The Billionaires Love Triangle - Natalia Banks

THE BILLIONAIRE’S LOVE TRIANGLE

NATALIA BANKS

Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 About the Author

Copyright © 2017 by Natalia Banks All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

I do things like get in a taxi and say, “The library, and step on it.” — DAVID FOSTER WALLACE

CHAPTER 1

B

rooke Robinson can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. There’s something in the air that doesn’t feel right, even in first class. She’s never seen so many Arab people in one spot, and while she tells herself it’s ridiculous for her to be worried about that fact alone, that’s not the only thing that’s worrying her. Beside her, Terrance Caldwell is agitated, draining his third Glenlivet, ice cubes clinking in the plastic cup. His brown hair is mussed, gray strands seeming to multiply by the minute, he’s out of sorts as he glances nervously around the cabin. He can feel it too, Brooke tells herself, that’s a bad sign. Three men stand up in the cabin all at once, flashing guns and screaming in Farsi. The passengers throw up a terrified scream, more chaos ringing in from the business class further back in the plane, more shouting. Brooke is paralyzed in her seat, legs numb, arms heavy and immobile as if they’re made of lead. Her stomach leaps up into her ribs, a lump in her throat. Next to her, Terrance looks at the hijackers, teeth gritted. Brooke can’t speak, fear smothering her from within. But her mind screams out, Don’t do it, Terrance! Don’t be a hero, we’ll get out of this! But she can see that Terrance is determined, al-ready scoping out which of the men he’ll target and how. Other men in the cabin seem to be thinking the same thing, sharing glances and nods and ignoring the hijackers’ ear-splitting screeches. But when one of them steps toward Brooke, his black handgun big in his dark hand, black against his egg cream robe, Terrance leapt into action. Bam! Bam bam! Brooke’s heart nearly bursts to see Terrance fly back, blood streaming out of his chest. She tries to scream his name, but couldn’t. Her eyes are locked on his body, slumped and lifeless as the hijacker’s fingers wrap around her arm and yank her to her feet. The gun is still hot as he presses it into her side, quivering knees barely helping her stand. The man beside her screams louder, the panicked faces of the other passengers looking up at her in sympathy, in pity. They all know she’s about to die.

BROOKE GASPED as she woke up with a start, eyes popping open, lungs straining for life-giving oxygen. She glanced around confused, the Emirates Airlines jetliner bouncing around her. But the first class cabin was otherwise calm; no hijackers, no gunfire, no screaming. Terrance sat next to her, his handsome face bent into a concerned expression; eyebrows arch-ing upward into his furrowed brow, strong cheeks and chin helping to frame his piercing gray eyes. “Brooke, you okay?” Brooke’s heart was pounding in her chest, palms sweating. She swallowed hard, a lump in her throat. Brooke nodded, and he said, “It’s just a bit of turbulence. You should try to get some more rest.” Brooke tried to smile, but it didn't last. “Maybe a drink,” she said as Terrance nodded to the stewardess. Brooke added, “Make it a double.”

THE CUSTOMS OFFICIAL glanced up at Terrance and Brooke, giving him most of their attention. But she’d been careful to cover her blonde hair; no makeup on her pale skin or mascara around her big, blue eyes, her arms and legs covered. But Terrance was the subject of their scrutiny, not Brooke, and she had to admit that she was glad. This didn’t make Brooke feel any better. “Purpose in Dubai?” “Business,” Terrance said, “I’m an architect, taking a personal meeting with the Sheikh Kaleeb AliRajib. He’s expecting me … personally.” The fat customs official, whose beard was so long that it was braided and then drawn back over his jowls and tied up under his turban, glanced at Brooke. “Your … personal assistant?” Brooke wanted to shout the man down, trot out her list of credentials and bona fides, but she thought the better of it. Biting her lower lip, she let Terrance smile with a nod, the two men seeming to understand each other. After clearing customs, she had to say, “He didn’t seem very impressed with me.” Terrance’s half-smile curled into his cheek. “On the contrary, I’d say he was quite impressed. But you were right to keep quiet. Around here, you can’t take anything for granted. We haven't locked down that contract with the sheikh yet, and even after we do we won't be able to count on that, or on him, for protection across the board. And you do not want to run afoul of the law in this part of the world.” “I know, Terrance, I know. I did my research.” “Ever on the spot,” he said with a familiarity they both enjoyed. “But reading an article on-line is one thing, living it is something else altogether. We don’t need that kind of disruption.” “Of your career?” Terrance stopped and glared at Brooke, his gray eyes burrowing into her blues. “Of your life,” was all he said and all he needed to say. They walked on, the terminal opening up around them like some amazing shopping mall. But the famous names and high-end merchandise barely registered to Brooke. She never cared for such things, and at the moment all her focus was fixed on Terrance. The feeling she had during her dream, when he was

shot and killed, was a pain so deep and cruel that it put another thought into the front of her mind, and not nearly for the first time. It had been two years since graduation, since taking the job working for Terrance. And she’d developed more than just a strong professional admiration for him during that time. In a foreign country, there because of his amazing talent and the opportunity he’d been presented, he never seemed more attractive or powerful. They were moving fast, his resolve guiding them, into a new and exciting chapter in her life. Their trip was in a lot of ways the culmination and the en-capsulation of their time together. And it wasn’t over yet. In fact, Brooke couldn’t help but tease herself with the possibility that things were really only just beginning. But words of warning clanged in the back of her memory, from every friend and relative, warm but stern in an unending stream of loving guidance: Don’t work for that man, they say he’s unstable! Don’t move to New York just for a job, what if things don’t work out? Don’t fall in love with him, it will ruin your career! Don’t go to Dubai, they stone women to death in the streets! Brooke couldn’t help but huff up a knowing chuckle with a shake of her head. Too late now, she had to admit. Terrance spotted the handwritten sign with his name written on it and led Brooke toward the man, dragging their wheeled luggage. The dark-skinned man muttered Terrance’s name and the two men shook hands. Brooke knew all she had to do was stand there and follow along, and she was willing to do it. After almost twenty hours or so on a plane, she had strength for little else. The man walked them out of the terminal and the waiting limousine parked out front. A balmy gust pushed through the desert night, the lights of Dubai sparkling in the near distance. The driver hurried out to take their bags and load them into the trunk, the man with the sign saying to them, “This is Jugdish, you driver. I am Rami Rajeem, the sheikh’s personal valet.” Brook and Terrance nodded and greeted them both, and climbed into the car. From the front seat, the valet went on, “The sheikh sends his regrets, due to the hour. But you will spend tonight in his personal penthouse before meeting him tomorrow in his palace.” “That’s very thoughtful of the sheikh,” Terrance said, “thank him for us, please.” Rami smiled and nodded. “I trust the accommodations will be adequate.” Brooke could only imagine what she’d find, and when they arrived after fifteen minutes be-hind that tinted glass, she was not disappointed. The building itself was a tower of steel and marble, dizzying heights looming above her. But once inside, the penthouse opened up in front of Brooke and Terrance like a dream come true. The place was lined with marble, gold leaf everywhere; lining the mirrors and the fixtures, diamonds sparkling from every chandelier. Statues of naked Greek gods and goddesses peered out from the corners of the expansive penthouse, the huge central room breaking off into distant, hidden chambers. The penthouse staff served a meal they’d been preparing just as Brooke and Terrance arrived. The two were famished and happy to enjoy the sheikh’s hospitality. The servants were quiet and respectful and once they were done they disappeared. Brooke felt as if she was alone with Terrance in that palatial

penthouse, the pool glistening on the extended porch outside, seeming to hover above the city. Raising a flute of Cristal, Brooke toasted with Terrance, whose smile told her he was ready to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Just how hungry he was, she still wasn't sure. The sparkling wine was crisp and delicious with just a hint of a fruity aftertaste. The prime rib was the best she'd ever had, cut into perfect medallions and presented under a hollandaise sauce that made Brooke’s mouth water as she rose the fork to her lips. Asparagus tips with caviar, roasted potatoes and truffles were spiced and flavorful, made even more delicious after a refreshing bite of melon or a chewy, delicious date. Brooke looked around, at her food and at the pool outside. “I could get used to this.” Terrance shrugged. “If I … if we get this contract, there’ll be money enough. Really, you could get a place like this in Los Angeles for just a few million.” “Just a few million,” Brook had to repeat, shaking her head. “Anyway, all that smog, I don't see myself being very happy out there.” “How about New York,” Terrance asked in a warm and soothing voice, sexy, “are you happy in New York?” Brooke had to give it just a little thought. “Sure. I mean, what an opportunity, to work for you and live out there, it's the capital of the world!” “One of them anyway. And the work, you … you like the work?” “Sure I do, Terrance, you know that. I’ve learned so much working for you, not just about architecture but, y’know, dealing with people, your whole way of thinking … outside the box, I mean.” Terrance huffed with a warm smile. “It’s just a matter of being a little creative. If architecture is really the last bastion of art, and I think it is, then here in Dubai is where the real master-pieces are being created. I’m honored to have a chance to work here.” Brooke couldn’t help but smile, but she didn’t want to help it. “So am I,” she said, turning way.

AFTER DINNER and brandy it didn’t take much to lure Brooke and Terrance into the swimming pool. The water was warm, but still refreshing against the desert night, balmy even in the early spring. A languid backstroke propelling her slowly across the length of the pool, Brooke felt as if she was floating. The water embraced her, legs shimmering in the moonlight. Terrance’s black hair was wet and pressed against his sculpted features, his shoulders wide and muscular. His arms were splayed at his side as he waded through the shallow end, his hairless chest leading him into the water. Brooke had never been so informal with Terrance, despite years of working closely together and other intimate moments. She’d never been so exposed to him, her body barely covered by her pale blue bikini. And she’d never seen him with so little on, his near-nakedness sending a thrilling little vibration running through her body. She was fit and attractive, and at twenty-four she knew herself to be supple and firm and in the prime of her life. A lot of guys were attracted to Brooke, and she even dated a few of them in college. But she’d been too busy with her work to do much dating in the past two years, and Brooke

allowed herself and her family to be impressed with that excuse. But she knew the truth; that nobody she'd met since Terrance had been a better man, more attractive to her. He’d spoiled her for anyone else. Brooke said, “Come on out to the deep end.” Terrance smiled and pushed into the water, swimming toward her, water splashing a bit around him. “Water’s great,” he said, “s’perfect.” “It really is,” Brooke said, wanting to add, the night, the pool, it’s all just perfect … we’ll never have a more magical moment than this, if you want to make your move … But of course Brooke said nothing like that. She’d kept it in for two years, often thinking that he was going to break down and finally make a move on her. He was attracted to her, Brooke was certain of it. And it wasn’t just because she was blonde and pretty and nicely shaped, but because she had qualities that he could see as they worked together, qualities he ad-mired. A man like Terrance could have any woman he wanted, it often occurred to Brooke. Brooke couldn't deny that Terrance was not active on the dating scene. Watching him work late into the night, and sometimes drink early in the day, she knew he was so wrapped up in his work that he’d put romance aside, just as she had. But Brooke couldn’t help but entertain the thought that she’d put dating aside to make herself available for him, and that perhaps he was doing the same thing with her. But there was more to it than that, and Brooke knew it as well as Terrance did. “Y’know, being here,” Brooke said, “so far away from home, it’s like … well, it’s like being in another world.” Terrance smiled with a shrug. Brooke went on, “Around here, as far as my research indicates, is that the men, they just … they take what they want, y’know? There's no worry about women's lib or equality or being hauled into court if you just give a girl a kiss or … or something.” Terrance sighed, sinking into the water and dipping his eyes closed. Brooke went on, “And whatever happens here, I suppose it’d be like Vegas. And you know what they say? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” “Fake Vegas,” Terrance said, “yeah, I can see that.” “Still, that old saying is true.” “Except what the thing that happens is you fall into bed with your personal assistant. We’ve been over this, Brooke.” “I know, but — ” “It’s not that I’m not flattered, of course I am. And it’s not that you're not gorgeous, I mean … any man would be thrilled to have you, just to be standing anywhere near you … your eyes, your lips … ” Terrance seemed to be entranced, but his own amazing will shook him out of it. He went on in a more determined tone, “But it’s more than just a legal question — ” “You must mean civil, not criminal.” “I mean either one! But there’s also the ethical question.” Brooke looked around nervously. “But … people who work together form relationships all the time, even when they’re not exactly on the same level, business wise.” “I’m your boss, Brooke, and your mentor. To take advantage of you, it just would't be right.” “You won’t be taking advantage of me at all! I’m twenty-four years old, Terrance. I’m a big girl, I can take care

of myself.” “Then please do. Look, we’re friends, Brooke, and we’re … associates. I value you very highly as both of those things, and I ... I don't want to lose those things. Relationships can be volatile, short-lived, but I need more than that from my friends and my associates. Do you understand?” Brooke sighed, dipping her head back into the water. “I do. I always have ... and I guess I'll always have to. But y’know, relationships can be short-lived and volatile, as you say, but they can also make life better, easier, add that … that stability you’re looking for; if that relationship is with the right person, that is.” They shared the quiet of the warm water lapping against their naked skin. Brooke glanced across the pool and stretched her shoulders. “After the flight, I could use some time in that hot tub. Join me?”

CHAPTER 2

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he hot water was churning with foam, and the jets propelled hot streams under the surface. A few minutes in that frothing soup made Brooke realize just how accurate her little lie had been. Her muscles began to unwind in the water, her shoulders sagging and her spine relaxing. Her legs relaxed under the surface, floating just a bit above the smooth jacuzzi surface. The cold Cristal was even more delicious in that hot water. Brooke took a sip, savoring the cold fizz as it tickled her throat. Brooke turned her back to Terrance, reaching around to pinch her own shoulder. “Would you mind? I can’t reach.” “Brooke — ” “Terrance, c’mon, I’m not some horny babysitter. All that turbulence, I’ve got a lot of ten-sion.” Terrance gave it a little thought. “I’m sure the sheikh’s got a masseur on staff.” “Here? Now? C’mon, it’s no big deal.” Brooke took another sip of the cold sparkling wine and dipped her eyes closed. Terrance slowly lowered his fingers onto the muscles stretching be-tween her shoulders and the nape of her neck. His fingers were strong and sure, commanding without being clumsy or intrusive. He moved those masterful digits in slow circles, loosening the knots in her muscles. Brooke’s fibres contracted, but they relaxed again quickly as Terrance worked the circulation back into her tense upper back. Brooke felt her own satisfied moan leak up into the steam hovering around the jacuzzi. You know you want me, Brooke heard herself thinking, almost out loud. She wondered if, on some level, Terrance couldn't hear, and that he might not still respond. Feel my skin, my body beneath your fingertips. You could have it, have it all, right here and right now. I’ve loved you for almost two years, Terrance, almost since the very beginning. And you’ve refused me at every turn. But you can’t hold out forever, Terrance Caldwell. The steam and the heat and the hands and the shoulders worked their magic, Brooke feeling relaxed and ready to convert some of that relaxation back into tension and then energy. And Terrance could feel it too. She could feel his excitement pressing the small of her back, and she knew she was close to finally getting what she wanted. “I think that's about it for me,” Terrance said, his voice quivering nervously, looking for his flute of Cristal. “One more quick drink and I’m calling it a night.”

Brooke smiled and raised her glass, ready to drink to her own final defeat.

THERE WAS another sumptuous meal waiting for them the next morning. Brooke didn't know where the servants kept coming from or going to, but she knew there were untold rooms in that huge penthouse, and she'd barely explored any of it. The center of her attention was sitting across the breakfast table. They didn’t speak much during the meal, each savoring the lamb stew omelettes, the roasted potatoes, fresh fruit, basket of muffins, a lovely crisp garden salad with warm, peanut dressing. But even the food, bursting with color and flavor, failed to distract her.

WHAT’S GOING to happen now, Brooke couldn’t help but wonder, will things between us … change? Now that he feels he’s shut me down, maybe for good, will he start to reconsider the value of having me around? Will he start to worry that I’ll act like some woman scorned and sue him for something once we get back to the States, rob him of the wealth and the big break he's worked so hard for? Is he going to start seeing me as a threat, as a hindrance, or … even worse, a corporate spy? Or will he just see me as some teenybopper, a giggly blonde with a schoolgirl crush? I thought he picked me as an assistant for my ability, my intelligence, my references. It sure wasn't for my body! How long before he second-guesses his choice altogether?

SHEIKH AL KALEEB ALI -Rijad’s palace was built on manmade hill rising above the flat skyline of Dubai. The compound was encircled by a massive but still decorative stone walls, a guard at the front gate and at towers in three other locations around the perimeter. The limo cruised up the long driveway, a lush garden planted on the property around it. Palm trees dominated, high and tall and phallic in a way Brooke simply couldn't dismiss. At the top of the driveway there was a roundabout with a huge fountain in the center. The palace looked like just that; a three-story hacienda with a balcony off every room, a number of statues and fountains in various corners of the expansive property. The limo slowed to a stop and the door opened, Rami Rajeem greeting them with a broad smile. He helped Brooke out of the limo, then stood back to allow Terrance to get out on his own. The two looked the place over. “My God,” Brooke said, “it’s … it’s Hotel California.” Terrance chuckled. Rami said, “The Sheikh is expecting you. Please, follow me.” Brooke and Terrance followed Rami into the palace. Inside, the place was amazing, almost cavernous. The entry was four stories tall, with a staircase leading to the second floor and two more

stairways beyond that. The banisters were carved marble to match the stairs, the floors, the walls. Oil paintings were framed lavishly, vases and ivory busts on pedestals daring Brooke to make just one clumsy move. Rami led Brooke and Terrance down a long, narrow hall, their footsteps echoing in the quiet. On each side, a series of Greek gods and goddesses stared out at passersby from chambers set into the walls. They arrived at a pair of doors caked in gold and covered in engravings of figures to numerous to count and too small to fully digest. It looked like the telling of an ancient battle, or the history of the human race; Brooke couldn't be sure and there was no time to figure it out. Rami opened the doors and led Brooke and Terrance into the big office. The Sheikh was instantly recognizable from the pictures she had seen online. He was slender and fairly young, with strong cheekbones and a tall, furrowed brow. His teeth were perfectly straight and gleaming white over his dimpled chin. He sat behind a huge maple desk, dark and shiny. He wore the traditional hijab, a short-sleeve garment which went all the way down to his ankles, white shirtsleeves and pant legs underneath, and holding a gold plated telephone to his ear. He wore a thin mustache on his dark face, dark eyes were large and mysterious. He reminded Brooke of a movie star from the black and white era; Clark Gable or one of the others her grandparents talked so much about. He barked into the phone in Farsi, his voice bouncing around the massive office. Around him, several men stood in similar Arab garb and wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, shaped like eggs often worn by Highway Patrol officers back in the States. The Sheikh glanced at them from behind his desk, a nod to Terrance his only recognition before returning his attention to the phone. A few more harsh words were all he would offer before slamming the phone down onto its cradle. He rose quickly and walked around the side of his desk, his robe flowing behind him. He extended his hand with a broad smile. “Terrance Caldwell,” he said in a heavily accented English, “thank you so much for coming. I hope you found the flight and the accommodations … tolerable.” “We did, thank you.” The Sheikh turned to look at Brooke. He smiled warmly, offering his hand. She took it and could sense the strength behind his gentle touch. “How rude of me. Welcome, Miss Robins.” “Oh, you … you know my name?” “Of course,” the Sheikh said. “I take care to know everything I can about anybody with whom I hope to do business. It prevents … misunderstandings later on.” “I wouldn't expect any less,” Terrance said. The Sheikh looked at Brooke again and said to Terrance, “Nor would I.” Brooke wanted to say, I beg your pardon? but thought better of it. The Sheikh went on, “But you didn’t come all this way for small talk, eh? My valet has the plans you sent, and the animated presentation has been seen by everybody in my employ. We're very excited about your concept … a floating building, can you imagine? Well, of course you can, that's why you're here!”

Sheikh Ali-Rijad chuckled at his own joke, leaving Brooke and Terrance to exchange a worried glance. Terrance said, “Of course it won’t really be floating … ” Brooke had personally helped with the animation, which was shaped like a diamond, with the first floor being a fine tip and a structure which became wider the taller it got, until the crown where the building would bevel upward to a flat top, where the penthouse would be. The entire structure would rest on a massive plexiglass type frame of four triangular fins which were wide at the bottom and fine at the tips. The first floor, however, was the equivalent of ten stories above the ground, giving the building the look of floating ten stories above the ground. Several see-through elevators would shoot up and down the ten story gap into the first floor. The Sheikh held out his hands and smiled. “Let’s go have a look at the location.”

THE PLOT WAS JUST on the outskirts of the city, which was expanding fast. In just a few years it would probably be the center of a new business and shopping district. But as the Sheikh’s limo pulled up, it was little more than a cleared patch of desert land with a few inclines and unlevelled spots. And the land wasn’t entirely idle; it was at that moment being used as a stunt track for some local teenage boys and their dirt bikes, making ramps of the inclines and jumping over gulch spots. Rami spat a few ugly words in Farsi as he glared out the tinted windows, but the Sheikh seemed unfazed. When the limo stopped Rami stepped out first and quickly, another man with him doing the same while a third remained to help the sheikh and his guests out of the limo. By the time Brooke stepped out into the glare of the desert sun, Rami was shouting at one of the teenage boys, his bike already on the ground. Rami was holding the boy by the collar of his t-shirt. But the youth was not intimidated, thrusting his narrow chest at Rami and shouting back with every bit as much vigor. Then Rami pulled a sleek, black Cobra automatic handgun from a shoulder holster under his jacket. The boy’s eyes went wide, fixed on the deadly weapon as Rami rose it to a lethal aim. The Farsi got louder, especially Rami’s, while the youth’s voice rose in pitch and cracked with increasing desperation. It only took a few more seconds of bickering for Rami to level the gun at the boy’s head, and only a few inches away. Brooke’s heart skipped, and she could already imagine the terror that was to come. But Sheikh Ali-Rijad stepped up to Rami with his own stream of commands in their native tongue. Brooke could understand not a single word, but she could discern what they were saying by their tone, their body language. The Sheikh was calming, speaking with authority but also with self control. Rami stood humbly, but he was not above explaining himself to his employer. But the Sheikh was not to be defied, and Rami soon let go of the teenager, who ran off without even retrieving his bike. Rami bit back on his frustration, then turned and stomped on the bike’s tires a few times before the sheikh’s calming commands brought that futile demonstration to an end. Rami barked a few orders in Farsi to one of the other men, who cleared the bike out of the area. The Sheikh turned to Brooke and Terrance. “I am so sorry, a thousand apologies.” “Not necessary,” Terrance said. “We have loiterers in the States too, it’s a real problem.” “My valet

is used to taking … extreme measures when necessary, though in this case it certainly more than required.” “I’ll bet a stun gun’d do the trick,” Terrance said. After another mean glare at Rami, the Sheikh returned his attention to Brooke and Terrance. “I assure you, there won’t be this kind of problem during construction. If there is, more decisive action may be taken.” “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Terrance said, glancing around, kicking at the dirt under his feet. “Your geologist sign off on this land?” The Sheikh held his hands out to the garden of skyscrapers around them. “Of course. It won’t even be the tallest or the heaviest on the block.” Terrance nodded as he gave it some thought. “I’m just worried about erosion, that water nearby. I’d rather see the building go up about one city block that way.” The Sheikh turned to Rami and drilled some quick Farsi at him. Rami answered with a shrug, and the conversation went on in that fashion until the sheik turned to Terrance. “I will have the geologist do another survey. Now let’s get the bad taste of our earlier altercation out of our mouths, shall we?” Terrance glanced at Brooke. “Another meal?” Brooke rolled her eyes. “I should have worn sweatpants.” Terrance chuckled and they walked with the Sheikh back to the limo.

CHAPTER 3

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he engine roared, shaking the big all-terrain vehicle and sending bolts of energy through Brooke’s body. Sand from the dunes flew up around them as the Sheikh himself drove over one steep sandy incline. They flew up as the dune sloped low beneath them, finally dropping onto the sand in a clumsy but able landing. They drove onward, sloppy and awkward but fast and fun, the sheikh laughing with delight. Terrance sat in the front next to the Sheikh, Brooke in the back. She was holding onto the roll rail with both hands, despite being strapped in at the waist and across the chest. The car’s big, fat black wheels kept them speeding along the sandy surface of the dunes and then up again, the motor grinding before the car fell back to the dune in another flat landing. Downward again, the fine tan sand pouring up into the air to blind them. The sheikh kept them speeding forward despite having way of seeing what was coming up next. It was as if he felt indestructible, the master of all he surveyed. More and more, Brooke didn’t doubt it. They broke through the sand cloud and drove onward, a sea of sandy dunes stretched out around them. Up and down, swirling in wide circles to create denser clouds of sand, then burst-ing out of them and into the clear blue of the desert afternoon. At first Brooke could hardly see the sense of it. It wasn't a chase, as they were the only vehicle on the dunes. They were going nowhere fast, spinning in circles. But the more blinding the air became, the more clearly Brooke began to see the method behind the sheikh’s madness. It was the exhilaration of the ride itself, dancing on the sand like a seal in the surf. It was the charge, the thrill of the speed, the pitches and drops, which excited the sheikh, the sheer joy of motion, the celebration of life for its own sake. And it excited Brooke too, more than she had time or inclination to reflect on. The Sheikh’s laughter bubbled up under the engine’s growl, each growing louder as the frolic went on. Brooke’s own sense of mirth rose up in her, the laughter inspired by a rollercoaster. Terrance glanced at Brooke from the front seat. He was grimacing, holding on and merely enduring the jostling and gritty, unbreathable air. He almost seemed annoyed at Brooke for laughing the way she was beginning to do. But for a reason she couldn’t quite understand, that only made the whole thing funnier to her. The more disgruntled Terrance was, the more amused Brooke became, the more wild and thrilling the whole ride seemed.

MOMENTUM PUSHED itself out of her mouth as a shrieking gasp, nervous laughter soon erupt-ing into surprising and uncontrollable howling. And her laughter seemed to inspire the sheikh’s indulgence, the motor revving louder and the car leaping higher into the air, sand clouding thick-er around them.

TO UNWIND from the frenzy of the dunes, the Sheikh took Brooke and Terrance for a stroll around Dubai, winding up at the amazing Dubai Fountains. These synchronized fountains from dozens of spouts waved back and forth as one, changing patterns and rhythms in an incredible display, colored lights blasting up and around the fountains, mist collecting on Brooke’s face. “They’re quite something, eh?” The Sheikh looked on with a proud smile. “I do find them charming.” He glanced at Terrance for an affirmation of his opinion. Sensing this, Terrance shrugged and smiled. “Sure is something.” The Sheikh turned to Brooke, which he seemed to be doing more and more. She smiled and glanced out again at the fountains, pulling her blonde hair back behind her ear. “Lovely,” she said. “Very,” He responded, his eyes on her and not the fountain. Terrance cleared his throat and said, “Is it just me, or did that Jeep ride work up an appetite for anybody else?” Brooke and the Sheikh turned to Terrance as one. The Sheikh looked back at Brooke. “Miss Robins?” Brooke smiled, which was getting easier and easier. “I could eat.”

THEY ATE in a private room at the top of the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building. One hundred and twenty-four stories above Dubai, the lights glittered and sparkled, the night’s sky an inky sheet. It was another fabulous meal, this time roasted pheasant, asparagus tips, scalloped potatoes, truffles, a variety of salads, filet mignon and Alaskan king crab, a cream of caviar soup. The waiting dessert cart included a chocolate soufflé with freshly hand-whipped cream and a tray of pastries and cream puffs. The Sheikh asked, Brooke, “I hope the dunes didn’t leave your spine out of place.” “Not at all,” Brooke said. “It was certainly a different experience.” “It certainly was,” Terrance said. “I never thought I’d miss rush hour in Manhattan.” The three shared a chuckle. Brooke asked the Sheikh, “Sheikh Al-Rijad?” He smiled. “Please, in the privacy of our internal discussions, you can call me Al.” After a moment, he said, “Get it? You can call me Al?” The familiar strains of the Paul Simon tune rang in the back of Brooke’s head, the African rhythms and horn section line of his mid-eighties hit instantly familiar. Al asked Brooke, “What did you want to know?” Brooke cracked a nervous smile, feeling the worried sting of Terrance’s glare. She asked, “You seem

so … so young and vibrant … for a Sheikh. I mean, do you really want me to call you Al? It’s not exactly what I expected.” Al said, “I insist you call me Al, if I may call you Brooke.” “Please,” she said with a little smile. “Well, Brooke, you’re right. My father was the Sheikh, and he was always very strict, very dour. For him, it was all about power and position. But I just don’t see the world that way. After his death, I inherited as much position and power as I need. I don’t see the purpose to throwing it around or playing it up as if I were some elected official.” “Like what happened with that teenager,” Brooke said. “Yes,” Al said, “precisely. My father would have seen the boy shot right there and then, probably had his body sent back to the alleys as a warning to others.” “Oh my,” Brooke said. She could feel the full brunt of Terrance’s attention as he looked at her with that I-told-you-so expression of raised brows and a knowing half-smile. “But that’s the old world,” Al went on, “and this is Dubai. My father’s world, that’s the past; but Dubai is today, Dubai is the future.” Brooke asked him, “So you’re not as old-fashioned as a lot of the Arab men I’ve heard about?” Terrance was still looking directly at Brooke, but he was no longer smiling. Al said, “I know what you’re talking about, Brooke; the way some Arab men denigrate women, think of you as property, trophies, child farms.” Terrance repeated, “Child farms? With all those aquariums and water parks and shopping malls in this town, I’m half-surprised you don’t have child zoos!” Terrance laughed at his own joke, but he was the only one laughing. Al went on, “But I think the people in the west have the right idea, you Yanks, the British, the Europeans. They know how to live freely, eh? Naked beaches, miniskirts — ” “Is that all equality means here,” Terrance asked, his tone hardening, “naked beaches and miniskirts?” “Once again,” Al said, his own smile seeming more forced than before, “this is Dubai, not Saudi Arabia. This is the Western jewel of the United Arab Emirates. As you can see, we have world class supermodels in all the latest fashions, hairstyles which cost more than your car! But it is not so everywhere, as your bright and attractive Miss Robins has pointed out. There are places where a bare ankle could get a woman arrested, and a loose tongue could get her beaten to death in the street! In this part of the world, you are in the bastion of equality.” “And we’re happy to be here,” Terrance said quickly. “Honored.” A tension hung over the table, Brooke taking a sip of her chardonnay. Finally, Al raised his own glass and said, “It is an honor to have you both as my guests.” But there was a subtlety to his phrase that caught Brooke’s attention. He said both, Brooke silent reflected, and that meant me.

AL DROPPED them back at their penthouse and it was only a matter of a few minutes before Terrance was

pouring himself a Jack Daniels over ice. Brooke noticed that Terrance was drinking a bit more than usual, and that he didn’t need any more booze that particular night. But she didn’t feel comfortable mentioning it, given Terrance’s increasingly erratic temperament.

“WHAT A DAY,” Brooke said, hoping to deflate the tension. Getting no answer, Brooke sighed and said, “I’m gonna go clean up, go to bed early.” “You’re gonna clean up all right.” That stopped Brooke in her tracks. Boss or not, drunk or not, stranded out in the desert or safely back in New York, Brooke was ready to say, nobody talks to me like that! Instead she simply said, “I beg your pardon?” Terrance drained his glass and began refiling it. “That Sheikh’s all over you like white on rice! Couldn’t you see the way he was looking at you? He was practically drooling.” Brooke had noticed, of course, but she didn’t make much of it. “He’s a man like any other,” was all Brooke could think to say. “And you know just how to play us, don’t you?” “Excuse me?” “Oh come on, Brooke. You’re too smart to be playing dumb! And there’s too much at stake.” “Your contract?” “Your life. Ahh, it’s my fault. I probably shouldn’t have brought you at all.” “And why did you bring me? It wasn’t to seduce me, that’s for sure.” Terrance huffed and took another big gulp of bourbon. “I knew you’d make a good impression, and that’s important to me, to the deal. I show up with Ralph or somebody else from the office, it doesn’t make the right appearance.” “And I do.” “Too right, as it turns out.” After a moment to consider it, Brooke asked, “Are you … jealous?” “Jealous? Brooke, I’m concerned for your wellbeing! I don’t mind working for these people— ” “These people?” “Yeah, the … y’know, the rich and powerful, the illuminati and all that. But I don’t trust them, and I don’t want you to trust them either.” Brooke tried to evaluate the possibilities. “What are you saying, that I’m going to be kidnapped and sold into the sex trade?” Brooke had to chuckle at the prospect. But when Terrance said, “Yes, that precisely,” her chuckle disappeared and her blood ran cold.

CHAPTER 4

A

good night’s sleep hadn’t brought Terrance any relaxation. He only seemed a bit more tense, in fact, pacing around the big penthouse living room with the gold-plated landline tele-phone to his

ear.

“Yeah, Ralph, it’s going okay so far … yeah, location looks all right … No, he’s fine, a little … colorful, y’know? But I think we can handle another two days in this amusement park. The phone I’m holding is plated with solid gold, Ralph … yeah, a landline, but the phone is gold, thats the whole place in a nutshell. It’s the Beverly Hillbillies come to life on a superhuman scale!” Brooke tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation, but she was in the room and there was no way around hearing Terrance’s side of the increasingly bitter conversation. “You outta see this place, Ralph, it’s easy to see why Micheal Jackson loved it so much, it’s like Disneyland for adults.” Terrance chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, the sooner we get back home, the better. Make sure to be at JFK on time, and bring a bottle of something with you.” Terrance clicked the phone down onto its golden cradle and set the phone down on the little side table near the couch. Brooke asked, “What do we do now?” Terrance shrugged. “We came all the way out here on the Sheikh’s dime, return ticket isn’t until day after tomorrow. I suppose we just relax, have a little vacation before the real work starts. The Sheikh of Araby may want to take another meeting or two, throw his money around.” “Try to get me into bed,” Brooke said. “I didn't say that.” “But you were thinking it. Or have you forgotten your little tirade last night?” “I didn’t forget, I wasn’t that drunk. I wish you’d take me a little more seriously. It’s not like it is back home, Brooke.” “No, it isn’t, and frankly it seems a whole lot nicer.” Off Terrance’s embittered expression, she explained, “Everything I read online proves out; there’s almost no crime, no litter or pollution, everybody’s very kind and civil — ” “Because they’ll cut your hands off for one wrong word,” Terrance said. “These women seem free enough, but don’t you notice that none of them go out alone? They’ve always got a man next to them, it’s practically the law around here. It may be Dubai, but this is still the Third World, they're still Arabs!”

“Terrance, I had no idea you were … a racist.” “I’m not, Brooke, not at all. You know me, you work in the office, it’s practically the Rainbow Coalition over there! Go tell Dennis or Kim Choy or Edwardo that I’m a racist! This is different, this is … there are cultural differences that are inarguable. You said it yourself, it's like another world!” “Is it? More and more, it seems like people are basically the same no matter where you go.” The phone rang, and then it rang again. Without waiting for one of the many come-and-go servants, Terrance picked up the phone and spat his name into it. He paused to listen, answering, “Yes, of course … that sounds terrific, we’d be delighted … ten minutes, excellent.” Terrance set the phone down and read Brooke’s curious expression. By way of an explanation, he said simply, “Our master’s voice.”

DUBAI STRETCHED beneath them once more, but this was nothing like even the stellar view from atop the Burj Khalifa. The hot air balloon rode the warm currents over the desert, carrying Brooke, Terrance, Al, Rami, and the pilot. The city seemed small from that height, a man made oasis rising out of the brutal and inhospitable desert sands. The hot air caused a strange, watery texture to the air, an optical illusion that made Brooke feel as if she wasn’t flying at all, but sail-ing on the surface of an invisible sea, Dubai laying like a forgotten relic of some fabulous by-gone civilization. And beyond Dubai lay the desert, so vast that it seemed endless, boundless. Its rugged majesty spoke of the ancient history of the region, the terrible tribal wars and bloody rites which marked the progress of an entire region of the planet. Terrance was right, Brooke had to admit, we both were; it really is like a whole other world. And is it truly a world I belong in, or anywhere near? Look where I am, up here in a balloon floating over an oasis of concrete and steel, the sunlight bouncing off it. It’s like that miserable hot sun is attacking from every angle, above and below and every side. But they can’t air condition the whole planet, they can’t cover the whole desert with marble and gold, can they? Maybe they can … but should they? Al looked at Brooke with a broad smile. To make himself heard above the gusts of the air currents around them, he said quite loudly, “What do you think?” Brooke could hardly express what was filling her heart and her mind at that moment. She was afraid, intimidated to the point of being overwhelmed. But she also felt strangely at peace, so high above the frantic pace below, the scuttle and scurry of modern life, it was like nothing could touch her. She almost felt that if the balloon burst, the basket would somehow remain aloft, carrying them all off to some other grand adventure. All she could think to say was, “It’s … breathtaking.” Al glanced past Brooke to Terrance with a sly grin. “I think you may be right.” Brooke turned to see Terrance standing in a corner of the basket clinging to the ropes leading up to the balloon. His complexion was so pale he almost seemed light blue, his cheeks puffy, throat swollen as he continuously wrestled with his own gag reflex. He swayed, barely staying on his feet. Brooke stepped closer to him, a hand on his arm. “Terrance, are you okay?” “Yeah,” he barely

managed to say, “fine.” Al looked over and called out, “Perhaps we should bring her down.” “No, no,” Terrance called back. He tried to wave the idea off, but he quickly became dizzier and grabbed the rope with both hands once again. “I could stay up here all day.” Brooke and Al exchanged a glance and shared a chuckle, but Brooke’s smile was wiped away by the gurgling sounds of Terrance’s breakfast coming back up and over the side of the basket. Brooke called out Terrance’s name, but there was no saying whether he’d heard it. His legs gave out from under him and Terrance’s body hit the bottom of the basket with a thump where he lay motionless at Brooke’s feet. Rami fell to his knees with some smelling salts and Terrance was quick to snap back to wakefulness. “Wha — ? What’s going on?” “Never fear, Mr. Caldwell,” Al said. “We’ll see to everything.”

AL HAD his personal physician see to Terrance, administering a sedative and putting him to bed in the penthouse. This left both Brooke and Al with free time and nobody to spend it with than each other. “We’ll see more of Dubai,” Al said cheerfully, and Brooke could hardly refuse. She hardly wanted to. Riding camels along the beach, Brooke felt as if she’d been transported back to another time, an era of mystery and danger. But she had to remind herself that her own era had no less danger than any other, perhaps more; nuclear warfare and pollution, terrorism, gunfire blasting its way across every corner of the U.S. Maybe there’s something to the old world way of seeing things after all. The sun was just going down, the sky bursting with color; orange and yellow bleeding into the blue, a tint of dusk’s magenta wafting in from over the horizon. “I’m sorry about your boss,” Al said. “I had no idea he would react that way. He need only have said so, we could have done something else.” Brooke shrugged and smiled. She didn't want to speak poorly of Terrance, and was almost concerned that this was a test of her loyalty. But Al simply went on, “It’s easy to see his way of thinking though, not wanting to disappoint me … or you … for very different reasons, of course.” Brooke tilted her head to illustrate her confusion without asking. Al asked, “What man wants to be seen as weak or ineffectual in the eyes of his new client … or his lover?” Brooke offered up a surprised chuckle. “I don’t suppose anybody, now that I think about it. But Terrance and I aren’t lovers.” “No?” “No.” Al nodded to consider, his mouth bent in confounded thought. “You won’t have him?” Brooke burst out with an awkward chuckle, Al joining in. He went on, “I do not mean to be forward, but … surely he’s tried. And in your country, no means no, eh?” “And what does no mean in this country?” Al shrugged. “I don’t often hear it, so I really can’t say.”

“I see.” Brooke glanced around coyly. “In any case, Terrance and I enjoy a very healthy professional relationship.” “How lovely for you both.” “As a matter of fact, Terrance Caldwell is a very ethical man. He’s my employer, my mentor— ” “A father figure … ” “Um, in a way, I guess, but — ” “And that’s not what you’re looking for in a man?”

A LUMP ROSE in Brooke’s throat, too many answers exploding in her mind to choose just one. She said, “It’s just … the way it is. What about you? Aren’t Sheikhs supposed to have harems?” Al threw his head back in a deep, throaty laugh. Shaking his head, Al could only say, “We haven’t had a harem since the day of my grandmothers!” After a tense moment, Brooke joined him in a happy little chuckle. He went on, “Girls come and go, as it is with any man.” “Nobody … special?” Al’s eyes combed Brooke’s figure and face, a half smile framing his next word. “Maybe.” Brooke looked away coyly, leaving Al to add, “And you’re single too?” Brooke smiled, the nervous gesture wriggling on her lips. For Al, the smile came much easier. “Do you like to dance?”

DANCING WITH AL, Brooke could scarcely recall that she was dancing with the head of a powerful family, a major player in the world oil market. To her, in those sweaty moments, he was just a handsome man, lean and graceful under those flashing lights, swimming in that lusty rhythm. Brooke loved to dance, and she’d done it less and less over the previous two years. Working side by side with Terrance, she’d forgone the thing he chose to forego, believing it would bring them closer, forge a bond that neither could deny. But Brooke was as committed to architecture as Terrance, and wanted to learn the ways of his mysterious genius. But here in the land of both mystery and genius, Brooke could see things in a new and thrilling light. Terrance could never dance like this, she had to admit to herself even in the swirl of music and lights, he’s just not comfortable in his own skin, among his own kind, in his own world, let alone somebody else’s world. But Al is a man who could elevate Terrance or crush him like a bug. No wonder he’s so care-free, so easygoing. Look at the way his hips sway, the way his shoulders roll under his sweat-stained silk shirt, like a big cat of the wild, some exotic and dangerous alpha male who knows just what he wants, and who he wants. And he always gets what he wants, one way or another; that much is clear. What remains to be seen is how, and how quickly. And there in the heated humidity of the dance floor, Brooke knew she was making herself vulnerable to him, a sensual prey animal, a fawn in the desert. She could hardly help it as the pulse of the synthetic

beat thumped up her legs from that vibrating dance floor, manifesting itself in the deepest and darkest corners of he sensual self. Brooke threw her blonde hair back, arching her spine to thrust her full breasts forward, locked in the musical moment, enraptured by the throbbing beat and droning synthetic pads. But as much as she could resist, she tried to. Al loomed behind her, his hands on her hips as they ground to in sync, one motion shared by two. But Brooke felt compelled to remove his hands, to turn and face him from just a bit more distance. She wasn’t done running from him yet, and he had strength in reserve for a prolonged hunt. The drums pounded in the big room, sweat collecting on the back of her neck, her body mov-ing like a living piece of artwork with herself as the sculptor. And her audience was appreciative in the extreme, his hungry eyes combing her every curve. She could feel his eyes upon her, his hands once more, his lips tracing the secret valleys and dewy meadows of her sultry intimacy. Her hips swung like some great clock’s pendulum, counting down the moments to the inevitable, the meeting of two forces beyond description and without peer. If Brooke could think clearly at all, she might have imagined that she and Al were destined for each other, that they were only reassuring each other what both already knew. They were dancing, but it was more than that; and it was about to become even more.

CHAPTER 5

A

l took a room for them in the hotel, and it was a brief but chaotic elevator ride up to the Presidential Suite. Brooke and Al were tearing at each other’s clothes, Al’s shirt buttons flying across the elevator, clicking against the wall before disappearing to the floor. They kissed, hard and deep, almost desperate as the elevator finally slowed to a stop and the doors opened. He pulled Brooke out of the elevator and pressed her against the wall of the hallway. Mould-ing lined the wall and dug into Brooke’s lower back, but the little pain only shot a bolt of plea-sure through her, knees buckling. He cupped her breast, goosebumps rising around her erect nipples. They went on kissing, panting, a light sheen of perspiration still clinging to Brooke’s skin from the dance floor. Their tongues wrestled and writhed in the heated chambers of their mouths, lips pressing together. Al slid his right hand around Brooke’s left thigh, pushing her red dress up and back and lifting her leg. With a swift and graceful move, her other foot left the carpeted floor and she was supported entirely by Al’s strong arms beneath, the wall behind, and Al himself in front of her. Their eyes locked, his glowing with a predatory fire. He seemed like a hero from some bygone time, a dashing and exotic alpha male finally taking his prize right there in the hallway, up against the wall.

THEIR LOVEMAKING FINALLY TOOK them into the suite, the utter brashness of their first heated round in the hallway had been an experience Brooke had never anticipated. But the sheer thrill of it went even beyond Al’s sexual mastery and his incredible size and stamina. The idea that somebody could have stepped out of their suite to stumble upon them, the danger of that embarrassment of discovery, had propelled Brooke above and beyond any previous experience. But the night was still young, and the dark bedroom soon opened up in front of them. They made that room into a carnival of sexual delights and indulgences. Brooke was both the center of Al’s focus and attention, but she was more involved, more committed, more completely immersed. She’d also never been so passionate, driven by Al’s own lusty performance to the zenith of her own capacity; screaming and moaning, executing every act and position with utter delight and unbridled enthusiasm. They finally collapsed in each other’s arms, Brooke finally feeling as if she was unable to move. But

Al had the where with all, to return from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel. He gently dabbed her shoulders and neck, refreshing and cleansing as they wound down from their lovemaking. Al introduced that warm towel to Brooke’s belly, hips and thighs, his face close to hers, tenderly nuzzling and letting a low, sexy growl leak out of the back of his throat. Brooke didn’t remember falling asleep, but she woke to the sunrise with a happy squint and a long stretch, muscles along her back and legs feeling loose and supple. Brooke and Al stepped into the shower, hot water coursing over their naked bodies. They each took a small bar of soap, silky perfumed suds gathering thick on their flash as they dragged the bars over each other’s arms and chests and hips, coating one another in a glistening sheen. They took their time getting dressed, each knowing that he would have to return to the palace, she to the penthouse to face Terrance. Terrance! What am I going to tell Terrance? Terrance was still asleep when they arrived at the penthouse, and he was groggy for an hour or so after that. Al said to him, “Those sedatives were quite strong, eh?” Terrance rubbed his temples. “Half a bottle of Remy Martin didn’t hurt either.” He looked at Brooke to add, “I woke up around dinnertime, you weren’t here. I was … worried.” Brooke still hadn’t decided how to handle the situation, and Al glanced at her to read her take on the situation. He was willing to follow her lead on this, and she admired and respected that. Brooke also knew that she’d have to make the most of it. She said, “There was no sense in all of us just sitting here in the dark all night.” Terrance looked at her, hard and long, then at Al. He reflected for a moment, then sighed. “We should get packing. There’s enough time for one last meal before we go, I’d say. I could use a cup of coffee.” The penthouse was filled with a growing tension, Al eyeing Brooke and Terrance alternately. He finally said to Terrance, “This building of yours, it can be erected with no compromise of safety?” Terrance gave it some thought. “Like I said, I’d rather see it go up about a block away. But the design itself is foolproof. Take out two or even three fins, the structure will still hold. It’ll probably be the safest building on Earth.” “Excellent,” the sheikh said, “really, I’m quite pleased.” Al took a few steps away from the desk to stroll around the tremendous office. "As you know, back in the days of Ancient Rome, when they created the great Roman Arch — ” “They would stand the architect under the arch when they removed the supports,” Terrance said. “Quite so,” the sheik said. “As such, I’d like my own architect to have a … a personal stake in the outcome of the building.” “I’ll be there,” Terrance said, “first one on the glass elevator. Perhaps we can ride it together?” “And the construction?” Terrance stood in a quizzical moment. “Well, I’m an architect, not a contractor.” “But I’ll want you to oversee every step of the construction, to make sure they are up to your level of

quality, your demands — ” “I don’t know if that’s best,” Terrance said. “You do you consider yourself unqualified?” “No,” Terrance said, “quite the opposite, matter of fact.” “Very well,” Al said, “you will be more than well compensated, provided with luxurious accommodations, as you have seen. Your every need will be seen to, and your career will be guaranteed.” Terrance stammered a bit. “That’s … a very nice addition to an already-worthy offer — ” “I know, I know,” the Sheikh said, “the construction will take as many as three to five years, a long time to spend away from your beloved United States of America. But trips home will be part of the package, with the finest travel available.” “Nobody doubts that,” Terrance said, “or your generosity. It’s just that … I brought Miss Robins out here without telling her anything about such an offer. The girl at least should have some time to reflect.” “And you?” A tense silence followed as the two men stared each other down. They were each smiling, courteous, but there was a percolating sense of clashing wills beneath their politeness. “I’d be honored, of course,” Terrance said. Al chuckled. “I know it’s a lot to digest all at once.” Terrance looked at Al, then at Brooke, his eyebrows twitching with his growing suspicion. “It really is,” Terrance said, and Brooke knew just what he meant. And she knew what was com-ing.Al realized that Terrance would have to be allowed to consider his decision, and that it was only proper to give him privacy with Brooke to discuss it. She had a decision to make too, and the choice of one would have some effect on the other’s choice; all three of them knew that. “How dare he,” Terrance asked, Scotch melting his ice cubes just as the noon hour approached, “what does he think? Keeping me here for five years!” “I don’t think you have to stay,” Brooke said sheepishly. “And I’m sure there’ll be a lot of money in it, as much as you’d ever earn otherwise.” “You don't know that, Brooke. He hasn't made any specific offer at all. And in the meantime how am I supposed to make the most of this, get other contracts? Building a career is about more than building one building, I thought I taught you that.” “You did, Terrance, and so much more. And one of those things was that our business, almost any business, is all about preparedness meeting opportunity. You're prepared, I know that. And this is surely an opportunity, surely it is!” Terrance looked at her, long and cold, the turned away. “You don't understand.” “Explain it to me then.” “It's about power, Brooke. What do you think that balloon ride was all about? To make me feel small! This guy is just touting his wealth, his power over me. It’s a personal affront.” Brooke gave it a little thought and a simple shrug. “You can always tell him no, we go back to New York.” This was the last thing on her mind, but she felt it might calm Terrance down a bit, give them both time to think with relatively clear heads.

“No, Brooke, I can’t and he knows it, that’s just the point! If I say no and go back empty-handed, my reputation will be finished. I walk away from this, word’ll be out that I’m difficult, impossible to work with. Believe me, I'm not the first architect to read The Fountainhead.” “Can’t you just accept the contract and not stay for the construction? Maybe I could … rep-resent you here?” Terrance glanced at her, half in surprise and half offense. “No,” was all he felt he needed to say. “Why?” “Wh — ? How many reasons do you need? On the one hand, you're not the architect, your staying wouldn’t satisfy his requirements at all. In fact, to make the offer would offend him, to leave him with you while I go off and cash his check?” “Because I'm just your assistant?” “And because you're a woman. I keep telling you, Brooke, it's not like it is back in the States. Around here, women are seen as … as possessions, like sports cars or jewelry, things to amuse them, make them look good to their competitors, their friends … as if there were any a difference between the two. I don't feel that way, you know that. But it's not about the way I feel, it's the way he feels.” “I wouldn't want to insult him with my lack of a penis.” Terrance rolled his eyes. “It's not that simple, Brooke. With these people, it goes back hundreds, thousands of years. For a lot of them, it’s still the Dark Ages, Brooke.” “I dunno,” Brooke said, careful not to say too much. “He strikes me as quite … modern, in his way.” “Is that so?” “Sure, with the four-wheeling and everything. He’s not some stodgy old stuffed shirt.” Terrance looked at Brooke again, turning his face as if to get a better view of her face, looking for the truth behind her lying expression. “What happened between you two last night?” Brooke had been dreading the question, but she knew he’d ask eventually. She still wasn’t sure how to answer though. Brooke hated lying, especially in a case like this one, where somebody was likely to get hurt. But she didn’t feel that she had to explain herself to Terrance, to justify her personal choices. She wasn’t a little girl, as she’d pointed out to him several times. So Brooke said, “We had dinner … and a little dancing.” “Dancing?” He spat out a bitter huff. “I see.” “No, you don’t see anything.” “Don’t you realize how that would compromise me, ethically speaking?” “Yes, I know you and your ethics are very happy together. But you don’t have any reason to be protective of me, whatever you think of these people, as you like to call them.” “I’d better not have,” he said. “Terrance Caldwell, you’re jealous?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Terrance said. “This is my career on the line, this is my life!” The phone rang and Brooke knew exactly what the call was about, and who. Terrance took the call, spitting his own name into the phone before listening to the voice on the other end. “Yeah … yeah … hold on … ” Terrance held the phone out to her. “It’s for you.”

CHAPTER 6

“M iss Robins, this is Rami, the Sheikh’s valet.” “Of course, Rami, how are you?”

“Quite well indeed. The sheikh wonders if you're available to join him for lunch.” “Me …

alone?” “That is correct.” Brooke glanced at Terrance, who was pouring himself another drink. Lacking a refusal, Rami said, “Jugdish is parked in front of the hotel right now.” “Oh, I see,” Brooke said, soon realizing the futility of yet another lie. “Okay, um, thank you, I’ll … I’ll be right down.” No sooner had she set the phone down then Terrance said, “I knew it.” “I told you — ” “You lied to me,” he said, draining the glass. “Your boss.” “Did you really ask as my boss?” “Admit it!” “Did you stop to think that it might actually be a good thing. I don't think you’re making that good an impression as it is.” Terrance rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable.” Terrance shook his head and refilled his glass. “These past two years, I thought it was actually me, that you wanted to be with me. Turns out you’re just … easy.” “I beg your pardon?” “Brooke, you’ve been throwing yourself at me since we met. Now you drop your panties for the first billionaire we come along. You’re just like every Manhattan whore, looking to ride your back all the way to the top.” “You’re drunk,” Brooke said, “and you’re making an ass out of yourself.” “Better an ass than a piece of ass.” “Go to hell,” Brooke said, spinning and heading for the door. But Terrance called out, “We’re already there,” just before she slammed the door behind her.

JUGDISH SAID nothing to Brooke of where he was taking her, but it was a short drive through sleek, shiny Dubai to the expansive Atlantis the Palm hotel complex, which included the Aqua-venture Beach water park. Pulling up front, the limo rolled to a stop. Jugdish opened the door and Brooke stepped out to see Al

standing in beachwear; skimpy rubber trunks and a flower-printed shirt. He carried two towels and held a bikini in one hand. Brooke chuckled with delight and went to put on the suit. They spent an hour or so on the many colorful rides the water park had to offer, themed rides with long tubes and pipes to send riders spinning and gliding like greased otters. Brooke felt like a kid again, the rush of momentum pulsing through her, excited shrieks leaping out of her open smile. Several rides allowed Brooke and Al to go down together on a rubber mat. Brooke relished the feel of Al behind her, wet and muscular, his strong arms wrapped around her. His energy was powerful, thrilling. She leaned back, his hard chest and lean stomach pressing against her back, his excitement becoming palpable as she slipped further back into the vortex of his groin. And as much as she enjoyed the childish fun of the water park, she was intrigued when they strolled to another attraction: Dolphin Bay. After changing into a wetsuit and digesting a brief safety chat from the dolphin wrangler, Brooke found herself in the waters of the tremendous manmade pool, several bottlenose dolphins gliding around her. Brooke’s knees were trembling as the great beasts swam past, easy strokes of the tails propelling their sleek, torpedo-like bodies through the azure blue. She could feel their awesome strength, their certainty and assuredness. What doubts do these creatures ever have, Brooke had to wonder, are they ever confused or angry or frightened? The wrangler was a muscular girl, black hair sun-bleached to a faint mahogany, her plain features aging quickly with the salt air. She tapped the water’s surface and one of the dolphins swam up to her, rolling to present its belly as it came to idle right in front of her. The wrangler rubbed the dolphin’s belly to the creature’s obvious delight. It chirped and bucked its head and flapped its flippers. Al reached over and rubbed the dolphin’s belly too, gesturing to Brooke. Finally, Brooke reached out slowly, uncertain. The dolphin’s skin was smooth and slick, wet and wondrous, its powerful muscles shifting under that flawless gray-speckled skin. She rubbed with her flattened palm, giving the dolphin a few taps. The dolphin was so firm under her hand, solid and strong, seething with life. Al asked her, “Well?” not needing to say more. Brooke shook her head, amazed. “Incredible,” was all she could say. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.” “This is just the beginning,” Al said, their eyes locking. “Stay here with me and your life with be an unending series of amusements. Whatever you want, whenever you want it.” “Al, this is so sudden — ” “Is it? I believe you made your choice when I first mentioned it in the penthouse.” Brooke smiled, unable to do anything else. “Al, you’re a terrific guy, and I really … I’m so glad for the time we’re spending. But I guess I really should ask, did you make that offer just to keep me here in Dubai?” “Well,” Al chuckled, “I didn’t do it because I relish your boss’s company.”

Brooke laughed too, but it was gentle laughter without ridicule. “He’s been under a lot of pressure for the past few years, I think it’s starting to get to him.” “I should send him a woman,” Al said. “That will … relieve his tension.” “Al! You don’t really travel in … in prostitution?” Al’s dark eyes went wide. “Of course not! Brooke, I’m a Sheikh, and I’m under thirty! I don’t need to hire prostitutes!” “No, of course not, I … I didn’t mean to imply — ” “There are a lot of eligible women here who might enjoy your boss’s company … for a few hours.” Brooke didn’t see the value in pursuing the conversation. “I think what he needs is to be left alone.” “And you? What is it that you need, Brooke?” The question sank deep into her soul. For years she’d have been able to answer it without a second thought. But things were changing fast, and Brooke just wasn’t sure just what to say. Yet.

THE SUN WENT down as Brooke and Al sat at the front of a private tour boat, of which Al bought every ticket so they could better enjoy the sites along Dubai Creek. The creek passed the old section of Dubai, what little there as before the sleek monoliths and shiny skyscrapers rose up in the previous fifty years. The old mosques and small buildings of the ancient era sat un-comfortably next to the posh malls and gleaming hotels, the city lights leaking up into the dark-ening sky. “Al, about your offer — ” “You accept?” “I … I have some concerns.” “Excellent. I’d expect nothing less from a woman of your obvious intelligence.” “Um, that’s very flattering, and I have to say the idea of staying is … very attractive — ” “Very,” Al said, his eyes tracing the curves of her neck. “I could devour you right here and now.” “Yeah, that’s the thing, Al. I … I don’t want to stay just as your, well, your concubine.” “Concubine?” Al chuckled. “I’d have nothing of the sort! Brooke, I have resources.” “I know, you’re a real catch.” “It’s you that I want, your face and your heart and your soul, your wit and wisdom; all of you, all of what you are.” Brooke was flattered, but it did not put her at ease. Reading that, Al went on, “Think of the adventure we’ll have! As equals, as partners — ” “Equals?” “No mere concubine, surely! And it would make your career, and that boss of yours’ as well.” “That’s just it. I don’t want to be with you … and have it anything to do with money. It’s a matter of ethics, of pride.” Al nodded as he gave it some thought, eyes cast over the lights of the city. “I understand. But these things happen in life, don’t they? People become involved with those people they know and work closely with.” Brooke couldn’t help recall her own words to Terrance, saying basically the same things. And she knew she had been right before, every bit a much as Al was right then. “Things with you and your boss

never went that way, it seems — ” “No, they didn’t,” Brooke was too quick to say, “they never did.” “But what if it had? What if it happens with us, and goes on happening? What if we’re falling in love, the two of us, even now, even as every moment ticks by and we become more attracted to each other, more determined to spend the rest of our lives with the other? Who would stand against us? Who would judge us as being any different from any other two healthy, loving people?” “Nobody, I mean … everybody, or … just me, I guess. Not that I’m against it, not at all, but … ” “Just you? Not Terrance Caldwell?” Brooke broke a nervous smile. “Like I said, the stress … ” “I see. And do you imagine he’s going to stay here in Dubai, or will I be looking for another architect?” Brooke wasn’t sure how to take that, much less how to answer it. “So, what you’re proposing is … either I stay or he gets fired?” “Not at all, Brooke. I want you to see your decision to stay as separate, regardless of what your Mr. Caldwell does. You’re not his property anymore than anybody else’s, eh?”

AL TOOK Brooke back to the penthouse. They both felt a strong compulsion to be together that night, and every night thereafter. But they also agreed that Brooke’s decision should be made with a clear mind. It was a crucial life choice and she wanted to make it wisely, even though her decision seemed to be clearer as the moments they spent apart accumulated. Brooke walked through the quiet penthouse, a silent tension swirling around her. “Terrance?” No answer came back. “Terrance, it's me, I’m back. Terrance? Anybody?” “I sent them home,” Terrance said behind her. Brooke turned with a start, but relaxed to see Terrance standing near the hallway, that scotch glass still in his hand. “The servants, I mean.” “Oh, and why’s that?” Terrance shrugged. “Look, I wanted to apologize, Brooke; really, for everything. I have to say, I guess you’re right, maybe I am a little jealous, that’s all. Isn't that silly?” Brooke tried to smile. “Maybe it’s the stress of the travel, all this business with the Sheikh.” “I’m sure you’re right,” Terrance said calmly, carefully over-enunciating every word. “I … I thought I was doing the right thing, refusing you. I want you to know that it’s not about you, not that you’re unattractive to me.” “Okay, Terrance, that’s good of you to say.” “Unattractive? You’re gorgeous, c’mon! You think it’s been easy for me to … to stand down for two whole years?” “It’s because you’re a gentleman,” Brooke said, “and an artist. You really have taught me a lot, Terrance, about integrity, about being an architect and about being a person.” “And about being a fool. I … I should have said yes, I see that now. Maybe, and I don’t suppose I

should be saying this, but … maybe I was afraid, y’know? What if things went bad? If I couldn’t make it work with you, with your … strong feelings for me, how could I make it work with anyone?” Brooke nodded sympathetically, eyebrows arching upward. “And now we have our professional relationship. Really, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Terrance, putting you in the uncomfortable position of having to refuse my childish advances. But you were right, it wouldn’t have been smart or ethical or proper. Our professional relationship is what counts. And we wouldn’t want people talking about us, thinking I’m just your … your little sex page.” “No,” Terrance said, “we wouldn’t want that.” Brooke glanced at her bedroom down the hall where Terrance was standing, leaning against the wall and blocking the way. He said, “Luckily, we made our way past it.” “Right,” Brooke said. “Well, it’s getting late — ” “It’s barely midnight, Brooke, relax. I think we’ve both waited long enough.” “Terrance?” Terrance shrugged and set his glass down. “We’re finally on the same page, Brooke. There’s no more reason for us to go on playing these games.” Terrance took a step toward Brooke, and she took a step backward, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

CHAPTER 7

“T errance, have you been drinking all day?” “MAYBE I NEEDED a little liquid courage. But I’m ready, Brooke, we’re both ready — ” “I’m …I’m not that ready… anymore, Terrance. I’m sorry, but I think we’ve set the right course and we should stick to it. You’re just… you’re drunk, Terrance, and you’re upset — ” But Terrance kept walking toward her. “Okay, I get it. You’re putting me through the paces, making me pay for two years of my bullshit. And you’re right, I deserve it. I’ve been a complete ass.” “No, Terrance, it’s not that — ” “You’re punishing me, and that’s fine. I get it.” “No, Terrance, I don’t think you do.” But his little smile told Brooke that Terrance either wasn’t listening or just didn’t care. He said, “You don’t wanna be so easy, that’s fine. You need to make me earn it. Hey, I’m sorry about what I said. I know you're not a whore or a slut … or whatever I said.” Brooke stepped backward, her back bumping up against the wall and stopping her short. “I'm glad you feel that way, because I really just want to go to bed now, Terrance … alone. Y’-know what I’m saying?” “Even better than you do,” Terrance said, his eyes combing her taught, tense frame. “And I hear you, baby, loud and clear.” Terrance stepped forward again, closing the distance between him and Brooke in a few swift seconds. Brooke’s hands rose to protect her, a feeble obstacle against Terrance’s drunken advance. “Terrance, no … stop!” “Yeah, that’s right,” Terrance said, his voice low, grainy as Brooke kept trying to push him away, palms flat against his shoulders, his chest. “You’re a wildcat now, is that it? Wanna put up a little fight?” “No, Terrance, I’m saying no! I don’t want this, now get away from me!” “You need me tame you, little wild cat? Maybe some time in the cage is what you need.” Brooke’s hand leapt out at him as if on its own accord, by instinct alone. The snap of her strike, palm against his cheek, echoed in the quick silence surrounding them. Brooke’s heart was pounding, her mouth dry. She was trembling with fright, hoping that her anger would dis-guise it.

“Now that's enough, Terrance Caldwell! You're drunk, you’ve lost control of your senses! I don’t want you, do you understand? There won’t ever be anything between us; not tonight, not ever!” Brooke spun to stomp toward the door but only made it two steps before Terrance’s hand reached out and grabbed her upper arm. He spun her quickly and she resisted, but their eyes locked, faces only a few inches apart. “Get your hands off me,” Brooke said through tightened lips and gritted teeth. His grip held tight, fingers squeezing her hard despite her tugs to free herself. He said, “You really are a little fool, aren’t you? I was more than enough for you back in New York, but now … what? I'm not enough of a billionaire? Because I don’t live in an amusement park?” “Lemme go, Terrance, you’re hurting me!” Fear was coursing through Brooke, carried in her blood from her crawling skin to her reeling brain. Despite the tugging, her arm remained locked in his iron grip. “Maybe I’m just a little too pale for you, is that it? You’ve discovered you have a taste for dark meat, is that it? Hell, Thanksgiving’s just around the corner.” “Let me go or I’m going to scream, Terrance, I swear it!” “Go ahead! I’m a man, and you’re only a woman! I can do whatever I want, to you or any woman, and nobody’ll do shit about it!” “Terrance, no!” “Why? This is the world you wanted, this is the kind of man that turns you on.” “Stop it, Terrance!” “You wanna do it the way they do it? Throw you into the dunes, then maybe stone you to death if I feel dishonored!” Brooke was beyond pleading and Terrance was beyond reach. She tried again to pull herself free, her voice cracking as Brooke shouted Terrance’s name one last time. “You want it Arab-style? I’ll give it to you Arab-style!” Brooke’s fear finally burst out of her in the form of a blood-curdling scream. It was deafen-ing even in her own ears. Brooke could barely recognize the voice as her own. With a quick tug, he pulled Brooke closer. Part of the same single, swift motion, Terrance bent Brooke’s arm be-hind her back without letting go of it. His other hand clamped tight over her mouth, muffling her scream. His hand was big, smashing over her nose and sealing her nostrils and lips tight. He smashed her against the wall, burying his face in the nape of her neck. Brooke reached up with her free hand to pull Terrance’s hand from off her face, oxygen failing to find its way into her panicking system. But the harder she pulled at his hand, the stronger he pressed it, moaning and growling. He pushed his pelvis between Brooke’s legs and she had no leverage to fight him off, no way to kick him back or put some distance between them. She could feel his strength rising, his drunken lust only fueled by their physical struggle. He’s loving this, Brooke realized, and the more I fight, the worse this is going to get!

BUT SHE WASN’T ABOUT to simply give in either. Instead of trying to pull Terrance’s hand off her mouth, she reversed her strategy and used his own strength against him. She pushed instead of pulled and shoved his fingers in, biting down with all her strength. She could feel her teeth cracking through his skin, his thumb

and fingers going rigid with pain. He tried to hold back a pain-filled cry of his own as Brooke held tight. Terrance yanked his fingers free. Brooke used her free hand to claw at his face. He grabbed her wrist and had a firm grip, one arm in front and one in back, her bid for freedom a failure. Brooke took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pulled her head back. With a blinding snap, Brooke threw her head forward. The contact of her forehead and Terrance’s nose created a sickening thud. Terrance let go and stepped back, already bleeding by the time Brooke refocused on him. But he was only further enraged, and close enough for a second strike. Brooke grabbed one of the many vases in the penthouse and smashed it against the side of Terrance’s head. The heavy vase shattered and Terrance staggered. By the time he was down on his knees, Brooke was running out of the penthouse, slamming the front door behind her.

BROOKE WAS STILL SHOOK up even after Jugdish picked her up and drove her back to Al’s palace. Once Al discovered the cause of her distress, he was livid, pacing his tremendous office, the same room where he and Brooke had first met. “He attacked you?” “Not … entirely,” Brooke said nervously. “I mean, he grabbed me, but … nothing else happened. I gave him a pretty good crack over the head, matter of fact.” Al looked at her forehead, starting to bruise. “Did he strike you?” “I broke his nose, I think.” “Had I been there, he’d have gotten a good deal more than that,” Al said, anger frothing in his voice. “The more I see of this man, the more I come to despise.” “I understand that, Al, I do, but … it’s not his fault. He’s not really himself since coming here, I’m not sure how to account for it.” “It can happen when people travel,” Al said, “I’ve seen it countless times. But it’s not what you think; it isn't that he’s not himself. When people travel, they often reveal their true selves, drop the masks which are so clumsy and cumbersome back home.” That made sense to Brooke, and a nod illustrated that as well as anything else. Al stepped across the office and opened the door, barking Rami’s name and a few other words in Farsi. In less than ten seconds, Rami was stepping into the room. Al spat his orders at Rami, anger brimming in his tone. Enduring a sudden rush of panic, Brooke said, “What are you gonna do? Don’t hurt him, Al, please!” “But … he assaulted you, he would have raped you if you hadn’t fought him off and man-aged to escape with your virtue!” “Yes, but … he was drunk, not thinking clearly, and … and anyway, isn't that kind of … legal here or something?” “It’s not so much a legal matter,” Al said. “It’s a question of personal honor.” Brooke was amazed at the similarity these words had to sentiments Terrance himself had expressed, just recently. For all their differences, the men were proving almost frighteningly similar. Ali went on, “This man is here in my country as my guest! He is also here as my employee! As such his behavior reflects on me, and gives me a

right to object. Surely, his behavior is objectionable to say the very least.” “It is, yes, very objectionable. But … must it carry a death sentence? He’s not a bad man, he’s just … at the end of his rope.” “Not yet,” Al said, “but that does give me an excellent idea.” “Please, Al, don’t!” “In addition to his other transgressions, he has attacked my woman!” “I beg your pardon,” Brooke said, nerves too raw for her to stop herself, “your woman?” “That’s right,” Al said. “I love you, Brooke Robins. And the thought of another man touching you makes my blood boil. The idea that a man would force himself upon you, in the guise of friendship, I should bury him alive for that alone!” “I love you too, Al, I … I know it’s all happening so fast, but—” “Love blossoms where it grows and when it chooses. You’ve no need to master it, nor I any need to master you. There is only you and I and the love we share now, Brooke.” The tenderness of the moment swelled in Brooke's heart, enough to imbue her with the strength she now realized she would need to save Terrance's life, if that was even still possible. “Then let’s be benevolent, Al. We have what we want, we have each other. All Terrance has is his misery, his loneliness, his liquor. He’s suffered enough, and his sadness is really only beginning.” “Why do you protect this man? This degenerate, this drunken lout? He’s the worst of what your country can be; brash, arrogant, selfish, stupid.” “Also bright and forward-thinking, a visionary.” “Whatever he’s holding over you head will disappear with him, I assure you.” Brooke rolled her eyes, leaning forward with the effort of her pleading. “It isn't that— ” “Do you harbor feelings for the man, romantic feelings— ?” “Oh God no, Al, no, I … I guess I should admit that I used to, or thought I did, but I don’t now and I never will again. We have a strictly professional relationship and we always have. But he's my mentor, he’s taught me a lot, been a good friend, protective, supportive. I don’t want to see him get hurt, whatever … mistakes he might have made recently.” Al considered it, rubbing his clean-shaven chin. “If word gets out that I simply ignored this man’s behavior, it could hinder my own reputation, give people the idea that I tolerate or worse endorse such brutality.” “But aren’t you only answering one type of brutality for another?” “Not so,” Al said. “From him, it comes as bitterness and bile, meanness and cruelty. From us, it is justice.” “Is it justice? I’m alive, Al, I’m not hurt.” Brooke sagged further. She was running out of strength, and Terrance was running out of time. “Please, Al … for me?” Another long silence passed, Al stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her. “For you, anything.” Al turned and barked a few more orders in Farsi to Rami before the man nodded and stepped out of the room. “Rami, wait,” Brooke called, turning back to Al. “Al, please — ”

“He’s not to be killed, Brooke, I promise you.” “And no torture!” “Brooke?” “No battery cables, waterboarding, none of that stuff, please!” “Brooke! Do I look like a man who would do such things?” Brooke’s voice came fast and breathy, urgent, desperate. “I know what happens … sometimes; hours of beatings and electroshock, then a firing squad or beheading — ” “Brooke, I told you the man will not be killed.” “Then what, Al? What are you going to do?” Al smiled, simply, calmly, half a smile curling into his dark cheek. “He’s to be brought to me.” “And then? Al, what then?” “He’ll be fired, of course.” “And?” After a frightened pause, Brooke demanded again, “And?” “And he’ll be … fairly compensated.” “Fairly, Al,” Brooke said, half a plea and half a warning, “fairly.” “More than fairly, I assure you.” Brooke swallowed hard, thinking, That’s just what I’m afraid of.

CHAPTER 8

T

here was no way to be sure how long it would be until Rami and his men returned with Terrance. Brooke kept having the imagined flash of his quick and brutal execution, maybe in the backseat of the car, maybe there in the penthouse. Brooke knew that Al could have ordered his death, only to have them claim that Terrance put up a lethal struggle and his death was unavoidable. No, Brooke told herself, don’t start thinking that way. You have to trust Al, you sure can’t trust Terrance! If the love between me and Al is real, he won’t lie to me. But it could also be that Terrance left the hotel soon after Brooke, knowing what kind of wrath he’d be looking at. A quick escape might be the best choice, and though Brooke was confident that Rami’s men wouldn’t let Terrance get away, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe his was a successful attempt. Brooke took a bath and had a small snack of some yogurt and dates and hot tea, which soothed and refreshed her. It was thirty minutes after they left that Rami knocked on her door and invited her to join Al in his office. Rami led Brooke through the door, and Brooke immediately saw Terrance standing near the desk, his hands behind his back. The side of his face was cut from the vase, his nose swollen but no longer bleeding, and his overall posture seemed compromised, bent slightly forward; but he was otherwise unhurt. “Brooke,” he said, “I am so sorry for what happened, I just got a little carried away, alright?” After the slightest glance from Al, Rami slapped Terrance hard, an open-handed slap a master would give a petulant servant. Terrance snapped to the side but managed to stay on his feet. Al said, “You like to talk, Mr. Caldwell. Indeed, your tongue never seems to stop wagging.” Terrance shrugged. “What difference does it make for me now? You’re gonna kill me no matter what. So go ahead, chop my head off, I don’t give a shit.” “Chop your — ?” Al shook his head and chuckled. “What is it with you Americans and beheadings? You’re positively obsessed with them!” But Terrance only glanced at Brooke, his solemn expression and slight head shake telling her that he’d told her so, and he was about to do so again. Al went on, “You must think we all still live in the Tenth Century!” “We get videos,” Terrance said, “terrorist groups hacking people to death.”

“You call me a terrorist because I’m Arab? Mister Caldwell, that makes me a terrorist every bit as much as you being white makes you the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan.” “You kidnapped me out of my hotel room, tied me up, somebody in this room is armed to the teeth. Only difference I can see is that this is a lot nicer than the caves of Afghanistan.” He glanced around the office and tilted his head. “A little bit nicer anyway.” Al chuckled. “You assaulted a young woman, a friend of yours, your own employee. And you, her mentor no less!” Terrance hung his head, a low sigh his only answer. “You really should be ashamed. You call yourself a man? You jabber like a monkey, your powers of seduction are that of a gorilla and your social manners even worse! You conduct yourself like a dog, begging for scraps and then biting the hand that feeds you. And so, when it comes to punishments, you should be beaten like a dog!” Brooke said, “Al, no!” “You should be,” Al went on to Terrance. “And then you should be shot like a dog, put down like the rabid cur that you are. And in my father's day, you would have been. Even now, and I tell you this with all respect to our present company, if it were up to me alone you would already be dead. But Miss Robins has negotiated for your life, and she has won it. You owe her your undying gratitude, your servitude. And she, who had the courage to defend her own attacker, her own betrayer, she sets the standard for men like me … not to mention dogs like you.” Terrance looked up slowly, his eyes finding Al’s. “What, then? Why did you bring me here?” “First and foremost, to tell you in person that your services will no longer be required. Your contract is cancelled and your floating skyscraper will remain on the shelf indefinitely.” “You’re gonna bury the plans,” Terrance said, “that’s my life’s work, my masterpiece.” “It’s my property. Having paid you that fee, the plans are mine to scuttle if I wish.” Terrance hung his head again, bowed but not bloodied. Yet. “Further, I’m letting you know, man to man, that Miss Robins will not be returning to the States with you. She will remain here in my employ and in my embrace. You and the rest of the world can make of it what you will, but do not inhibit us.” Terrance looked at Brooke, then shook his head. “Good luck with all that, sweetheart.” Another hard slap from Rami made Terrance snap back, Rami hollering, “Respect, fool!” Terrance straightened slowly, chuckling through his bloody lip. “Okay, fine. I wish you both the best of luck. No offense, but … mazel tov, really.” Another mean pause wriggle past amidst the three of them. Terrance looked around, and Brooke did too. Only Al knew what was going to happen next. “All right then,” Terrance said, “take this zip tie off me and I’ll be on my way.” Al nodded at Rami, who pulled a pair of clippers from the folds of his robe. He raised them to Terrance’s face and snipped them closed a few times, close and threatening. Rami brought the clippers around Terrance’s back and cut the plastic zip tie off him. Terrance rubbed the circulation back into his wrists and looked around at Brooke and the others. “Okay then, you two have fun now.”

But Al stood in Terrance’s way to stop him. “Not so fast, Mr. Caldwell.” “C’mon, we’re on good terms again, call me — ” “We are not on good terms, Mr. Caldwell. You still have to answer for your crimes. Marauding a helpless woman?” Terrance touched his bloodied temple. “Believe me, she’s not that helpless.” “You like beating on people smaller than you, lighter and weaker?” Terrance just shrugged. “I was drunk … and upset. I apologized, what more do you want me to do?” Al was already unbuttoning his shirt. “I want you to fight me, of course.” “What? That’s crazy — ” “It’s perfectly okay to beat a woman when you’re drunk, but not to fight a man when you’re sober? You really need to examine your priorities, Mr. Caldwell.” “I’ll do that,” Terrance said as Al took his shirt off. “Hey, looks like you work out.” “As you’ll soon see for yourself,” he said, raising his fists into a boxing position. “Put up your hands and fight!” “I’m not going to do that,” Terrance said. Brooke surprised herself by saying, “Can’t you see he’s hurt? It wouldn’t be fair.” Al turned to Terrance again. “You see how good and kind she is? You see how she’s looking out for you? What a woman, head and shoulders above the rest in every way. Can I ask you, before you lose consciousness, why did you let her get away? Surely a man in your position — ” “Because I wasn’t good enough,” Terrance said. Al smiled. “As we shall soon see for ourselves.” Al turned to Rami and spoke a few words in Farsi. With a nod, Rami stepped out of the room. Al said to Brooke, “Fear not, my love. My word to you is as good as gold.” Rami returned carrying a long red silk scarf. Al put his own left hand behind his back and Rami wrapped the scarf around his wrist. Al explained, “Perhaps this will level the battlefield?” Brooke said, “Al, no!” Once secured, Rami wrapped the long scarf around Al’s waist and shoulder, tying it tight under one arm. Terrance seemed at a loss, but Al taunted him with, “You’re not afraid to hit a woman, but you won’t fight a one-armed man? What sheer cowardice! A classic American, the bully of the world. But all bullies are cowards, Mr. Caldwell, you and your whole failed nation!” Terrance’s head snapped in Brooke’s direction. “You see how they are? You see what they do? Turning us against each other, against our own kind! This is how ISIS gets so many young Americans, this insidious brainwashing!” “Then put me in my place,” Al said raising his one free hand in a strong fist. “Come on, tough guy, Mr. Big Shot. You like to bully people around, let’s see you bully me!” “I just can’t,” Terrance said. “Why not,” Al asked, “for your career? You’re already ruined! Once word of all this gets around you’ll be lucky to be designing the Taco Bell in Bent Elbow, North Dakota! So why not get in a few good shots now, while you can?” Terrance was quiet, considering. Al sweetened the pot. “My men will not

defend me.” He turned to Rami. “Neither you nor your men will interfere in any way. Clear?” Rami nodded and Al turned to face Terrance once again. “I’ll not prefer any charges, I assure you. I promise you … ” Ali turned to Brooke to add, “I promise you both that nothing which happens in this room will leave this room.” “Fake Vegas,” Terrance muttered, “called it.” “Not even a dog whines as much as you do,” Al said. “And even a gutter rat will fight when it must. So much less are you that you stand there, arms limp, paralyzed by fear.” “I’m not afraid of you, Al.” “You may call me the Sheikh Al Kaleeb Ali-Rijad, for that is who and what I am. And I shall call you worm, wriggling in your own excrement.” “I’m not going to beat on a man with his arm tied.” “Then you will be beaten by one!” Al didn’t wait, throwing a sharp jab straight into Terrance’s face. Brooke almost felt the blow herself, her body twitching with the blow, air pulled from her lungs in a tiny gasp. Another shot sent Terrance’s head snapping back, his scratched face turning red with anger, huffing through his lips, pulled tight over his clenched teeth. Al threw a third punch, but Terrance ducked out of the way and it was a clear miss. Brooke’s fevered attention grew even more pitched as Terrance released an angry battlecry and charged Al. Brooke called out Al’s name as Terrance rapped his arms around Al’s waist and pushed him across the room. They smashed into the wall, Al grunting as the force of Terrance’s momentum drove the air out of his lungs. Rami nearly drew his gun, his underlings doing the same. But Rami stopped, following his master’s orders and his own men did likewise. Brooke also wanted to intervene, but she knew there was nothing she could or should do. This was a contest between the two men, and it had to be resolved on those grounds and no other. As much as Brooke was and had always been an in-dependent spirit, a person willing to act and act fast, she knew she had to stop herself; and it took all her inner strength and resolve to do so. Terrance still had Al pinned against the wall, and Brooke could remember how he’d had her pinned too. Her body flexed and twitched with muscle memory of that horrible act, her mind astonished at the parallel re-enactment. She almost thought she was imagining it, but more and more it was as if she was reliving that terrible attack in the penthouse, even while her attacker had the love of her life in his dangerous sites. Terrance threw several blows to Al’s gut, barking out a series of grunts, louder with every punch. Brooke felt like she was being punched herself and was nearly breathless with the battery. Terrance put everything he had into breaking down Al’s defenses, but once Brooke commit-ted herself to looking into Al’s face, she could see that he was not in agony at all, not withering under the bludgeoning. In fact he was smiling, tense from head to toe, the muscles of his lean physique pulled tight into a flesh shield that would absorb the blows with little or no damage. And once Al sensed that Terrance’s strength was waning, he launched his counterattack. With a loud cry, Al struck Terrance backhanded and then grabbed the stunned man’s throat. Terrance’s face lit up, eyes

wide and mouth much wider, as Al squeezed his neck. Terrance reached up with both hands and grabbed Al’s wrist, straining to pull his clawing grip away. Brooke couldn’t help but recall Terrance’s own iron grip, hand clamped over her mouth and nose. How do you like it, she couldn’t help but silently ask Terrance, not expecting or needing an answer, feel good to you, Terrance? Al stepped forward and Terrance back, returning to the center of the office. Terrance kicked Al several times, scrambling to land a good shot at either knee. Brooke knew how painful and debilitating such a strike could be. Al knew too, which is why he shifted his legs to prevent them being struck, his eyes locked on Terrance’s. Al rasped, “I could snuff your life out with just a few muscular contractions? One inch, one more pound of pressure … ” Al clenched his fist tighter, Terrance beginning to choke, face turning red as spit bubbled up on the side of his lips. “Al, please,” Brooke called out, her throat raspy, strained, torn by sorrow and horror. Al’s eyes were locked on Terrance’s, two worlds clashing face-to-face, neither one able to live alongside the other. It was East versus West, the brutal wisdom of the ancients against the sleek arrogance of the modern world. Brooke could only wonder if any of them would survive this clash, but she felt certain that there was no way all of them would. Terrance’s face went from red to purple, an otherworldly contrast to Al’s natural, wholesome cocoa complexion. Al was all life, it seemed to Brooke, and Terrance all death. Her future was obliterating her past right before her eyes. And she knew that, painful as it was, she had to let it happen. All three of them knew Al had the upper hand, that it would only be a few minutes more be-fore there was one fewer person living among them. And as if at the very last moment, Al tossed Terrance away with a disgusted, “Bahh!” Al turned away and Terrance fell to a crumpled mess, chocking and gagging, tears pouring out of his eyes. He struggled for breath, limps quivering. He looked up at Brooke just as she was looking down at him. Despite what had happened between them in Dubai, Brooke still had warm feelings for the man, for their time spent working side by side in New York. She was sorry for his suffering, and so was he. But neither had any power to stop it. Until Terrance made his move. Terrance leapt to his feet and ran at Al in an incredible and swift attack, throwing his body and his left foot straight into Al’s crotch. The speed was nauseating to Brooke, she could almost feel the contact. But Al was faster, and he slammed his right fist straight down with blinding quickness. He knocked Terrance’s foot from its trajectory, following it up with a quick punch to the face. A second punch made Terrance’s head loll on his shoulders before collapsing like a rag doll. But Al wasn’t done with Terrance yet. He raised Terrance’s head up just as one of Rami’s men handed Al a handgun, which Al pushed into Terrance’s mouth. “You cowardly pig,” Al rasped, “you’d attack me where my unborn children reside? You would assault my family’s future? Such an attack is worthy of a pig

dog like you, and so is your death!” “No, Al,” Brooke shouted, “please, you promised!” “He has assaulted our future, a craven blow that, in our world, is the same as burning a whole village! My sons, Brooke … our sons!” Al turned back to Terrance, on his knees. “No. You see now where forgiveness leads, to the opportunity for betrayal. And betrayal can have only one reward.” “Al, I’m begging you!” Al sneered down at Terrance. “You see what you’ve done? Reduced this noble young woman, this pinnacle of health and beauty, to being a beggar! Still she towers above you, worm! You’re not even worthy to wriggle in her muddy footprint, and I’ll see you buried six feet be-neath it!” But Brooke’s crying sobs broke through Al’s hardened heart, leaking into the crevices of his steely facade. He turned slowly to see Brooke standing there. She was beyond words; she’d said all. There were no more pleas to offer, no more begging to be done. It was the moment of truth. Al turned to look down at Terrance, still on his knees with Al’s handgun in his mouth. The moment seemed to stretch out in front of Brooke, never-ending and suspended in midair, refusing to fall. Then it all came crashing down.

CHAPTER 9

A

l pulled the handgun out of Terrance’s mouth and handed it back to Rami. One of Rami’s men locked his fist around Terrance’s arm and yanked him to his feet. Rami’s other man untied the scarf securing Al’s arm behind him. Terrance was bent forward from his beating, unable to stand completely erect, coughing and wheezing. Al said to Rami, “Put him on a plane back to the States — ” “Thank you, Al,” Brooke gushed, her voice cracking. Then Terrance made a swift move for Rami’s gun, only a few feet away in Rami’s hand. Terrance grabbed the Cobra’s handle and pulled it out of Rami’s grip in a flash, shooting the gun once. Everybody ducked, Brooke releasing a surprised scream. In the confusion and chaos, Rami’s other security man pulled his own gun, and Rami did the same. “All right, hold on,” Al said, holding his hands out to calm the newly frantic scene. “No need for any more shooting. Let’s all be calm, take it easy.” Terrance’s gun was fixed on Al, even as Rami and the other men held their guns on Terrance and others gathered in the doorway. “I’m calm,” Terrance said. “I got it all under control.” Rami’s hand moved and Terrance pointed the gun at him. “Don’t you move!” Then he pointed at Brooke as he edged his way toward her. “You, c’mere.” “Terrance, no, don’t!” “C’mon,” Terrance said, already by her side and grabbing her arm. “There y’go. All right, everybody cool?” Al and his men stood silently, motionless. “Good,” Terrance said, turning to Brooke. “Okay, let’s go home.” “No, Terrance,” Brooke said, “don’t do it, it’s wrong.” “Wrong? You staying here with this camel jockey is what’s wrong! You need to be back in the States, back home … among your own kind.” “I don't want to go back with you, Terrance.” Terrance gave it a little thought, quickly cutting through the confusion. “All right, that’s not a problem. I get that I messed things up between us, Brooke, I do. When we get back to New York, we’ll go our separate ways— ” “I’m not going back to New York at all,” Brooke said. “I want to stay here … with Al.”

Terrance glanced at Al and then back at Brooke. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Brooke. He’s got your mind all twisted around, brainwashed — ” “No, Terrance, I’m in love with him.” After a tense but tender pause, Brooke added, “I love him and I’m staying here to be with him. I’m sorry, Terrance.” Looking at him, the gun in his hand, Brooke flashed on the dream she had on the plane com-ing into Dubai. But in this case, Terrance was the madman with the gun, the Arab bystander the innocent hero. But Brooke was once more a human shield, a helpless hostage, and that was something she never wanted to be. “Terrance,” Brook said, calm but determined, a measured but forceful tone, “you let go of my arm this instant, do you understand me? Terrance stood there, breath becoming panted, nostrils flaring. “No,” he finally said. “Let’s go.” “You’ll never make it out of here alive, Terrance!” “She’s right again,” Al said, “listen to her.” “Shut your mouth, Aladdin!” Brooke said, “Terrance, let go of me!” “It’s for your own good!” Brooke grabbed Terrance’s gun hand, the two wrestling with the gun. “Stupid girl,” Terrance muttered as the two vied for control of the deadly weapon. But in that frenzy, Al stepped up to Terrance, who, with a small metallic crackling sound, immediately buckled and fell straight to the floor, revealing a small, black stun gun Al’s hand. Brooke stood there, stunned and shocked by other causes. She threw herself into Al’s embrace and he wrapped his strong, still-naked arms around her. They stepped away and looked down to see Terrance quivering like a fish out of water, eyes rolled back, completely incapacitated. Al looked down at him, then at Brooke, tears still in her eyes. Al said, “Now he has threatened my very life, pulled a gun on me, nearly shot you dead! Honor demands that he pay the price!” Brooke’s eyes dipped and she looked away. She knew Terrance has crossed the line, several lines in fact. She’d barely managed to negotiate his freedom, and then his safety, and then his survival. But she was out of rationale for letting Terrance go or even for letting him live. He'd gone too far, pushed his luck over the edge and then watched as it fell over the side and plum-meted away into the abyss, with Terrance himself soon to follow. Brooke knew what Terrance’s fate would be, and that Al had little choice but to issue a death sentence. It was the only alternative to calling the local police. And to do that would mean a lifetime in an Arab prison, wasting away in dank halls and grimy cells, regular beatings, unending rape and torture for the amusement of the others. Terrance’s life was ruined, it was over for all intents and purposes. Brooke was sickened to think of it, but she had to admit to herself in that terrible moment that, if the choice were hers, she’d rather take a bullet to the head than spend the next fifty years in a living hell. And while Brooke realized there was nothing she could say to dissuade Al’s decision, that Al had every right to do what he was surely about to do, it still made Brooke nauseous. Murder and violence of this sort was completely alien to Brooke, despite living in New York and having grown up in Los Angeles.

Can I really love a man who would commit murder, Brooke had to ask herself, and is Al really that kind of man? He seems so reasonable, so decent and humane, even more than Terrance. I was sure Al was the kind of a man who would live by the laws of modern civilization, not the age-old traditions of his cave-dwelling ancestors. Is this really the life I’m stepping into, a nealy lawless world of revenge killings, honor killings? What if somebody feels I’ve offended their honor just by being a woman, or speaking out of turn? What about my kids if I ever have any? Do I really want them to be sired by a man with blood on his hands? Do I want them raised by such a man, in a world that encourages them toward brutality? But is it too late now? Terrance has already lost his life over this, and Al ready to put a man to death. Can I really just … change my mind? What would Al think that would do to his honor, what kind of revenge would he insist on extracting from me? No, Brooke had to silently contradict herself, Al isn’t that kind of man, I know it! He’s good and decent and reasonable, a man as good as his word. He can’t be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, he just can’t be! Al stood thinking, glancing at Brooke and then back at Terrance. He seemed to be reading Brooke’s mind and her heart, as well as searching his own. Al was at a crossroads and he seemed to know it. His choice would steer the course for the rest of his life. He knew Brooke and what kind of person she was, what her expectations would be, what she would take away from knowing that he’d ordered the man’s death, however much he may have deserved it. Al said to Rami, “Put this thing on a plane back to New York.” Thank God, Brooke silently said, thank God and thank you, Al, thank you so much! I knew you were a better man, the better man, the best I’ve ever met or ever will meet! Al went on, “Once the plane leaves, call our friend at Homeland Security in the United States, have the architect’s name put on that no-fly list.” He turned to Brooke to explain, “At least we should feel secure that he won’t be coming back.” Brooke broke out in a relieved chuckle, tears rolling down her face as she leaned into Al’s embrace. Brooke’s doubts were riven away as surely as Rami’s men dragged Terrance’s jittering body out of the office. Brooke was relieved to know Terrance would live, and she was certain that Al was truthful and sincere in that promise. But Brooke was also glad to see Terrance go, and sincerely hoped she’d never see him again. And with him went her past, her life in New York. She looked up at Al, their eyes meeting in silent reassurance, a wordless commitment to love, honor, and cherish, for the rest of the days of their lives.

TWO YEARS LATER, the Sheikah Brooke Robins stood with her husband, Sheikh Al Kaleeb Ali-Rijad. Their baby son Jabeeb wriggled excitedly in Brooke’s arms as they stood in the spring sunshine. Al raised the oversized novelty scissors to the red ribbon and cut it, the crowd in front of the new Dubai Motocross Bicycle Park. The concrete slopes and ramps were landscaped with threes and ponds, covering the

grounds where Terrance’s floating building would have been erected. Brooke and Al and their baby huddled together in a loving embrace while the happy crowd of teenagers and young revelers ran into the park, many of dirt bikes, some on skateboards, all with beaming smiles. Brooke was sure she saw the same teenage boy who had been on the spot two years earlier, still alive and by Al’s good grace. He been the indirect inspiration for the project, and was now one of its beneficiaries. She looked down at her own baby son, knowing he would someday be playing in the park too, the park she conceived and designed. She knew he might live in buildings she would create, he and the many brothers and sisters Al and she would give each other and the world throughout their long and happy lives together. Brooke was amazed at the course her life had taken, and she never looked back on those first few troubling days when her two worlds clashed. Their world Brooke now shared with Al was one made from two, old world and new world intermingling, not clashing, creating life and not death, happiness and prosperity in the Western jewel of the United Arab Emirates.

The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Thank you so much for reading my short story! So who is Natalia Banks? I’m a free spirit living in the gorgeous Rocky Mountains. Growing up I spent summers at the cottage swimming, getting sun kissed and watching the sun set over the calm and serene water. This was where my real appreciation for nature was inspired from. I have a lust for experiencing the beauty of the world and an insatiable appetite for indulging in all the delicacies along the way. Whether I'm writing fireside in a cozy chalet overlooking the Rocky Mountains, or drinking from a coconut on the serene beaches of Southern California- I’m happiest when i'm feverishly penning a steamy novel and am honoured and grateful to share my sexy and tantalizing stories with you! With Love, Natalia

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