Bought For One Night: The Sheikh's Offer (7 page)

I took a deep breath. Few people had heard anything about my life right now; I couldn't believe I was about to share it with the Sheikh of Al-Dali. “Things just aren't that great right now, to be honest.”

He frowned, concerned. “Oh? How so?”

“The industry is very fickle. When I was younger, I couldn't turn down offers fast enough. But lately only scraps have been trickling through my door—TV movies, roles that are beneath my skill and make me look stupid. You know deep down that the industry is misogynist, and you deal with a lot of it even in the good years. But this is the first time I've ever actually had to face the truth of the world I committed my life to.”

I was surprised to hear the words coming out of my mouth, but instantly felt weight lifted off my soul.

Zane listened intently. His eyes were sad. “I'm so sorry to hear that, Julianne. I can't believe you would be so devalued in your industry. There's nothing fair or right about that.”

“No, there isn't,” I agreed with a sigh. “It's really hard to deal with. Plus, add onto that the humiliation of what Jack Lister did to me and how almost everyone in LA has decided to back him up… It's enough to make me feel like I made a huge mistake ever going out to that city and trying to act.”

Gently, he reached for one of my hands and clasped it warmly in both of his. Looking into my eyes, he said, “Don't ever feel regret for following your dreams. Even though the reality turned out to be much more different and complicated than you expected, that has nothing to do with you, Julianne. Your worth remains and so does your talent; it's them who have let
you
down. I'm sorry this is happening to you.”

Overwhelmed, tears welled up in my eyes even as I smiled back at him. I nodded. “Thank you, Zane. I really needed to hear that.”

“I'm not just trying to ease your pain, I mean it. You are so talented. And you didn't deserve what Jack did to you—no one would.”

Even the mention of his name made my stomach turn. “Jack is monster. I kick myself every day for not seeing the truth of what he was until it was too late. And it's so hard to watch people I thought cared about me—or at least cared about working with me—ignore me while they trot around with him. I've never felt so alone.”

“Cowards,” sighed Zane, shaking his head. “Monsters like him exist everywhere, clambering up the ladder, stepping on person after person to get there. They work very hard to deceive people; you can't blame yourself for falling for it any more than you can blame yourself for losing a race to an Olympic athlete. Jack has a lot of practice at what he does. Of course he's going to win.”

“I hadn't thought about it like that,” I replied.

“I've known men like him. Once I notice them close to me, I swiftly change course. Or if they work for me, I make sure they are assigned somewhere far away from the core administration. They are rare, but the cowards, like the ones who sided with Jack even after he humiliated you, are much more common. It's impossible to avoid them. They will always be around to trail after the perceived winner in order to make themselves look stronger.”

“And in doing so, they helped Jack's victory. It's like a snake eating its own tail.”

“It happens when everybody is fighting tooth and nail for a piece of the pie. When people don't want to work together, but only want to get ahead.”

“If that doesn't describe Hollywood, nothing does,” I chuckled bitterly.

“I will never understand Hollywood's treatment of women,” said Zane sadly. “Or American culture in general, I suppose. You're not even thirty years old and already considered less valuable by your industry—it's nearly opposite to how things work in Al-Dali.”

“Oh?” I asked, curious. “What do you mean?”

“Women in my culture do not have a 'sell-by date'. Elderly women are the most revered group, which means every year of a woman's life, she becomes more powerful and respected. You can see this in our movie industry, too. Roles are written with older actresses in mind, and it's the young actresses who must work to prove themselves among seasoned veterans. Looks alone won't get them very far,” explained Zane.

I shook my head in disbelief. “Seriously? Where can I sign up for your version of the Screen Actors Guild?”

I laughed along with Zane, but in the back of my head, knew I was half-serious about wanting to explore the industry of Al-Dali. If everything Zane said was true, how could I ignore it? Maybe being introduced to Zane was a bigger stroke of luck than I had originally thought. From the second I landed in Al-Dali I had found a level of comfort I couldn’t explain. Maybe the universe knew I needed to be here, because there was hope for me—just not in LA.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of our food, the fragrant spices filling the air as steam rose from the dishes. The restaurant owner made sure we had everything we needed before departing to give us privacy.

After a few minutes of quiet, I turned to Zane and said, “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for what you said. It feels good to be able to talk to someone who understands.”

Zane stopped spooning rice onto his plate, and turned a heavy gaze to me. A gentle smile crossed his lips. “I'm happy I could help. I know we don't know each other very well, Julianne, but I hope you'll believe me when I say that I want you to be happy and taken care of.”

His words touched my heart. I couldn't find any words to reply with. Instead, I put my hand over one of his and gave it a squeeze. Zane quickly returned the gesture, his touch sending excited sparks through my nerves.

Dinner was as delicious as Zane promised, and when the owner brought out a complimentary bottle of wine for us to enjoy with our dessert, we didn't say no, although Zane tucked an extra bill of money under the receipt on the table for the owner to find after we had gone. We finished the wine and lingered in the booth until one of Zane's security guards interrupted to tell us it was time to head to the airport, or we would miss the planned takeoff time for my flight.

I had thought the extra time with Zane would make me feel better about leaving, but somehow I only felt worse. Every moment I spent with him only made me want for more.

The heavy tension in the limo as we made our way through the city told me that it wasn't just me who was upset about my visit ending, but neither of us seemed to have the words to say to fix it. We listened quietly to the local radio station and watched the lights of the city go by.

The jet was waiting on the tarmac, Raj and Nareem waving excitedly from the staircase as we got out of the limo. A warm desert wind blew around us, dancing in my hair. The security guards busied themselves with unloading my luggage and giving the plane one last inspection, leaving Zane and I alone for our goodbye.

“I had a marvelous time with you, Julianne,” he said, smiling down at me. “It was more amazing than I even hoped for when I sent the proposal out. I'll never forget it.”

I stood close to him and gazed into his eyes. “I feel the same. This has been exactly what my spirit needed. Thank you so much for sending that offer, and for treating me like a queen while I was here.”

Zane laughed a little and brushed a loose strand of hair from my face. “You
are
a queen.”

Flushing, I had to look away from him, overwhelmed by my feelings. My heart ached to hold him, but I didn't have any words to help me get there.

In a rush of impulsiveness, propelled by a nameless urge, I leaned up on my tip-toes, wrapped my arm around his neck, and kissed him softly on the lips. It was quick and sweet, but Zane's face was flushed with heat when I pulled away.

“I'll be back to visit as soon as I can,” I promised. “If that's something you would want.”

Zane's grin answered his question before he could. “More than anything.” He took both of my hands in his and kissed them sweetly.

My heart soared, and it took every shred of my willpower not to throw myself in his arms at that moment. Instead, I gave him a bashful smile and a wave and turned for the plane before I could lose my cool.

Once up the stairs, I turned back to look at the Sheikh one last time. Zane stood by the limo in the twilight, waving at me and smiling.

I found a window seat and watched him until his guards directed him back in the limo so they could clear the tarmac for takeoff, the car’s taillights fading into the distance.

TWELVE

It was much more difficult to sleep on the flight home from Al-Dali than it had been on the way over. While my nerves about the Sheikh’s proposal were thankfully gone, a new kind of anxiety had replaced them: the anxiety of realizing I was developing feelings for him. After all my worry that Zane would cross a line with me, suddenly now I was the one crossing a line—even if accidentally. At least he didn’t reject my kiss; I could still feel the warmth of his lips on mine if I closed my eyes. That was one minor victory in this very convoluted problem I had gotten myself into.

Problem or not, I didn't regret any of it. My existence had been empty for so long, and I finally felt alive again. Hope had been missing from my life for some time, and now it was back. I deserved to revel in it for a while. But first, I had to take care of some important business, to make sure I didn't sink this new hope before it had a chance to take hold.

Once we were at a cruising altitude and I was allowed to access the plane’s Wi-Fi, the first thing I did was pull up my smartphone and email Katherine back in LA. I asked her to reject the payment that Zane would be sending within the next few hours, my million-dollar check for the twenty-four-hours we spent together. She would be upset, I knew. She was expecting a cut of that fee for her work. I put a note in the email explaining that I would pay the fees she lost myself, so that she wouldn’t lose out on anything. I couldn’t really afford to lose that much right now, but I didn’t have a choice. It was the right thing to do.

The way I felt about Zane made it impossible to take any money for spending time with him. It felt wrong, and I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want him to think for a second that my only interest in him was money or riches. And since it was my stupid heart and conscience that ruined both of our paychecks, I had to make it up to Katherine and make sure she got paid anyway. She had worked so hard for me throughout my career. She didn’t deserve to be shafted like that, and I refused to be just another blood-sucking parasite on the streets of Hollywood.

After sending the email I shut my phone down and tried to nap in the luxurious bed, but it didn’t work. I ended up digging into the paperback I had brought while night drifted by, quiet and dark over the vast expanse of the ocean. It was difficult to keep my thoughts off Zane and our time together. I couldn’t remember being so happy in a very long time. Zane treated with me respect and sweetness. I trusted what he told me, because he was strong enough in character that he didn’t need to put up pretense or act macho just to protect his ego. He wasn’t insecure; he was only concerned with doing the right thing for everyone. Being with a man like that was something every girl dreamed of.

I realized, then, that I had been stupid to ever think I was happy with Jack. Even spending a single day with Zane had proved that. There’s a time in every girl’s life where she finally learns the difference between a nice guy and a phony, and realizes she’s accidentally been trying to chase the latter and turn him into the former. But Zane didn’t require any adjustments. He was already everything a woman could want in a man. He didn’t try to tear me down because he felt threatened by my accomplishments; he didn’t try to demean the people or studios that valued me; he didn’t make subtle digs at my looks or my weight, or ask me if I was sure I wanted to eat the meal I ordered and not trade it for a salad instead.

Jack was a boy. Zane was a man, and now I understood the difference. I wanted someone like Zane in my life, my heart, and my home. Someone I could trust to do the right thing and protect me instead of using me as a shield.

I wondered how I would go about doing such a thing. I didn’t know any protocol for asking a royal out on a date. Was there any? What if I insulted him in the way I asked? What if his culture dictated that he had to be the one to proposition me? What if he never did?

I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be excited about a man. All these emotional questions made me feel both happy and silly at the same time, like looking back at a journal I wrote when I was a teenager. It was the worry of someone who was excited about her future and wanted to make it perfect. I realized that it had been quite some time since I cared about my future at all.

When the jet touched down at the same exclusive airstrip outside of LA, I said fond goodbyes to Raj and Nareem, who sweetly asked me for a selfie. I was tired and didn’t look my best, but was more than happy to oblige them, and took a selfie of us for my own memories too. They were delighted, and the sunshine in their smiles would warm my heart for days.

A driver from the same limo company was waiting for me as I got off the plane. The driver was a different guy from the one before, and he either didn’t know who I was or wasn’t impressed anyway. It was a relief, and made the drive home more relaxing. He barely said a word to me after confirming that I was indeed his passenger. When we arrived at my place, he brought my luggage to the door and gave me a tight bow before he pulled away without another word.

I brought the keys to the lock and twisted the front door knob with my other hand. But the door was already unlocked, and swung open under the pressure of my grip. I gasped in surprise and panic.

“What the…?” I said quietly. I thought I had canceled the expected visit from one of my cleaning crew after I had accepted Zane’s offer, but maybe they had come anyway, and left the door open. But it was a mistake they had never made before, and something didn’t feel right in my gut.

I had never had a stalker before, but there was a first time for everything, and no shortage of crazy fans who would break into a celebrity’s house just for the sake of it.

I couldn’t take any chances—I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 on the touch screen, ready to call them with just one more tap.

Slowly, I entered the house, leaving my baggage on the porch. The alarm system had been turned off, but not triggered. Someone with the code had simply punched it in after they entered.

I made my way through the living room and den, finding them both empty. The kitchen was untouched. It didn’t seem like anything had been disturbed or stolen, which was a bit of a relief. After checking the bathrooms and bedrooms, I was almost convinced it must have been the cleaning crew after all, and made a mental note to ask them to be more careful in the future. But then I noticed that the back door leading outside was ajar, the warm Santa Ana winds blowing the curtains around the living room like ghost arms. Someone was waiting for me.