Bought For One Night: The Sheikh's Offer

FIVE

  After snatching a couple of hours of fitful sleep, I woke before my alarm and looked to my walk-in wardrobe. Since the job was a straight twenty-four hours, I figured I had better pack for several eventualities. I pulled out a mid-sized suitcase and rolled up my pajamas, several outfits, a jacket, and an array of shoes and accessories. In a garment bag, I tucked two evening dresses—one more modest than the other, as I had no idea what to expect when it came to customs in Al-Dali. Finally, I packed up my makeup and hair supplies, along with a novel I had been trying to finish for three months. One of the crew from my last film had recommended it, but my concentration had been lacking lately with all the stress. Maybe I’d get time to finish it on the trip.

  Since I knew Al-Dali was a desert country, I opted for an outfit of light, flowing red cloth draped over a romper of the same color, with broad straps and shorts that extended down to my knees. The sheer drapery added modesty without adding weight or heat; paired with nude heels, the outfit would be perfect for summer. I leaned into the old-school Hollywood look by painting my lips red and digging out one of my wide-brim wicker hats to protect me from the sun.

  Zipping up my suitcases, I was surprised by the buzzer to my front gates ringing. I hurried through the house, my bare feet cold on the hardwood floors, to answer the call. The video display on the security system showed a limo driver waiting patiently in his idling vehicle.

  Man, that was fast, I thought as I pressed the speaker button and let him into the grounds, promising I was nearly finished packing. He politely told me to take my time.

  After throwing my luggage by the door and pulling on my shoes, I made a quick round to check doors and windows, water my plants, and ensure I hadn't left anything undone. It was only a twenty-four-hour trip, but when the trip was taking me halfway around the world, anything could go wrong and keep me away for longer. More than once, I had come home from a production that ran too long to a house full of dead plants, their poor brown leaves littering the floor. It wasn't the best welcome home.

  The limo driver moved to take my bags as soon as he saw the front door opening. He greeted me with a bow and introduced himself as Terry, handing me a card. I recognized the company he worked for, a local rental service that the Sheikh must have called to hire. He was professional and polite, but had that glow in his eyes that betrayed he was a fan that wanted desperately to gush about it all over me. Hollywood protocol tended to frown on that kind of behavior when it came from staff that had access to celebrity homes and lives, but there was no hiding the emotions.

  About halfway through the drive to the airport, Terry’s professional composure finally broke. “I loved you in Undertow,” he said without turning his head to face the back.

  I smiled and nodded, fiddling with my sunhat in my lap. “I liked that one, too. Thank you, Terry.”

  “I haven't seen you in much lately.”

  Thanks for the reminder, I thought to myself. “I've been taking a little hiatus,” I replied confidently. “Needed a vacation from the rat race.”

  “I can understand that,” replied Terry as he took a right off the freeway. The airport was in the opposite direction.

  “Where are we going?” I asked curiously, looking out the window.

  “Reynolds Airfield,” Terry said matter-of-factly.

  I frowned, only vaguely aware of its existence. “Oh? Not LAX?”

  “My instructions were to take you to Reynolds,” shrugged Terry. “It's my understanding a private jet will be waiting for you. This is a bit of an exclusive airfield.”

  I had friends with private jets, but none of them had ever used this airfield. I was suddenly more intrigued, and sat back to enjoy the unfamiliar drive until we arrived at the tiny airfield with a hangar only ten planes deep.

  We idled for a moment at the gates as we were identified by an intimidating man at an equally-intimidating security booth. He told Terry my transport was ready and waiting, and directed him to our destination. An imposing steel arm lifted, opening the driveway to us, and Terry guided the limo inside and across the open concrete.

  We stopped in front of a gorgeous red-and-white jet glistening on the tarmac, stairway lowered. Two staff members were waiting with bright smiles at its base, wind whipping at their hair. Terry immediately hopped out of the car to open my door for me. I slipped on my sunglasses and hat and watched him head for the trunk for my bags.

  “Miss Wood?” came a voice. One of the flight attendants, a beautiful young woman with dark hair and olive skin, approached with an outstretched hand. “My name is Nareem. I'll be taking care of you today, along with my associate, Raj.” She gestured to the other attendant, who bowed and smiled. “Was your drive pleasant?”

  “It was fine, thank you.” I nodded, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “Wonderful. Please, follow me, and we’ll get you comfortable before take-off.”

  Nareem led me up the stairs and into the plushest private jet I had ever been on, and that was saying a lot. I had traveled with movie executives, A-list celebs and even a few tech moguls who liked to feel cool and connected. The Sheikh's plane blew them all away. Every detail was personalized, and the interior was decorated with what I could only assume was the art style of his country, with sweeping calligraphy and patterns interspersed with imagery of people and animals and plants. The upholstery was beautiful white leather. There were four chairs arranged around a polished table for business purposes, several recliner-style chairs near the windows, and even a lounge area against one side of the main cabin with a couch and coffee table.

  Nareem led me to the rear of the plane and showed me a cozy cabin complete with a queen-sized bed with plush white bedding that matched the upholstery. A tiny chandelier dangled above the bed, its crystals quivering with the rumbling of the engine.

  “Per the instructions of His Highness, you are free to use the cabin as you wish,” said Nareem with a smile. “Make yourself at home. Your luggage will be stored in the main cabin should you need it. We have a menu for you to select your drinks and meals. You need only let me know when and what you would like to eat, and it would be my pleasure to serve you.”

  I might have been a movie star for years but even I was struggling not to be blown away by this level of treatment. I had never had the option of comfortably sleeping my way on a flight around the world with gourmet meals at my beck and call.

  “Thank you, Nareem... This is all so generous.”

  “The Sheikh is a generous man,” she said, her eyes glowing.

  Curious, I prodded further. “Do you work for him year-round, or did he hire you solely for this job?”

  She nodded gently. “We are the Shekih's full-time flight staff for this jet. He insisted we show you the same treatment as we would him. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible.”

  I wanted to be happy and flattered by the news, but I cut my teeth in Hollywood, and I knew that this kind of hospitality rarely came without a quid-pro-quo.

  Conscious that that wasn't Nareem's burden to bear, I flashed my best smile. “I don't think he has to worry about that. I might just sell my place and move in here instead, it's so comfortable.”

  Nareem laughed, her cheeks flushing a pretty red as she did. “Make yourself comfortable, Miss Wood. I'm going to check that preparations for takeoff are moving smoothly. We should be departing in a matter of minutes.”