Hannah turned to offer a plate of appetizers to a guest when her foot got tangled in the strap of a handbag someone had left on the floor. She lurched forward and the quiches went flying across the room. Hannah clawed helplessly at the air before landing with a dull thud on the ground, the guests clearing a nice little space for her so they could watch her as she scrambled to get up.
A hand reached out to help her and Hannah took it. She pulled herself up and then looked up to thank the gentleman and found herself looking straight into Sadiq’s eyes. She yanked her hand back and stared, feeling the heat of embarrassment take over, or was it the swelling in her wrist? What is he doing here? Tears sprang out of her eyes as all of the feelings she had been suppressing came rushing back to the surface, and she turned and fled into the kitchen in shock.
Her manager heard the commotion and came running up to her. After seeing her wrist and her tears, he sent her home and told her to get it checked out. Hannah grabbed her bag and then ducked out the back of the ballroom, crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t run into Sadiq again.
An hour later, Chloe and Hannah found themselves in the emergency room waiting to be called into the back.
“Miss Green,” a loud voice called from the desk. “Miss Green?”
“Right here,” Hannah said as she walked over to the counter.
“Insurance information,” the nurse said without looking up.
After Hannah had completed her intake, the nurse led her to another waiting area. Moments later, an orderly took her and Chloe back to a room. Another nurse arrived a little while later to find the two girls sitting quietly on the bed, where Chloe was doing her best to console her friend.
“Well, what have we got here?” said the large, jolly nurse. Her long grey hair was pulled up into a messy bun that revealed the wrinkles on her face.
“I fell,” Hannah said, lifting her swollen wrist in the air.
“Uh-huh,” said the nurse as she came around and inspected it. “I can see that. Any other injuries?”
Hannah shook her head slowly. She was still in shock at seeing Sadiq. What was he doing in New York? Was he here to pursue her? Or maybe he was just back to his old playboy ways, looking for the next singer to take on tour around his homeland. She was so confused.
“Okay darling, let’s get a little X-ray and see exactly what we’ve got going on.” The nurse smiled and patted Hannah gently on the back as she and Chloe walked her down the hall to the X-ray room.
Chloe stayed with the nurse in a side room until the X-rays were done and then the two women returned to the room. A short, harassed-looking doctor appeared a few moments later with Hannah’s X-rays in his hand.
“Miss Green?” he asked, looking at both women.
Chloe pointed to Hannah and Hannah lifted her purple wrist.
The doctor nodded and put the films up on the light box. “See, here, and here,” he said to them with his back turned. “You have a small tear in the muscle, but no break. That’s good. No fracture, just a sprain.”
He flipped the light box off and turned back to the girls. “Ibuprofen, ice, rest. Good?”
They nodded at him.
“Good. The nurse will be back in a moment to check you out.”
The doctor left and the Hannah sat with her head resting on her friend’s shoulder as Chloe rubbed her back.
The nurse returned shortly after that, scribbling on a clipboard. “So, just a sprain, that’s good news!” she said enthusiastically, but got no reaction from the girls.
“Hmm,” said the nurse. “Seems to me like there might be something else going on here. Are you sure you didn’t get any other injuries, dear?”
Hannah looked up slowly. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Not to your head?” asked the nurse as she walked over to Hannah.
Hannah shook her head without looking up.
“Hmm. And what about your heart?”
Hannah snapped her head up and eyed the nurse suspiciously.
A smile came over the kind woman’s face and she sat down next to Hannah on the bed.
“Listen,” she said. “I might have wrinkles now, but way back when, my skin was as smooth as yours and my heart was just as fragile. I can see your wrist hurts honey, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening inside.”
Hannah felt fresh tears form in her eyes.
“Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”
Chloe jumped in and told the nurse everything, beginning with the first night at the Blue Moon and ending with Hannah’s fall at the society event.
The nurse smiled at them both and got up. “Here, sign this,” she said as she handed Hannah the clipboard.
“That’s it?” Chloe asked, surprised that she wasn’t going to give them any advice.
“Yep, that’s it,” said the nurse.
“But what about the Sheikh and the singing and the money?” Chloe couldn’t believe that this woman was just going to let them spill their guts and then not do anything to help them.
“Listen,” she said, giving Chloe a stern eye. “First of all, this is a matter of the heart. I don’t care if he’s a sheikh, a prince, or a toad for that matter. The only thing that matters here is love.”
Hannah raised her head slowly, trying to ignore the throbbing in her wrist.
“Love of another and love of singing,” the nurse said matter-of-factly. “And it’s pretty obvious to me that those are two things you are not able to live without.” With that, she smiled, and turned and left the room.
TWENTY-ONE
The injury to her wrist prevented Hannah from working at the catering company for at least two weeks. She knew the time had come to do what she dreaded: grovel and try to get her job back at the Blue Moon. She awoke the next morning and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how she had come to this place. Just six weeks before things had been going great. Well, maybe not great, but they were going, she thought ruefully.
Hannah cursed herself for her decision to leave New York and fly to El-Shakanish. How could she have been so stupid? To think that she could take off for a tour around unknown parts and then return home like nothing ever happened was insane. And now, with her heart broken and her arm in sling, she was worse off than she had been before she left.
She got up and mooched around the apartment, wondering what she could say to Harvey to get her job back. Chloe had told her that the replacement he had hired was not nearly as talented as her and was only bringing in half of the guests that Hannah used to draw, and she was hoping to use that to her advantage.
For the first time since she had returned from El-Shakanish, Hannah went through her costumes. She ran her fingers over the dresses that hung in her closet, each one bringing back a memory of a different night, a different club, a different performance. She looked at the maroon dress, the one she had been wearing the first night she met Sadiq, and felt her heart quiver. She ran her fingers over it, remembering his scent, his smile, how open he had been with her that night on the rooftop of the hotel.
She let her mind wander back over the six weeks, through all of the limo rides, the hand holding, the laughter. She remembered the sunsets they watched, the meal he had cooked for her, and the way their bodies moved in harmony when they made love, and before long, Hannah was overcome with emotion. She slammed the closet shut and tried to close off the memories of Sadiq, but the door wouldn’t close. She looked down and saw a small object on the floor and picked it up. It was the CD he had made for her.
Hannah put the disk in the player and turned it up, listening to the soulful sound of her own voice come through the speakers in her little apartment. As day turned into evening, she stepped outside onto the fire escape and let the sounds wrap around her, mingling with the sounds of the city. She loved the way it made her feel, the rhythm, the music. She listened to the drummer, the horns and the piano, tapping her foot and swaying her head in the cool night air.
After listening to it, she felt a
new resolve. She didn’t want to have to swallow her pride and go back to the Blue Moon, but she would do it anyhow; whatever it took to survive. What was it the nurse had said? The only thing that mattered was love—love of singing and love of another. Well, Hannah thought. At least I have some control over the singing part.
She climbed back in from the fire escape and took a quick shower before heading down the stairs and to the subway. She didn’t put on a gown or makeup. She wasn’t performing tonight; she was going back as a guest—a very humble, desperately sorry guest who wanted her job back. She was just praying that Harvey would find it somewhere in his cold heart to give her another chance.
TWENTY-TWO
Hannah hopped off the subway and walked the few blocks to the Blue Moon, taking in the familiar smells and sounds of the city. She hadn’t been down in this part of Manhattan since she had quit her job, and she had missed it dearly. The city was electric, especially at night. It was so different from anywhere else in the world—especially El-Shakanish—and Hannah was glad to be back.
As she got closer to the club, she felt her anxiety beginning its steady climb inside her. She felt her nerves begin to rattle and tried to calm herself. The last thing she could afford to do right now was run off at the mouth again.
Hannah stood outside the front door of the Blue Moon as people walked past her into the club. She smiled politely at them and shuffled her feet nervously. “Okay,” she said to herself. “Calm down. It’s just Harvey. You can do this.” She took a few deep breaths and then opened the door.
The familiar smell enveloped her the second she stepped inside. She stood frozen at the entranceway as she scanned the room, looking at the tables, the bar, the stage. Everything was the same. Even some of the guests looked familiar. In that instant, all uneasiness left her. She was home now and she knew it. All she had to do was find Harvey and insist that he give her her job back.
With new resolve, Hannah marched down the back hall toward the office door with the frosted glass panel and the word MANAGER plastered on it in black thick letters. Hannah took a deep breath, grabbed the handle and swung it inward.
“Harvey Goldsmith, I demand that you give me my job back!” she said to the figure sitting at the desk.
The dark-haired man swiveled around in his chair and Hannah saw Sadiq’s kind eyes looking back at her.
“Sadiq?!” Hannah squeaked his name out. She looked around quickly, making sure she was in the right place. “What are you doing here?”
Sadiq got up and walked around the desk, and Hannah felt her body begin to shake as he got near.
“Well,” he said, his face breaking into that sly, sexy smile. “I wanted to find you.”
“Me? You wanted to find me?” Hannah asked hopefully. Then she remembered that it had been almost two months since she left El-Shakanish. He knew where she lived. He could have called her.
“But you had my phone number. You came to my apartment with Naasir. You could have found me anytime you wanted.”
“I didn’t think you’d answer if I called you, and to be honest I wanted to see you in person. I came by your apartment a few times, but you were never home.”
Hannah laughed nervously as Sadiq stepped even closer. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her and smell his musky cologne.
“But why are you here? In the office?” Hannah’s head was spinning. None of this made any sense.
“I knew you worked here, or at least you used to work here, and I figured maybe you’d come back—especially if, rather than sitting in the audience every night, I decided to buy the place and restore it to its former glory, to bring it back to a place worthy of talent like yours. The owner was desperate to get rid of it, it turned out, so I got lucky.”
Hannah took a step back and waved her hands by her side. “Whoa, this is, slow down, I don’t know what’s happening here.
Hannah’s heart beat heavy in her chest as Sadiq stepped even closer.
“Hannah,” he said as he breathed down on her. “Why did you leave?”
She stopped and looked up at him, unable to break free from his spell. “I left, I left, because I was confused, Sadiq. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for your money. And then there’s the whole ‘dirty little secret’ part. I mean, I can’t live like that, ducking in back doors, hiding from your family. That’s not who I am. When I woke up the next morning, after we, you know, well, I felt so confused and awful about having crossed that line…”
Sadiq took Hannah’s hands in his. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly.
Hannah blabbered on a moment longer, only stopping when Sadiq set his finger on her soft lip.
“You didn’t take advantage of me. I wanted to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you since the moment I laid eyes on you. And as far as the money goes, it means nothing to me. I would have kissed you and made love to you if there was no business relationship between us. It’s not about the money, or your talent, or the performances. It’s about you. Your smile, your laughter, your kindness, your heart. It’s about all of those things that I love about you.”
Hannah blinked and looked into Sadiq’s eyes. “You, you… you love about me?”
He smiled at her and stroked her hands as he spoke. “That’s just it; I don’t just love those things… I love you, Hannah.” Sadiq bent down to kiss her and Hannah reached up to meet him but ducked away at the last minute.
“Wait,” she said, moving away from him. “What about using the back entrance at clubs? What about your family?”
“I don’t care what the culture is, anymore. I’d be proud to walk through any door with you on my arm,” he said as he walked to her. “And as far as my family is concerned, all they want is for me to be happy. After all, the most important thing is love, right?”
Hannah smiled up at him, remembering what the nurse had said. “I couldn’t agree with you more,” she said, lifting her arms up around Sadiq’s neck. She leaned forward, and took him in a passionate embrace, thinking to herself that they had all the time in the world to answer that question.
Holly Rayner
Have you signed up to my subscriber club yet? For news of my upcoming releases, discounted and absolutely FREE new books, and advance review copies, sign up today!
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
As promised, here are the first few chapters of my previous book, A Baby For Kristos: The Greek Billionaire’s Surprise
ONE
Emma
It all started with a really crappy day. I know that’s not the most auspicious start to things, but really, the whole day was a tribute to Murphy’s Law; everything that could have gone wrong, did.
It started in the morning, when the alarm I’d set didn’t go off. I’d been exhausted when I set the damn thing, and I’d accidentally selected PM instead of AM, and woke up at about 10:45, with all of fifteen minutes to shower, get dressed, and drive out to the Laurel Price Talent Agency.
I wasn’t famous enough to be late, so I dove into the shower like a mad woman, my long red hair flying in all directions. I’d thought about cutting it, but everyone liked it long, and in my line of work, you give the people what they want. I turned on the water, and promptly screamed.
When you’re in a hurry, you forget a great many basic things, like how long it takes the water to heat up. I leapt out of the spray, nearly slipping in the tub, grabbed my loofah sponge, and waited impatiently. When the water finally got warm, I soaped up and started scrubbing.
Two minutes later, I stepped out, stinging soap in my brown eyes, feeling around for a towel like a Night of the Living Dead zombie. Laurel was a half hour away with traffic, and I had ten minutes. I dove into my black dress and flats, anticipating that I was going to need to run, then shot out the door of my tiny apartment, bumping straight into the last person I wanted to see right then: my landlady.
“Why, it’s Emma Johnson,” she said, in saccharine tones. “You seem to be confused, dear, so allow me to clear something up. T
his is not, I repeat, not a homeless shelter.”
Her voice always reminded me of an evil Aunt Bea. She was gaunt and wrinkled, her eyes sharp and beady. It almost felt like they could see you through the walls.
“I came to tell you that a nice young woman has expressed interest in renting an apartment here. I know you won’t mind if I give her a tour of yours, because if you are unable to produce the rent in the next day or two, it pains me to tell you that you will no longer be occupying it.”
The Sheikh's Irresistible Proposal Page 11
