ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (92 page)

“Ori, how nice to hear from you.” Brandt sounded smug and satisfied. Ori took a deep breath in.

“I’ll do it.”

“I’m glad. I’ll speak to you in the morning.”

She ended the call, leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window and silently sobbed.

***

Milo stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

Ori shook her head, not meeting his eye. “No. I want to do it. I’ve…had the thought in my mind for a while now. An album. That’s all. No tour. No publicity.”

“You can’t be that naive.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Is it money? Is that why? Are you struggling?”

“No, I…no. That’s not it.”

“Then why?” He sounded angry, frustrated and Ori had to turn away from him before she told him the biggest lie.

“Because I want to. I feel…I have left things unfinished.”

She jumped as Milo banged his fist on the table. “I don’t believe you. I don’t. Something else is going on here.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Look, ever since we met, ever since you found out who I was, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re a very visible man, Milo, people would find out eventually anyway. This way we can control the story. I can say goodbye to Astoria properly, hopefully, negate the constant questions.”

Milo was silent. When he looked at her, his eyes were cold. “I hope you trusted me.”

“I do, god, Milo…” She went to him, curled herself around him and was gratified when he held her tightly. “You are my person. With you, I feel invincible.”

He kissed her temple and looked down at her. “Is this what you really want?”

She nodded and he sighed. “Well then, we’ll make it happen. But, Ori, I want you to be open with me through the process. And you don’t sign anything until the album’s done and you’re absolutely sure you want it out there. You want out at
any
point, you got it without question. Deal?”

She snuggled into his arms, feeling a little better. “Deal. I love you.”

“I love you too, funny face. Just not sure I want to share you with the world.”

***

“No contract? Are you insane?” Brandt was incensed. “Who puts that much money into an artist without a contract?”

Milo sighed and rubbed his face impatiently. “Brandt, I just gave you your golden ticket. Against my wishes, might I add, so suck it up. No contract until Ori says she’s sure.”

Brandt sighed. “Fine. So what’s the plan?”

“I hooked Ori up with Rocky Logan, they’re going into the studio to write today, see how the chemistry is. Rocky’s a good fit for her, I think, strong female voice, rock, pop, whatever Ori’s feeling.”

“Can we call her Astoria now? That’s, after all, her name.”

“Ori is her name, Astoria is a character.”

Brandt rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, promotion. Really we want to start a whisper campaign, just a ‘
Where is Astoria Vine?’
thing. I could plant a few stor…”

“No. Absolutely not. This has to be low key. I don’t want Ori harrassed.”

Brandt sighed. “Fine.” He got up to leave Milo’s office and as he turned his back, Milo could have sworn he saw the man grin.

“Brandt?”

Brandt turned, smoothing out his expression. Milo stared at him, seeing the raw ambition inside him. It turned his stomach.

“I mean it. This can’t get out.”

***

It got out, of course. Day six in the studio and Ori was actually having a great time. Rocky Logan, an immensely tall and very talented writing partner Ori never had. The two women bonded almost immediately and by the end of the first week, they’d laid the groundwork for four new tracks.

At half past seven, Ori said goodbye to Rocky and pushed her way out of the back door of the studio. She was checking her phone for messages so when the flashbulbs started to go off, she panicked. The door behind her had locked so when she pushed back, the cold metal of the door slammed against her back. Questions were flung at her, shouted, screeched and she tried closing her eyes but they were jostling her, bodies pressed against her, touching her…

Suddenly there was clear air as someone grabbed her hand and pulled her through the throng. Someone was cussing out the feral pack of paparazzi and then she was inside a car and zooming away from them.

She opened her eyes. She was sitting in the passenger seat of Milo’s car as he drove them away from the studio. His face was set, grim, but he reached over and took her hand.

“I’m so sorry about that, sweetheart. D
amn,
Brandt leaked that you were in the studio. I’m going to
kill
that…” He broke off, too angry to continue.

She couldn’t speak for a while, too shell-shocked and shaken. Milo drove until they were well clear of the main road then pulled the car over. He turned and took her in his arms.

“Are you okay?”

His lips were at her temple and she sank into his embrace. “I think so…it was just a shock, is all.”

They sat there for a while, just holding each other then he pulled away, smoothing his hands over her face and brushing her lips with his. “You wanna pull the plug? Just say it.”

To both of their amazement, she shook her head. “No, actually. I’m having a great time with Rocky. We’ve written a couple of songs which I think could be huge.”

Milo smiled despite himself. “You’re okay with the press thing?”

“Not really but you were right, I was stupid to think they wouldn’t find out. Are you sure it was Brandt?”

“Positive.”

Ori sighed in confusion. “But I thought…never mind. I just thought you all wanted to do a ‘
Beyonce
‘, drop the album as if from nowhere.”

It was Milo’s turn to be confused. “What? No, I just wanted there to be no press for your sake…where did you get the idea…?” He trailed off but Ori could tell he had figured it all out.

Brandt.
Brandt was the one who had persuaded her to go back into the business. Milo’s jaw set and he started the car.

“Milo?”

“Sweetheart, we’re going home, we’re going to eat then you’re going to tell me
everything.”

***

Brandt, a large latte in one hand and the newspaper in the other, swung into his office the next morning, not seeing Milo already sitting behind his desk. He rocked back when he saw his boss.

“Hey, guess it got out, huh?”

He moved towards his chair, expecting Milo to vacate it, but his boss didn’t move and, with growing unease, Brandt settled for the chair opposite. Milo stared at him for a moment before speaking.

“We’re going to need your hard pass and your company car keys. Your stuff is in that box over there. Security will escort you from the building.”

Brandt stared at Milo. “Are you kidding?”

“Does it look like I am?”

Brandt glanced to his left – a cardboard box was indeed stuffed with crap from his desk.

“You manipulated her into this,” Milo’s voice trembled with fury. “You told her the company was in trouble and that if she loved me, she’d step up. You had no idea why she left the business, you didn’t care.”

Brandt smiled. “She told you everything, huh?”

“You don’t deny it?”

“No. And, by the way, you can’t fire me for doing what’s best for the company. If you’ve told her that she doesn’t have to do this, then you’re the one who is hurting the company and you’ll have to explain that to the board. Then we’ll see who they back.”

Milo’s answering smile was wide. “I have. Do you think I’d walk into this office without their backing? And so you know…Ori is
still
doing this. Not for me, not for the company and certainly not for you, but for herself. She’s sitting down with Rolling Stone right now to tell her side of the story. To say goodbye. The songs she and Rocky have written are amazing…and they’ll be performed by another artist. Astoria Vine is no more, Brandt, but
Ori Herd
will be remembered as one of the best songwriters of all time. And she gets to keep her life private from now on.
Our
life. Yours, at least in the music industry, is over.”

Milo stood up. “You’re finished, Brandt. And it’s entirely your own greed that’s done it. Security will be here soon to show you out.”

***

Ori smiled at her last customer of the day as they thanked her. She was pretty exhausted but something happy had settled inside her. She was a songwriter – not a star, not a commodity – but she was now able to feed that part of her psyche. She hadn’t realized she had missed it that much.

She switched off the coffee machine and went to lock the door when it was pushed open. Brandt stood in the doorway and immediately Ori’s stomach contracted.

The raw fury in his eyes was unmistakable.

“What are you doing here?” She cursed the way her voice shook.

He smiled but there was no humor in it. “Just taking care of loose ends.”

And he grabbed her.

***

Milo was pulling up the curb when he saw Yas banging on the door of the bookshop, her face stricken. He jumped from the car, his heart pounding.

“Yas?”

She turned, tears running down her face. “I can’t get in. Ori never locks it before I get home. I can hear screams, shouting – I think there’s someone in there, I think someone’s hurting her.”

Oh god no
… Milo, without hesitation, threw himself against the door and broke it down. They both dashed in to find a wild, feral Brandt with his hands around Ori’s throat. She was fighting, clawing at him, but in the split second, before Milo leaped at Brandt, he could see she was hurt, weakening.

Milo pulled Brandt from his love and knocked him cold with one punch. He grabbed a lamp, tugging the cord around Brandt’s wrists and ankles, hog-tying the unconscious man. Yas rushed to Ori’s side. Ori was sitting up now, trying to get her breath. Milo’s stomach dropped at the sight of her throat, bruised and red, covered with bloody scratches. He took her in his arms while a shaking Yas called the police. Ori was trembling but she held him as tightly as he held her.

“I’m so sorry, baby…I’m so sorry…”

Ori kissed him. “I’m okay, it’s okay. It’s over, now….I love you….”

***

A year later….

They watched the ceremony, of course, blocking out the usual fluff of bad jokes and middling performance by making fun of the most ridiculous acts and cheering the winners they liked.

Orianthi Herd and Milo Shaw lazed about in his huge bed, naked limbs entwined. Milo kissed her and smiled down at her.

“You’re a Grammy winner twice over,” he said proudly. It was true – Ori and Rocky’s song
Falling
had been nominated in three categories,
Song of the Year, Best Producers and Record of the Year.
They’d swept the first two and Ori and Milo had cheered Rocky on as she headed for the stage in Los Angeles.

Ori had made it clear she didn’t want any of the spotlight but Rocky had years of experience and was happy to do the honors. Her heartfelt thank-you speech moved Ori to tears, especially when Rocky spoke of her love of her new writing partner. Milo hugged a choked-up Ori and smiled.

“You rock, baby.”

She grinned at him and wriggled underneath him. “
You
rock
my
world, Shaw.”

He groaned. “That was the cheesiest line ever.” He chuckled as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “You know something, Miss Herd?”

“What’s that?”

“You are the love of my life and I never want to be without you.”

She pressed her lips to his. “You never will be, my darling, darling man.”

“You and me forever.”

As they began to make love, their eyes met and locked and soon they were tumbling and loving and gasping so intensely, they completely missed the announcement of
Record of the Year
…

Neither of them cared…least of all the
three
-time Grammy winner…

THE END

“Ugggh,” said Carly Stanton, nervously, to the tall, dark, handsome and obviously Middle Eastern hunk in the thousand-dollar fitted suit standing next to her at the cappuccino machine. “I hate these cattle call investment presentations, don’t you?”

He turned to her as one might a bug he was about to squash and looked down his regal nose at her. “Of course not,” he said in clipped English that was obviously well-practiced and, she thought, honed to perfection so as to hide his Arabian upbringing. “I look at them as a challenge.”

Suddenly curious, Carly turned from the gurgling brass machine at her side and eyed her business rival more closely. “How so?” she posed even as her eyes traveled up and down his lean, hard body while he formed a clearly calculated response.

His black hair, so radiant and dark it had a sheen of its own, was short and clipped close to his head, barely concealing the copper colored skin beneath. He had fine, almost delicately noble features that were only enhanced by the trace of fine dark stubble that had probably appeared since he shaved that morning.

His suit was as midnight black as his hair, flattering the fitted maroon dress shirt and matching black and mauve striped tie beneath. Freshly polished dress shoes added an unnecessary inch or two to his already impressive height of over six feet, causing her to look up slightly to peer into his surprisingly soft, brown eyes.

He blinked, even softer eyelashes fluttering before his gaze grew steely and dismissive of her question. “Publicly doing what I do so well in private is merely a matter of, how do you Americans say… switching gears?”

Carly snorted at his bravado, but couldn’t deny his obvious charm as his accent slipped, slightly, when sneering at her American lineage with such obvious relish. “And what do they call it where you come from?” she teased, intrigued by the sexy stranger’s exotic looks and obvious disdain for Western culture – despite having adopted it so successfully.

His sneer grew more profound, hidden temporarily behind his small cup of espresso before he revealed it to proclaim, “Success.”

She nodded, shrugging casually. “Sometimes success and overconfidence can look oddly familiar,” she cautioned, unable – or perhaps merely unwilling – to leave his grating cockiness unanswered.