The Sheikh's Secret

by Knight, Kylie

  What was she supposed to say? That she had totally fallen for her boss? How the hell was she supposed to do a thing like that? She could hardly even think it without cringing, her whole body rejecting the notion of having allowed herself to do something so stupid. In her defense, had she been in the position to defend herself to someone, she hadn’t done it on purpose. It was honestly the last thing she expected to happen. But he was so different from what she expected him to be! There was more to him than the flashy house and the disgusting amounts of money, more than she believed he himself even realized. There were moments that only she was privy to that made her believe that to be so. They were the moments when he nobody else was watching, thus giving Aasir the freedom to be who he truly was without the pressure of keeping up appearances. It wasn’t that he was really alone because he wasn’t. She was there as well, sometimes interacting with him and sometimes in the shadows where he had in all likelihood forgotten her presence entirely. It was just that she wasn’t someone he felt the need to impress and that allowed him something all of his money couldn’t buy. It was something she loved seeing in him, even though it hurt her. That was the most confusing part of the whole thing. The only reason she was able to see the best parts of him was because she didn’t matter to him in the slightest. He didn’t see her as anything but his employee, only slightly better than ornate decorations some fancy designer had placed perfectly around his home. It was painful, but to her it was worth it, at least most of the time. It was enough just to get the opportunity to see him at his best. If only he wasn’t still in so much pain.

  “Oh my god! You have got to be shitting me! This is where you live? Did like, your parents buy it for you or something? Are they super duper rich?”

  “It’s my home, actually. I own it.”

  “Right, but like, who gave it to you?”

  Oh good lord. Aasir had found another card carrying mensa woman at one of the many establishments he frequented. Maybe hanging out primarily in very loud swanky clubs where everyone around you was drunk wasn’t the best way to meet people. She didn’t really know. She hadn’t done a whole lot of bar hopping in her life. Even if that was the case, Alison just couldn’t understand why he would have a passing interest in the sorts of girls he had been spending time with lately. Why in the world did he flock to women like this? He was forever bringing these women home who didn’t seem to know a thing about how special he was. Even the one he had dated, what was her name, Nicole? Even she hadn't seemed to see the man that she saw. He didn’t seem to mind it, though. He just laughed good naturedly, just as he always did, and ushered her deeper into the house. Although she couldn’t quite see the two of them, she assumed he was leading her into the library. She had noticed that it was by far his favorite room in the house. He liked to joke that it was because it was the room with the best bar, but Alison knew differently. Alison had seen him holed up in his favorite leather chair, his feet propped up on a large ottoman as he poured over book after book. He was a voracious reader with the most eclectic taste in literature of any person she had ever known aside from her father and he moved quickly from one book to the next, almost as if he was looking for something he hoped to find in the text. Maybe that was why he read so quickly. Maybe he believed, each time he finished one book and moved to the next, that what he was looking for would be in that book, maybe he would finally find what he needed. Alison listened closely, hoping that nobody would notice that she was eavesdropping, and nodded to herself when he heard the way he introduced her to room.

  “No, darling, I think you’ve misunderstood. Nobody gave it to me. I purchased it, with my own money. The house belongs to me and nobody else.”

  “Oh my god, are you for real? So you’re like, super duper rich, huh?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Like, millionaire rich? Billionaire rich? This is so freaking cool.”

  “I don’t know, it is what it is. Let me show you the library, shall I? It’s the best room in the house, if I do say so myself.”

  There it was, just as she had predicted. She knew Aasir Almasi so well, even if he hardly knew who she was. He was taking her to the bar, raving about the mahogany and the amazing cocktails he could make, never saying a word about his love for all of the wonderful books. In a strange way, knowing that made her feel better. The feelings she had for him were based on a version that few people, if any, knew existed. He could bring all the girls home he wanted. It wouldn’t make a difference. None of them would see the parts of him that Alison cared for. They would be there for a night, maybe three, and then they would never see him again. It was something that provided solace, just not enough. She took a shaky breath and made her way up the grand stairway back towards her room. As ridiculous as it was, and she was well aware that it was ridiculous, she had tears in her eyes.

  She was stuck. She was in a job that supported her better than any she had ever had before, finally living in a place that didn’t feel dangerous for the first time in her adult life. She actually liked the job, despite it having nothing to do with what she had a passion for, and she didn’t want to leave. But she was also rapidly falling in love with her boss and every time she had to watch him bring another gorgeous woman home it felt like someone was kicking her in the gut. Some masochistic part of her wanted to stay and see it all, just to remind herself of where her place really was in this situation. Also just to be near him, at least in some capacity. But the other part of her, the more logical side that was interested in self-preservation, was yelling at her over and over again to get the hell out of this place just as fast as she could. Things were only going to get worse. She had thought at first that as she watched Aasir more closely she would see things about him she did not like and therefore would take away her desire for him. Unfortunately for her, that had not been the case. She had seen his flaws and she found them endearing rather than repulsive. They had only made her want to have him more. She was stuck, alright, and she had no idea what the best thing to do for herself was.

  ***

  “I have to say, I kind of can’t believe you actually showed up. I was half expecting to get a sad text message telling me why you weren’t going to make it.”

  “Ha ha, very funny. I said I was going to be here, so I’m here. I’m not all bad.”

  “I know, I was just joking. Hey, what’s going on with you?”

  Alison glanced up and saw that Jules was looking at her with mild concern. Crap. To get a look like that, Alison knew that her tone must have been more aggressive than she had intended. Seeing as she was usually very mild in manner and in voice, any time she was forceful or angry it was cause for concern for those who knew her best. She shut her eyes briefly, sucked in a deep and hopefully calming breath, and gave her friend a little smile.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long couple of months, really.”

  “How come? I thought you liked your job.”

  “I do. It’s not that.”

  Alison was about to tell Jules everything when a dark and handsome bartender brought over two huge cosmos. She was about to tell him that he was mistaken, that the drinks belonged to someone else, when Jules nodded and handed him her credit card. She slid one of the dangerously full martini glasses towards her and gave her a sly wink.

  “Did you think I was going to let this evening start off without being prepared? Come on, you know me better than that.”

  “That’s true, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “So seriously? What is it? I can see that something is bothering you. I can’t remember ever seeing you quite like this before.”

  “God, I don’t want to tell you, but I feel like I have to tell someone. Either that or I’m going to completely fall apart.”

  “Jesus, this sounds serious. You know you can tell me anything, right? All kidding aside, I will always have your back. No matter what it is that’s going on.”

  “Ok, here it goes.
It’s my boss.”

  “The super rich guy? Why? What did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Because if he did I have no problem kicking him in the balls. Like, no problem at all.”

  “No, nothing like that. Pretty much the opposite, actually.”

  “Ok, what does that mean?”

  “I’m in love with him, Jules. I’m almost completely sure that I’m in love with him.”

  “Shit. Well that’s going to make things interesting, isn’t it?”

  Chapter Four

  “Son. Son, what have you been doing down there in America? Have you let the LA lifestyle go to your head? I hope not, because if so your mother will never let me hear the end of it. She was just sure that sending you to the states was a mistake, that you were only going to get yourself into trouble. Please don’t make me hang up this phone and go tell her that she’s been right all along.”

  “Father, please. No, nothing like that. Why do you say that?”

  “Why do I say that? Because, you never answer your phone, don’t answer your emails. You’re almost completely impossible to get ahold of at this point. This would be bad from a parent’s standpoint with any child, but it is particularly troublesome when your child is also a major part of your business.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” Aasir said through a clenched jaw, trying very hard not to let himself get as annoyed as he wanted to, “I do. I believe we’ve talked about this sort of thing before.”

  “That’s true, we have. Which is why it’s so irksome that you don’t seem to have taken any of it to heart.”

  “Father -”

  “No, don’t. I’m not in the mood for excuses, Aasir. What is it that you think you are supposed to be doing? What do you think your role in this family entails?”

  “My role is to serve. My role is to be a sheikh just as my father and his father before him.”

  “Yes, that is so. Now do you think you could say it without that dead tone in your voice?”

  “What are you talking about? What do you want from me? I answered the question with the correct answer, did I not? I’m doing the job I was sent for, and I’m doing it well. I’ve made massive amounts of money with this company. It has become wildly successful, hasn’t it? What else do you want from me?”

  “I want you to submit.”

  Aasir was so angry that for a moment all he could see was bright red and blinding lights threatening to entirely white out his vision. This was his own father telling him that what he wanted was submission. But submission to what? Submission in what capacity? Everything he did was, ultimately, for his family. He had the utmost respect for them and for the culture that had born him. He had done his best to convey that to his father, so to here him tell him that what he wanted was submission was maddening. So many times Aasir’s father had called him only to lament the clear Americanization his oldest son had undergone. He admonished him for so easily adopting elements of his adopted American home, telling him over and over again that he needed to be in LA for work, of course they all knew that, but it didn’t mean he needed to become a man of LA. It seemed to Aasir like an impossible request, at least if he were to maintain his own happiness in the process of doing his family’s bidding. True, he had spent a whole lot of time (especially lately) with women his mother would probably have a heart attack if he saw, but it wasn’t like he was giving these women his family name. The only one he had wanted to do that for was Nicole, and she had made it painfully clear that she wasn’t interested in the name or anything else about him.

  “Aasir? I would like you to answer me, please. I need to know that you heard me.”

  “Yes, father. I heard you. I heard you loud and clear. You would like me to ‘submit.’”

  “Do you think I don’t detect the sarcasm in your voice? The anger? It’s like you’re spitting that word through the phone at me.”

  “I apologize. That was not my intention.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Aasir. I’ve known you for all of your life, since you took your very first breath. Don’t you think I hear it when you are unhappy? Don’t you think I know you that well?”

  “But do you care?”

  “I don’t understand. What kind of question is that?”

  “A legitimate one. Do you care that these conversations make me so very unhappy? Or here’s a question. Have you ever thought of calling and asking me how my life is? Do you care about that?”

  “Stop this. I care about any number of things and many of those things are directly related to you and your siblings. To the well being of all of you. Do not question me on that front. But if you are looking for us to have gabbing sessions like a couple of women, you will be nothing but disappointed. We are men with an alarming amount of responsibility on our shoulders, responsibility that many people would not be able to stomach. Remember that the next time you presume to know what my motives are and what it is I care about.”

  “Fine. Alright, father. I shouldn’t claim to know your thoughts or your heart. I will do my best to submit the way that you’re asking me to. We’ll speak again soon, yes?”

  “That’s fine, Aasir. Just don’t forget who you are and where you come from.”

  “I won’t. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

  Aasir was fairly certain he knew how unhappy his father would have been about that last statement and he supposed it was fortunate that he had hung up before hearing it. It didn’t feel fortunate though. It felt like he was being dismissed as an afterthought. He should have been used to it. It was the way things were done in his family. But it didn’t inspire the desire to obey, that much was certain. The worst part was that, at least in part, the things his father was saying were true. The way he had been behaving was so unlike who he was supposed to be. As if he needed any proof, he could here the girl whose name he couldn’t even remember coming down the stairs and talking to Alison loudly. Strangely, that was the the part that bothered him the most. Hearing the inane ramblings of this silly girl and knowing that it was sweet Alison who was having to listen to them made him feel unexplainably queazy. Simply put, it was embarrassing. He didn’t want Alison to think of him as the sort of man who enjoyed the company of girls like that. It made him feel like a piece of shit.

  “I would like an omelet made with three egg whites and one full egg, with kale and asparagus and one third of a grapefruit. Do you understand? One third, not a half. And I want a glass of orange juice but I only drink fresh squeezed. Like, squeezed by hand.”

  “I’m actually not sure that we have any oranges at the moment.”

  “That’s ok. I can wait for you to go get some. You do know how to drive, right? Like, that’s something you learned?”

  “Yes, when I was sixteen, just like everyone else. Before I went to college.”

  “Right, like you went to college. That’s cute.”

  Oh christ, this was getting entirely out of hand. How in the hell had he ever let a woman like that into his home? Listening to the way he was talking to Alison made his blood boil. He would not stand for a thing like this. He would not let anyone talk to someone he cared about like that. He protected the people he loved.

  Aasir was halfway out of the library and out to the massive marble staircase before the gravity of those thoughts hit him, and when they did the force of it almost knocked him flat on his back. He protected the people he loved. Did that include Alison now? Did he love her? When did something like that happen, and how the hell did it take place without him even realizing it? He was so shaken up he almost turned right around and hid in his library. It would have been safe in there, at least. He wouldn’t have to go out there and look at her lovely face with this knowledge he couldn’t quite make sense of. But to hide would be to leave her with that awful woman he had brought upon them both, and that would be unforgivable. He took a deep breath, wishing it wasn’t too early for a drink, and strode out into the foyer with what he hoped was an air of unquestionable authority.
He had a feeling this girl, the one whose name he was wishing more and more he knew with each moment that ticked by, wasn’t going to go meekly from his home. Just another angry, out of control woman to deal with, right? It was, unfortunately, something he was becoming pretty used to.

  “Excuse me, miss-”

  “Seriously?” the hungover blonde with the smudged mascara said with a look that indicated a serious tantrum on the horizon, “Miss? You don’t even remember my name? That is like, completely gross. What kind of guy are you, anyway?”

  “I’m sorry, but do you know his name? Sorry to interrupt, but it seems like a fairly important point to establish, if you’re going to get so angry and indignant.”

  Aasir couldn’t help but let out a startled and completely thrilled laugh. It was the harshest and most assertive he had ever heard Alison be and it was definitely entertaining to watch. He liked this, having her defend him this way. His whole body was practically singing with his enjoyment of the moment and he watched Alison intently, his gaze never wavering. When he finally caught her eye he gave her a little smile and a wink, just to let her know that he was on her side with this. He didn’t her worrying that he would be angry about overstepping boundaries or anything like that. It was good timing, too, because the feisty little blonde turned on her so quickly it was stunning. She was clearly not used to “the help” speaking to her like that.