The Sheikh's Secret

by Knight, Kylie

  "It's gorgeous."

  "It's Canada," Clark said dryly. "Everything is nice here. Too nice, most times. Could use a little grittiness to add spice, as far as I'm concerned."

  But Shawna liked it just the way it was.

  "I'm going to go do my thing. Meet me back here at nine unless you call to arrange otherwise, and we'll head back to the rooms to negotiate what's happening tomorrow. I'm thinking I'll want to bounce — this place seems too clean for my tastes. I want to go some place with some filth."

  Negotiate was right — Shawna felt like she could stay there forever. It was the vacation speaking, she told herself. The fresh sense of adventure that made everything she saw much more attractive than it really was. Did she really have to leave so soon?

  "Sure. I'm going to wander around and get lost. I'll meet you back—" But Clark had already hopped back on his bike at her dismissal, revved the engine, and backed with irresponsible speed onto the street behind him. A hand lifted in quick parting, and he sped away. Shawna was alone in the heart of a foreign city. It was time to embrace the spontaneous part of herself that she'd held back for so long. It was time to truly live.

  Without Clark to laugh at her choices or Ben to hold her back, Shawna worked her way through the beautiful downtown core. A little past mid afternoon, there were still plenty of hours to burn before she had to report back to meet Clark. Shawna spent them exploring art and natural history museums to get a better feel for the place, and when six o'clock approached, she saw herself into a cafe to have a snack, anticipating a late dinner.

  White chocolate mocha with whip served in a broad porcelain cup was her choice, and when it was served, Shawna sat herself at a small table by the window to watch the world go by. Canada wasn't all that different from America, but there were small inconsistencies that reminded her that she was far from home. Although professional and motivated, the people here seemed more relaxed. The ocean air lit the senses and rejuvenated the soul, and she imagined that the island had much to do with its inhabitants happiness. The people who loitered in the cafe over steaming cups of coffee and polite conversation also seemed more laid back. If Clark was looking for a low maintenance girl, Shawna assumed he'd come to the right place — Canadians were about as easy going as could be.

  But one conversation cut above the others, the tone different. Business. Shawna had worked long enough in the corporate world to recognize the sound of a meeting by now. Although she did not turn her head towards the table, she listened. When it was used for innocent intentions, eavesdropping wasn't bad.

  "—surprised we connected through JobIn. To be honest, we weren't considering an American hire, or bringing in an additional set of hands, but having spoken with you so intimately over the past few weeks, I've put in a good word with the company and they've begun to change their minds. I want to thank you for coming all the way to Canada just to interview with us — I know what a pain it is to take time off work to travel, but I hope you'll find it well worth your while. For the both of you." It was a woman who spoke, professional and yet chipper, likely no older than her mid thirties. Shawna imagined her face — a tiny button nose and a warm smile. Eyes with the beginnings of wrinkles in their corners. Wavy brown hair she let down. The face became real, and she clung to the image. Seeing how close she was to the mark when she turned to leave would be fun.

  "Thank you. It's a pleasure to be here speaking to you face to face. Video chat doesn't quite cut it for me, and I appreciate your invitation."

  The voice that replied sent chills down her spine. In another country, far away from anyone she knew, Shawna had not expected to be gripped by familiarity. Yet here she was, hearing words spoken by a voice she knew too well.

  Ben.

  "Your wife — was it Shawna?" the woman asked.

  "Yes, Shawna," Ben replied smoothly. Surreal pinpricks ran down her spine. Ben hadn't corrected the woman when she'd called her his wife. What was happening?

  "We're very impressed with her work. Very impressed. Had you not sent us her portfolio, I have a feeling we would have settled for someone unable to bring out vision to life. Every single one of us in the office agrees that Shawna is the right choice for Nescalo, and that's high praise! If she were to join us, we would offer you a position as well, since you would be relocating together. You can tell that we're very serious in our offer — you don't get offered a second salary for your spouse on a whim. It's such a shame that Shawna couldn't be with us today. When she gets her passport sorted out, we'll fly her up here asap and get that work visa going for the both of you. We've had a lawyer look into the process, and he's assured us it'll go off without a hitch. You'll both be here in no time."

  The full story was lost on her, but Shawna wasn't stupid. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Ben had called her the other day to try to fix what had gone wrong not because he truly missed her and cared about her, but because he had been using her talents and success to network with other businesses by pretending they were married. Without her consent he had gathered a portfolio of her work, likely created a profile for her, linked it to his own, and had sent twin spider webs out to form a network of professionals he had no right connecting with on his own. And now, to get himself a new, likely more profitable job, he had told the woman at the table that they were married and that if she wanted Shawna to work for them, they'd have to bring Ben on, too.

  The revelation was sickening. How long had this been going on for? How many people had Ben spoken to as her? How many people had he told they were married? The appetite Shawna had been building for her late dinner vanished all at once, and even as the strength left her limbs, she found herself rising on autopilot to turn and face the table. The woman, a brunette with a short, stylish bob and facial angles to match, sat facing her direction. Ben's back was to her, and that was fine by Shawna. If anything, it gave her more courage.

  Her legs should have wobbled, but instead they were stiff. A tremor ran through Shawna's body, and her hands were shaking almost to the point of uselessness. The fighting and lying was supposed to have been left behind in the States, but here Ben was in Canada, in the same cafe she'd selected on a whim, ruining what fun she was supposed to have. Ruining her life with how scummy and deceitful he was.

  The last of her precision saw the passport pulled from her jacket pocket, and Shawna opened it to the info page as she approached the table. The woman looked up at her, looked back to Ben, then did a double take. Shawna stopped just short of his chair and fixed her with a stare.

  "Excuse me," Shawna said, "but I'm the Shawna Ben's been telling you all about."

  Ben jumped and turned all at once, his eyes wide. Panic had clouded his gaze and tightened his lips, and Shawna was glad for it. After what he'd done, he deserved to be put on the spot.

  "Sh-Shawna," Ben gasped as Shawna held her passport towards the woman so she could check the credentials.

  "I just want to tell you that this man is a liar. I've never spoken to you once, nor have I authorized my work be used in a portfolio for any online job searches. In fact, I'm happy with where I'm working now. And in case you haven't noticed," bitterness stung her words, "there is no ring on my left ring finger. Ben and I were never married — hell, we were never even engaged. We broke up two weeks ago, and just yesterday he called with a sob story about how he'd wanted to propose and how we should give things another shot. Now I understand why — because he wanted to play both of us. So do yourself a favor, and don't fall for his lies. Don't hire him. Don't give him a visa. Cut contact. A man like that isn't worth your time."

  "I... This is... I don't believe it," the woman stumbled. She looked up from the passport to Shawna, then to Ben. "Is this true?"

  Ben was stuttering and stumbling over his words. Seeing him so taken aback was satisfaction enough. Shawna tucked her passport back into her coat and then shoved her hands into either outside pocket, fingers tracing the contours of her cellphone.

  "And you, Ben," she told him. "If
you thought there was a chance that I'd ever get back with you, you're delusional. I never want to see you again. I can't believe that you did this. I can't believe you would think that using me and my skills as leverage for your own is okay. I don't know you at all anymore, and I don't want to know this new you. Don't contact me again."

  It was all she had to say. Shawna turned from the table and stormed from the cafe, both incensed and near tears with vulnerability. A man she had known for so long and trusted so deeply had used her like a bargaining piece to get a better bit in life for himself. She would never respect Ben again for what he had done.

  Unable to make it back to the motel room on foot, Shawna made haste down the street to separate herself from the scenario. Shook up, emotionally devastated, she needed to go somewhere private to recover. There was no choice but to call Clark and beg him to take her back to the motel early. He had told her even before they were out the door of the apartment that he wouldn't hold her hand, but these circumstances were extreme. Surely he had to understand.

  Shawna pulled her phone from her pocket and called as she wandered forward. The phone was one ring away from voicemail before Clark picked up.

  "Yo."

  "Hey, it's um, it's Shawna." Every word threatened to erupt into tears, but she did her best to sound composed. It made her voice robotic and clinical — as much as she tried to hide it, Clark would be able to tell something was wrong. "I need you to come pick me up right now. I swear I'll pay you back later, it's just—"

  "Shawna, stop." A firm hand grasped her shoulder, and Shawna gasped. Ben had followed her to physically confront her over what had just happened. The words were not happy. "We need to have a talk."

  "Get away from me!" Despite the ongoing call, Shawna wasn't afraid to raise her voice. Shawna turned on the spot to face him, tears beading in the corners of her eyes and shaking in her voice. "I don't want anything to do with you! What don't you understand about no?!"

  "Shawna?" Clark asked, suddenly serious.

  "You weren't supposed to find out," Ben spat. Shawna had never seen him so angry before — had he been hiding this side of him the whole time they'd been together?

  "Shawna!" Clark insisted, getting louder. "Tell me where you are!"

  "Off of Pine by Stonecrest coffee," she said, maybe too quickly for him to be able to pick out the words. There was no chance to confirm, because right as she finished her sentence, Ben slapped the phone out of her hand. The device flew into the street and skidded across the pavement, well out of her reach.

  "Who are you talking to?" he demanded. The hand that had struck at her phone now grabbed her wrist, and he pulled her off of the main street and into a side alley. Shawna, legs like jelly, couldn't find the strength to break away and run. Ben, the Ben she'd known for so long, was going to do something terrible to her — she knew it.

  "The person I'm traveling with," she sobbed. Tears had started to fall, and as she started to speak, she could no longer hold them back from her inflection. "It doesn't matter, because we broke up two weeks ago and you have no right to pry into my life. Just leave me alone!"

  "But we're not done, Shawna," Ben said stiffly. "You and I, we're going to get married. We're going to get married, and then you're going to help me get a position in a company I deserve. How is it fair that you graduated with all the prestige and don't give a shit about reaching your potential, and here I am working my ass off for half a decade to get where I belong to be because no one believes I have what it takes? It's not. But when we get married, you're going to be able to talk me into places I could only dream about. You're going to advance, and I'm going to advance, and one day we'll have so much money that we can do all the shitty things you want to do. Travel, language lessons... I don't give a crap. But if you want it, it will be yours, as long as you marry me and make sure I get to where I belong."

  "No!" Shawna wailed. The rejection sounded childish, but it was all she could muster. Ben's fingers were digging into her wrist so deep they threatened to cut. What had come over him? This wasn't the man she'd known.

  "Yes," he spat. "Stop being a child, stop being selfish and immature, and think of someone else for once. This is for what's best for both of us. We're going to be successful together, and I'm not going to hear anything else from you."

  And just like that, skinny, business driven Ben tugged her into his arms and kissed her lips so hard they bruised. Try as she might, Shawna could not find the strength to pull away from him; Ben's arms had locked around her, and he was not willing to relinquish his hold. Squirm and pry as she might, she was stuck with him. The fear of what he might do to her grew more real by the second.

  But before Ben could drag her anywhere, a noise ripped down the alleyway. The purr of an engine and the squeal of brakes broke the silence, and Ben cast her aside so Shawna hit the brick wall to see what it was.

  "Who the fuck are you?" Ben demanded, temper flared.

  "Name's Clark," Clark growled as he hopped from his idling bike. "But names should be the least of your worries right now. Let go of Shawna, and I won't crush you like the slimy bug you are."

  "This," Ben said wildly, near insane, "this is the joker next door, isn't it? That guy who so 'innocently' walked you home that one time. You think I'm bad, Shawna? How long has this shit been going on? At least I'm putting your future first instead of sneaking around behind your back seeing other woman. Less then two weeks and you're traveling with him out of the country? Don't think I'm stupid!"

  "Nah, I don't think you're stupid," Clark rumbled, approaching on heavy footsteps until he was right up in Ben's face. "I know you're stupid. You've got one more chance — leave Shawna alone, or I will make you wish you never left home."

  Dazed and scared, Shawna pressed herself against the brick and watched the man she once loved and the man she refused to love fight over her. Since she'd met him, Clark had been flirty, but she knew he was a womanizer. All this time, had he been making sincere advances? Did she mean more to him than a casual hookup?

  "Ragged hobos don't scare me," Ben spat back, nose to nose with Clark. But Clark was no hobo, and Shawna knew that he was the type of man who would make good on his word. Before the last word had escaped Ben's mouth, Clark pushed him back with sudden intensity and slammed his fist into Ben's face. To Shawna's surprise, Ben didn't cry out — instead, he stumbled back a few steps before collapsing to the ground, out cold. Clark shook his fist out once, glared at Ben's unconscious body though narrowed eyes, then turned to look at Shawna.

  "You okay, blondie?" he asked. All Shawna could do was nod as small sobs broke through the silence between them. What had just happened had been terrifying and life-altering. The two biggest masculine forces in her life had shown their true colors, and the reversal was drastic. Clark had come to her rescue when Ben had sought to harm her and force her into what she didn't want. Shawna ran the back of her hand beneath her eyes to wipe away the tears and tried to settle down. Before she could pull her arm away, Clark had drawn her into his arms and away from the wall to stroke her back.

  "Shit, if you actually needed me to hold your hand, you could have said something," he whispered in her ear. "I bark for the hell of it, but I'm not heartless. Shawna, I don't want to see you hurt. Whoever this joker is, whatever your history is with him, I'll make sure he doesn't bother you anymore. No one is going to mess with you and get away with it, not when I'm at your side."

  Just like their first night outside the lobby of their apartment building, Shawna felt her pulse race. Downy softness enveloped her, and she allowed her head to fall forward and rest upon his broad shoulder. The smell of leather and tobacco clung to him, intoxicating and vivid. Beneath it, the scent of cedar and musk. Somehow, despite his grungy lifestyle, Clark always managed to smell good.

  "Thank you," she mumbled against his shoulder. Like a kitten at the mercy of a bulldog, Shawna knew she depended on him at a fundamental level. Clark only treated her with respect and care.

  "Let's g
et you back to the motel," he whispered, drawing away slowly so she had time to react and steady herself on her feet. "You hold on tight. Everything's going to be okay."

  The tough exterior had eroded to reveal Clark's soft side, like matter exposed to concentrated acid. The carefree, gruff, my-way-or-the-highway man she'd left the States with had given way to a man who obviously cared a great deal for her. As upset as she was, Shawna couldn't help but smile.

  "I know. Thank you. Thank you for looking out for me as you have."

  Before Clark had a chance to turn, Shawna reached out and took his hand loosely in hers. The contact, although innocent, was intimate. There was no mistaking the affection in it. Clark glanced down to her hand, then up to catch her gaze with hers. Shawna blinked away the last of her tears, still holding onto the small smile that had sprouted from the seeds of his kindness.

  "It's uh," Clark, loud mouthed and opinionated, was lost for words. Some of the harsh lines faded from his face as their eyes maintained a locked gaze. "It's something I wanted to do. Needed to do."

  "Like I need to do this."

  A side alley in one of the most beautiful cities she'd ever seen with her ex's unconscious body just feet away wasn't where Shawna thought she'd be when it happened, but there was no more holding back. With a slow tilt, she closed the distance between her lips and Clark's, standing on the tips of her toes to give herself the tiny boost of height necessary to do so. The last thing Shawna saw as she closed her eyes was Clark's sparkling blues drooping closed as well. The kiss they shared was sweet and sincere, the bad boy momentarily subdued, like a dog gnawing at a steak. Clark's lips were dry and harsh, but the touch of them still sent shivers down her spine.