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Dominated By The Shiekhs Bundle
Copyright © by Yarah Isabell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-
commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Knocked Up By The Sheikh
The Sheikh’s Secret Mistress
Aamilah woke suddenly, as she felt the man next to her fall asleep on her shoulder. He opened his mouth and snored loudly, drool falling onto her shoulder. She shuddered in disgust, and shook him off of her shoulder. He didn’t wake up, but simply continued snoring at an uncomfortable angle. She shook her head. People could be really rude, she thought to herself. Granted, they were on a thirteen-hour flight to
Dubai. It was by far the longest flight that Aamilah had ever been on, and she beginning to go stir crazy.
She was on her way from New York City to Dubai, in order to cover the camel races. She had just graduated journalism school, and was working her first job for an online magazine. She was the only one of her colleagues who spoke Arabic, so she was given the thrilling assignment. She knew that nobody really wanted to cover the camel races. It wasn’t an exciting story, or one any Americans really cared much about. But it was an opportunity to travel. Before college, Aamilah had never been outside of her hometown. Her parents emigrated from Saudi Arabia with her and her older brother, moving them to a small town near
Portland, Oregon. She had been seven when they had moved, and didn’t remember much about life in Saudi Arabia. She had never traveled far from home, never being much of an adventurer. But when she graduated high school, her parents wanted her to expand her horizons, and go away for college. They wanted to provide her with the ultimate American experience, including living on your own as soon as you turned eighteen.
Aamilah didn’t understand why she had to be separated from her family. But she listened to her parents. She got into one of the best journalism schools in the country, in New York City. At first she was afraid of living in such a big, unruly city. Life in the Pacific Northwest did not prepare her for the harsh reality of New York. She spent the first half of her freshman year miserable, trying to find her place in this insane, non-stop new world. But she soon found her place, and excelled in everything she tried. She was always the top of her class, and her professors consistently praised her innate talent. Her confidence skyrocketed.
Her record was spotless. As her time in college began to come to a close, she got more and more nervous. She had no idea what she was to do without school to guide her. She applied to every newspaper, magazine, and blog she could in the city, and the surrounding areas. She was rejected by almost all of them.
Her confidence began to crash, and she thought she would be forced to move back in with her parents, a failure. She could not survive in this American world, and had wasted the opportunity her parents had given her. Finally, she got a call back from a new travel magazine in the city. She was thrilled, and thankful that she had not failed her parents. She promised herself to work twice as hard, in order to never feel the same fear of failure again. She wanted to provide for her parents, and give them the chance to grow old in peace, without worrying about money for their children or themselves. She worked herself to the bone, hoping it would be enough. She had been working for the magazine for a year when they received an invitation to the camel races. Of course, they would go. As a new magazine, they needed to go out and make the most of the time, and make new connections both in the United States and internationally. She would gladly lead the charge, even if that meant covering the camel races. But, as her parents reminded her, it wasn’t even really about the camel races. It was about the connections she could make. Sheikhs with wealth and power beyond her wildest dreams would be there, if only she could take the opportunity.
Unfortunately for her, she had never had much experience wooing anybody, especially men. In high school and college, she focused her attention solely on her studies. She didn’t make friends easily, and she didn’t understand why she needed to. They wouldn’t be paying her bills, or taking care of her. She needed to do that for herself. So she didn’t go to parties, or worry about the cute boys sitting next to her. While everyone around her was busy flirting, breaking up, and hooking up, she was busy reading and studying. She didn’t feel as if she was missing out on anything. She was happy in herself, and wanted to advance her career. But she was coming to find out that journalism was not only a skill in writing and editing. It required finesse, and a talent for manipulating information out of people. This was Aamilah’s greatest weakness. She didn’t know how to talk to people, and wiggle out information. She excelled in academia, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out people.
She has never dated anyone before, being too busy and too afraid. She wasn’t sure what American boys wanted, or expected from women, and she didn’t want to find out. Men occasionally came up to her, and tried to flirt. She would shut them down as quickly as they came up to her. Actually, she didn’t even need to consciously shut them down. Her fear and insecurities built a wall around her that must have given off a bitchy vibe, because men fled from her. Her parents taught her to be virtuous, and to save herself for her future husband. She didn’t know how she was going to find a husband and be virtuous at the same time in America. The people here were so...sexual. She was afraid of sex, and was fine with its absence in her life.
She looked out the window of the airplane, and watched the desert zoom by. She had not been to the Middle East since her family left, and had no idea what to expect. She knew that she looked like she fit in, but she was an American, and did not know the subtleties of the culture. She was nervous, but excited. She was going to expand her own knowledge, and complete her first big solo assignment. The joy she felt at that replaced anything fears she felt about the trip. Her parents were so excited that she was going back to the Middle East, and would be able to experience her heritage first hand.
The man continued to snore next to her, and she watched as a large string of drool fell down onto his shoulder. The wet patch on his shoulder only served to strengthen her own desire to steer clear of men. “Excuse me miss,” a flight attendant interrupted as she walked down the aisle. “Can I get you anything before we begin our landing? You will have enough time for a drink or a quick snack if you like?” The flight attendant was pretty, a tall Arab woman with blonde hair and green eyes. Aamilah never really knew whether she herself would be considered beautiful or not. She wasn’t the perfect Angeline Jolie or Jennifer Anniston. Instead, she was tall and lanky, with long arms and legs. Her caramel skin had no freckles or blemishes. Her long hair was a mixture of blonde and brown, complimented by her brown eyes. Her butt was big and round, and her breasts constantly overflowed out of her shirt. She didn’t dislike her appearance, but she didn’t know if she liked it either. Her mother told her that she was beautiful, and that men would want her desperately. She didn’t know if she believed her mother, but she knew that men looked at her with a ravenous hunger sometimes that she did not understand. She wanted to understand the thought behind that look, but could not.
“Yes, can I get a gin and tonic?” she asked. The flight attendant quickly returned with her drink, smiling as she set the drink on the tray. While she enjoyed her drink, she pulled up the list of celebrities, politicians, and other social elites that would be at the camel races, and the party after the races. She knew most of the names by reputation, even in the United States. A few names stood out, most notably Sheikh Omar Aladem. She thought that she at least knew the names of most of the sheikh’s in the area, but apparently Omar Aladem was the exception. She wrote a star next to his name, meaning to research him once she landed in Dubai. “Please buckle your seat belts and push up your tray tables everyone,” a voice crackled over the airplane intercom. “We are about to land.” The gorgeous and polite flight attendant returned and took her glass with a smile. Aamilah pushed her tray up and put her list away. She would have plenty of time to look at the list later.