The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(5)

“Great, I’m glad to hear it.”

“That wasn’t the only reason I stopped by, though.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “I also wanted to ask you if you were free tonight. I have one night in New York before I head home, and it would be my pleasure if you’d join me for dinner. My name is Rashid.”

I suspiciously scanned his face. If this man was hoping for a night of ‘fun’ with me, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Anyway, I had plans.

My phone rang. It was Nadia.

“Do you mind if I take this?” I asked him.

“Sure. I can wait.”

Smiling apologetically, I put the phone to my ear.

“Hey, girl. I know this is last minute, but I figured you were probably free. Me and Howard and Tiffany and her boyfriend are going on a double date, but it’s Friday night and I couldn’t remember if we had plans—for that new murder mystery flick, right? Well, now, obviously, I can’t go, but you can join us for this, instead.”

Her voice was hazy; she had me on speakerphone, and was clearly doing something else while she made this oh-so-unimportant call.

My eyes narrowed as I thought about sitting alone in the movie theater, tucked away on the end of the row with my popcorn and soda once again—or, even worse, sitting in between two lip-locked lovey-dovey couples.

“You okay?” Rashid was mouthing at me.

I nodded.

“You know what, Nadia? It’s okay. I actually have plans tonight. A date.”

And then, before she could gasp or giggle or express her disbelief, I hung up. I slipped my phone into my pocket and smiled at Rashid.

“Sorry about that. My friend just called to cancel our plans for tonight, funnily enough. So, it looks like I’m free.”

Rashid’s adorably concerned face broke into a smile. “Great. I know just the place.”

And, as it turned out, he did.

Vincenzo’s was as Italian as the name would have suggested. With distinctive green, white and red flags for tablecloths, chairs that looked to be metal spaghetti modern art pieces and a bushy-mustached, thick-accented waiter, I was more than ready to dig in to some pizza.

Rashid leaned in to talk to me. “You want to know what’s good here?”

“What?”

He raised one dark brow. “The salmon.”

I stopped the laugh in my throat. “Really?”

He nodded, pressing a finger to his lips, his eyes still on mine. “But shh…don’t tell anyone.”

We sat there for a few seconds before he couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing. “You really bought it?”

Exasperatedly, I wrenched my hand away. “You lied!”

He shrugged and gave my hand a pat. “Guilty as charged.”

At my furious scowl, he continued. “What can I say? All businessmen need to learn to lie well—that, and future leaders.”

Suddenly, his face had fallen, while I was more confused than ever.

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Later. First off, we have to order. I would recommend, of course, the spaghetti. It can’t be beat here. I mean, even the chairs are made of it.” He gestured to my chair. “What—don’t believe me?”

When I shook my head with a smirk, he laughed.

“You’re a quick learner.”

I shook my head again. “Not exactly. I’m actually a glutton for punishment. That friend I told you about? She’s been cancelling on me for years now, and I still keep coming back for more.”

Now, the smile was wiped right off his face. “I’m sorry.”

I opened the menu, not wanting to see his pitying look.

“It’s fine. Nadia means well; I don’t know why I said that.”

Rashid said nothing and, thankfully, a minute later our waiter appeared at our table. Back with his mustache as bushy as ever, he inclined his head towards Rashid first.

“And what will the gentleman be having? Any drinks?”

“Wine?” Rashid asked, looking at me. I nodded my agreement. “We’ll have your best bottle of red, please. And two spaghettis.”

As the waiter left and Rashid caught my disappointed face, he grabbed the menu. “Oh, sorry—did you want something else?”

I lowered my head and gave it a small, sad shake. “Only, I…I wanted the salmon. Someone told me it was amazing here. How disappointing that I don’t get to see for myself.”

Slowly, I rose my head so Rashid could see my mirthful eyes. Together, we laughed.

“You deceived me, you treacherous woman!” Rashid joked, smiling in that perfect, captivating way of his.

“An absolute monster. I can’t tolerate liars, myself,” I replied.

As we giggled, our wine arrived, with the waiter pouring one glass in front of me, and one in front of Rashid.

He lifted it and toasted, “To new friends. Thank you for coming to dinner with me. It’s a pleasure to have good company along with good food.”

I clinked my glass against his. “Thanks for inviting me. This is definitely a step up from the plans I had.”

Once we’d drunk and set our glasses down, Rashid assumed a serious expression.

“I was only joking, of course. I don’t think lying is good, especially for leaders. In fact, I try not to do it whenever possible.” His face looked strangely intense as he said it. “Although, I’m no leader—well, not yet, anyway. Back where I’m from, Zayed-Kharan, my father is the head of state and I’m next in line. Basically, king in waiting.”