Chapter 11
Like Cinderella. That’s how I feel after putting on the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn in my life, the one Kamal compelled me to get.
I truly love the outfit because it suits me.
As I twirl in front of the mirror in my new apartment, I wonder how I could have been so foolish as to let my parents control me for so long.
Even when I went to college, I didn’t move out like most of my friends.
I commuted from home to classes every day, missing out on parties and events.
Then I remember the one time I tried to step out of my comfort zone and risked going to a party.
I was nervous but excited. I lied to my mother, told her I was going to sleep at my friend Gwen’s house.
Gwen made me wear one of her dresses and hide the truth about the party from my family.
I thought we were friends, and despite feeling anxious about lying, I couldn’t wait to enjoy the night with people my age.
The problem is that anxiety can worsen my dyslexia, so at one point, we were with a group of friends—and probably because I was the newcomer—they all started bombarding me with questions, all at once.
I tried to answer, but I must have stumbled over some words.
I didn’t realize it, as it often happens, but Gwen did.
She started pointing out each of my mistakes out loud, and suddenly everyone was laughing at me.
I had never felt so out of place in my life.
I learned my lesson: never expose myself.
However, I was seventeen at the time. I didn’t hang out with Zoe back then, and my self-esteem was close to none. My cousin coming into my life a few months ago was very important for my emotional growth. For me to believe in myself.
And now, here I am, feeling beautiful, having a real job, and living alone in London.
I think about what happened at the store yesterday, and a shiver of pleasure runs through my body. But it quickly fades when I remember what he said about how long he goes out with women: only a month.
Why is that?
It doesn’t matter, Madeline. He’s just your boss, and for your own good, it’s better to keep it that way.
I give myself a final look in the mirror.
I like seeing my blonde hair cascading naturally over my shoulders.
I put on a small sparkly hairpin on one side, exposing my ear, but I don’t have any other jewelry to wear except for a tiny pair of diamond earrings I got from my grandmother when I was still a child.
My mother said they would need the rest of the jewels to get by for a while. “Until things calm down,” she said.
I don’t think things will calm down, though. From what I’ve heard, my father is in deep trouble.
My phone vibrates with a text from Kamal saying he’s close, and since I don’t trust myself with him in such an intimate space as an apartment, I let him know I will wait outside the building. Grabbing my new clutch, which matches the dress, I leave the house.
In the elevator, I think about Zoe’s phone call earlier today. She wanted to know what the story was with Kamal giving me a whole wardrobe as a gift. I told her the same thing he said to me: it is considered a work expense.
When I reach the lobby of the luxury building I’m living in, I’m surprised to see the Sheikh. There are at least a dozen security guards around him.
“You should have waited for me upstairs,” he says.
“I didn’t want to delay you.”
“A few minutes wouldn’t have made a difference. You’re my assistant, which means you’re a vulnerable target in terms of my security. You need to learn to follow instructions, Madeline.”
I feel incredibly embarrassed, seeing the Sheikh as an authority figure for the first time, instead of the sensual man who has been keeping me up at night.
I roll around in bed thinking about him like a fool.
“It won’t happen again, Your Excellency,” I answer, half intimidated, half hurt. I need to define Kamal’s role in my life, or I’ll end up with an anxiety-induced ulcer.
There’s nothing to define. He’s your boss. Period.
Kamal stares at me with an inscrutable expression, but I’m upset and look away.
He doesn’t allow it and lifts my chin instead. “While you work for me, I will take care of you, Madeline. I will never leave you unprotected. You need to understand that I have enemies.”
“I’m sorry, Kamal. All of this is new to me.”
“You’ll learn,” he says, this time in a softer tone.
I almost jump when I feel his hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the car.
I feel like a celebrity as we pass through a corridor made of bodyguards.
We get into the limousine, and after we settle in, I ask, “Can you tell me a bit about the event?”
“It’s a charity dinner. There will be a show afterwards, but we don’t have to stay. It’s not a business engagement, really; it’s for a good cause.”
“What kind?”
“To raise funds for a hospital that treats war orphans.”
“Oh my God. An excellent cause.”
He nods. “One of my companies funds the organization, but my PR advisor suggested we institutionalize the event, make it a tradition and invite other businessmen to contribute. It will be good for the image of my Emirate.”
“Will we visit it at some point?”
“Visit where?”
“Sintarah.”
“Yes. Why?”
“I looked it up on the internet. It looks so beautiful. I would love to visit your country,” I say but quickly correct myself, “Um . . . Only if there’s a reason for us to go, of course.”
“Actually, I spend most of my time there, which means that my palace, not London, will be your actual home.”
“Oh!”
“Surprised?”
“No. I mean, yes, surprised, but also excited to go.”
He gives one of his rare half-smiles, as if he enjoyed hearing that, and I try to push out of my mind how handsome he looks in a tuxedo.
Or how his scent is driving my whole system crazy.
Or how the warmth of his thigh, even through our clothes, makes me shake.
There’s enough space in the vehicle for us to sit at opposite ends of the seat, but it’s as if there’s a magnetic pull that keeps our bodies pressed together. Thinking about it makes me feel feverish.
When I raise my face to look at him, he’s gazing at me from up close.
“You look beautiful, Madeline.”
I smile, feeling bashful. “I feel beautiful. Almost like a princess.”
“From ‘One Thousand and One Nights’?”
“What would that be like?” I ask, even though I know I should avoid this kind of conversation.
“For my people?”
“Yes.”
“You would be lavished in jewelry and pampered. You would be adored by your husband, and he would satisfy you with his body.”
“Wouldn’t it be reciprocal? The satisfaction, I mean.”
“Oh, yes. Without a doubt. A man would have to be crazy not to take pleasure in what you can provide, and foolish not to make you moan with desire as well.”
I close my eyes, absorbing his words. “I shouldn’t be thinking about these things,” I say more to myself than to him. “I’m not a princess, and a man from your culture would never want to make me his wife, only a mistress.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“I wasn’t born to be used.”
“Perhaps mistresses use their partners as well as they are used. Have you ever thought about that?”
“I never looked at it from that perspective. Either way, I’m sure that role doesn’t suit me.”
“And a girlfriend?”
Stop talking, Maddie. You must be crazy! a voice pleads, but I ignore it.
“For a month?” I ask directly. “I’m assuming the question is about the two of us, of course. By the way, why this one-month deadline, Kamal?”
“To avoid unrealistic expectations,” he responds without hesitation.
His answer irritates me, and I can’t help but speak out. “From me?”
“From any woman who’s with me. So yes, it would be from you.”
“So, if one day I agreed to be your ‘girlfriend,’ as you say”—Stop, Maddie!— “would you set, like, an alarm to remind you when it’s time to end it?”
Instead of answering, he says, “It would be a very pleasurable month.”
“And what would happen afterward? I need my job. Who can cohabit with an ex?”
“We’re adults,” he answers without hesitation, showing that he has done it many times before.
“Have you ever been involved with an employee?”
“Never. You would be the exception.”
“And when our affair ended, what would you do? Ask me to send flowers to your next conquest?”
“I would never ask you for something like that,” he replies, but he doesn’t deny that there would be someone else.
“It’s quite tempting, my Sheikh. You’re handsome and you make my skin tingle and heat up, but I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again if I agreed to that.”