Sheikh's Marriage of Convenience

by Ella Brooke

  “Past Etana? She was the one, and I lost her. I do what I have do because I love Yomarani as dearly as I loved my family. If keeping the Zaman Enterprises bottom line high can help, then that’s great. But party’s…”

  He trailed off then, bemused by the sight before him. A woman had just sat down at the bar. One of the things that struck him was her long auburn hair that fell in waves about her shoulders, but the thing that stuck out about the mystery woman across the club was the sweater she wore over her shoulders. In Yomarani. In September.

  What on Earth?

  She was making small talk with the bartender and nursing a beer, at least something imported, but still, she was the most casual person there. Yet, when she craned her neck to look around at the people before them, her emerald green eyes seemed to miss nothing. They were as piercing as any he’d ever seen.

  Rami’s breath caught in his throat.

  Despite his dour mood and the hassles of the night, he had to meet her, if only to understand the mystery of her sartorial choices. Standing, he gave Waheed his first genuine smile of the night. “Excuse me, my friend. I think I have some advice to take.”

  Chapter Three

  “I can’t believe you wore that.” Celeste eyed her, one eyebrow arched up to her hairline. “It must be close to forty degrees out.”

  Olivia narrowed her eyes at her friend as she rubbed the beads of sweat off her brow. The dress that Celeste had surprised her with was gorgeous, something that she’d never be able to afford on her own, and the deep, verdant hue of the dress complemented her red hair. However, it had a plunging neckline that showed off her breasts and no sleeves, which left her feeling like she was exposed for all to see. In the last few weeks since she’d been fired by Monsieur Labelle, she’d maybe indulged a bit too much in cheesecake and chocolate treats that Celeste brought back to the “flat” to make her feel better. She was just feeling too self-conscious about her arms to take this daring a move. So even if the sweater she’d scrounged up from their earlier time in Prague looked ridiculous and left her sweltering, it was the only choice she had not to feel too exposed at the opening of Aladdin’s Den.

  “First of all, that Celsius thing is so confusing.” She wiped at her brow again. “Second, I just can’t be daring.”

  Her friend shook her head and twirled before Olivia in her short, royal blue number. “Honey, you have a whole new lease in life. You need to embrace all the fun, flirty things now that you can actually get sleep. You’re adorable and you can leave every man in this club drooling.”

  She pulled her sweater more tightly around her shoulders, not caring how the heat was already making her swoon. “I can scare them away with my arms, like bat wings.”

  Celeste rolled her eyes and squeezed Olivia’s shoulders. “You do not have that, and you know it.”

  She linked arms with Olivia as they were allowed to move to the front of the line and then into the club. The motif of the club was sleek---all polished chrome with laser lights and the hint of fog released periodically from the ceiling. Frankly, part of her was disappointed. With a name like that, Olivia had expected a luxurious collection of brightly colored silk, like something from The Forty Thieves or 1,001 Arabian Nights. Instead, it was as high tech and sleek as anything in New York. The beat of EDM rang out through the club, and she trailed a bit behind Celeste as they made their way around the throng of bodies on the dance floor. They were nearing the bar when a tall guy with striking blond hair came up to Celeste and hugged her.

  “Darling.” His accent was thick, as if he were a commandant in the German army. “How are you?”

  Celeste shot Olivia a glance that already seemed to be begging for help. “Oh Klaus, how are you?” She dropped her arm from Olivia’s and gestured to her. “Klaus, Olivia. Olivia, Klaus. He’s an old friend from my days in Vienna.”

  “More than that, my darling.” He kissed her cheeks. “I want to talk to you so desperately.”

  Although with how closely he was leaning in, the way he was already playing with the long strands of her hair, it seemed that Klaus might be hoping for more. Olivia didn’t mind. Celeste had to schmooze everywhere they went with her contacts, and she’d been the third wheel since they’d left New York. Besides, all she wanted was to relax by herself. Going out was Celeste’s forte. Back before Monsieur Labelle, when she’d still had free time, Olivia liked quiet nights at home with a good Chardonnay and a book. She’d never been the jet setting type, so night upon night of being at the hottest clubs was a nice gesture from Celeste, but Olivia was reeling.

  Striding up to the bar, she eased herself onto the stool and ordered an imported beer. She’d had too many wine spritzers lately and with as exposed and off kilter as she felt in her dress, Olivia needed extra help to relax. She sat there for a few minutes, nursing her first beer and moving onto a second before hazarding a glance at Celeste. She was dancing closely with Klaus, and the grin arching across her lips was a joyful one. Perhaps it was a good thing that she and Klaus were rekindling whatever they’d had before in Vienna.

  Shaking her head, Olivia drained her second beer and ordered a third. It wasn’t like her, but she was a roiling mix of anxiety and regret. She wasn’t confident enough to flirt with the men on the floor---or probably pretty enough---but she wished she could be like Celeste and make a connection. Hell, she wished that she’d been dating any guy lately. She honestly couldn’t remember her last date, and she’d frankly been run so ragged by Monsieur Labelle that even her battery-operated boyfriend and she had spent so much time apart. In short, she was lonely and pent up and wishing for so much, especially as the third beer in an hour coursed through her bloodstream.

  “You might want to pace yourself.”

  She turned and tried not to gulp. One of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen in her life had just come to stand next to her at the bar. He was tall, close to six and a half feet, and would have made the already imposing Klaus seem like a shrimp. His hair was black as midnight and seemed to take on every hue of the strobe lights overhead. His olive-colored skin was covered by a trim goatee that somehow seemed to highlight and not detract from the sharp line of his jaw and his cheekbones. Finally, eyes the color of liquid honey bore into her own. She shivered and took in a deep breath, relishing the salty aroma of saffron that seemed to hang in the air around him.

  God, you’re amazing.

  “What was that?”

  He chuckled and gestured to the bartender. He slipped into Arabic and ordered something for himself, or so she assumed. At least whatever he said made the waiter hop to in a way her requests hadn’t. The club was crammed full on opening night, and it had taken her almost ten minutes each time to get a refill.

  “I…what? I didn’t say anything.” She drummed her fingers on the bar and tried to breeze past her slip.

  “Must have been my mistake then.” His voice was accented just a bit like Celeste’s, and that confused her. He clearly was Middle Eastern, maybe even native Yomarani, but he had the tiniest hint of educated Brit lilting in his voice. Intriguing. “However, you seem alone here, Miss?”

  Olivia worried her lower lip. If Celeste were her and not out dancing the night away with Klaus, then her friend would be the proverbial devil on her shoulder telling her to take a chance. In three weeks and across almost a dozen countries on her so-called freedom tour, Olivia hadn’t worked up the courage to give a guy her name when asked, but the man before her was different, like a damn Michelangelo sculpture come to life. Yet, it wasn’t the overall hotness factor of him that made her want to open up. No. It was the haunting eyes regarding her, so like spun gold and honey, ones that seemed rimmed with a deeper truth and sadness.

  They were what told her he wasn’t the average----if there was such a thing in this playground of the rich---club king out on the prowl.

  “I’m Olivia. Olivia Joiner.” She reached out and shook his proffered hand. “And you are?”

  “Rami.”

  “Like Ch
er?” she asked, arching an eyebrow playfully back at him. “No last name.”

  “I like to remain informal sometimes.” He smiled, and it was a megawatt grin that lit up the room. Before he could say anything further, the bartender set two brightly colored drinks before him; they seemed to be almost a neon blue. “Would you like to try it?”

  “My gosh. What’s in it? It looks like pool water.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then maybe it’s a special poison.” She winked at him, feeling the playful spirit of the three beers working their way through her.

  “Actually, it’s a Yomarani Summer’s Day, heavy on the vodka and triple sec and a few typical spices for an extra bite. It’s the signature drink here.”

  “It’s only been open three hours. How could it have a signature drink?”

  “It has one that all the employees have been buzzing about.” He continued holding up his for a toast. “I happen to have a few associates who work here.”

  She took in the crisp three-piece suit he wore even in the club and quirked her head at him. Maybe he’d come to get a business deal signed or decided to celebrate a new merger at the hottest event in the capital city. Except, as she craned her neck, Olivia didn’t see anyone else nearby.

  “Are you trying to spy on me?”

  “No, but I wasn’t sure why you were alone. Does that sound odd?” He shook his head and moved his hand, motioning for a toast yet again. “I think I’m with exactly the person I’d like to be with, Red.”

  “My name’s Olivia.”

  “It’s Red for tonight.” He practically purred the nickname and she shuddered, feeling warmth flare through her belly in a way that had nothing to do with her skyrocketing temperature in her stupid sweater. “Now, my dear, are you going to toast with me or shall I be forced to take the first sip alone?”

  “And you’re sure a Yomarani Sunrise won’t kill me?”

  “It’s called a Summer’s Day, and I happen to know the master bartender here personally. It’s excellent.”

  She considered that as she matched his gesture, clinking their glasses together before she took a deep swig of the drink. It was a pleasant surprise to find that it felt smooth going down, that the vodka must have been top shelf in order for it to be so dry and pleasant. Rami wasn’t kidding about the additional spices as well as the tartness of the fruity juice. Based on the color of the drink, she assumed it had to be pomegranate or blueberry based. On top of all of it was just a hint of cloves, something that bit at her tongue but in the most enticing way.

  Olivia closed her eyes and moaned a bit as the liquid seemed to set her on fire. When she opened her eyes, she found Rami staring back at her with fixed interest, a devilish smirk on his face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I feel as if I’ve spied something completely inappropriate. I had no idea you were so invested in the taste of certain liquids.”

  “Is that a double entendre?” she growled back at him.

  He smirked and sipped his drink beside her. Olivia had to admire the way his well-shaped Adam’s apple bobbed with the motion. Was there nothing about this man that didn’t scream attractive? When he stopped, the glass was half empty. He eyed her again, that gaze so like honey that it seemed to stare down into her soul. “No, I’d never do that to you, but you did moan quite loudly when you drank the Yomarani Summer’s Day. I think you like it, whether it looks like pool water or not. Also, isn’t part of the allure of the drink the fact that it’s a vibrant color?”

  He seemed to sniff out that last bit, as if he were personally offended she was unsure about pool water-colored refreshments.

  “Maybe the color’s not so bad.” She took another sip and worked hard to keep herself from moaning her pleasure. It was those damn cloves; they were as addictive as a pure pipeline of sugar from a Pixie Stick. However, she wouldn’t give Rami the pleasure of hearing her embarrass herself all over again.

  “Oh, so you are keeping quiet now?” He pouted his lips at her.

  “I can’t seem to please you: either I’m too quiet or I’m too noisy.”

  “You’re a little of both, Red.”

  She crinkled her nose back at him. “You are all about the cryptic tonight, Rami. I don’t get a last name, and now there seems to be no way to please you. Besides, maybe I do like your drink.”

  “It’s Aladdin’s Den’s drink.”

  “Same difference. Whoever your business partner is who came up with this, you need to let him or her know that it’s amazing.” She gulped down the rest of her drink, and now her head was beginning to pulse with the three beers and the well of vodka brimming inside of her. “I think I’ll have another.”

  Rami eyed her. “Are you sure? You’re not terribly tall.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m not sure how much tolerance you have. It’s not as if the Summer’s Day is a lightweight drink.”

  She pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan and then put her hands on her hips. “I don’t need a babysitter. Besides, I did go to college, you know. That means sororities and parties. Once I was even flip cup champion. There was no drinking game I couldn’t ace.”

  “Has it been a while since college?”

  She frowned. “Are you saying I’m old?”

  “No, Red, but I do think you might be a bit out of practice. Let me get you some water to help you pace yourself.”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I bet I can drink another pool water---”

  “Summer’s Day,” he corrected, an amused smile playing on his lips. “But maybe. I just don’t want you to overtax yourself.”

  “I’m Olivia Joiner, and I never back down from a challenge, at least starting today.” With that, she turned to the bartender and ordered another round for both of them. If she was seeing the world on her best friend’s dime, then for once, she should be making the most of the ability to order drinks on Celeste’s dime.

  ***

  An hour later, and she was feeling more than toasty, more like downright warm. She’d taken off her cardigan, no longer too ashamed of her arms. Actually, with all the alcohol roiling through her and the heat from the throng of people dancing throughout the club, ditching her sweater had been the only way to survive without sweating to death. Besides, the minute she’d slipped it off and revealed the plunging neckline underneath, she’d noticed the appreciative glances that Rami sent her way. Maybe she should have listened to Celeste from the start, but she’d always felt her arms were her problem areas. That was one of the many landmines involved in being a curvy girl. Still, Rami was regarding her with those honey eyes and licking his succulent lips on occasion, and for once, Olivia felt the attraction that was brewing between them in her bones. Maybe it was helped on a bit by her own depression-induced drinking. Still, she’d had enough Yomarani Summer’s Days and beers before that to loosen up, to be the type of girl she never typically was. Now, one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen, someone who looked like a movie star from the classic days of Hollywood, was eyeing her a bit like a hungry dog eyed a steak.

  She relished that.

  Then her favorite song began to blare out over the speakers, something totally retro from when she was younger. It was an R&B song with a smooth bass line that demanded she dance. Slipping off her stool, she almost fell---would have in fact fallen if Rami hadn’t steadied her. Olivia laughed, something low and sultry that she barely recognized in herself. She looked up into his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “You smell like spices.”

  “Huh?”

  “Like cloves maybe. Ha, maybe you’re like a Summer’s Day come to life---sweet and dry and spiced all mixed together just for me.”

  Rami chuckled, a low rumble that made her body heat up even more. It sent a surge of what felt like electricity lancing up from her core. “Maybe you need a bit of a rest, Red.”

  “No, you don’t get it!” She practically squealed that last part. “This was like my favorite song at middle school dances.�
�

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “That seems a bit too old for an eighth grader.”

  “We had a cool school.” She giggle-snorted then, a bit too drunk to care if she was possibly losing cool points with Rami. “Hey, that rhymes.” Pulling away from his embrace, she ran her hands over his shoulders and then started to circle him, keeping her body close to his. “Besides, don’t all men love a little dancing?”

  Rami gulped but didn’t move away from her. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea. You’re pretty intoxicated.”

  She undulated closer, pressing her lithe body against his. The heat blasting through her rose when she felt the length of his hardness pressed against her belly. Rami might be a gentleman, might be trying to defer to her, but he wanted this as much as she did. Olivia was ready for this. She craved it. It had been two years of slaving away for Monsieur Labelle, of never dating, of trying to be the good girl and focusing on her career. For one night in the middle of Yomarani, she could be exciting, couldn’t she? She could be the type of girl she’d always wanted to be. It would be her one great story to tell others over the years, her one claim to fame in a round of “Never Have I Ever.” Maybe something had burst inside of her like a dam, and all the repressed energy and sexual potency was escaping like a great flood. Whatever the reason, she needed this, needed to be free.

  Olivia snaked behind Rami and thrust against him. Then she leaned to his ear and whispered, “Isn’t this what you want?”

  Rami turned until he held her in his grasp, then he kissed her throat, letting his tongue trail over her pulse point. She shivered and bucked against him. “This is everything I’d ever want, but I think we should go someplace more private, Red. Don’t you? If we’re going to, ahem, dance, then I want it to be more intimate than this and away from prying eyes. The last thing I want you to forget is that for tonight, you’re mine.”

  She didn’t object as he took her hand and led her back through the crowd to the VIP corner. It only took a brisk nod from Rami, and the bouncer moved away just long enough to allow them to slip into the private quarters. They were empty, as desolate as a tomb, and she had to wonder if he was here with business associates or not. He certainly was deferred to a lot as a friend of the owner. Her brain struggled to make the connections and fill in all the blanks, but she was riding pretty high on the vodka and triple sec waves. Those connections wouldn’t come. Rami slipped down onto the sofa, a plush leather number that probably cost more than she used to make in a month with Monsieur Labelle.