Sold To The Sheikh: His Indecent Proposal (An Interracial Sheikh Romance Novel) (4 page)

When no disaster reared
its ugly head, Mia went on with her life. Two weeks later, she had
taken care of her mother’s errands for the weekend, and had a
little time to herself. Mia drove to the grocery store, doing her
best to enjoy the mild afternoon sunshine; it had been a rainy
morning, an absolute misery when she had first gotten up to drive
to the pharmacy. There had been moments when Mia had been certain
that she would hit someone: the driver who apparently didn’t
believe in using his headlights in a downpour, or the woman in the
Lexus who nearly swerved into Mia in an attempt to make a fast,
crafty lane change.

Walking the aisles of the
supermarket close to her house, Mia began to relax. “It’s a sad
statement on my life when crunching numbers in my head to figure
out whether I’m going to eat chicken or eggs this week is
relaxing,” she murmured, as she looked at the per-ounce prices on
the different packages of rice on the shelf. Maybe—just maybe—she
could afford to buy a little carton of ice cream; something to
treat herself after the stresses of the week. Her bank account was
nearly empty, but Mia needed something, and was willing to savor
every last mouthful.

“Hey, Mia,” someone said
behind her, cutting through her thoughts. Mia nearly dropped a
carton of milk in surprise, turning on her heel to see who was
speaking. To her shock, Rami was standing just a few feet away,
dressed in what she was sure were designer jeans, a pair of
oxfords, and a button-down shirt that looked to be tailored—it
certainly fit him like a glove, the sleeves rolled halfway up his
forearms. Mia forced a smile onto her startled face.

“Hi,” she said, putting
the cardboard carton into her shopping cart before it could slip
from her fingers. “I didn’t know you shopped here.” Rami
shrugged.

“I was in the area,” he
said, a slight smile on his full lips. “I needed to pick up a few
things, so I dropped in—and I’m glad I did.” He looked her up and
down slowly, though not so slowly that Mia felt uncomfortably
exposed.

“Imagine that,” Mia said,
her smile wavering for just a moment before she reinforced it,
steeling herself against the nervousness she felt. “Oh—oh, God, I
just realized I never thanked you for helping me get my car fixed,”
she said, blood rushing into her face. Mia smacked her forehead
with her palm, closing her eyes as her embarrassment deepened. “I’m
so, so sorry,” she said, opening her eyes once more. “I knew I had
forgotten something but my life’s been pretty crazy this past
couple of weeks.”

Rami nodded. “Don’t think
of it,” he said, stepping a little closer to her. Mia noticed that
he had a basket in his hands—but there was nothing in it. “I’m glad
I ran into you, though. I hope Lenny did a good job fixing
everything? He mentioned there was some damage to your brakes,
too.” Mia shrugged, feeling a little guilty as she remembered the
subterfuge Lenny had used to get Rami to pay for the brake
work.

“It’s looking great,
working great,” Mia said. “I hope it wasn’t too expensive.” She
frowned, but Rami dismissed the idea with a gesture.

“Not at all. Way cheaper
than it was to get the ding in my bumper fixed,” he said, his lips
stretching into a broad smile. “I was hoping, actually—now that
I’ve run into you—that you’d let me take you out for that coffee.”
Mia’s blush deepened. She couldn’t quite believe that he was asking
her out again.

“I—like I said, I’ve been
really busy…” she looked down at her cart, biting her lower
lip.

“Aw, come on,” Rami said,
his voice taking on more warmth and charm than before. “Surely you
can spare me an hour? Or are you seeing someone? If so, I apologize
for being so pushy.”

Mia chuckled weakly. “No,
I’m not seeing anyone,” she admitted. “I haven’t really had much
time to date.” She swallowed, wondering how her mouth had managed
to become so dry so suddenly; hadn’t she taken a sip from her water
bottle only moments before Rami had appeared?

“Then, won’t you please
give me a chance? I still feel terrible about running into your
car, and I wanted to make it up.”

Mia shrugged. “I kind of
feel like you did that by getting my car fixed.”

“But that doesn’t make up
for me being such an ass to you when it happened,” Rami said. Mia
gathered up her courage and looked at him. Rami was watching her,
but there was nothing unpleasant in his gaze—he wasn’t leering, or
trying to undress her with his eyes. She took a breath.

“Aright, if you insist,”
she said, weakly. “I guess I can’t say no to a guy who’s been so
helpful in getting my car fixed.” Rami’s smile spread over his face
and he came a step closer to her.

“Thank you,” he said,
reaching out and touching her hand. “I promise, I just want to talk
to you over coffee, that’s all.” Mia summoned a smile and turned it
onto Rami, swallowing her pride, misgivings, and guilt that Lenny
had lied to get him to pay for her brake job.

“When did you want to meet
up?” she asked. Rami raised an eyebrow and glanced at Mia’s
cart.

“Well I’m free right now,”
Rami suggested. “I mean, I can wait for you to finish your
shopping, of course, but if you’re too busy…” the charming little
half-smile came back and Mia found herself unable to think of
anything to say in argument with his idea.

“There’s a little café in
the plaza,” she said, remembering a meeting she’d gone to with some
of the other teachers at her school. “It’s a really nice little
mom-and-pop place. We could meet there once we’re both
done.”

“It’s a date,” Rami said.
He touched her hand again and Mia felt a tingle of something work
through her; a kind of hot and cold rush. She smiled and Rami
wandered away, stopping after he’d gone a few steps. “You’ll text
me when you’re done, right?”

“I promise,” Mia said,
smiling in spite of her nervousness. “I won’t stand you up.” Rami
smiled and raised one of his hands slightly in
acknowledgement.

“See you soon.”

Mia was half tempted to
draw out her grocery shopping for as long as she possibly could,
hoping that if she spent long enough walking the aisles maybe Rami
would give up on their date in favor of something more immediate.
But her list was too short, and it wasn’t long before she was at
the checkout. Mia paid for her cart, spending a dollar on a bag
which would keep the refrigerated items cold in her car, before
sending Rami a message to let him know she had finished. Almost
immediately she felt her phone vibrate in her hand. As Mia pushed
the cart out into the parking lot, she unlocked the screen with one
hand and read the response.
I will see you
soon then! Can I order for you? What would you like?

Mia unlocked the door to
her back seat and contemplated the question more seriously than she
would have wanted to admit. She loaded the bags into her car and
tapped out a response.
Surprise me! I’m
not too picky.
Mia smiled at the neatness
of her answer.
That way I don’t have to
feel weird if I pick something expensive, uncultured if I ask for
something plain, or poor if I ask for something cheap. He can
figure out how much he wants to spend on me for himself.

Mia pushed the cart into
the blocked-off parking spot set aside for them, made sure her car
doors were locked and slipped her phone and keys into her purse.
She walked across the parking lot in the direction of the little
café, several shops down from the grocery store on the other end of
the big strip. Despite the fact that she hadn’t exactly wanted to
have a date with Rami—and the fact that he had already seen her
that day—she felt a little flicker of nervousness and looked over
her outfit: a pair of soft, cotton culottes, a slouchy boat neck
shirt, and a pair of well-worn boots she had bought in her last
year of college, but had taken good enough care of that they had
held up. She decided that, all in all, she didn’t look absolutely
terrible, and then wondered for a second why she suddenly cared so
much.

Mia smoothed her hair and
stepped up onto the curb a few stores down from the café, glancing
around furtively. She strode along the walkway until she came to
the entrance of Le Petit Four, and took a deep breath to steady her
nerves before entering. “Welcome to Le Petit Four,” a teenage girl
said from the hostess stand. “Would you like bar service or a
table?” Mia smiled; she recognized the girl from her school,
although she wasn’t in her class.

“I’m actually meeting
someone, thanks,” Mia said. She glanced around the seating area
quickly, feeling a brief flicker of paranoia that Rami had set her
up for disappointment; but after a moment she spotted him, seated
near the window. “Ah,” Mia turned back to the girl, giving her
another brief smile. “Found him.”

She stepped carefully
through the seating area, sidling where the tables were slightly
too close together. Rami spotted her approaching and greeted her
with a bright, charming smile, standing up to pull the other chair
out for her. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me,” he said, leaning in
and kissing her on the cheek. Mia’s cheeks warmed as she sat down
with a slightly uneasy smile and spotted a drink waiting for her.
“I ordered you a latte, I hope that’s okay.” Mia glanced down at
the tall, white mug with its espresso-tinged foam at the
top.

“Thank you,” she said,
meeting Rami’s gaze for just a moment before picking up the mug to
take a sip. Her date had apparently ordered himself an espresso and
a water.
Does he really need the caffeine?
Maybe that’s why he was such an ass when he ran into me the other
day.

“It was so nice to run
into you at the grocery store,” Rami said, and Mia nodded politely,
struggling to think of something to say. She realized it had been
so long since she had been on a date that she wasn’t used to making
small talk.

“I hope it wasn’t too much
trouble to get your car fixed,” she finally replied, taking another
sip and setting the mug down carefully. “With a car like that,
there must only be so many people you can take it to.”

Rami shrugged. “It’s still
in the shop, on the waiting list,” he said, before taking a sip of
his water. “I have another car I’ve been using—not quite as nice as
the Tesla, but it serves my purposes.” Mia nodded.

“It must be really nice to
have a backup,” she said, thinking just how screwed she would have
been had another car been waiting in front of her at the stop sign.
Her car would’ve been totaled, and she was in no position to buy a
new one, even with the scanty payout that the insurance company
would have offered her. “I don’t know what I would have done if I
had to wait weeks to get my car fixed.”

“Oh—if you’d had to wait,
I would have just loaned you one of my other cars,” Rami said,
dismissing the concern. “I’d have insisted on it. The accident was
my fault, after all.” Mia frowned slightly in confusion, then took
another sip of her latte to cover her expression.

“One of your others?” she
asked. She had known—it was obvious—that Rami was wealthy. But he
was so young; how wealthy could he be?

“Yeah, I have a dozen or so
cars,” Rami said, shrugging as if the actual number didn’t much
matter. “In fact, if yours had been too badly damaged to fix, I
could’ve just given you one. I don’t drive half of them.” Mia
wanted to ask:
Then why do you have them
in the first place?
But she knew the
answer already; he had them because he could.

“That would have been too
generous,” she said instead, before changing the subject. “Have you
been here before?” Rami shook his head.

“It reminds me a little of
this American-owned café I used to go to in Paris,” he said,
glancing around the little room. “Most of the cafés are
French-owned, obviously, but this one was a little off the beaten
track.” Rami met her gaze once more. “I studied there for a year; I
didn’t get too much studying done, to be honest, but I learned to
speak some French.” Mia nodded, wondering to herself if agreeing to
the date with Rami had been a complete and utter
mistake.

“It must have been
wonderful to live in Paris,” Mia said. “I always wanted to visit,
but just never really had the money to put a trip
together.”

“Oh, it was great,” Rami
said, beaming. “I went out almost every night. All the best
clubs—really exclusive places, full of models.” Mia kept her smile
on by sheer force of will, wondering why Rami felt the need to
mention models to her. “I had this little flat in the middle of the
city, threw parties every week and ate some of the best food of my
life.” Mia simply smiled and nodded—she had no idea what to
say.

“What did you study in
college?” she asked, trying desperately to change the
subject.

“This and that,” Rami
said, shrugging indolently. “I went for Finance, with a minor in
Art History. You?” Mia smiled.