ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance

by Knight, Kylie

  He’d sent her a text saying good morning, but never received an answer. Almost obsessively he checked his phone throughout the rest of the afternoon. He left it face-up on his desk so he could see it flash if she texted him back. She never did. As his day was winding to a close, he sent her another text, but she didn’t reply to that one either. When he was finally home, he decided to call her.

  Yes, it may have seemed a bit clingy, at least in his own mind, but one phone call a stalker did not make.

  It didn’t matter, she didn’t answer.

  Xavier hung up and paced the halls of his mansion as he undressed and tried to think of what to do. He’d never met anyone that made him feel so good about who he was, or that seemed to light up just by the fact of him being himself. For the life of him he couldn’t just let that go. If ever there was a time to sacrifice a bit of pride and, yes, he had to admit, some self-respect as well, this was that time.

  Xavier dressed in his riding leathers and headed out to that small town to see the woman that had won him over. It was a long drive to see her, but this time he felt a particular sense of anxiety over it. The whole time he thought of what he would say, how he could convince her of whatever was keeping her from him. Then of course he would convince himself that he was overreacting. She was likely fine, just busy. He needed to understand that not everyone lived and breathed to serve him. He would laugh to himself for how absurdly he was behaving. Then, a few miles would drift by, and his mind too would drift to all the reasons she wouldn’t want to see him again.

  She’d had a good time, didn’t she? It seemed like it to him. Perhaps he was blind to anyone’s needs but his own. Round and round his mind went.

  He was so confused and anxious by the time he reached the café that he didn’t even realize he was still wearing his helmet as he walked in. A young man, one of the only other servers the café employed was there to greet him.

  “Where’s Aimee?” Xavier asked immediately. Then, trying to cover up the sudden question he added, “She’s not working today?”

  “Nope,” the guy said. “She called in today.”

  “Gotcha. Thanks.” Xavier left without even trying to keep up appearances.

  She called in. What could that mean? Xavier had never been avoided in his life. Every person he met wanted to be near him, to have his attention. It was all for their own personal gain and had nothing to do with his worth, but still, the experience of someone actually avoiding him was both foreign and unsettling.

  The fact that it was the woman he suddenly couldn’t imagine being without made it even more heartbreaking. Xavier went back to his bike and started it up, the weight of the machine a mirror to his own feelings. If she wanted to never speak to him again, fine. He would grant her wish. After, that was, he found out why.

  He had to know how he’d failed, how he’d lost her. If he didn’t at least know that, he just knew that this feeling would tear him up inside.

  What about him wasn’t good enough for her?

  “You have a good day today, all right?” John said before kissing her.

  Aimee was pressed against his chest as he held her in his arms. When she smiled up at him, it was the same smile she had for the last few years. He didn’t care if it was genuine or not, he just wanted her to smile. If she wasn’t feeling happy, he wanted her to at least pretend for him. To John, that’s how a person showed they cared. “Quit being such a downer all the time,” he’d say.

  So she smiled, and he smiled back. After another small kiss, he turned her around and gave her a slap on the ass as she went up the steps to the café. The slap jiggled her butt and unsettled her on the inside. She hated it when he did that. It wasn’t done for a joke, it was a claiming of property.

  Aimee looked over her shoulder and smiled at him again before going back into the café. The moment she crossed that threshold and knew he was gone, she deflated.

  After her date with Xavier, John showed up on her doorstep that night asking a dozen questions. Where was she? Where had she gone? He’d messaged her, stopped by her house, the café, and she was nowhere to be found. Was she avoiding him? Xavier was nice, but John was terrifying.

  She had to quickly make up excuses as to where she’d went off to, and had to take the next day off just so she could spend the afternoon with him. It was depressing to be shoved back into the life in the heat and the dust after such a glittering evening with someone that treated her like a princess, but she had to accept it. This was reality. This was her reality. She’d probably end up marrying John simply for the fact that she was too scared not to.

  If she left, he’d just find her. Left. The word made her laugh bitterly on the inside. She’d never get a chance to leave again. She worked her shift and after a few hours got the shock of her life.

  The sound of a motorcycle.

  Was that him? Why was he here? If John saw, she didn’t know what he’d do. It was hard enough to convince him nothing was going on, but she knew he’d be hanging around town waiting for her to get off work. He was watching her and she couldn’t risk anything setting him off. The front door of the cage was a large pane of glass in a wooden frame. As Xavier came up the steps, she saw his helmeted head first, then step by step, the rest of him came into view.

  It was like a mix between a horror movie and a romance. She was filled with such happiness at seeing him, knowing he existed, but at the same time she knew that his very presence meant a lot of very bad things for her if John were to find out. There wasn’t a choice to be made, she had to get rid of him.

  Xavier bumped open the door with his hip as he removed his helmet. When he saw her, she saw the light brighten in his face, but he did his best to keep it controlled.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked him pointedly.

  “I called.”

  “I didn’t answer.” It wasn’t a lie. John had taken her phone. Fortunately, she foresaw such a thing taking place, and deleted Xavier’s contact information before it happened.

  “I don’t get it,” Xavier said. “I thought we had a good time.”

  “We did. We did have a good time, and then the good time was over. Did. Now it’s a new time, and you need to go.”

  “Go.” Xavier looked totally thrown off. She could see him trying to find something to say, but she caught him off guard. “What did I do wrong?” Then, all at once, his face twisted. All of the pain and sadness took on a far more angry tone. “You know what, forget it. Have fun in your little town.”

  Aimee died inside. When he turned and stormed from the café, she wanted to call out to him, to say his name and have him come back.

  She wanted to feel his arms again, and smell his skin. Her lips remained sealed. They had to. She had to. What he offered her was a fantasy, a dreamland. A place she didn’t belong. This was all she was worth and she couldn’t let herself believe otherwise. She’d just be setting herself up for disappointment and anguish.

  That didn’t make it hurt any less.

  Xavier walked into the bank of Aimee’s tiny little town wearing his full business attire. He put on the suit, the shoes worth more than the bank clerk’s year salary, the cufflinks worth an inheritance.

  He was done pretending. After a few days of research, Xavier uncovered that the entire core of the town was the bank. Control that, and he controlled the town. So he walked in with every intention of owning said bank. He could’ve called. He could’ve sent in his small army of lawyers and accountants to explain to the little people exactly why and how they could do nothing to stop him.

  This he wanted to do himself. He wanted to experience the joy of winning.

  After, once he owned the bank, he would sell the town off piece by piece to the highest bidder. A small outpost of a place like this, he could think of a dozen corporations that would kill to get in on the desolation market. This far out from competitors, they could do whatever they wanted. It was like the Wild West.

  Then, as Aimee’s little nothing town disappeared, sh
e would know how much she’d hurt him. The meeting went the same as a hundred others. There was blubbering, phone calls to lawyers, research, but in the end they knew they didn’t have a choice. There were no options. All of the grasping at straws they were doing now had already been foreseen by Xavier, and he’d taken every precaution against anything going awry. Business was his territory, and he was ruler of the plane.

  He walked out of the bank satisfied. The first step in a new venture taken. He eyed the café as he left and wondered if Aimee worked today, if she was watching. Let her watch. Let her watch as her entire world fell around her. He stepped into the limo parked on the street and headed back to the city feeling well satisfied with himself.

  It took every ounce of self-control and not a small amount of alcohol to keep out the small voice in his head saying this was wrong. He didn’t even remember the night passing.

  Too many drinks later and he was waking up to a pounding on his door. At first he wondered why his servants weren’t answering the door when he realized the pounding was on his bedroom door. He owned a mansion, with acreage and statues and four floors. It was a castle. Who in his entire world would be pounding on his bedroom door?

  “Police, open it or we’re breaking it down.”

  The police? “It’s open,” Xavier called out.

  The sound of his own voice rattled inside of his skull. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and held his head in his hands. The handle wiggled a moment, but the door remained closed.

  “Last chance!”

  “Hold on,” Xavier called back. He didn’t remember locking it. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said as he approached the door so that they could hear him getting closer.

  The second he unlocked it, the door flew open. Six officers rushed the room, grabbing him and forcing him to the ground. There was so much movement and yelling he couldn’t follow what was happening. Amidst it all someone was reading him his rights.

  “Wait, wait! I don’t understand. What am I being arrested for?”

  “As I stated, you’re under arrest for armed robbery.”

  “Armed robbery?” Xavier asked. “What?”

  “We have a witness placing you outside of the bank at the time of the robbery.”

  What the hell was happening? Aimee stood in the small room on the other side of the two-way mirror looking at a line of criminals. Among them stood Xavier, looking… well, hungover, frankly.

  “That’s him,” she said. “Number three.”

  “You’re sure?” the officer asked. “No need to rush. Take your time.”

  “No, that’s him. I’m positive.”

  “All right. Thank you for coming in. We really appreciate it.”

  She nodded, the pit in her stomach growing into a void.

  She never thought that Xavier could be capable of such a thing, but she saw the look in his eyes as he walked by the café. He was sending a message that whatever he’d just done was meant to hurt her. At first she thought it was just that he was there in all of his rich stuff, flaunting it in her face. It wasn’t until the alarms went off just after he left that she realized what he’d done. When the police arrived and reported that the place had been robbed, she knew she had to say something. It didn’t matter how she felt about him, what he’d done was wrong. Still, it didn’t feel good. She knew he was only upset and trying to hurt her because of what she’d done to him. This was all her fault.

  After leaving the police station, Aimee went to John’s house. He had a small mobile home in one of the mobile home parks about a mile out of town. She needed to remind herself of what her life was really like instead of staying so focused on Xavier and what he was doing. What was done was done, and she did her part to help bring everything to justice. She just wanted that to be the end of it.

  She knocked on John’s flimsy door, the thin pressboard material barely making a sound. The door jarring in the hinge and jamb made more noise than her knuckles did. He opened the door minutes later, sweating, looking a bit anxious. When he saw it was her though he settled.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  Aimee shrugged. “Just wanted to hang out.”

  “Cool,” he said, nodding his head by jutting it forward a few times. It looked ridiculous when he did it, but she’d need to get used to it. John moved away from the door. “Sit down, I guess. You want something to eat?”

  “No, thanks,” she said as she stepped inside and walked over to the couch. “Not hungry.”

  John laughed. “That’s a first.” Aimee closed her eyes, his laughter and words a sting in an already raw wound. The last thing she needed from him were more fat jokes. “Could we not right now, please?”

  “Hey, you came over to my place, remember?”

  “I’m having a bad day and I was hoping to just take my mind off of things.”

  “Then why are you still dressed?”

  Just when she thought it wasn’t possible, she died a little more inside. The thought of having sex with him right now as abhorrent. “Can we please just watch some TV or something?”

  “Look, I’m taking time out of my day to babysit you. I’m going into my room and taking off my pants. You can either take care of business, or you can leave.”

  The whole mobile home echoed with the beat of his steps as he walked down the short hall to the bedroom.

  Aimee felt like she wanted to throw up. Her nausea rose like a boiling water, tickling the back of her throat. She rested her elbow on the arm of the couch and propped her head against her hand. Was this really to be her life? Could she live here, with him, like this? She couldn’t stand the thought of touching John. Not after the way Xavier had treated her.

  She wanted to forget that night with him, but it had changed her. For once in her life she was happy. He respected her, cared about how she felt. Everything with him felt as it should be, as life should be. Now he was going to prison for robbing a bank, and she just couldn’t—

  Her eye caught a glimpse of something between the cushion and the wall of the couch. Aimee slipped her fingers into the crack and pinched the small piece of paper. When she withdrew her hand, she was looking at a crisp $100 bill.

  She grabbed the side of the cushion and pulled it up to see the zipper for the cushion cover slightly open. Money was looking at her from that small space.

  Xavier hadn’t robbed the bank. John did. The police never said cash was stolen, just that it was robbed. She thought maybe Xavier had forced them to do an electronic transfer of money at gunpoint. That’s what they always did in the movies. He was so powerful, she believed he could do anything.

  As it turns out, she was wrong. The echoing beat of footsteps came down the hall again and Aimee swallowed her heart. She shoved the bill back into the crack and looked up just as John appeared in the room.

  “Are you still—“

  His eyes looked at her hand, and then her face. She was sure that no matter how much she was trying to look neutral he could tell something was wrong.

  “Ah hell,” he said with a sigh.

  Xavier stood when the officer at the jail door called out his name. The other inmates there for anything from drunken misconduct to traffic violations perked up for a second at the activity and then went back to ignoring the dismal life around them.

  “I’m him,” Xavier said as he approached.

  The door squeaked as it slid open. “Your alibi checks out. The charges against you are being dropped.”

  “I have no idea why you thought I would have done this in the first place. During the interrogation you said you had an eye-witness put me at the scene? Was that all you had to go on?”

  “You can get your things at the counter up there,” the officer said, ignoring everything Xavier said.

  It was the flimsiest police work he’d ever witnessed. After signing the papers and gathering up his personal belongings — what little there was after being arrested in his underwear — he stepped outside to see Roland already waiting fo
r him.

  After going home, showering, and changing clothes, Xavier just couldn’t calm down. They didn’t have to tell him. He knew Aimee was behind his being arrested. She probably was working that day, and saw him glaring at her.

  She probably thought she’d have the last laugh! Well he’d show her. Xavier picked up the phone and called her. When she didn’t answer, he called again, and again. He called fifteen more times, positive that she’d pick up. She didn’t. He texted her. At first it was scathing, unleashing his full fury. When she didn’t respond, guilt over how he was behaving started to settle in.

  He realized he wasn’t giving her any reason to answer him back. If he was just going to yell at her, there was nothing to talk about. So he apologized. Then he begged her to talk to him. He realized how crazy this was all coming across as. He sent a text explaining about how he wasn’t a stalker, he was just upset that she’d sent him to jail. Then he sent another text explaining how he knew that saying he wasn’t a stalker was exactly what stalkers said!

  By that point, he started to become sincerely concerned. She would’ve responded by now to something, anything. She would’ve made a joke, or told him to stop messaging her. Something was wrong.

  “Okay, “he said to himself, “if we’re playing the role of stalker, then let’s go for the gold.” Xavier went to his computer and did a ping on her phone number, tracking where her cell phone was. What came up was a mobile home park not far from her town.