Bad Sheikh's Surrogate Mistress

by Brooke, Jessica

  She pulled back after a moment, looking up at him with concern. “Makeen … I signed a contract for an orchestra in Berlin …”

  With a grin, he held up his own bag. “The country can get by without me for at least a little while. There is a lovely townhouse that my family owns in Berlin, I think you will quite like it.”

  Olivia started to laugh. She felt as light as the bird that he sometimes compared her to. She was in love. She was loved. She knew that it would be perfect no matter where they were.

  Epilogue

  Olivia was aware of the audience; in particular, she was aware of the presence of the man in the VIP box. She didn't let herself look towards them. Like the other members of the orchestra, she kept her eyes on her music.

  Finally, the lights dimmed slightly, and the announcer came on.

  “And tonight, in her first solo in Berlin, we have Olivia Majors al-Hamidiya!”

  The applause faded as the first strains of the piece were plucked out of the air. She could hear the music weaving like a beautiful tapestry around her, and even as she started to play with the other violins, it made her think of the last few months.

  The threads of her life were separate and strange. She was born to a family of criminals; she was a violinist who had sometimes gone hungry and begged for food when busking didn't cover the bills. Suddenly she had been plucked out of obscurity to fall in love with one of the most amazing men she had ever known, the one whose eyes she knew were upon her from the box.

  They had come a long way in the four months since their airport reunion. During the days, she worked on her music, and he oversaw his country from afar. When evening fell, they came back together, meeting in a passionate embrace that never seemed to cool.

  They explored the ancient city of Berlin, they found pockets and pieces of it that would always belong to their first years together. They talked. They learned about each other. They comforted each other, they loved, and they grew.

  Olivia reflected that she had never thought much about love. There was nothing for her before Makeen besides her music. If she thought about it at all, she would have thought that love inevitably got in the way of music, but now she realized that that wasn't true.

  The first time she had sat for the orchestra director, he had been wide-eyed. When she finally set down her violin, he shook his head.

  “I was impressed by your tape, Fräulein, but this is something else altogether. Something has happened to you in the months since. You have attained a greater understanding of your instrument. It is showing itself ingeniously.”

  Not her instrument, she could have said. No, it was a better understanding of life, and of love. It was the man who waited for her outside the building, carrying a paper cup of coffee so that she could have it to settle her nerves when she got out. Before Olivia had gone in, Makeen had given her a kiss.

  “You are amazing,” he whispered. “Now show them that you are.”

  Now she played with one of the greatest orchestras in that region of the world. She listened to the other skilled musicians around her, wondering if they had their own passions, and if their love fed into their music as much as hers did.

  She played in that sublime place between knowledge and power, and when she heard the last of the French horn die away, she brought her bow to the strings.

  Her eyes were closed, but she could imagine Makeen's bright eyes, the way he leaned forward in the booth. He had heard her rehearse this piece over and over again at home, but hearing it played in concert would be far different.

  The notes rolled out over her, a bright and glittering cascade that rang through the halls like a woman's voice, perfect and golden.

  When her solo ended, the rest of the orchestra came in, and she rejoined them. She wasn't even fully aware of what she had done until the piece ended and the people began to clap furiously.

  With a gentle hand, the conductor led her to the front, where roses were being tossed up on the stage. For a moment, it was too strange, too much. She was a girl who had busked for spare change. Now she stood on a famous stage, and they threw her roses.

  “Well done, my dear,” the conductor whispered. “You deserve every bit of this.”

  Somehow, the applause ended, and she stumbled backstage. Amidst the congratulatory calls of her fellow orchestra members, she heard her name being called in a voice she would always recognize.

  She turned and saw Makeen beaming at her, his hands full of white roses.

  “Perfection,” he grinned. “And of course, the music was wonderful.”

  She laughed, taking the flowers long enough to set them down alongside her violin.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked, and he took her in his arms. As exhilarating as the stage was, she realized that there was nowhere else she would rather be than with this man, in his arms, looking up into his dark, dark eyes.

  “I did,” he said. “I have never heard a songbird I loved more …”

  As he bent his head down to kiss her, Olivia knew that this was forever. The Sheikh's command had brought her here, and it was perfect.

  THE END

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