The Sheikh's Purchased Bride

  10,113 kilometers. 6283 miles. The exact distance from Rabayat to Chicago.

  In less than four days’ time, Amie would have to travel back to her small apartment in the low-income neighborhood of the city she had called home for the last two years.

  It was a subject both she and Malik had avoided ever since they’d hit the ‘one week left’ mark of her curious new job. She was still none the wiser as to the details of Malik’s ‘business’ appointment from the other day, yet her suspicions had lessened ever since she’d made the decision not to pursue her feelings for her boss.

  Her career was about to take off, she could feel it, and with Malik’s stellar review of the performance art she’d been doing for the last five weeks, she knew she was going to have an amazing reference once the job was over. That being said, while she wasn’t up for making their faux romance a reality, she saw nothing wrong with developing her character somewhat by bonding more with Malik during her last few days in Rabayat.

  Amie sat on the couch in a silk nightgown and put her legs across Malik’s lap, his legs now covered by goosebumps at the touch of her skin to his. He had told previously her that was his secret to knowing whether a woman was truly pretty or not; if he could feel skin to skin contact, his whole body would cascade with goosebumps.

  She smiled and began to twirl her hair in between her fingers, signaling with her free hand for Malik to rub her feet.

  He laughed. “Why don’t you rub my feet?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not in my contract,” she quipped. “Sorry!”

  “I want to take you to the theater tonight,” he said suddenly.

  “Oh my God, seriously?”

  Malik beamed as he looked at her, delighted that his surprise had caused her so much excitement.

  It was then that Amie remembered Zafina’s words: “He hates the theater.” Her bounding excitement evaporated as her eyes darted back and forth; suddenly wondering if this was a true gesture of affection, or if it was just one of Malik’s wily charms, making women think he loved what they loved.

  “I’ve already arranged the tickets and seats,” he was saying. “We’ll have our own box and everything.”

  “That’s really amazing,” she managed to say, her enthusiasm fading.

  “You don’t sound all that convinced,” he teased.

  “No, it’s just…” She shrugged lamely. “Your sister mentioned your, oh, I don’t know, stunning hatred for the theater.”

  Malik laughed. “Zafina?! How would she know! The last time we were taken to the theater together I probably didn’t even have a license.”

  Amie studied him carefully as he refuted the statement and finally decided to believe him—or at least make him think that she did.