The Sheikh's Irresistible Proposal

  world’s worst timing. It was clear from his face he had a problem that was going to piss me off, and I was already livid about the woman who just snatched my parking space.

  “Sir,” Terrence began, in a voice that might have been the soundtrack for obsequiousness, “Mr. Elliot just called. He regrets to inform you that a last-minute emergency popped up, and now he won’t be able to make it to the show this evening.”

  I slipped my hands in the pockets of my slacks to avoid balling them into fists. When you’re in charge of production, it doesn’t look good if you suddenly start throttling people.

  “He decided to let us know that an hour before we go live?” I said, exasperated. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that we haven’t got an alternate.”

  “Er…no, sir, we don’t,” Terrence replied, nervously running a hand through his ponytail. “I’ve made a few brief inquiries, but we haven’t got anyone else on call that can perform live on such short notice.”

  “Well, we’re not cancelling the damn thing,” I asserted. “Not after all the red tape we’ve gone through to get the venue. Go back to the team and start getting things ready. I’m going to head to makeup.”

  “You’re filling in, sir?” said Terrence.

  I found the surprise in his tone annoying, but I just nodded. I had far more important things to do than worry about what surprised Terry.

  When I got to the makeup room, the artists there were surprised to see me too, but they hid it better. What no one seemed to grasp was that my name was on the line, along with my reputation, and the success of the show, and I was willing to do anything to protect that.

  Twenty minutes later, I left makeup and checked with Terrence to make sure the proper changes had been made to the script, and that the performers knew what was going on. I wasn’t going to shit on them the way Elliot had just done to me.

  THREE

  Emma

  The moment I arrived in wardrobe, the costume designer picked out a jade green dress for me to wear. I don’t know about green; it’s not my favorite color, but I’m constantly being told that it highlights the color of my hair. She told me that the other reason this dress had been chosen was that the length of it showed off my legs, which, I’ll admit, are quite long.

  Speaking of long, that’s the amount of time it took them to apply the makeup and crinkle my hair to just the right degree. No matter how many times this was done to me, I never quite seem to get used to it. When they were done, I thought I looked like Mary Jane’s fancier sister. One of the women shook her head when I told her this, and I was sent outside, where a pale man in a ponytail was waiting for me.

  “Good evening, Ms. Johnson,” he said, offering me a thin hand.

  I shook it lightly, watching him closely. The dress wasn’t tight, but it hugged my body pretty well, and the man in front of me was making a valiant effort to keep his eyes straight ahead.

  “My name is Terry Cross, and I’m an assistant to the executive producer. I’m here to run you through the script for this evening. As you probably already know, we’re going to need you to be outgoing, effusive, and generally likeable. You’ll go on three dates, one of which will be with a wealthy gentleman. Keith Elliot canceled on us, so Kristos Metroupolos, the executive producer, has offered to step in. You’ll date him first, and then two other gentlemen. Then you’ll be offered a choice: take some money or ask one of the men for a second date. You’re to ask the second guy you date if he’d like to go out with you again. He’ll turn you down. And that’s the show. Have you got all that?”

  “Yes,” I replied, feeling slightly upset that I was going to be rejected on national television.

  “The guy will seem like a huge jerk,” Terry continued, as if reading my mind. “People will think of him as the villain. Villains attract audiences who love to hate them, and are eager to see them get their comeuppance. Having one around is good for business.”

  “That makes sense,” I replied, being careful to keep my voice even.

  Terry escorted me to the set, and the moment I stepped onto the floor, surrounded by the nightclub tables, my heart leapt into my throat.

  “This is Mr. Metroupolos, miss. He will be your first date tonight.”

  I took one look at the guy and swore audibly. I was becoming convinced that this day was cursed. It was the same man from the parking lot.

  I could barely breathe. I had just been arguing with the show’s executive producer! Today was definitely going down in history as the absolute worst I could remember. Kristos’ blue eyes were still flaring with anger, and I prayed to God for the safety of my paycheck.

  “You again?” he said with bitter shock. “You’re the contestant I’m dating?” He shook his head disbelievingly.

  “That’s right,” I said, struggling to sound calm. “Mr. Cross just took me through the script.”

  “I hope you didn’t walk away in the middle of that, too,” he sniped coldly.

  “I didn’t, but then he wasn’t screaming like a monkey,” I replied.

  I hadn’t meant to say it. It had just slipped out, and I was horrified. In my mind, I saw my rent money going up in smoke. I was certain I was about to go home empty handed, but Terry suddenly cut in and saved the day.

  “Ten seconds to air!” he called out. “Actors to first positions!”

  Kristos went to a table, and I went to the stage.

  I’m going to have to date this man on live TV, I thought, moving behind the curtains. This is going to be a disaster.

  I made a mental note to have a talk with God and ask him what I had done to deserve a day like this. A moment later, the cameras flared to life, and we were very suddenly live to millions of people across the country. A sharp-looking man with a salesman’s smile walked up to the stage’s microphone with carefree ease.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Date Roulette, the show where everyone has a chance at love. My name is Matt Summers, and I’ll be your host. Let’s meet tonight’s lovely contestant. Hailing from Chandler, Arizona, this stunning redhead loves the theater, long walks on the beach, and drinks with close friends. She’s twenty-three, and works as a model. Without further ado, I present to you, Ms. Emma Johnson.”

  I don’t care who you are, it boosts your ego just a little bit to be called stunning on live TV.

  I came out slowly, giving the cameras a chance to pan over me, before I took my place beside Matt.

  “Hi Matt,” I began, in the bright, sweet voice I was certain America wanted to hear. I shook his hand with gentle firmness. The handshake wasn’t in the script, but it seemed harmless, and I wanted to do something slightly assertive before I sold my soul for the rent money.

  “Hello, Emma,” he replied easily. “A pleasure to meet you. And now let’s talk to the men you’ll be dating.”

  Remembering how many people could see us, I forced myself to smile at this, and be led to Kristos, who was disguising his feelings admirably. The plan was to have us simulate a dinner date, so in short order, the two of us were at a table near the front.

  We were served champagne, and Kristos started sipping his while he thought of something to say. I had an idea, though, and after a sip or two of my own, I spoke up.

  “Kristos isn’t a name you hear every day,” I intoned. “Can I ask where it comes from?”

  “Greece,” he answered at once, something like pride in his tone of voice. “I was raised in Patras, in the west.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit Greece. How long did you live there for?” I asked, sounding way more interested than I really was.

  “Twenty years. It is a truly beautiful country, Patras in particular. Breathtaking mountains surround one edge of the city, and pristine beaches come up to meet the other.”

  He waxed lyrical about Greece for a minute or two, and then asked me what Chandler had been like. I told him about the mix of cultures there, and before long, we were absorbed in conversation.

  Dinner arrived: grilled
salmon and wild rice, by which point I had almost forgotten we were being filmed. I looked across from me to find Kristos looking as surprised as I felt. Somehow, this “date” of ours was actually working.

  On the stage, Kendall East was singing one of his newest songs. Kendall was a minor celebrity who had risen to fame serenading teenagers on YouTube. I ignored him. I was beginning to become far more interested in Kristos. Now that he was calm, he seemed lively and full of good humor. His mood was kind of infectious.

  “My father rapped his knuckles against a wall,” he was saying, “and told his customers the house was solid, and would last forever. He leaned against the wall and continued to make his pitch, when suddenly, he fell right through to the other side. A piece of plaster fell from the ceiling in the next room, and hit him on the head. That’s when I ran for the door screaming ‘the sky is falling’ like Chicken Little. Needless to say, he didn’t sell the house that day.”

  I was quaking with laughter when the date suddenly ended, and was shocked to discover that we had been talking for only fifteen minutes. When Matt took me to meet my date for the next fifteen minutes, Kristos looked genuinely disappointed to see me go.

  I should have known that things weren’t going to keep going as well as they had been. Date number two was with Kyle who, in ways large and small, was playing a certified asshole. The first thing he did was criticize me for wearing makeup. Something about “real women” not being afraid to go natural.

  Our date took place on the dancefloor. I’m a good dancer, but Kyle was excellent. He twisted and turned with little regard for my ability to keep up, so that I ended up looking stupid by comparison. Since I couldn’t tell him off and walk away like I would in any realm of reality, I suggested we try something a little slower. It turned out to be a fantastic idea. He was less showy and more careful of me. A celebrity dance instructor named Helen Wells took the opportunity to give us a ballroom dancing lesson. We got through that without incident, and I moved on to my last date for the evening.

  My last date was with a man who was polite, handsome, and an excellent dresser. His only problem was that he was boring. Incredibly so. I was aware there was a camera following me the entire time he was talking, but that only barely kept me from nodding off. I felt jealous of the people watching with a DVR that could skip ahead a few minutes.

  “Time’s up!” Matt said to my sincere relief. “And now, Emma, it’s time for the moment of truth. I want you to consider this very carefully. In my hand, I hold an envelope. In that envelope is a check, and on that check is an amount that could be anything from one dollar to five thousand. You can now choose to either take the check, or you can ask one of these gentlemen for a second date, and perhaps gain something more important. The choice is yours, but before you make it, I want you to shake hands one more time with each of your dates.”

  I moved to comply, and when I reached Kristos, he leaned in and quietly whispered something in my ear.

  “When he asks you to choose, ignore the script and pick me.”

  I gave him an unsure look. Against all odds, he had been the best of the three dates, and I had to admit that I wanted to spend more time with him. On the other hand, deviating from the script was risky. I absolutely needed that paycheck. Mrs. Coleman was not understanding in the least, and I had blown my only other hope for work earlier today.

  I shook hands with the other two bachelors and returned to my post beside Matt.

  “Are you ready to make your choice, Emma?” he asked dramatically.

  “Yes, Matt, I am,” I replied in my television voice.

  “Will you take the money?” he asked, holding the envelope out to me. “Remember, I could be handing you five thousand dollars. It’s very hard for me to think of a legal way for you to make that much in under an hour.”

  “I know,” I replied, “but I have to follow my heart.” It was the corniest schlock anyone could have uttered. But Americans love their Disney, especially in Hollywood, and if you give the people what they want, you get to take the money and run.

  “Alright then,” Matt said, opening the envelope dramatically. “Let’s see how much money Emma has just turned down.” There was a drumroll, which I thought was a bit much, and then he held up a check that was made out to me in the amount of three thousand four hundred dollars. I didn’t need to act. I was appropriately disturbed for a moment, before I remembered that I was getting paid for this.

  “Now Emma,” Matt continued, almost comically tearing up the check. “Tell me, which of these guys did you give up over three thousand dollars for?”

  “Kyle,” I said after a dramatic pause. “I thought we got off to a good start. You’re a really good dancer, and a lot of fun to be around. Will you go out on a second date with me?” I made my face look adorably hopeful so that it would grip the audience more when he said no.

  I could see Kristos’ face. He did not look happy. Beside him, Kyle