His Hired Bride

by Holly Rayner

Rafiq let out a huge sigh of relief and dropped his head. “Thank you so much. You handled that flawlessly.”

  I pushed his arm off my shoulder and frowned up at him. “Fortunately for you, I’m very adaptable and smart. Unfortunately, I also tend to get a little bit upset when someone who is supposed to be working with me hangs me out to dry.”

  Rafiq looked wounded. “What? I don’t…”

  “When were you going to tell me that we’re supposed to be engaged?” Anger finally found its way into my voice, and I put my hands on my hips as I faced him. “You don’t think that was an important bit of information for me to have before Mehmet got here? We could have ruined everything. I thought you wanted this to work, isn’t that the whole point?”

  Redness flushed Rafiq’s face, and he lowered his eyes in a way that I hadn’t seen him do before.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was reckless.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I said, exasperated.

  “I don’t know.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a piece of work. It’s like you’re not thinking any of this through.”

  “Hey, I’ve never done this before,” said Rafiq, holding his big arms open. “I may have talked my way into some places I don’t belong, but this is a whole different ball game, Evie. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Maybe you should try harder,” I snapped. “If you want this to work, that is. I don’t know why I feel like I care about this more than you do—it’s your life on the line, isn’t it?”

  Rafiq frowned. He seemed hurt, but I didn’t take my words back.

  “Well, at least this is temporary. You won’t have to worry about dealing with my stupid mistakes much longer. You can go back to your well-ordered life soon.”

  The bitterness in his voice was overwhelming, but I didn’t respond.

  “My father will be heading back to the Middle East at the end of the week, once he’s met all of his business contacts and spent what he deems to be sufficient time with me and you. As soon as he’s gone, this can end. And then you don’t have to see me again.”

  Silence hung heavy between us. I suddenly realized that I didn’t want that, but I couldn’t find the words, and I didn’t understand why I felt that way. His mistakes did drive me crazy, but somehow, that wasn’t translating to anger like it was before.

  This was all too much. My mind was a violent ocean of thoughts, emotions, and worries. I wanted some familiar comfort, something to help ground me as I floated around this dream world like a lost balloon.

  I turned away from Rafiq and started toward my bedroom. “I have to go back to the gallery. I can’t keep it closed for so many days in a row. It’s probably best we have some space right now, anyway.”

  Rafiq frowned. “Why not? It’s not like you need the money now, is it?”

  Offended, I whirled around to face him. “It’s not about the money,” I said. “It’s never been about the money, Rafiq. Money is just a thing I need to keep my lights on and my house warm, and if I could figure out a way around it, I would do so in a heartbeat. The gallery—my work—is my life. But I guess you wouldn’t understand anything about that, since you don’t really have anything to work for.” I gestured widely to his opulent, yet empty apartment; the one we had just barely cleaned from a night of hedonistic partying.

  I wanted the line to cut him, but I still wasn’t ready for the pain on Rafiq’s face when I said it. Still, I held his stare and didn’t apologize. He was wrong, and he was going to know it. I would never allow anyone to devalue my work, least of all Rafiq.

  He was silent for a few moments. “Well, you’re not going to the gallery alone.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he said. “If you’re going, I’m going with you.”

  “I don’t need a chaperone.”

  “I’m going to help you sell your work. I have experience selling art work, I can help you.”

  “Is that right?” I said, crossing my arms. “And what makes you think I need your help?”

  “You’ve already completed most of our deal,” said Rafiq. “I’m not afraid of you cutting and running on me. You’re not that kind of woman.”

  His words softened me, but I didn’t let him know that. “So what is it, then, if not babysitting?”

  “Just what I said: I’m coming to help you, whether or not you need it. And that’s the end of it.”

  ELEVEN