Indebted To The Sheikh (You Can't Turn Down a Sheikh Book 5) Read online

  “What type is that?”

  “I just mean…you seem frustrated. People are always telling you what you can and can’t do.” He turned over on his back and began lazily stroking backward. “But there are no rules in the water. You don’t have to answer to anyone. You can be as free as you want to be.”

  “Salman, how do you know these things about me?” I asked with an uneasy feeling.

  “Am I right?” he asked, laughing.

  “Yes, and it’s a little freaky.”

  If this were a romantic comedy, he would have been the high-spirited love interest who revives the heroine’s stagnant heart and pulls her out of herself. I wished it were that simple. I wished I could banish the lingering sense that he was too good for me.

  Swimming slowly forward, he came up to the ledge and offered me his hand. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as I stood there, becoming just a series of still images. I hadn’t brought a swimsuit, and I didn’t want to humiliate myself by taking off my clothes in front of him. It would inevitably become one of those snapshots from the night that I could never get out of my mind.

  “Are you not going to take off your clothes?” Salman asked with a laugh.

  “Maybe later,” I said as I waded in up to my ankles, the cuffs of my pants ballooning around them. “Right now, I just need to get in.”

  “I could have one of the staff bring us some dry robes to change into.”

  “I’d like that.” Bubbles were already forming around me in the foamy water. “I don’t want to catch a cold because I was too stubborn to take off my clothes before I waded into a hot tub.”

  “Too stubborn or too scared?” he asked with characteristic bluntness.

  “Well, both.”

  I drifted deeper into the water, beginning to lift a little off the bottom. I shut my eyes and tried to focus on the feel of the jets against my skin. Maybe, in two or three weeks, things would look different. Maybe I’d want to be back here, sitting in this hot tub with Salman doing laps around me like a merman. Maybe some strange alchemy would cast a halo of magic around the night, and I’d forget how scared I felt.

  “You’re not swimming,” said Salman, not unkindly. “You’re just bobbing like a cork in the water.”

  “For some of us, that’s the best we can manage,” I replied.

  I didn’t want to tell him about the pressure I was feeling, the pressure to be what he wanted me to be. It was hard for me to tell how much of that was him, and how much was just me pressuring myself.

  “I wish the night didn’t have to end,” Salman was saying, though his voice sounded faint and far away. “I wish we could stay here, just like this.”

  I was silent, not wanting to say what I was really thinking—that as much as I had enjoyed the food and the wine and the feel of the foamy water against my skin, I was exhausted, and ready for the night to be over.

  Sensing that we were both getting tired, Salman called for one of his staff and had towels and robes brought out to us. Once we’d dried off a little, he opened the door leading into the stairway, and I followed him with a dreamy feeling through the maze of corridors to the floor containing the guest bedrooms. He paused at the door to my room. I waited with heart racing, half-expecting him to push past me and lead me inside.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” said Salman with unceremonious abruptness, and leaning in he gave me a quick, chaste kiss on the mouth. “Goodnight, Cassie.”

  And before I could react, before I even really understood what was happening, he turned and took off down the hall, leaving me alone in the darkness and more confused than ever.

  Chapter 14

  Salman

  I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it.

  When Cassie had called the week before and first broached the offer, I admit, the prospect was tantalizing. But it was such a bizarre bargain that I hadn’t really taken it seriously. I just knew that she was coming to visit and that we’d have a chance to reconcile—after I thought I had permanently ended whatever relationship we had. That in itself had given me something to look forward to during the busy work week.

  There’s a certain thrill in the possibility of sleeping with someone, even when you’re not sure it’s going to happen. The uncertainty crackles in the air like electricity before a thunderstorm.

  That whole night, it had felt like I was wandering through a limbo state where Cassie and I both were and weren’t dating. I had no idea what was going to happen when we got to her room that night. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted until the moment before I kissed her goodnight.

  She stood in the doorway, her face lit by the light of a lamp in a nearby alcove. She was wearing a cashmere robe with my initials monogrammed on the breast pocket and trying her level best not to look me in the face. She seemed nervous and exhausted. I could feel it in the stiffness of her body when I leaned forward to kiss her goodnight. It was as I’d suspected: she’d been coiled up in herself, dreading the consummation of our bargain the entire night.

  Our breakfast together the following morning could best be described as “perfunctory.” Cassie had rings around her eyes and looked like she hadn’t slept much the night before. We only had a few minutes to talk, because she was headed out to the airport and I had just texted Asar asking if we could meet before lunch—I had a proposal I wanted to run by him.

  “How did you sleep last night?” I asked her as she scraped the last of the marmalade out of a glass jar to put on her croissant.

  “Do you remember that scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy falls asleep in a field of poppies and has to be rescued by the queen of the field mice?”

  “I, uh, never read the book,” I said quietly.

  “Well, you remember the scene in the movie, right? Where the Wicked Witch puts her into an enchanted sleep right as they’re entering the Emerald City? Please tell me you’ve seen the movie.”

  “I’m…familiar with it.” When she continued to glare at me, I added, “No, I’ve never seen the movie all the way through. It’s not like it plays constantly on cable TV here like it does in the States. We don’t grow up with it like you do.”

  “Okay, well, if I ever see you again, the first thing we’re doing is renting The Wizard of Oz because you have to watch it. And then, maybe you can read the book while you’re at it—I left you a nice copy.” The undercurrent of accusation in her voice was unmissable.

  “Cassie, listen, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t even worry about it,” said Cassie, though she didn’t exactly sound happy. “The book belongs to you until I can fulfill the terms of my contract. You don’t always win the Golden Fleece. That’s how life works.”

  Her tone was oddly formal, but I couldn’t help noticing that her hands were shaking as she finished the last bites of her breakfast. Knowing her, it had taken considerable effort even to say what she had just said.

  “Cassie, if you had just stayed a bit longer—I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Well, there’s no rule saying this is the last time we have to see each other. If nothing else, I have to make sure you watched The Wizard of Oz.”

  “I won’t watch it without you.”

  “Then I’m definitely coming back.”

  It was hard to tell, from the teasing tone in her voice, how serious she was about coming back. I suspected she meant it as a joke, but I wasn’t going to press the issue. She had just spent almost an entire day flying out here and would shortly be spending another whole day flying back. But I had a feeling I’d be seeing her again before long, in any case.

  “Listen, I don’t want to be late to this meeting,” I told her, buttoning my cufflinks, “but my driver will be around in a few minutes to get you.” I gave her a terse kiss on the cheek before adding, “You don’t have to visit me again if you don’t want to.”

  “But—” she started.

  But I was already gone.

  “Are you really sure you want to do this?” Asar asked, when we met in
his office an hour later. “Because I have to tell you, I don’t think this is the wisest decision, financially speaking. If you’ll allow me to be blunt, I think you’re letting the, uh, wrong head control your decisions.”

  “Maybe.” The book sat on the table between us, its green cover displaying a dopey, shy-looking lion in glasses. “Or maybe I’ve just been doing some thinking.”

  Asar pursed his lips, as if to say he doubted it. “Thinking about what?”

  “About right and wrong. About our profession and whether it’s fair, what we do here.”

  “There are a lot of really good and brilliant people who would argue that it’s not,” Asar said. “Your sudden moral awakening is impressive. It would be a lot more impressive if your little girlfriend hadn’t provoked it.”

  The sting of the insult lingered in the air for a few seconds. My relationship with Asar had cooled considerably ever since that first night with Cassie. Lately, it was threatening to become acrimonious.

  “Does it matter how the epiphany happened, as long as it happened?” I slid the book slowly across the table toward him. “Anyway, I think it’s time I let her have it.”

  “I’m really beginning to worry that you’ve taken leave of your senses,” said Asar, holding the book up and thumping it hard on the spine. “Do you have any idea how much this book is worth? I know you do, because you were there when we did inventory.”

  “What was it that Oscar Wilde said about cynics? ‘A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.’”

  “Regardless,” Asar said, glowering, “this is the most ill-advised business decision you’ve made in the six years of our partnership. Why don’t you wait a week or two before doing anything rash? I think you need some time to get the narcotic that is Cassie out of your system.”

  “I’m not a drug addict.”

  “No, but you’re infatuated,” said Asar, “and sometimes, that’s worse.”

  I could see there was going to be no convincing him. I could spend the rest of the day explaining to him that I was rethinking my old hard-nosed approach to business. And he would continue to accuse me of acting on my feelings—as if there was something inherently wrong with letting feelings guide my decisions.

  “Now, it’s been a while since I’ve seen any part of this movie,” I said, “but wasn’t there a scene toward the end where Dorothy’s father or uncle or someone gets fired from the bank? And he has a talk with a chimney sweep, and the chimney sweep tells him to go fly a kite, and he takes his kids to the park—”

  “That’s Mary Poppins,” said Asar through clenched teeth. “You’re thinking of Mary Poppins.”

  “Well.” I reached over and adjusted the flower in his buttonhole. “My point still stands. There are more important things in this world than making two hundred thousand more dollars. Things like—I don’t know—kite-flying, or whimsical children’s books, or—”

  “Trying to impress a girl you just met,” Asar suggested.

  I nodded eagerly, as though he had just made my point for me. “Exactly. And I think it’s time we incorporated a little love into our business model.”

  Asar was practically scarlet with rage. “But—”

  “Glad to see you agree, old friend.” Walking over to the door, I took my hat from the hat rack. “I’ll need you to give me the book, Asar,” I said with an air of finality.

  Chapter 15

  Cassie

  I stayed up for about an hour after Salman went to bed that night, wishing I had someone to talk to. Twice, I tried calling Aisha, but she must have been at work—according to my watch, it was three p.m. in Phoenix.

  I didn’t know what I had been expecting when he walked me to my room, but I hadn’t been expecting this. He had gone waltzing off to his room as if he had entirely forgotten the purpose of my visit. I had to leave in the morning, and it was upsetting enough knowing that I may have just blown my one chance to get the book back.

  I had been dreading the encounter for so long that the disappointment came as something of a shock. I wasn’t supposed to be falling in love; that wasn’t why I had come to Qia. And yet, the chaste kiss he had given me in the doorway left me with a lingering sense of dissatisfaction. It was supposed to be the prelude, not the nightcap.

  Maybe he had been playing the gentleman, I decided as I began to drift off. Maybe he had been waiting for me to initiate the first move, and that was why he had invited me up to the hot tub. Maybe I ought to have been more forward, and when I’d made no attempt at intimacy, he had been disappointed. Maybe that accounted for the injured look I had thought I’d discerned on his face as we were heading back into the stairwell.

  I finally fell asleep at around two a.m. and slept fitfully. I dreamt of my dad’s funeral, and Icarus’s threatening, sneering face. I dreamt of Salman being killed by a hitman hired by Fire Cloud, with me never having the chance to tell him that I thought…maybe…I was falling in love with him.

  There’s no lonelier feeling than waking up in the middle of a night from a nightmare and not having anyone to comfort you. Aisha still hadn’t returned my calls; Salman’s room was on the other side of the house, but might as well have been on the other side of the moon.

  Dawn was creeping in from between the balusters on the balcony and the deep purple of early morning was lightening to pale gold. The loss of the book stung, but I consoled myself with the thought that I would be flying home soon—home to my best friend, and my aunt, and the job I had been neglecting.

  I didn’t know that I had awoken out of one nightmare and into another.

  I arrived back in Phoenix after a twenty-one-hour journey. Back in Qia, Salman would have just been waking up. But here, for the first time in almost five days, my wristwatch and the time were in sync: it was just after 8:30 p.m.

  I had planned to take a cab home from the airport. But as I turned on my phone to pull up the ride-sharing app, I was surprised to find that I had six new voicemails.

  Two of them were from my boss saying she wanted to speak to me immediately. The other four were from Gage.

  “Cassie, I’m sorry,” said the first. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but just know that I did what I thought was right in the moment.”

  Suddenly, I wanted to hit Clay over the head for giving him my number. Unnerved, I moved to the next one.

  “Cassie, I can understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again. I get it. I wouldn’t want to speak to me, either. But at least give me a chance to see you in person and explain why I did what I did.”

  What was he talking about? Was this a ploy to get my attention, or had he done something during my absence that I was only just now finding out about? My stomach gave an uneasy flip as I moved to the third message.

  “I can see that you’re ignoring my messages,” Gage said in a tone of desperation. “I guess I can’t really blame you, and I’m sorry if this costs you your job. If you’re even still listening, just know that I acted with your best interests in mind.”

  I didn’t even bother listening to the fourth one. As soon as I made it out of baggage claim, I called him.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Cassie?” He sounded dazed, like he had only just woken up.

  “Gage, what the hell’s going on?” I demanded, heedless of the curious stares I was drawing. “You leave these bizarre voicemails and don’t even have the decency to explain yourself. I swear to you, if this is some kind of trick—”

  “I really thought you knew.” If Gage had sounded scared before, he was panicking now. “I’m sorry—”

  “If you say you’re sorry to me one more time—”

  “I thought for sure your boss had already talked to you.”

  I pushed through the revolving door into the pickup area, where I was immediately welcomed by a blast of late-summer searing Arizona heat. The air was a shimmering wave that made the dark parking lot wobble in front of me like smoke.

  “Gage, I’ve
been out of the country all weekend,” I said slowly. “I haven’t spoken to my boss since Wednesday morning, and I’m not sure what any of this has to do with you.”

  “Did you just land?” he asked, a new eagerness creeping into his voice. “Maybe we could meet somewhere and talk about it.”

  “What is there to talk about?” I said angrily, wishing I had called Garcia before I called Gage. I strove to remain calm, but couldn’t keep a surge of panic from inching into my voice. “Did you…did you do something?”

  “I think it’s best if we don’t have this conversation over the phone,” he said. I knew, in that moment, that it was going to be a long while before I made it to bed. “Let’s meet at Durant’s on Central. They’re open until eleven, and I find the old-fashioned aesthetic very calming. Maybe you will, too.”

  “Fine.” My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. “See you in about half an hour.”

  “See you,” said Gage, and hung up.

  In the cab, I tried calling Garcia twice but got no answer. Gage’s apologies had been ominous and cryptic, and in the absence of an explanation, my imagination hastened to fill in the blanks. In one version, he had gone by the office and embarrassed me. In another, he had pulled a gun on someone and cited me as the reason. Any number of things could have happened, because Gage’s eccentric nature and lack of inhibitions made him willing to do things that most people would never dare.

  I found him seated in a quiet corner of Durant’s, a traditional pub and steakhouse with brass pumps, hardwood paneling, and garishly red upholstery the color of a rum punch. I felt like I had wandered into one of those vivid, feverish-looking Technicolor noirs from the 1950s.

  Gage had been playing a game on his phone while he waited. Now, as I took the seat opposite, he rubbed his hands together briskly, as though cold. “How was your f-flight?” he stammered.