Aurora watched as Jon looked at his two thugs, and then looked at the collection of men that Khaleel had brought with him. The Sheikh stood facing him, looking as unaffected and coolly confident as if he had been the king of the city, instead of a businessman. “If you don’t walk away in the next thirty seconds, we’re going to have a problem.”
Jon needed no further prompting; he nodded to the two men he’d brought with him, handed the watch to Aurora and hurried away, barely even glancing in her direction as he beat his retreat.
As soon as the loan shark disappeared around the corner of the building, Aurora turned her attention back onto Khaleel. He smiled slightly, glancing around him as if the situation were nothing more than a prank.
“Who are those guys?” she asked Khaleel, gesturing to the men who stood behind him. “How did you know I was even here? And—and why did you come?”
“First,” Khaleel said, reaching out to take the watch from her numb hand, “I came to retrieve my possession.” Aurora blushed, wondering if he had set her up the way he had when he’d called her into his room and told her about the “initial evaluation.” “I tracked you using the GPS embedded in the watch.” Khaleel’s voice rippled with amusement. “One of my favorite anti-theft features.” He slipped the watch into his pocket and gestured to the men hanging around the alley. “These guys are just some desk jockeys at the Miami office of my company. They wanted to earn some extra money, and I thought they looked impressive enough.” In spite of the cool arrogance of his demeanor, Aurora couldn’t suppress the rush of gratitude and relief that she felt at his appearance.
“Thank you,” she said. On impulse, she strode forward, throwing her arms around Khaleel’s shoulders, burying her face against his chest. She trembled in the aftermath of her adrenaline rush, so happy at the fate that she had avoided thanks to his interference. She wanted to cry, that she wanted to curl up at his feet and sob until she’d exhausted the last nervous energy in her body.
Aurora shuddered, fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes. “Thank you, Khaleel. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this.”
The Sheikh took her shoulders in his hand and carefully pulled her away from him, looking down into her face. “For now, I’d say you can repay me by coming with me,” he said, smiling slightly. “This is no place for you to be hanging out right now.”
He glanced at the other men he’d brought with him. “Gentlemen, our mission is accomplished. I’ll be taking Miss Evans with me; the rest of you are excused to go back to the office. The overtime will be in your accounts in forty-eight hours.”
The men started to move towards one of the SUVs and Aurora let Khaleel claim her hand in his own. She was so relieved, so grateful, and so overwhelmed by the way he had arrived, that she followed him without even a moment’s hesitation.
Khaleel opened the back door of the SUV and helped her climb up into the seat, giving her a moment to settle herself before he climbed in after her.
Aurora took one final look around the alleyway and shook her head at the sheer volume of luck that she had experienced. All of this happened because I decided to try to stow away on a private yacht, she thought as Khaleel gave the order for the driver to pull onto the street and take them to “the apartment.”
FIFTEEN
Aurora had seen the huge, glittering building Khaleel’s driver stopped in front of at least a dozen times since she moving to Miami, but she had never once thought she would get to go inside it.
Khaleel got out of the SUV first, and offered her his hand to help her climb down from the seat. She saw that the other SUV was gone; its occupants were doubtless on their way home. Khaleel held onto her hand and gently tugged Aurora towards the entrance of the building, giving her a quick reassuring glance.
She followed him into the building and looked around, taking in the marble and brass that decorated the lobby, as they both walked towards the elevators.
“Hello, Lucy,” Khaleel called out to the woman at the front desk.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Al-Mohammedi,” the woman called back. If Aurora hadn’t seen Khaleel’s yacht, if she hadn’t already been exposed to the almost absurd level of wealth in his life, she thought she would have been staggered by the grandeur of the apartment building’s interior. Khaleel stopped at the elevators and gave her hand a squeeze.
“Almost there,” Khaleel told her lowly.
Aurora couldn’t help but wonder; at what Khaleel wanted with her, what he was going to tell her, why he had helped her. He had been all but silent on the drive from Vagabond, making small talk with the driver, commenting on the always-horrific Miami traffic.
“You look pale, Aurora. Under the tan, at least.”
Aurora smiled wryly, peering around the lobby as they waited for the elevator to arrive. “I think I’m still pretty high on adrenaline,” she admitted.
The elevator chimed, and when the doors opened, Aurora’s wide eyes took in the subdued splendor of the car: wood paneling, gleaming brass rail, and marble floor tiles in an intricate mosaic. She stepped into the elevator car, still holding Khaleel’s hand, and watched as he selected the Penthouse floor. A soft, feminine voice asked for his access code, and Khaleel slid a panel aside to enter it quickly.
Moments later they were walking down a short hallway, and then Khaleel was unlocking and opening a door, and they stepped into his apartment.
Aurora kicked off her shoes, pushing them with her foot towards a spot that bore an engraved chrome sign saying “shoes here.” She looked around, and realized after a moment of taking in the plush couches, thick rugs, and wood floors, that the penthouse was decorated in a similar way to the yacht.
The penthouse was more luxurious than Aurora could have imagined an apartment ever being. It was, she thought, possibly as large as her parents’ actual house; certainly the living room seemed to be larger than her entire apartment.
Khaleel told her to take a seat and strode in his socks into the open kitchen at the other end of the space. “Let me make you something to drink—you look like you need it,” he said.
Aurora sat down on one of the couches in the living room and took in the details of the room; she recognized the subtly Arabic theme that Khaleel had incorporated into the space with the patterns on the rug, a few scattered pieces of artwork.
Her nerves tingled, her skin going hot and cold as she waited for Khaleel to reappear in the living room. She could hear his movements in the kitchen, and occasionally caught glances of him walking around, reaching for something in a cabinet. She couldn’t quite escape a feeling of being an interloper, of being the country bumpkin in the big city—a feeling she hadn’t had in Miami since her first week of med school classes.
Finally, Khaleel emerged, holding a small tray with an ornate teapot and a low, squat bottle, along with two delicate-looking cups. “You could use something warm to drink, am I right?”
Aurora smiled and nodded. “I could, definitely,” she agreed.
Khaleel poured tea into one of the cups, and added a shot of amber-colored liquid from the bottle, handing it to Aurora before sitting down. Aurora took a sip and sighed with appreciation; the tea was sweet and spicy, full of flavors she couldn’t quite identify. The secondary heat of the alcohol made something in her stomach relax.
“You’re looking better already,” Khaleel said, pouring his own drink and sitting down in a chair close by.
Aurora smiled. “There’s something I’ve been wondering, ever since you showed up. You didn’t actually answer my question from before: why did you help me?”