Stolen by the Sheik (Black Towers Book 2) (12 page)

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he wants to do more business with western countries, but in order to do that, he needs to learn as much about western culture as he can.”

“You mean—”

“He wants to learn English and etiquette. He wants to know what westerners are interested in, particularly the younger generation.” He nibbled his lower lip for a moment in thought. “I showed him your magazine.”

“You did?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“In fact, we talked about you quite a bit.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“He really liked how you spoke highly of our people—and of me.”

Liv averted her gaze as she felt the heat climb to her cheeks. “I only spoke the truth.”

He hooked his finger under her chin, and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “We agreed that you would be the perfect person to help my family learn how to interact with Americans.”

“What?”

He smiled, and his entire face brightened like a kid on Christmas morning. “If you are willing, both my father and I would love to have you come to our country and teach us everything you know about western language and customs.”

She pulled her hands from his grasp. “Oh my.” She turned away from him and placed her hand on her chest to steady her rapidly beating heart. This was happening fast, much too fast.

“Is there something wrong?”

Liv tried to speak, but the words were stuck in her throat.

“Here, sit.” He led her over to a small bench and sat beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She took in a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. “I can’t go back with you, Nayo. My life is here. My job—”

“We would pay you of course.”

“I just got a promotion,” she blurted. “This was everything that I had been working toward, Nayo. My whole life. . .” Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back.

He stared at her for a long moment, digesting her words. “I understand,” he said as he brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “This job. It’s important to you.”

“Yes.” She let out a long breath.

“Then you should keep it.”

“I—what?”

He smiled. “There’s no reason why you can’t keep you job and help us, too.”

“But you just said—”

“It will only be for part of the year. The rest of the time, we will stay here.”

“We?”

His smile widened. “You didn’t let me finish. My father wants to learn about western culture so that my family can do business here. He has appointed me to make connections here, in Los Angeles, so that we can begin to shift some of our businesses to America.” He took her hands once more. “Of course, that would mean helping the business owners secure land and startup costs. It would mean helping their wives learn English and their children find schools.” He squeezed her fingers. “My father and I have the money to help, but not the knowledge. . .”

“My charity,” Liv whispered. “My charity could help.”

He brushed a stray hair from her face. “I told you before, I wanted to help you with your charity. I think that this little arrangement would be perfect for both of us.”

“And by spending some time with your family, I’ll be able to write more articles and spotlight the difficulties of learning a new culture.”

“Yes.”

“It’s perfect.” She threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”

He pulled away slightly and frowned in thought. “You realize that this means that we’d have to spend a lot of time together. Are you okay with that?”

She grinned. “Of course I’m okay with it. More than okay.” She narrowed her gaze. “Are you . . .?”

“I’m, as you say, more than okay.” He chuckled and shifted his gaze to her mouth. “I’m falling in love with you, Olivia.”

“I’m falling for you, too.”

As Nayo leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, Liv realized just how quickly her life could change. All it took was 24 hours with Nayo and her life was never the same again. The impact he had on her; her dreams and aspirations, what was important to her, what she wanted out of life--that was something she would always feel indebted to him for. Her life had so much more meaning and fulfillment since meeting him. And now that Nayo was back in her life, well, that was the cherry on top—though for the rest of her life, she would always prefer kale smoothies.

Black Towers

Los Angeles, California, 10:05 AM

“Rumor has it that Cole Anderson just turned down the role of superhero Captain Patriot in the upcoming superhero film series in favor of a new web serial by Sunrise Productions. No word yet on who his leading lady will be.”

-Starlet Weekly

C
ole Anderson adjusted
his Ray-Bans and pulled the collar of his leather jacket closer to his jaw as the massive black limo pulled up in front of the gleaming column that was Black Towers, home of the famous Sunrise Productions, and his place of employment for the next several months. A crowd, buzzing with excitement, had already gathered on the sidewalk. This didn’t surprise him, but it did make him sigh a bit. Cole had asked for discretion about his involvement in the production company's new web-serial, but at the end of the day, he was a commodity, a chance for anyone who snapped a grainy cell phone pic of him to make a quick buck. Wanting to keep the project under wraps hadn’t been realistic, but he’d hoped to hold off the frenzy for a little while longer.

Scrubbing a hand through his thick hair, Cole sighed, bracing himself.

As soon as Fred, his longtime driver, opened the door, the small crowd rushed him. Girls who were far too young to be dressed the way they were screamed as they jumped up and down—sometimes even with their backs to him as they tried to catch selfies with him in the frame, a bizarre trend he would never understand. Flashes from smartphones and, damn it, the fancier cameras of paparazzi, snapped all around his head, making him glad that he had worn his favorite shades. Notebooks, scraps of paper, and naked skin were pushed right into his personal space, pressing closer, closer, always closer.

Plastering a bright smile onto his lips, Cole emerged from the dim cocoon of leather seats and expensive elegance inside the limo and waved to the ever-growing crowd. This was part of the job, and he’d be lying if he said he hated fame. But sometimes this part of it—the meet and greet part—was insanely overwhelming, even after all of his years in the spotlight.

"Back it up!" The security guard assigned to him by the production company tried to tuck Cole in behind his massive bulk, not an easy task, since Cole wasn’t exactly a small man himself. Plus it would have taken more than one big guard to hold back the frenzy, something Cole quickly realized he should have anticipated.

"Cole! Can you confirm that you’re going to star in Sunrise Productions new web serial
Love Me Harder?
”

"Yes, it's true." Ignoring the bared breasts of a girl way too young to be offering them for him to sign, he instead reached for the glossy poster of his last movie that a young boy was waving around with excitement.

"This is the first time a romantic comedy has been released directly to the web."

Cole looked up from the poster and tried to locate the reporter in the crowd. "Was that a question?"

The reporter—a woman with frizzy chestnut hair and a predatory gleam in her eyes—cleared her throat. "Going direct-to-web is groundbreaking. You are basically thumbing your nose at all of the major networks and distributors by going direct-to-consumer. Do you think this is the future of the entertainment industry?"

"I couldn't even begin to speculate.” Agitation skated along his skin, and Cole tried to focus on the little boy whose poster he had signed, whose mother wanted a photo. “That's not my job."

Another reporter, a middle-aged man with sweat stains on his polo shirt, edged to the front of the crowd. "Rumor has it that your girlfriend, Regina Carlton, will be playing the love interest. Is this true?"

Cole suppressed a shudder—not if he could help it. "
Ex
-girlfriend. And the female lead hasn't been cast yet."

"
Ex
-girlfriend?" The reporter raised his brow. "This is news."

Yeah, considering she’d thrown a tantrum like a two-year-old late last night and kicked him out of her apartment—the apartment
he’d
helped her pay for. He’d spent the night in a hotel, and even though it hadn’t been the fanciest one he’d ever stayed in, he’d ridden high on the freedom of being out of Regina’s suffocating apartment.

He wasn’t going back—at least, not to stay. After his meeting, he'd return for his things., but hopefully by that point Regina would be at her waitressing job and he could get his stuff in peace.

If he had his way, he’d never have to listen to her whine about the fact that she still served at a four star restaurant in between acting jobs while he ‘rolled around in his cash’ ever again. She’d never seemed to understand that that was
his
money, and he didn’t have to share it with anybody.

If he’d loved her, that might have been different. But the weight that he felt had lifted off his chest today just reaffirmed that he hadn’t.

"Did she break up with you because of the video?" This was the reporter with the smirk and shrewd eyes again. Cole had seen her around before, but he didn’t know her name. More than that, he didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like she knew something he didn’t.

Video
? "What video?"

A phone beeped in the crowd, a sound that made Cole instinctively reach to check his own text messages. Then there was another, and soon the crowd around him was exploding with buzzes and dings. A collective gasp and murmur spread through the crowd, and Cole frowned uneasily.

"The video that just released this morning." The reporter simpered at him, and Cole fought the urge to say something nasty, something that would no doubt be taken out of context and plastered across the media by morning.

What would his publicist tell him to do? He sucked in a deep breath and channeled some calm. "I didn't make a video, nor did I authorize one to be released."

One reporter shoved a phone in his face, but his security guard pushed it aside. "Enough questions. Mr. Anderson is a busy man."

Saved by his security guard. Cole cast… what was his name? Sunrise had assigned the man to him before. Owen, that was it. Cole cast Owen a grateful smile as he turned away from the annoying reporter and waved one last time to the crowd before ducking into the front door of the building. Sliding his sunglasses into his jacket, he ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.

"You okay?" Owen and Cole both looked back at the crowd through the thick glass of the Black Towers lobby.

"Yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary.” No, it really wasn’t… and yet something about the scene had left Cole feeling decidedly unsettled. Though he supposed it could also have been due to Regina’s tantrum and the fact that he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Shaking his head to dislodge the feeling, he strode across the lobby, Owen trailing right behind him. He bypassed the stairs and elevators for a large, glass door on his right. The image of a sun peeking out over the mountains and the words
Sunrise Productions
were splashed in black paint on the door.

"I'll be okay for a little while, Owen, if you want to take a break." He appreciated that the studio had provided him with some security, and he’d clearly needed it outside, but given his own desires, he didn’t much care to be constantly trailed by someone. He’d chosen this career, and yet he often wondered what kind of world he lived in, that people needed to be protected from one another like that.

Owen didn’t reply, just nodding before melting into busy streams of people who moved around the lobby of Black Towers. Cole lost sight of him quickly, but he knew that he probably hadn’t gone far and would continue to keep an eye on him.

Everywhere he went, eyes were always on him. It was hard for someone not in the industry to understand what that was like. Hey, he’d made his bed, and all that, but right now, when he was feeling edgy, he would have given up his fortune just for a bit of privacy.

Pushing through the glass doors to the studio, Cole headed to the reception desk. It was to the studio’s credit that the woman seated at the desk, an attractive young brunette, only allowed herself a moment to stare at him wide-eyed before she composed herself.

“May I help you?”

"I'm looking for Ethan Black." Ethan was the owner of Sunrise, and also the nephew of the owner of the famous building, which was why he’d been able to afford such a tony office right from the start. While the studio could easily afford its rent now, Ethan—a laid-back, Owen Wilson lookalike—had always taken the hard road, throwing his weight behind creative projects rather than blockbusters. It had panned out, but he’d needed that help from his mysterious, rich uncle to start.

Cole, for one, was grateful for Ethan’s quirky bent towards projects. He’d been… not dissatisfied, not exactly, with his career as of late… but he wanted to do something different. So when Ethan had approached him about doing an unorthodox and steamy romantic comedy in web serial format, he’d promptly turned down one of the lead roles in the newest superhero franchise that was launching. He felt great about his decision… and he’d feel even better about it if he got his way with casting for the leading lady, which was what his meeting this morning was about.

“Anderson. My office. Now.” Ethan stormed down the glass-walled hallway before Cole could say anything else to the receptionist. His expression was decidedly stormy, and Cole felt his hackles rising when faced with the obvious aggression of the other man.

“Is there a problem?” He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, but he wasn’t feeling casual. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like the lack of control he felt when he lost. Probably because of how often he’d actually
been
out of control in his wilder days.

Back when he’d been with Georgia.

“There’s
something
.” Ethan gestured to his office with one arm. “Let’s go have a chat.”

Cole eyed the other man narrowly, but nodded and followed Ethan away from the front desk.

"So what’s with the theatrics?” Cole noted that Kevin Hawke, the hot new director who was supposed to be in on this meeting as well, wasn’t in Ethan’s office. His spidey senses were tingling—something was off.

"You haven't heard?" Ethan arched an eyebrow, then grinned, but the expression was sinister and Cole didn’t care for it.

“Spit it out, Black.” His voice was flat. The only big event in his life recently was the breakup with Regina, and Cole highly doubted that Ethan gave a shit about that.

Ethan rubbed his hand over his face and pulled out his phone. "So how's that girlfriend of yours?"

“I don’t know.” Cole glanced at Ethan from the corner of his eye. It was a weird question—usually the producer was all business. “We broke up.”

"I'm not surprised." Ethan swiped his screen and smirked. He held up his phone, the screen facing Cole, and turned up the volume.

A chorus of moans and the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh emanated from the small device. Cole would have rolled his eyes at Ethan—
why was the producer showing him porn, anyway?—
except something about the scene caught and held his attention.

A leanly muscled young man mounted a slender woman from behind. His hands fisted in her chestnut waves as he slowly fucked in and out of her, the curves of her ass jiggling every time he bottomed out inside of her.

Cole didn’t have much need for porn—he had women clamoring for his attention day and night. Still, he felt his cock start to thicken as he watched the scene playing out.

Christ, he was acting like a fucking teenager. Shifting uncomfortably, he redirected his focus to the hotel room surrounding the couple. Opulent, cream-colored satin sheets on a massive bed, a chandelier overhead, a panoramic sheet of glass in place of a wall…

"I know that hotel.” The Rue Luxe in Paris had once been one of his favorite places to party and then crash. He hadn’t been there in years.

“Gee, you think?” Ethan cackled as he tilted the phone to watch with Cole, who frowned as the couple on the bed shifted position. Ringing started to reverberate loudly in his ears as the man onscreen pulled out of the woman’s heat, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her inner thighs braced on his shoulders as he thrust himself back inside of her.

“Look at the camera, baby. Show everyone how pretty you are.” The woman did as she was told, moaning as she let her head hang off the side of the bed. Delicate, china-doll features, long waves of minky hair, miles of creamy skin that he’d know anywhere.

And that voice. The voice encouraging her to show off.

It was his own fucking voice.

“What the ever-loving fuck, Ethan?” This was what the reporters outside had mentioned. He just hadn’t known what they were talking about. “Where the hell did you get your hands on this?”

“Watch your tone, kid. The link landed on my Facebook wall. Same as it showed up for millions of other people.” Ethan snorted. “I should be asking you how the fuck this got released, right as we’re casting the leading lady role, but I guess I know. Smart of you, you asshole. Now I have no choice.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cole still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. He didn’t remember the exact occasion, but now that he knew it was him and Georgia, he wondered how he ever could have doubted it. They’d filmed themselves fucking more than once, had even had someone else do the filming a couple of times.