The Sheikh's Secret Read online

  Just then one of the sheik’s entourage started to approach them. Katia and Frey looked at each other, their eyes widening. “You’ve done it now,” whispered Katia, “you’ve probably offended him.”

  “The sheikh has requested the pleasure of your company.”

  Katia stood up eagerly but the smartly dressed man intervened quickly, “Not you, Madame” and his eyes turned to Frey.

  The girls looked at each other with a mixture of emotions showing on their faces. Katia was trying to hide her disappointment and Frey was trying to show more confidence than she felt.

  The bimbos reluctantly left the sheikh’s side so that she was alone with him. He handed her a menu. “I thought you better choose your own drink as you were obviously unimpressed with the champagne. I agree actually, 2003 produced a terrible vintage.” There was a glint in his eye and she couldn’t be sure if he was annoyed with her or making fun of her.

  She glanced at the list of vintage champagnes and gasped at the extortionate prices. Her eyes scanned the list for the 2003 and she realized it had cost more than four hundred dollars.

  “Oh no, the champagne was delicious, really,” she insisted, “It’s just…” she tried to think of an excuse but just ended up blushing profusely instead, trying to forget about Katia’s talk of expected ‘hanky-panky’ and shed the unwanted images in her mind of her, Katia and the sheikh together.

  He leaned in and smiled, revealing straight white teeth which contrasted strikingly with his smooth caramel skin. He was indeed extremely handsome, she thought.

  “No, I should be the one to apologize,” he said quietly, “It was wrong of me to put you in the same class as that girl you’re with tonight. Your standards are obviously a lot higher. There’s something different about you. I noticed you straight away, you know.”

  He was looking deep into her eyes and Frey felt slightly flustered and intimidated. She glanced away and tried to compose herself. She wasn’t used to this kind of situation at all. But this was the man she had been sent to write a story about and maybe she could work his apparent interest in her to her advantage.

  “Don’t be shy,” he said and took her hand into his. He seemed genuine and caring and not at all how Katia had described him. However, he had not been kind about Katia and this she couldn’t let go.

  She withdrew her hand and looked straight into his eyes, “That girl is my friend, you know. And I believe you have a history together. Whatever happened between the two of you, I don’t think it’s fair of you to judge her.”

  He laughed and leaned back in his chair, “Well you really are something aren’t you. Most girls would ditch their best friend in seconds for a chance to get close to me.”

  “She’s not my best friend but we were very close when we were young,” Frey said, “I guess I don’t really have a best friend as such. But Katia is a good girl, and very kind, she can just be a little…”

  “Forward?” the sheikh suggested as Frey struggled to come up with the right word. She laughed, “Yeah I suppose you could say that.” She looked over to where they had been sitting and saw that Katia had found some gentlemen friends who were in raptures with whatever she was saying. She was glad that she didn’t seem too upset by the sheikh’s obvious rebuff.

  “What exactly happened between the two of you then?” she asked. “Or maybe that’s none of my business, sorry.”

  “Oh nothing happened; she’s just another girl with no brains who tries to throw herself at me whenever she gets the chance.” The sheikh sighed. He seemed rather sad.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t want you just because of your money,” Frey said unconvincingly.

  He looked at her with raised eyebrows and they both laughed. “Anyway,” he said, “She doesn’t interest me. You, however, interest me a lot. And I don’t even know your name!”

  She blushed again. “I’m Frey” she said, and anticipated the usual enquiries about her strange name.

  “Frey, that’s unusual. I suppose you get asked all the time where it comes from and how it’s spelt. I have the same, especially when I’m travelling. It’s so boring. I’m Faisal by the way.”

  She grinned, relieved, and shook his offered hand.

  “I usually either get called Fievel after the cartoon mouse or Basil like the herb” he said despairingly.

  She laughed, “Well I’ll tell you my story someday” she said and then reddened realizing how presumptuous it sounded that she expected to see him again.

  “Anyway I’d better go,” she said quickly, “It’s getting late and I’m feeling rather jet-lagged. I only arrived this morning.”

  “And what brings you to Egypt may I ask?” the sheikh enquired.

  “I’m just taking some time off work and visiting Katia” she replied, hoping he couldn’t tell that she was lying. “And I’ve always dreamt about seeing the pyramids, the Nile, the temples…” At least that part was true.

  “Well then, as a local, I insist that I be your tour guide. I’m sure I can offer a more cultural experience than your friend might have in mind for you.”

  “She’s showing me the cultural delights of the mall tomorrow, actually,” she replied smiling.

  “Well then can you promise me your company tomorrow evening after your highly educational and intellectual shopping trip?”

  “Sure,” said Frey grinning. However, inside she felt incredibly unsure. She was intimidated by this charming, rich and handsome man but she also felt strangely drawn to him.

  Was she clever and strong enough to play him the way he seemed to play most girls? Would she even be able to hold his interest for long enough to get her story?

  Chapter Four: The Shopping Trip

  The girls hadn’t had a chance to catch up properly the night before as Katia had met up with some other girlfriends and stayed out partying whereas Frey had escaped back to her hotel room for a night of strangely tormenting dreams where she was lost in a maze of underground tunnels being chased by a man wearing a Pharaoh’s mask. She had thought he had wanted to harm her but as he grabbed her arm and flung her towards him they shared a passionate and forceful embrace. She woke feeling aroused and apprehensive.

  She didn’t mention her dream to Katia but instead listened to her relaying various snippets of gossip from the night before about people she didn’t know. Katia knew the huge City Star mall like the back of her hand and they schlepped up and down escalators with a growing number of shopping bags and boxes in a manner of military precision to get from one store to the next in the least possible time. Katia seemed to be avoiding the subject of the sheikh and when they stopped for a coffee after their whirlwind shopping extravaganza, Frey finally broached the subject.

  “I hope you’re not upset about last night,” she started tentatively, “about me talking to the sheikh I mean?”

  Katia pretended not to hear and continued with her chit-chat about some huge new hotel complex that was rumored to be built soon.

  “Apparently it’s going to be the biggest, most luxurious resort in the country. There’s going to be a casino, obviously several nightclubs, thousands of rooms, and no less than nine swimming pools. And do you know who’s building it? Your sheikh, that’s who.”

  “He’s not ‘my’ sheikh Katia,” Frey said gently. “I’m sorry if you were upset but you really needn’t be. My motives are purely professional. Was he the guy you were telling me about?”

  “No,” she sighed, “That’s someone else, and honestly it was only a couple of drunk kisses with the sheikh. He probably doesn’t even remember. I’m no-one to him. But I’m happy for you really, you should go for it.”

  “Oh, please,” replied Frey, “He’s not going to stay interested for long. I need to find out enough about him to write my story before he gets bored, and definitely before he finds out I’m a journalist.”

  “He hates journalists,” Katia revealed. I saw him throw a drink over one girl who tried to get close to him for the wrong reasons and then she got dragged o
ut of the club. It was pretty intense.”

  Frey decided to change the subject as she didn’t want to hear any more about humiliated journalists. It was where she was headed if she wasn’t careful. She wondered if she should have been honest from the start but she guessed she would definitely get a better story this way.

  “So what’s your story about, anyway?” Katia asked, finally showing some interest in Frey’s work.

  “As a matter of fact it’s about his impending marriage. It seems strange that the engagement has been so long and no-one knows much about the family or the girl promised to him, which is unusual for a sheikh as rich and powerful as himself. He also owns a lot of land that he will inherit when he marries so it seems strange that the wedding hasn’t happened yet. Especially as the hotel plans are all going ahead; that’s what you were saying, right? And from what I’ve seen and heard since I arrived, he’s a complete playboy as well which is also strange for someone in the public eye who’s about to tie the knot. There is definitely something odd going on and it’s my job to get to the bottom of it. I’m going to write a fascinating story about him and his life, and secure my position at the New York Times while I’m at it!”

  She paused and smiled. It had seemed like such a daunting project for her at the beginning. Exciting but challenging. However, she had already managed to meet the sheikh. And not only that, he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Now all she had to do was keep him interested enough to gain trust in her and reveal what she wanted to know.

  “It sounds like a big project,” said Katia frowning, “I really don’t know how you do all this writing business. It must be so… yawn.”

  “No, I love it, actually,” replied Frey happily, “I feel like even though I might not lead the most exciting life, I can write and share stories about those who do!”

  Katia smiled, “Well I prefer to be one of the ones having the excitement! Talking of which, I’m working at the Jazz Club tonight. Want to come? I’ve been hired to help promote a new brand of vodka and I have to wear a bunny girl costume!”

  Frey laughed. “Really? Well your job certainly isn’t ‘yawn’, is it? However tonight I have other plans… and I wanted to ask you for some advice.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going on a date with the sheikh!?” Katia asked, eyes wide.

  “Yes I am, and I’m sorry if it upsets you but it’s solely for the purpose of my story. I have no intention of getting romantically involved with him. Actually, I was thinking I could even put in a good word for you, if you can just help me for the next few weeks?”

  Katia considered this and looked confused, “I don’t know how I can help little Miss Brains with anything but if I can I will. And seriously, me and the sheikh are never going to happen. We both know that. There are plenty of other rich men out there for me anyway.”

  “The thing is, I may be little Miss Brains, but I know nothing about men.” She paused and assessed Katia’s reaction. “I mean, I spent the last seven years or so studying and working. I had no time for relationships…”

  “Or for any kind of life by the sounds of things!” Katia said disapprovingly, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. So you want all my manly knowledge then, so to speak! OMG where do I even begin?”

  She opened her mouth to start and then changed her mind. “What?” said Frey, impatiently.

  “The problem is that all my usual methods… you know like what to say, showing just enough cleavage, being elusive but available at the same time… well they all failed on the sheikh. Usually I have men wrapped around my little finger, but with him it’s different. He’s different.”

  “I thought he was just another rich playboy who dates loads of girls.”

  “He doesn’t really date. He has one-night stands and he gets bored easily. But he’s interested in you because you’re different. Just the fact that you turned away his drink, and then left Tamarai early, makes you different from all the girls in Cairo who would have given their right arm to get the attention you did from him that night. My advice is to continue doing whatever you’re doing. It’s working and he likes it. Just be yourself. You’re clever and confident in the way that only a professional, educated woman can be, but you’ve got a child-like innocence which makes you irresistible. Plus you’re gorgeous and you don’t even know it!”

  Frey was a little taken aback with all the compliments. She had always admired Katia’s wild worldly ways and confidence with men even if she didn’t aspire to be like that herself. It never occurred to her that Katia looked up to her as well.

  She thanked her dear friend and they went their separate ways, Katia to get her hair and nails done and then to pick up her costume, and Frey to get ready for her important date. She made a note to herself not to belittle Katia ever again, in front of the sheikh or anyone else. She was a loyal and true friend and Frey felt guilty about all the times she had failed to reply to emails and messages over the past years after leaving their childhood haven of Greenport.

  Chapter Five: The First Date

  Frey was sitting in the back of a huge limousine feeling scared but determined. Katia had said the sheikh liked her for who she was but as she fingered the invitation card that had arrived that afternoon with a huge bouquet of exotic blooms, she wasn’t sure.

  Ms. Frey Porter,

  Sheikh Faisal has requested your company for an evening of champagne tasting followed by dinner.

  Please be ready in formal attire to be picked up at 7pm sharp.

  She wondered if he had really thought that she was an expert in champagne. Since the card had arrived she had spent all afternoon researching different vintages and champagne houses in a panic. She had been surprised to find out that champagne was only grown in a very specific area in France which was lucky as she had been planning on asking the sheikh if Egypt produced good champagne.

  The car stopped in front of the towering Fairmont Nile City hotel and the door was opened for her immediately by an immaculately dressed doorman. “Ms. Porter, we’ve been expecting you. This way please.”

  He led her through the glittering hotel lobby towards a small lounge simply called ‘The Champagne Bar’. There was a board outside with the words ‘Closed for a private event’ and she hesitated for a second before realizing that she was the private event. Goodness, she thought, you really can do anything when you have money and contacts. She had never before aspired for riches as many girls do, but she was beginning to get a taste of the benefits that money and status could bring.

  Someone was playing Beethoven’s Sonata 21 in C major extremely well and as she entered the lounge she was surprised to see that the pianist was none other than the sheikh himself. He was completely immersed in the music and she quietly took a seat behind him. His long elegant fingers moved deftly across the keys and she was impressed by his obvious talent.

  He came to the end of the piece and sighed, sitting in silence. She suddenly realized she had entered unnoticed and made a polite ahem noise to alert him. He looked around in surprise and narrowed his eyes, “You’re early” he said.

  “The limo arrived at six thirty and I was already waiting in the lobby so…” she started, and then to try and appease him, “I love Beethoven. I used to play when I was younger but I’m afraid I never mastered his later sonatas. You play awfully well.”

  He seemed to relax slightly and as he wandered towards her said, “A pianist and a champagne connoisseur Ms. Porter, what other talents are you hiding I wonder? Would you play me something?” He gestured towards the piano. “You look magnificent tonight, might I add.”

  She smiled at the compliment and glanced down shyly at the figure-hugging teak cocktail dress Katia had convinced her to buy. She weakly protested, “I haven’t played in years.” However, she couldn’t resist the urge to sit at the plush velvet stool and try out the beautiful white grand piano. She chose one of her favorites; Chopin’s Nocturne No. 8 in D flat major. After her nerves abated she managed to deliver a satisfactory performanc
e which she thoroughly enjoyed. She sat back and laughed as the sheikh clapped generously.

  The ice had been broken and they chatted about their newly discovered shared love of the piano, discussing the merits and difficulties of various sonatas and etudes by Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert and Frey’s beloved Chopin. “I just love the melancholic beauty of Chopin,” she said, “Sometimes I find Beethoven a little intense.”

  She was enjoying being able to hold her own in the conversation and was dreading the upcoming champagne tasting, or testing, as she was referring to it in her head. However she felt that she had impressed the sheikh so far and decided to take a risk. “I must confess, before we go any further,” she ventured, “that I’m afraid you got the wrong impression about me. You see, I don’t know the first thing about champagne. I certainly didn’t mean to mislead you. I’m sorry if I did.”

  The sheikh thought this was hilarious and let out a loud roar so Frey continued. “I tried to do a bit of research this afternoon, starting with Googling whether champagne was produced in Egypt. So thanks to you at least I now know that it only comes from France.”