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  Bound to the Sheikh

  An International Bad Boys Novella

  Carol Marinelli

  Bound to the Sheikh

  Copyright © 2015 Carol Marinelli Kindle Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-942240-70-9

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Preview from Born to be Bad

  The International Bad Boy Series

  About the Author

  Prologue

  He had fought hard for his decade of freedom.

  And now, Ashim knew, it was time to make good on his end of the deal.

  Sheikh Ashim Al Raquar, Crown Prince of Alzaquan, had, at the age of twenty, refused to marry. It hadn’t just been that he felt too young for such a commitment, his potential brides had all been very young, too. The women deemed suitable to be his bride had also been young. To his father, King Oman’s disapproval, he had negotiated a decade of freedom.

  During this time, Ashim worked hard, meeting with foreign dignitaries, deepening international relationships, and he often returned to the land that he loved on official business.

  But, yes, away from Alzaquan he partied hard, too.

  Thirty years of age had seemed a long way off when the deal had been made.

  Now it was here.

  Maybe that was why he had hit the nightlife in Cannes so hard—to indulge in a string of decadent flings before duty called him home.

  Ashim had arrived back on his yacht in the early hours of the morning, more than a little worse for wear, but the call he had taken from his father, the king, telling him that the plane had been booked to collect himself and his errant brother Khalid had quickly sobered him.

  “I’ll make my own way home,” had been Ashim’s curt response.

  There was no love lost between he and his father.

  Ashim’s mother had died when Khalid was born and there had been no affection or engagement either in the palace or to the people of Alzaquan since then.

  Now he stood on the deck of his luxurious yacht and looked, not to the shoreline, but out to the Mediterranean ocean.

  At midday he would set sail for Monte Carlo, then Rome followed by Palermo. With stopovers, it would take just over a fortnight to get to Alzaquan and, Ashim had decided, he would hit every club, every casino just to savor every last moment of freedom…

  It was about more than freedom though. He had been born to be king and thus raised as such. Ashim’s childhood had been spent being schooled by the elders as to the histories and traditions of Alzaquan. His holidays had been spent in the desert, learning from the land. His had been a cruel and harsh upbringing.

  Ashim was a born and bred leader.

  So much so, that he could not stand to live under his father’s ancient rules.

  Ashim had plans for his country and people and, despite fierce opposition from his father, he was already implementing some of them. His engineering degree meant he consulted on infrastructure and now the main city of Alzaquan was a luxurious metropolis—a successful marriage of ancient and modern had been achieved, despite his father and the elders forebodings.

  He looked up to the sky and saw a Gulfstream jet coming into land and he watched its smooth, silver progress and the slight tip to the left as it made its final approach. It was a plane that celebrities often favored and there were plenty here in Cannes for the film festival. The hotels and restaurants were teeming with the rich, beautiful and successful, and Ashim had run more than a little wild.

  It was not over yet.

  He turned and looked to the shore. A huge marquee was being set up on the beach for a concert tonight and a grand piano was being lowered onto a stage.

  Why would he leave now, Ashim thought?

  Monte Carlo could wait.

  Rome could wait.

  Palermo could wait.

  He would have one more night here.

  Yes, he would have one more wild, reckless night, here in Cannes, Ashim decided, before he commenced the journey home.

  Chapter One

  “Just like old times,” Emily said as Cathy came into the galley.

  Ten years ago they had completed their flight crew training together and as twenty-year-olds had flown from London to the South of France and back many times together.

  Their lives and careers had taken different paths but they had remained loose friends. Nine months ago, ready to return to work after the death of her husband, Emily had contacted her friend. Cathy now worked for an acclaimed private jet operator and Emily had wanted to know more about becoming a freelance corporate flight attendant.

  For the first time in almost a decade they were, for today, working together again.

  “Not quite like old times,” Cathy said pulling out some champagne as Emily juiced organic blood red oranges. “It was orange juice from a carton back then.”

  They both smiled as they remembered those packed economy flights of yesteryear. Now, as corporate flight attendants, they served only the best of the best.

  Emily loved her job. She had enjoyed the commercial world and having a roster had suited her at the time. Now though, she could be called on at an hour’s notice to fly, other times she had work booked weeks in advance. She loved the variety and that no two fights were ever the same.

  Emily’s uniforms were always ready and after several months doing this job she was very used to a taxi ride to the airport and liaising with corporate caterers on the way.

  Some clients she would personally shop and cook meals for, others flew with their own chef.

  Yes, it was the variety and unpredictability of her work that Emily loved.

  Today, Ravel, a famous actress and her director husband, Gene, were flying to Cannes for the film festival. With them were three children and various nannies and assistants and so a bigger crew had been hired for the short flight.

  Ravel and Gene couldn’t seem to hold onto regular staff and so the private jet operator was often called upon to help cover staff shortages for them.

  “Any plans in Cannes?” Cathy asked.

  “None.” Emily shook her head.

  “Well, you do now.”

  Emily frowned as Cathy went into their locker and pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.

  “Happy Birthday.”

  “My birthday’s months away.”

  “Well, we might not fly with each other again for ages. When I heard that I was working with you… open it.”

  Emily peeled open the envelope and took out a heavy cream card with silver embossed writing.

  “A ticket to see Blaze?”

>   “Two tickets,” Cathy said, “You and I are going out tonight. And these aren’t just any old tickets; you don’t want to know what I had to do to get these.”

  “No, I don’t!” Emily grinned because unlike Emily who was a touch shy, Cathy ran wild.

  “It’s an exclusive, invitation only event on the beach. Fine dining…”

  “I don’t think so,” Emily interrupted and tried to hand the envelope back.

  “Just like old times,” Cathy said but with an edge to her voice. “You’re not engaged and saving up for a deposit now.”

  “Cathy…”

  “I’m serious. You never came out with us all back then and it was the same when you were married.”

  That was below the belt! Stephen, Emily’s husband, had been in a serious accident on their honeymoon. “I was hardly going to be kicking up my heels.” Emily said but Cathy would not be swayed.

  “Look, I know how hard things have been for you…”

  “Please.” Emily could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Not now.”

  “Yes, now.” Cathy insisted. “Emily, Stephen has been dead for a year and while I know you must miss him terribly—”

  “Don’t,” Emily said. “Don’t tell me you know how I feel because you don’t.” She tossed the invitations down on the bench and Cathy blinked as Emily fixed her with a glare. “Leave it. Okay?” Emily warned, grateful when she heard Clinton, the pilot come into the galley.

  “All ready?”

  “We are.” Emily nodded.

  “Okay, so who’s coming with me to greet them?”

  “I’ll go,” Cathy said and took off her apron and pulled on her jacket to go and greet the passengers and escort them to the plane, leaving Emily to make the final preparations. “Just a dash of OJ in Ravel’s bucks fizz,” Cathy said and Emily nodded.

  “Got it.”

  “Please.” Cathy did not leave it there. “Just think about coming tonight, Emily.”

  Emily took off her apron and put on her jacket and checked her reflection. Her grey suit was spotless and she rearranged her cream cowl neck top. She was quite curvy, even her face was round. Her dark blonde hair was neatly pinned up and her makeup was subtle and brought out the blue in her eyes.

  She looked a little younger than her thirty years but felt a whole lot older.

  As she topped up her lip gloss, Emily caught sight of the wedding and engagement ring that she still wore.

  Bloody Cathy, Emily thought, because now her stomach was all churned up as she looked back on the old days.

  Being accepted for training with a major airline had been a dream that she had had since high school and marrying Stephen had been another dream she’d had since then and had fulfilled.

  He hadn’t been jealous exactly but, yes, when they had been engaged Stephen hadn’t liked the idea of his fiancé out clubbing in St. Tropez. More often than not, instead of staying out she would head back to the hotel and call him. And, yes, Cathy was right; her wages had gone towards saving for their home rather than designer handbags and duty-free jewelry.

  Putting on her lip gloss, Emily caught sight of her wedding and engagement rings that Stephen had saved so hard for and she still couldn’t quite bring herself to take them off.

  Though probably not for the reasons others thought.

  No, Emily thought heading out to wait for the passengers to board, Cathy didn’t know her at all.

  No one did.

  Ravel was as stunning in person as she was when she appeared on the cover of a magazine. She was carrying her nine-month-old daughter and cradling her tenderly from the London rain. Both were wearing black leather jackets and boots and, on their heads, they wore red berets. Gene carried the boys who were miniature Genes—dressed in denim with little baseball caps and looking simply too cute for words.

  They looked like the picture-perfect, celebrity family though there was always gossip of torrid, kinky affairs, on both sides.

  Ravel didn’t return Emily’s greeting. As soon as she was on board, she offloaded her daughter to one of the nannies and asked Emily to bring her a drink. However, as Gene handed over his sons, once free of the twins, he greeted the two flight attendants warmly.

  A touch too warmly, perhaps.

  Both smiled back.

  They would roll their eyes later but for now they were busy serving drinks and then preparing the cabin for takeoff—ensuring that the young passengers were safely strapped in. Happy that everything was in place, and on Clinton’s instructions, Cathy armed the door and Emily collected the glasses to secure them in the galley but, as she did so, she saw Gene glance at her wedding and engagement ring.

  And then he looked to her. Emily knew that he did, even though she didn’t return his gaze.

  She knew what she’d see if she did.

  The baby girl was crying and being soothed by her nanny, the little boys sat quietly, clearly used to flying even at this tender age and Ravel was dozing.

  Emily took her seat for takeoff and, as she always did during takeoff, she stared out of the window. She loved the rapid take off of smaller planes and she sat waiting for the sensation that was familiar to her to hit as the plane took off…

  Relief.

  Just the bliss of handing over control.

  It was a feeling she had never admitted to.

  Not to anyone.

  That heady feeling as the plane lifted into the sky as, for a little while, she got to leave her regular life behind.

  Even now, a year after Stephen’s death, the sensation of relief was still there.

  She had loved her husband so much when they had married. Their wedding had been blissful but a Jet Ski accident on their honeymoon had meant that, after nearly a year of hospitals and rehabilitation, instead of Stephen carrying Emily into the home they had saved so hard to purchase Emily had wheeled him up the ramp that had been put in place.

  Her once strapping six-foot husband had become a strapping six-foot child with the emotions and capacities of a two-year-old. He required dressing, changing, and feeding, kisses and cuddles and he’d cried if Emily left the room.

  Yes, flying once a month, getting away from it, even just for a couple of nights had given her the strength to go on.

  His death, eight years after the accident had changed her world again. After taking compassionate leave from the commercial airline she had worked for, Emily had decided she needed a change.

  And now here she was in a very glamorous job that at times didn’t match how she felt on the inside.

  The bell sounded, which meant that Emily and Cathy could resume working, and they moved into the galley and set about the final preparations for a sumptuous breakfast.

  Plenty of bucks fizz was served, not to the nannies and other staff of course, and time, like the plane, flew.

  Emily was very used to multitasking, it was an absolute prerequisite for this type of role, and she helped give the little baby her bottle as one of the nannies prepared a new outfit for her to be changed into for landing.

  “She’s so sweet,” Emily said, tickling her little pink toes.

  “Do you have children?” The nanny asked as she put the baby’s little, pink feet into soft leather ballet slippers.

  “Not with this job.” Emily smiled and gave her usual response—her career was her baby.

  Stephen’s parents had wanted her to have IVF to give them a grandchild.

  Emily had refused, citing her love for her work, rather than breaking down and admitting that there simply wasn’t enough of her to go ‘round.

  His parents had broached the subject again and again.

  “I’ve never wanted children,” Emily had said. “Stephen knew that when I married him.”

  But she had only been twenty then.

  And now she was twenty-nine and in the interim years there hadn’t been time to consider her own wants.

  Emily simply didn’t know who she was.

  With the baby fed, she was changed into a
pale pink ballet dress and then covered in a huge bib that would come off just before Ravel stepped out of the plane with her baby again in her arms.

  Image was everything in their world.

  Emily took the bottle to the galley to clean it but as she stepped in she saw Gene rather hastily step back from Cathy and Emily had the sinking feeling she had disturbed something.

  “There you are,” Cathy said a little too brightly. “Gene was just saying how much he’s enjoying the flight.”

  “That’s nice,” Emily gave him her sugarcoated smile and stepped back as Gene squeezed past her and out of the galley.

  “Thank goodness you came when you did.” Cathy rolled her eyes and then laughed at Emily’s pinched expression. “God, Emily, you’re so uptight.”

  Emily said nothing.

  “Mind you,” Cathy happily continued, “I can see how a wedding ring might come in useful in this job.”

  “Why do you think I still wear them?”

  “Oh, I get why you wear them when you’re on duty,” Cathy said picking up the crystal jug as Ravel buzzed. “What about when you’re not at work?”

  Again Emily said nothing.

  “You need to loosen up,” Cathy said and brushed past.

  Oh, Cathy didn’t know her at all.

  They prepared the cabin for landing and then Emily took her seat by the window. She looked out and, unlike London, the sky dazzled blue and coming into view was that delicious first glint of the Mediterranean.

  Some days were simply made for flying, Emily thought, as Clinton brought them in on the final approach and the plane tipped a little to the left. Yachts were bobbing on the azure water as gentle waves rolled in and she felt it then, something that seemed to have been missing in her life forever.

  Hope.

  Excitement.

  A desire for the future.

  Desire.

  Cathy was wrong, Emily thought, she wasn’t uptight, at least not in her head.

  Yes, she hid behind her rings. Emily had taken her vows seriously and it had been her honeymoon since she’d been held intimately by another.