The Sheikh’s American Love - A Box Set Read online

She continued trying to get him to divulge some detail of where they were going as Mansour drove for around thirty minutes. He finally got off of the highway in Santa Monica, and Riley tried to figure out for herself—from the very, very limited hints at her disposal—what his plan might be.

  She had almost forgotten her instinctive fear that Mansour was taking her somewhere to pay for her betrayal, but the thought leapt to the fore of her mind once more as he pulled into the Santa Monica Pier. Most of the boats were either moored or out at sea, but as Mansour navigated the space, she spotted a small speedboat waiting in the distance, clearly ready to make way in a matter of moments.

  A sudden, panicked idea flashed into Riley’s mind: Mansour was more than wealthy—he had the kind of money that led some people to think they could get away with anything. What if he had decided to take her out to see, tie her up, and dump her there to drown? He seems so nice, so sweet—but how many men in the industry aren’t absolutely ruthless at the core?

  Mansour parked in a spot next to the waiting boat, and Riley tried to decide how she could get out of the date; should she try to flee? Would he just send someone after her? Riley got out of the car when Mansour opened the passenger-side door, numb and cold all over with dread; but the next moment she spotted a waiter standing on the dock next to the boat, holding a tray with champagne. People don’t give champagne to people they’re going to dump in the middle of the ocean, Riley thought .

  “Is this where we’re having dinner?” she gestured to the boat.

  Mansour grinned, taking her hand and leading her towards the vessel. “Not quite,” he said. “That boat’s just a shuttle to the yacht.”

  Riley accepted the champagne hesitantly, stepped into the boat, and in moments the engine roared into life and their journey was underway. The boat sped across the water into the darkness, and Riley’s fears about Mansour having discovered her duplicity evaporated as she sipped her champagne.

  “Have you ever been on a boat before?” Mansour’s arm brushed hers, and then he draped his arm around her waist.

  “A boat, yes,” Riley said. “I mean, it was just someone’s speedboat, nothing as luxurious as a yacht. One of my friends had a rich uncle or something like that. He took us all out and we went tubing.”

  “I should have asked you before but, do you get seasick?”

  Riley chuckled. “Not to the best of my knowledge,” she told him. “But then again, I feel like a speedboat is probably a different experience from a yacht.”

  “Very different; for one you don’t have a whole lot of space for a bedroom, or a dining room, or a dance floor,” Mansour said with a little grin.

  “A dance floor? Your yacht has a dance floor?”

  Mansour nodded. “It’s not a very big one, but it’s there alright.”

  Riley shook her head, unable to quite believe the situation she had found herself in.

  A few minutes later she saw the outline of the huge yacht in front of them, marked out from the gathering darkness by floodlights on the deck. Riley’s heart beat faster with excitement as they approached the behemoth; for a moment she wasn’t sure how they would even get from one boat to another.

  “How are we going to get up?”

  Mansour gave her waist a squeeze. “There’s a ladder on the side—it’s really very sturdy.”

  He showed her when the shuttle boat came to a stop next to the yacht, and although Riley felt nervous, she trusted him. She climbed up first, very aware of the fact that she was wearing a dress—possibly not the best choice, when she was climbing a ladder with Mansour standing under her.

  The yacht was everything that Mansour promised and more; as he led her on a tour of the boat, he took her to the dance floor below deck. He plugged his phone into the sound system and called up a song: Arctic Monkeys’ “Hellcat Spangled Shalala.”

  Riley grinned when Mansour hurried back to her, putting his hands on her waist and drawing her onto the dance floor. She tingled every time their bodies brushed against each other, her skin heating up everywhere, her heart beating fast but steadily in her chest.

  “I never would have imagined there’d be a dance floor on your boat,” Riley said as the song came to an end and they pulled away from each other reluctantly.

  Mansour grinned. “I’m glad to have finally had the opportunity to use it,”

  He took her hand and led her on a tour through the rest of the yacht, showing off the cabins, the bridge, and surprisingly spacious kitchen where his personal chef was already hard at work. Riley had never given much thought to the level of staffing that a yacht would require; but as they moved from one section of the boat to another, she noticed that there were at least a dozen crew members moving about on one task or another.

  “Where are we going to have dinner? I’m starting to get hungry,” Riley said.

  Mansour grinned and led her out onto the deck; the boat was moving fast through the water, and the wind against her cheeks felt exhilarating.

  “Right over here,” Mansour said. He gestured to a table—it was just big enough for two with room for dishes, with a white tablecloth and candles shielded from the wind by crystal shades.

  He pulled one of the chairs out for her and Riley sat down, looking around in excitement and amazement at the view. She could see the moon starting to rise, the stars starting to show in the darkness; the ocean was a dark mirror flowing alongside the yacht, combers radiating out from alongside the boat in white and blue.

  Unlike the rustic, home-cooked food from their first date, the plates Mansour’s stewards brought to the table were some of the most carefully-presented and delicate that Riley had seen, even at Le Roi. Each course came with an explanation of the components that went into it, and Riley listened intently, enjoying being served instead of serving. She devoured oysters with mignonette sauce, lobster with clarified butter, and steak so perfectly cooked that Riley thought it was just as well that there was only a small medallion of it—she would eat herself sick otherwise.

  “You told me you’ve had all this kind of food before,” Mansour said as Riley exclaimed over the dishes, almost moaning with pleasure at the flavors and textures.

  “It’s a totally different thing to eat it on a gorgeous yacht with a beautiful man,” Riley told him archly.

  She sipped champagne, and still managed to find room to eat the dessert: sabayon over macerated berries with whipped cream. Even with the delicious food, she managed to keep up her end of the conversation, and in spite of her steadfast determination to shut her feelings of, to set them aside and treat her interactions with Mansour as nothing more than work, she found herself liking him more and more.

  After dinner, Mansour suggested that they lie down for a while, and Riley followed him to what he called the “sun deck,” where one of the crewmembers had laid out a pallet of pillows and blankets. Another bottle of champagne rested in a bucket of ice, and a basket of long-stemmed strawberries waited for them.

  “Oh God,” Riley said, spotting the basket. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite. You’re going to make me explode from too much food.”

  “Not right this moment,” Mansour reassured her, chuckling. “Right now I just want to lay down and look up at the stars.” He turned away from her and called out to one of the crewmembers to cut the deck lights. Velvety darkness enveloped them, and Riley wasn’t sure whether she was more apprehensive about her sudden inability to see, or more excited at what might happen between them next. “Kick off your shoes,” he suggested.

  Riley kicked off her shoes, stepping onto the pallet and sinking down. Mansour found his way next to her in the darkness, moving a cushion under her neck and head and taking her hand.

  For a while they stared up at the stars in silence; Riley was amazed at how many of them she could see. “I forget how beautiful the night sky is,” she said to Mansour. “I never really get to see it.”

  “Too much light pollution in LA,” Mansour agreed.

  “It’s the same in V
egas,” Riley observed. “So many bright lights you can’t see the stars at all.” She sighed happily, warm and full of delicious food, contented from closeness with Mansour in a way that she knew was dangerous—but couldn’t help. “The only times I ever saw the stars—I mean, other than like, the planetarium or something—was when we went camping.”

  “There are a lot of beautiful places in my country that aren’t so developed,” Mansour said. “My family’s estates—some of them are deep in the countryside, and at night you can see every single star in the sky.”

  “It seems to me like you could have just stayed there,” Riley said cautiously. “All the money you could ever want, power, comfort…”

  “Power, yes,” Mansour said. “But responsibility as well. My father is a very powerful man in Al Mukhtar; involved in the oil industry… As the eldest son, I was supposed to succeed him in the business empire, but I never had any interest in it. I have no interest in oil; I like movies.”

  Riley grinned. “So you gave up the responsibility for one business empire for another,” she pointed out. “You’re an executive producer—you used to be the sole owner of a production company.”

  “I don’t want to sound like I’m whining—I know I grew up with a great deal more than anyone could ever need,” Mansour said slowly. “But I kind of lucked out when it came to my own wealth. I never really wanted it—I wasn’t looking for it, you know?”

  “You may not be in a position to appreciate it,” Riley said, thinking of the strained moments in her childhood when one of her parents worried about losing their jobs, or when there wasn’t enough money to pay for a field trip. “But money is a really good thing to have.”

  “It’s nice to have some,” Mansour agreed. “But I’m aware that having this much money can be dangerous. I’ve seen too many people ruined by the doors that this kind of wealth opens up.”

  “But you don’t seem to have gone that way,” Riley countered. “At least, not unless there’s something you’ve neglected to tell me about your past.” Mansour chuckled.

  “It could easily have gone that way—particularly when I went to college and found freedom like I’d never experienced before. Luckily, I was too invested in making movies and starting my business.” He went quiet for a moment, and then spoke again. “The only reason I started my first company—the one Wonder bought out—was because I wanted to get my own animation work out into the world, and it made the most sense to do it that way. Now that I’m nothing more than an executive…” he sighed. “I lost the one thing that made me abandon home and family in the first place.” He lapsed into silence again, and Riley turned her head to look at his profile in the darkness.

  Throughout the time they’d been together, Riley had felt her defenses coming down gradually; she had set herself to remain absolutely untouched by Mansour’s charm—only to find him sweeter, kinder, more considerate than she had even known him to be from their first date together. The fact that he trusted her so much, that he was willing to confess something so deeply personal to her, brought down the last of Riley’s reservations. On impulse, she turned over, moving closer to him in the moonlight.

  She found his face by touch and pulled herself up against his body, leaning in and bringing her lips down onto his. Riley shivered slightly as Mansour began to respond to the kiss, swiping his tongue along her lips, his arms wrapping around her waist. Riley trembled against him as the kiss intensified, her whole body heating up every nerve tingling. Riley lost all track of time as she kissed Mansour more and more passionately in the darkness, shifting against him as their embrace continued.

  Riley broke away from Mansour’s lips only when she became so breathless she felt dizzy, sliding into a sprawl on the pallet next to him. Mansour kept one arm draped around her, holding her body close to his as they both struggled for a moment to catch their breath.

  “I don’t want to say anything that might scare you away,” Mansour said, his voice still slightly hoarse from desire. “So please—don’t be frightened. But I have to tell you; even though we’ve only been on two dates, I feel like I’m falling for you.”

  Riley smiled in the silvery moonlight, turning her head to look up into Mansour’s eyes. She felt a stab of guilt—remembering Alex’s spies, the threat he’d made about how he had ears everywhere. Riley hoped against hope that he hadn’t found a way to get someone onto Mansour’s yacht crew.

  “I feel the same way,” she said quietly, unsure if she was more exhilarated or terrified.

  FIFTEEN

  As Riley prepared to go home from another day of filming—one in which she had actually performed in front of the camera—her thoughts spun in circles, torn between her delight in getting to know Mansour and her guilty resentment towards Alex. She had been seeing Mansour once or twice a week for a few weeks, and as their relationship had progressed, she had started spending time with him for a few minutes at a time on set as well—though he was so busy that Riley knew he was stealing time away from other things to talk to her when he did.

  At first, Alex had been pleased with the bits of information she’d been able to give him: things Mansour had said on their dates, things he mentioned in passing in their brief conversations on set. She had told Alex about Mansour’s frustrations with the director, about a dispute that Mansour had had to settle between two of the starring actors—not generally an executive producer’s job, but something Mansour had taken upon himself.

  But just that morning, before she’d even left the apartment to drive to the sound stage, Alex had called her. Riley had considered letting it roll over to voicemail; she had no interest in having any more to do with Alex than she had to. But she knew that if she didn’t answer he’d just keep calling her until he did.

  “What do you want now?” she’d asked as soon as the call connected.

  “Don’t sound so sullen,” Alex had told her sharply. “You’re getting everything anyone could possibly want out of our little arrangement—a little gratitude would be nice.”

  “It’s four in the morning, I’m tired, and oh yeah—I’m being blackmailed. Forgive me if I’m not in the most grateful of moods right now.”

  “The stuff you’ve been giving me isn’t enough,” Alex had said firmly. “We need something that can take the whole production down, not just piddling little rumors and intrigues.”

  “I told you weeks ago that I wasn’t in any position to give you anything worthwhile,” Riley had protested, remembering just what kind of leverage Alex had on her.

  “I don’t buy that,” Alex had told her. “You’re seeing the executive producer—there’s got to be something. If you don’t come up with the goods soon I’m going to have to consider how to make it happen myself.”

  Alex had hung up after that, leaving Riley reeling with the thought of just what he would do to manufacture his own takedown.

  She had spent most of the day worrying about how she could satisfy Alex’s demand, while somehow buffering Mansour from the outcome. It was impossible; there was no way to take down the production without Mansour being affected. As Riley walked out to her car at the end of the day, guilty and morose, she reminded herself that Mansour had said that he didn’t even like the excess or care about the wealth he had accumulated.

  “Screw it,” she muttered to herself as soon as she closed the car door. “If I don’t mess things up for Mansour, Alex will show everyone that recording, and then my career will be over.”

  She sighed, turning the key in the ignition and resigning herself to figuring out some way to bring the production down. She knew for a fact that if Mansour ever found out that she was the cause of Galaxy Wars 3 going down, that would be the end of everything between them. I’m going to end up losing him either way, but at least if I do this Alex’s way I might be able to scrape together a career in the aftermath.

  Almost as soon as she parked in her designated spot by her apartment building, Riley’s phone rang. She sighed, thinking it was probably Alex, calling to remi
nd her that she still owed him something capable of bringing down the production. “Might as well answer it,” she said to herself, reaching into her purse. Looking at her phone, her eyes widened in surprise; it wasn’t Alex, it was Mansour.

  “Hard day of filming today,” Mansour said as soon as Riley had answered the phone. “I’m probably being a jerk to ask you to drive over, but what do you say to dinner at my place?”

  Riley’s heart beat faster; she hadn’t yet been to Mansour’s apartment in the course of their budding relationship—but mingled with her excitement at the prospect of being alone with him was her dread at how getting closer and more intimate with Mansour would spur Alex to demand more and more of her. I just won’t tell him. He can’t have people everywhere. He can’t hear everything. By the time Alex found out about the date, Riley would have come up with some way to defer his demands.

  “Give me maybe thirty minutes to clean up, and I’ll come right over,” Riley told Mansour.