by Aria Ford
Gabrielle’s head was cocked. “Why me? I don’t have the credentials for that kind of job,” she asked suspiciously.
Arran had anticipated this, though. “As I said, you proved your integrity. I require the utmost loyalty and confidentiality. This…” he swept his hand toward the gaming floor, “is hardly the place where those are easy to find.”
Gabrielle had to admit that he had a point. It felt too opportunistic, though, and her inner voice was telling her to go in the other direction. “I don’t think so, but I appreciate your asking.”
There was disappointment on his face but she wasn’t sure what motivated it. It didn’t matter. She had seen enough of these dark-skinned foreign zillionaires to know that they valued women lowly and had private jets at their disposal for get-aways. Although the money and benefits were unbelievable, she knew better. If it seemed too good to be true, it was.
“I am most disappointed,” he said. “You realize that in my country, women would kill to have that position?”
Gabrielle couldn’t help herself. “Perhaps that’s where you should look, then,” she returned saucily and headed back to the kitchen.
She busied herself there as long as she could. Eventually, Ben stuck his head through the door and called out, “We got tables out here.” She had no choice; her job was tenuous as it was. She needed to get out onto the floor and do what she was being paid to do.
She peeked through the doors and saw the sheikh was still in his seat, watching the television overhead. Doesn’t he have better things to do? she thought to herself. With a deep breath, she pushed through the doors and headed toward her tables.
The first table had a couple, both of whom looked very uncomfortable. The man was pleasant looking and in a suit while the woman kept swallowing and tapping her nails on the table. Honeymooners, Gabrielle thought to herself. He ordered a scotch and she a vodka collins. Just like I thought, she thought.
The next table was ringed with men. By the look of their clothes, she assumed they were businessmen, in town for a convention. Lots of these guys stayed at the cheaper motels on the edge of town but came in to the Bellagio for what it had to offer. They always looked out of place and played conservatively. They also always left dead broke.
The next table held a single man and as Gabrielle approached him, his back was to her. She moved to his side and laid down a cocktail napkin before him. “What can I bring you?” she asked.
“Hello, Gabrielle. I told you we’d meet again,” came the voice, and Gabrielle’s head jerked up as she saw who it was. Her worst fears were confirmed as she looked at the face of Carl Smithers.
“Get out of here!” she spat automatically in a hard whisper. Her hands began to shake and the nightmares from the past began to filter into her current reality.
“Oh, now that’s not too nice,” Carl grinned, his teeth were yellow and one was broken off.
“I said get out. I’ll… I’ll… call security!” she tried desperately.
“And what will you tell them?” he mewled in a cajoling tone. It was the same tone he’d used in trying to get her to slide her panties off. “You going to say your daddy is here?”
Gabrielle thought she would faint. She spun about without answering and headed back to the bar. Ben noticed her hands and looked to her for an explanation. “You okay?”
“The man at table eleven has had too much to drink. Cut him off!” she spat in a desperate voice.
Ben looked at the man and back at her. She was visibly shaken. “Consider him cut off,” he agreed without argument.
Gabrielle heaved a sigh of relief, picked up the tray with the drinks for the first two tables, and went off to deliver them. She thought she had pulled that off rather neatly. Carl would hang for a few minutes and once he noticed he wasn’t going to be served, he should leave. Or so she hoped.
None of this went undetected, however. A pair of dark brown eyes and raised black eyebrows had watched her carefully. Whether she liked it or not, he had already come to think of her as his own property. He was a man who looked out for his property. He glanced momentarily at Alahan who nodded very slightly. He would see to it Gabrielle wasn’t bothered again – at least not tonight.
Gabrielle continued to quiver with fear and the realization that she was no longer in hiding. Where can I go? she thought. She finished delivering the drinks and headed back to the bar. This time, however, she walked straight up to Arran. “Is that offer still open?” she asked.
“And of course,” he answered, trying to keep the satisfaction out of his voice.
“When do I start?
Chapter Four
The elevator opened onto the floor with the Chairman’s Suite and Arran waved his hand for Gabrielle to exit. Alahan followed as he escorted her down the hallway to the suite he had reserved for her in advance.
He unlocked the door and handed her the keycard. “After you,” he said.
Gabrielle walked into the beautiful suite with its designer touches and felt completely out of her element. “You know, I could stay at the little apartment I rent in town,” she hurriedly said but Arran shook his head.
“No, your hours will be irregular and sometimes long. It would be far more convenient for you to be close at hand,” he pointed out and Gabrielle nodded, although not without reservations.
“Well, we can try it for the time being,” she allowed.
“I think you will find everything you need in the bedroom closet. I’ll leave you for now to get settled in, but tomorrow morning I’d like you in my sitting room at nine so we can begin reviewing your duties and planning an agenda.” He bowed from the waist and left, Alahan striding behind him.
“Oh, Sheik!” she called after him.
He stopped and turned toward her. “Yes?”
“What do I call you?”
“As I said earlier, you may call me Arran,” he said, looking as though he thought they’d covered all that.
“Just thought I’d double-check. Maybe an employee should call you by your more formal title?”
“Arran will be perfectly fine. Goodnight, Gabrielle,” he said and disappeared into his own suite.
* * *
Gabrielle was up early and in the shower. When she opened the closet, her jaw dropped. There weren’t just a few dresses in there; there was an entire wardrobe. She pulled out a sequined strapless evening gown with a matching cape. She held it up to herself and looked in the mirror. It was her size! She tugged out shoes and sure enough, they were all in her size as well. How did he know I’d accept? A tall chest with drawers held what must have been hundreds of thousands of dollars in jewelry. There were matching handbags and shoes coordinated for each outfit. Another dresser held lingerie. Gabrielle had never seen, much less had the use of, quality clothing like this. She hadn’t even dared to go into the shops where it was sold.
She selected a conservative pantsuit in navy blue with a crimson blouse. Its collar was embroidered with tiny, colorful flowers and it set off her coloring beautifully. She tapped on Arran’s door promptly at nine.
A butler opened the door to admit her and showed her into Arran’s sitting room. If anything, it was even more elaborate than her own quarters and she took it all in as he was pouring himself a thick, Turkish coffee. He had offered her some, but she shook her head.
“I don’t eat breakfast,” she said quickly and realized it was more due to a lack of budget than anything else.
“Very well. Let’s begin, shall we?” he smiled in a charming manner and took a seat opposite her on a brocade sofa. “Before you is a case. Open it, if you will?”
Gabrielle opened the red leather case on the coffee table. It contained several things.
“These are yours to keep,” Arran said, sipping his drink.
Gabrielle began to protest but he quickly waved her silent. “You must have the proper tools to do your job,” he said.
She found a new Apple laptop and iPhone. There was also an envelope that contained a chec
k for $10,000.
“Your first paycheck,” he said briefly as though it was of no consequence. “You also have a line of credit at almost any store in town. Just walk in, select what you need and they will bill me.” He pointed at a slender wallet and she opened it to find several credit cards. “For incidentals,” he commented. “In the pocket, you’ll find a set of car keys to a red Ferrari that you’ll find parked downstairs. It’s yours as well.”
“I can’t accept all this,” she began.
“Gabrielle, we both understand your sense of integrity. These are yours as part of the job, nothing more. There will be no repayment. Let’s consider these a signing bonus, if you will.”
Gabrielle’s suspicious nature was triggered. She sat back on the sofa and contemplated all that lay before her and down the hallway in the closet. “I didn’t thank you for the unbelievable wardrobe. It’s all, too, too much, Arran.”
He set down his cup and looked at her. “It’s nothing compared to what I’d be willing to give.”
Gabrielle didn’t know how to take that, so she chose not to say any more on that topic. She reminded herself that could always give these things back. Right now, however, she needed to look after her own safety and Arran certainly presented the least hazardous of the two opportunities. Carl was hanging around downstairs, to be certain.
“Now then, let us discuss the gentleman who upset you last night in the bar. What is he to you?”
Gabrielle could have kicked herself. She should have known this was coming. “No one.”
“I think, dear Gabrielle, you do not give me credit. It would take an idiot to not have seen your reaction to him. If he affects you, it affects me. I insist you tell me who he is.”
Gabrielle shut the case and looked out the window over the landscape of hotels and neon lights. Without looking at him directly, she pulled at her hair and said, “He was my foster parent.”
“I see. Not a very good one, I’m guessing?”
“No, not a very good one. A very bad one, as a matter of fact.”
“His name?”
Gabrielle looked at him. This could be a dangerous situation. This man is very powerful. “His name is Carl Smithers. I don’t know how he found me, but I suspected he’d show up one day.”
“And this Carl Smithers,” he said the name with disgust on his lips, “would it be fair to assume he treated you in a manner that was inappropriate?”
Gabrielle nodded, her eyes filling with tears at the memory.
Arran stood and came over to sit next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders. “Listen to me. I am not without connections and shall we say, some level of immunity in this country. Say the word and he will disappear forever.” His voice was low, serious, and possessive. Gabrielle picked up on this.
She shook her head. “No, leave him be. I just don’t want to run into him again, especially if I’m alone.”
Arran patted her shoulder and withdrew his arm in a true, gentlemanly fashion. “I anticipated as much.” He snapped his fingers and the door opened. Alahan entered, followed by a woman roughly Gabrielle’s age. “This,” he motioned to the woman to step forward, “is Serra. She is a member of my personal security team and now is assigned to be your companion. She’s highly trained and is always armed. She will look out for you at all times.”
Gabrielle shook her head, “No, no, this is ridiculous. I don’t need a bodyguard. No offense, Serra.”
“Ahhh, but indeed you do, Gabrielle. You will, as my assistant, from time to time be entrusted with large amounts of cash and other confidential papers. I cannot put you in harm’s way and that’s why Serra will accompany you.”
“Why do I need a bodyguard? Why do you need a bodyguard?” she asked bluntly.
“I do not have eyes in the back of my head and neither do you. This is quite common among… among people in business.” He seemed perfectly accepting of this.
“Not the people in businesses I know.”
“Please, Gabrielle, accept my word for this.”
She nodded. He was her employer. How could she argue? “Well, then, Serra, how do you do?” she offered up, trying to strike up some sort of friendship. Serra was cool, but politely nodded. Arran flicked a finger and both bodyguards quietly slipped from the room. It occurred to Gabrielle that this was a man who was accustomed to having people wait on him. It was a completely foreign feeling for her and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not.
“Now then,” he began again, “I want you to get to know me well. You must learn my point of view and where my goals lie. You will be called upon at one time or another to make decisions on my behalf. For this reason, you must understand what I would say if I were there.”
Gabrielle nodded. This made sense.
“First, it would please me if you would begin to eat breakfast, even if it is only juice and coffee. We will have breakfast meetings and you will want to blend in and not be conspicuous. Later this morning we will take a drive and look at a few properties that have been proposed by a local realtor. I want you to offer your true opinion when I ask you—never hesitate to be honest with me. Your integrity is one of the qualities I admire most about you. I also value your opinion and intend to use your American perspective as a precious commodity. Please always feel free to ask me questions, however personal. Again, I wish you to be completely aware of who I am. Do you have any questions so far?”
“Yes. All this…” she waved to the room and everything that was in it. “Is this yours? Or do you represent someone else? I guess what I mean to ask is, do you have the final say-so or do I have a boss above you?”
“I’m the top, Gabrielle. I’m a ruler and my word is the final decision. There is no one else you must answer to.”
“Okay, second question. Did you hire me legitimately because you needed an assistant, or is this some sort of elaborate prelude to making a pass at me?”
Arran burst out laughing at this. “That’s one of the things I love most about American women. They truly speak their minds without fear. I will answer you with the same honesty, Gabrielle. I saw you downstairs and was instantly drawn to you. I find you immensely attractive, not just in face and figure, but in the way you handle yourself. It also happens that I do need someone to assist me, and since your needs aligned with my needs, why should I question that?”
Gabrielle pursed her lips. “Well, at least that was honest,” she admitted.
Arran held out his hand. “Shall we make a pact, then? Always honesty between us?”
Gabrielle hesitated. She had no idea how deeply he might delve into her past. “Agreed.”
* * *
The Rolls was waiting beneath the portico for them when they stepped outside. Gabrielle could never get used to the blast of heat that hit her when she left the hotel’s cool interior. It was enough to drive you back inside, and that’s exactly what the hotel wanted. Vegas was a city of subliminal manipulation and the odds were always in the favor of the house.
Alahan sat in front with the driver while Gabrielle and Arran took their place in the luxurious leather back seat. They met up with the realtor but she was not invited to ride with them, much to her dismay. They followed closely behind and Alahan was forever vigilant, scanning the traffic on either side of them until they’d left the city limits and they were surrounded by desert.
The agent’s car turned down a private drive banked by palm trees and green space. When the house came into view, Gabrielle drew in her breath. The home was ultramodern with a deeply overhanging roof. The exterior seemed to be made of some sort of concrete mixture, textured for appearance but functionally very cool in the desert heat. Tinted floor to ceiling windows punctuated the walls.
The agent approached the Rolls and Alahan stepped out, looked around, and then opened the door for Arran and Gabrielle. The heat was staggering but Gabrielle noticed that Arran didn’t seem the least bit affected. He feels at home in this stuff, she observed.
Serra had not accompanied them
on this trip since Alahan was there and it wasn’t expected that Arran and Gabrielle would separate during their outing. Gabrielle looked the house over critically, her silver sunglasses blending with her hair. Arran looked at her from the corner of his eye. She looks like a platinum goddess, he thought to himself.
Inside, the house was even more fabulous, if that was possible. High, coffered ceilings with fans kept the cool air moving and the windows were treated so that no heat passed inside. The more Spartan façade led to a lush, green canopy in the back yard with gardens filled with tropical flowers, a two-story waterfall that filled an Olympic-sized pool, and patio groupings that circled around an outdoor kitchen. There were ten bedrooms with en-suite baths, a study, two living areas, and a kitchen that rivaled that of any restaurant in Europe. The kitchen boasted a walk-in refrigerator and a mammoth gas stove with eight burners. A formal dining area annexed a breakfast room and there was an attached, but separated quarters for the employees. In the basement of the house was a home theatre, and a gymnasium including a basketball court and a shooting range. The color scheme was pastel and light, giving the occupant the illusion that he or she was floating on an ocean of sand.
The agent was rattling off features. The house was to be sold complete with furnishings but Arran waved his hand at that.
“We will have our own furnishings,” he said bluntly and Gabrielle looked at the oil paintings on the wall with regretful longing.
As a child who was moved around, she always longed to be surrounded by beautiful things that belonged to her and the idea that these works of art would go to waste seemed like her dream had just sailed by.
The agent, believing she had a live buyer, began to press Arran for his opinion.
“We shall reflect upon it. What else have you to show us?”
This put the agent off her mark a bit.
“Perhaps you could tell me what you don’t like as much about this house?”
“I’m looking for more house and more privacy,” he said succinctly.
