an association of women in Afghanistan, covered the floor along one wall. Generally, even the most conceited of Melinda’s customers couldn’t help commenting on its beautiful design, and as she passed it now, Zoey could see why.

  On top of the carpet was a long white sofa that customers regularly reported was unbelievably comfortable. Round, glass end tables sat on either side of the sofa. These bore gorgeous porcelain lamps that shimmered in the artificial light they produced. A glass table was just in front of the sofa, standing on curved, brass feet.

  The entire space gave an impression of sophistication, and even Zoey, who knew that an impression was all it was, had to resist being sucked in by everything. Despite the marble-topped receptionist’s desk and the oak-paneled walls, she knew she was walking toward her own little prison.

  Along the rear wall, the paneling gave way to a frosted glass door with golden block letters placed at eye level. “Zoey Amelia Forde,” they proclaimed. “Senior Relationship Services Expert.” The title sounded official enough, but Zoey knew it was mostly bullshit.

  She walked into her office and booted up her laptop, determined to get through her personal emails before her mother came through to spy on her.

  Zoey’s computer sat on a smaller writing desk that was built into an elaborate wall unit made of handsome ebony wood. The cabinet doors were arched at the top, and a metal that looked like silver made lace patterns across the glass. Leather-bound books and dozens of curios filled the cabinets in neat arrangements. Very few of them actually belonged to Zoey, however—most of the books and trinkets were her mother’s idea of creating atmosphere.

  She quickly logged in to her email account and began sifting through her inbox. She was happy to see a message from Blake confirming their date that evening. With a small smile she skimmed through the other emails, a mixture of thank you notes from her previous clients, charity appeals, and sales alerts from stores she had shopped at recently. She archived some of the messages and spent a few minutes replying to others until a sharp series of knocks rang out against the wooden frame of the door.

  Before Zoey could say anything in response, the door swung open to reveal her mother.

  Melinda Forde still looked every bit the striking beauty queen she had been two decades ago. Her long, jet-black hair shone under the light. Her eyes were intense, radiating a fierce pride. The deep, golden-brown irises always made Zoey think of semiprecious stones. Her thin, beautifully-angled face was nearly flawless, with only a few frown lines and a tiny bit of puffiness under the eyes. In the flowing, crimson dress she was wearing, she looked like nothing less than royalty.

  “Good morning, Zoey dear,” she said, as Zoey guiltily clicked away from her inbox. “I thought I would bring your first client of today through personally. You’ll find the gentleman listed in the registry. Over the past few years, he has become something of a leader in his field, and I’ve assured him that, as our finest expert, you will be best placed to address his needs.”

  With that, Melinda turned to face someone standing in the corridor. “I hope you have a pleasant day,” she said as she swept back through the door.

  By this time, Zoey had turned to her office desk and the company PC perched upon it. Scanning the registry, she saw that her first client that day was a man called Alexis Manolas.

  The gentleman that entered was nearly six feet tall and wore a light tan. His black hair was slicked back and crowned a strong face that looked at once rugged and spangled with boyish charm. He wore slacks, a black turtleneck, and a brown jacket through which Zoey could easily spot a toned midsection.

  Not bad at all, she thought appreciatively as he shut the door and took a seat on the black leather ottoman angled in front of her desk.

  Under Zoey’s desk, tucked out of sight, was a mini refrigerator. Reaching into this, she produced a chilled glass of champagne.

  “A complimentary glass of champagne, Mr. Zakiridis?” she asked, holding it out to him.

  He accepted the offering with a small laugh. “I suppose the assumed name was pointless. I apologize for the deception, but the Post and the Daily News would have had a field day if they found out I was here.”

  “You can rely on our complete discretion,” Zoey replied, extending her hand, “Welcome to Melinda Forde, Mr. Zakiridis.”

  The man claiming to be Alexis Manolas was, in fact, Mr. Stelios Zakiridis, a property magnate who had emigrated from Greece as a child. Around eight years ago, as best as Zoey could remember, he had taken over his family’s business, the Dolphin Realty Group, and in his short tenure as CEO, had overseen unprecedented growth, making him one of New York’s youngest billionaires.

  “When there are billboards with your face on them all over the city, you need more than a name to disguise your identity,” Zoey said with a smile.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right about that,” Stelios answered mirthfully. “I’m afraid your mother failed to explain how this process works.”

  “Why don’t you begin by telling me what you’re looking for in a partner?”

  “Well, I’ve just turned thirty-two, so I feel I’m getting older, and when I think about it, I begin to question what I’ve been doing all this time. I’ve spent so much time in the salt mines that it didn’t occur to me until recently that I’d like to have someone to share my life with. I’d like to meet an intelligent woman with a winning personality who will appreciate me for who I really am.”

  Boy, are you ever in the wrong place, Zoey thought, but she didn’t allow the smile she was wearing to waver.

  Her mother’s agency catered specifically to the wealthy, and Zoey was used to sitting across from millionaires on a daily basis. Even by Melinda Forde standards, however, Stelios was a huge client—one that could take the entire agency to new heights, if handled correctly. Zoey had to ignore the knot that had formed in her stomach at hearing Stelios speak so plainly about his needs. She knew that very soon she would have to saddle him with one of the women on her list, any one of whom could quite easily ruin his life and shatter his faith in love.

  “That’s a very nice sentiment, Mr. Zakiridis,” she said with fake perkiness. “I’d like to ask you a few questions so I can build a profile for you. That way, through a combination of experience, and our patented algorithm, I can match you with someone who will fit your needs exactly.”

  The words flowed from her mouth like water, as they did every day, but not a single one of them was true. The only algorithm that existed at Melinda Forde was Zoey making a best-guess selection. She asked Stelios her standard questions, noting down his responses, but the more he talked, the guiltier she felt.

  He�
��s in the wrong place, she tried to tell herself. A grown man—a billionaire—should know better than to trust a dating service to help him find love. It’s like getting financial advice from psychic friends: if you’re dumb enough to fall for it, you can’t blame people for taking advantage of you.

  No matter what she told herself, however, she couldn’t help feeling horrible about what she was about to do. A sudden thought filled her with disgust: a year ago, she wouldn’t even have considered causing someone misery for the money. Now here she was, trying to justify it.

  “I can’t do it,” she mumbled bitterly. “Not this time.”

  “Did you say something, Ms. Forde?” Stelios inquired gently.

  “Yes, I did, Mr. Zakiridis. I need to be completely honest with you, even if it really isn’t good for business. I truly hate to disappoint you, but all of the women we currently have registered are more interested in wealth than anything else, and it’s my professional opinion that dating them for any length of time would make you perfectly miserable.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Stelios replied, unable to quite believe his ears.

  “I’m afraid not,” Zoey replied sullenly.

  “Well, I appreciate you being honest with me,” he said, getting to his feet with a somewhat bemused expression on his face.

  Zoey let him out of her office, and in a moment or two, he had left the building altogether.

  Triumph blared through her heart for a few seconds; for the first time in more than a year, she had gone against her mother, and spared someone weeks—months, even—of bitterness and disappointment. But it all came crashing down the moment her mother opened her office door.

  “Zoey, what in God’s name have you done?” Melinda asked, struggling to keep her voice under control. “You simply needed to match him with any one of the women on our rolls. That’s literally all you had to do, Zoey. It isn’t complicated, which is why I want to know why the receptionist saw him leaving here so quickly.”

  “Well, Mother,” returned Zoey, “there was no one on those rolls he could have had any sort of relationship with. Those women would only use him for his money. They wouldn’t care about anything else.”

  “I’m using him for his damn money!” Melinda returned hotly. “We aren’t running a charity here. When someone comes through those doors, they need to leave with a date. That’s your job, Zoey!”

  “I thought my job was ‘Relationship Services Expert’,” she said sarcastically, “helping people to find actual love. And yet so far, no one I’ve matched has lasted longer than a year!”

  “Darling, actual love is for fairy tales, songs on the radio, and nitwits with small brains and huge bank accounts. You’re not nine years old anymore, so don’t give me that talk about true love. You’ve just let millions of dollars’ worth of business, advertising and influence walk right out of my door! Why did you do that? Because of some stupid fantasy?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be as cynical as you!”

  Zoey didn’t know where the words had come from, or why she had shouted them with such ferocity, but Melinda moved toward her so quickly, the woman might as well have been gliding. She lowered her voice and glared at her daughter with cold anger in her eyes.

  “Let me tell you something. This ‘cynical’ woman is the only reason you have anything right now. Every scrap of food that passes down that disrespectful little throat of yours is there because I allow it to be, and unless you want me to throw your lazy ass out on the street, you’re going to wrap up this sentimental nonsense and do your job!”

  Zoey thought she could hear people gathering outside the door, but her mother didn’t seem the least bit worried about who could hear what she was saying.

  “Not another word, girl. I’m your mother, and I’m not asking, I’m telling you what you’re going to do. You’re going to call Zakiridis back, and you’re going to tell him you’ve found a woman good enough for him to marry. If you haven’t done that by noon today, you’ll be gone. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal!” Zoey growled through clenched teeth.

  Without another word, Melinda stormed out, leaving her daughter seething in her wake.

  Zoey’s insides were writhing with hatred, and the worst of it was, as much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. If she was fired, she only had enough saved to last her a few weeks. After that, if she couldn’t find work, things would get difficult for her extremely quickly. Every cell in her body was against calling Stelios back, but in lieu of a surprise lottery win, she simply had no better options.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” she said, picking up the office phone. Checking her records, she found the Greek’s number and dialed, swearing liberally as she did so.

  “Good morning, Mr. Zakiridis,” she said when he answered. “This is Zoey calling from Melinda Forde Singles. Sir, after our meeting this morning I went through our records with a fine-tooth comb because I simply hate to have to disappoint our clients. I discovered that I was wrong earlier, and that I do in fact have a woman that matches your profile. Her name is Brie Hudson. She was formerly a backing singer for the rhythm and blues group Nu Vogue, and now she’s an up-and-coming reality star. Brie exudes each of the qualities you listed,” Zoey lied. “I think you’ll make an excellent match.”

  “Well, okay, that’s an unexpected development, and she sounds very interesting,” Stelios replied. “I look forward to meeting her. My car has internet access. Let’s set up the details, and then I can pay you online.”

  “That will work perfectly, Mr. Zakiridis.” Zoey said, struggling with all her might to keep her voice light. She kept reminding herself that she had no choice; that it was either this or unemployment.

  After hanging up with Stelios, Zoey tried to drown out her guilty thoughts by wrapping herself up in her other cases. It barely worked, and ten minutes later, her mother returned to her office, wearing a huge false smile that made Zoey feel sick to her stomach.

  “That’s my good little girl,” Melinda said in saccharine tones. “Now, honestly, Zoey, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I have a great deal more money than I had this morning, and thanks to my forgiving nature, you still have a job. You should really be thanking me for keeping a cool head and looking after the both of us all this time.”

  “Were you like this when Dad…” Zoey began, fighting down her emotions.

  “You leave your father out of this!” Melinda returned harshly, looking as if she had been stung with a whip. She headed back out of Zoey’s office, giving her daughter a dirty look as she did so.

  Zoey sighed in defeat before returning to her computer and the rest of her workload for that morning, trying not to think that all of that fuss had been over one client and that she had several more left to match before lunch.