The mirror was littered with hand-prints. It was incredibly obvious exactly what we had been doing, the perfect mirror smudged with our escapades. Owen let out a hearty chuckle, pulling me into him for yet another mind-blowing kiss.
"Be right back," he finally whispered, letting me go. I stood there for a moment, dizzy from his kiss. Thunder boomed again, but the lights stayed bright. I had completely forgotten about the balcony doors until I heard Owen closing them. I smiled as I wrapped myself up in a towel, knowing he was making sure the room was warm for me.
Owen opened the door, the steam leaking out into the main room as he stepped inside wearing one of the hotel's voluminous robes. He handed me a second, the material soft and luxurious. I followed him out. The room dark. He hopped on the bed and motioned me to follow.
Lightning illuminated the sky through the windows. Owen had drawn the drapes back so we could watch the night sky light up. I cuddled into the nook of his shoulder, a delightful warm drowsy feeling washing over me. The sky lit up as thunder echoed through the city buildings, shaking windows and rattling doors. I wasn't scared, though. With Owen holding me, the world could end, and I would still be safe.
Chapter 17
The plane touched down and woke me from the blurry vestiges of a strange dream. As I opened my eyes sleepily, I saw Owen's smiling face. It had been a rough flight. The first four hours, Owen had managed to keep me relatively calm and distracted, but when we hit a patch of turbulence, I had lost it. Luckily, Owen had convinced me to take some medication to help me relax, and then had held me until I fell asleep. I was safe in his arms, and I managed to sleep through the rest of the flight, albeit with very strange dreams. Presently, the medication was still in my system, but at least this time I was going to get off the airplane and not have a wicked hangover.
"Good morning, gorgeous. Welcome to Dubai." He kissed me gently and pushed open one of the window shades. Bright white sunshine poured into the dimly lit cabin, making me blink. I fumbled in my bag for a brush, ran it through my hair, then quickly gathered my things to get off the plane.
As the door opened, I felt a blast of heat, like I had just stepped into an oven. Nothing could have prepared me for how hot it was. Not even when I had gone to the Caribbean had I ever been this hot. There was no moisture in the air here, no clouds. No wonder it was a desert, I thought. I was used to summers in Iowa, where the humidity and the heat make the corn grow sweet, but this was a different kind of heat. Sand and blue skies were all I could see, and everything seemed to be reflecting the gleaming sunlight back upon itself.
The airport where we had landed was small and obviously for wealthy clients with private jets. I felt like a movie star as I walked down the stairs and onto a red carpeted walkway.
A private car was waiting to take us to our hotel. I wondered what a city would look like in this part of the world. As someone who never expected to travel, and never had the desire to either, I hadn't paid much attention to the places I could go. Even when Owen had told me where we were going, my knowledge was limited and scattered.
I had began to watch a brief “Cultural Awareness“ video while we were on the airplane, but I hadn't lasted long. All I knew about Dubai was that it was known for its oil and that the world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, was located there.
I looked out the window as the city came into view and gasped. It was quite possibly the most unique city I could have imagined. The pictures online didn't do it justice. Skyscrapers soared into the atmosphere, their shapes almost whimsical. I could see part of the Burj Khalifa as we drove closer, its spire threading into the sky past where I could follow it. The thought of going to the top made my stomach feel a little queasy.
The car drove us through the city, whose buildings were all beautiful and unique. I had expected it to look like New York City, or maybe Chicago, but this was beyond anything I could have imagined. I smiled as I gazed at the structure. I didn't know that it was possible to make skyscrapers that looked like sailboats.
The car slowly worked it's way toward the base of the massive tower of the Burj Khalifa. At 2,722 feet and 162 floors: it dominated the skyline. My neck ached as I craned it backward to see the top, but we were too close and the tower was too tall. The car dropped us off, and Owen and I headed inside the main lobby.
Everything inside was sleek and modern, made for a worldwide stage. Businessmen in western attire mingled with men wearing the traditional long white dishdasha. A woman in a hijab stood next to a Russian woman in jeans and a tank-top, both of them waiting for their husbands. I tried my best not to stare at the non-Western clothing, but it was just something that I had never seen before. It was exotic and very, very foreign.
Owen didn't stop to check in at the desk, he just headed straight for the elevators. The shiny doors closed and shot us up fast enough to make my ears pop. Owen led me confidently out of the elevator and down a hallway, apparently very used to the layout of the place as he spent so much time here for his business trips,. A man was waiting for us outside of a dark wooden door. I smiled as I recognized who it was. At least not everything was foreign here.
Dean grinned as soon as he saw us, quickly sliding a keycard into the door and opening it. As I walked past, he touched my shoulder and whispered, "I'm glad you made it." I couldn't help but flash him a grin, glad to have another familiar face in a sea of new ones.
"How did you get here? Aren't you supposed to be watching Emma?" I asked him.
Dean shrugged. "She asked if I could switch with Mr. Parker's usual bodyguard for the trip. Mr. Saunders was all too happy to agree. Besides,“ he said with a quick grin. “I thought you could use the friendly face."
"You know me too well," I said softly as I stepped through the door. I sent Emma a silent thank you. Knowing I had Dean looking out for me, someone I already trusted, made the idea of being somewhere so foreign easier.
Owen sat down on a white, beautifully upholstered sofa, kicking his shoes off and relaxing for a moment. He watched me as I explored the room like a little kid, grinning at my shock at the size and lavishness of it all. There was a study with a giant TV, a huge and inviting bedroom with a massive bathroom, and a living room bigger than my apartment. The bar and pantry were better stocked than my own, but I forgot it all when I saw the view. From the windows, I could see the city, the desert, and even a sliver of the Gulf glimmering in the distance. It was absolutely breathtaking.
"What do you think?" Owen asked with a grin as I found my way back to the living room. He lounged comfortably on the couch as though he had always lived there. Unable to find the words I needed, my mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"This room is nicer than my parents' house. I can't wrap my head around how big this place is. I didn't know this level of niceness even existed. I don't think this even qualifies as a hotel anymore. I'm in awe."
Owen laughed and stood. He walked over to me and kissed me affectionately on the nose.
"I'm glad you like it. Make yourself comfortable.“ He began to throw on his suit jacket again. “I need to get some work done in the office, but come in if you need anything. I'd suggest something simple for dinner tonight, but we already have plans. I know you must be jet-lagged, but I need you to be ready to go to the sheik's palace tonight for dinner. I'm sorry."
I nodded,
accepting the apology, and Owen smiled at me. He turned and entered the study, closing the door gently behind him. In my mind's eye, I could see him opening his laptop and setting up his phone, placing everything he needed just so on the desk before getting to work. It made me smile as I headed toward the bedroom to unpack and settle in.
Rachel and Emma had done well at their job of picking out my clothes. Owen's eyes practically popped out of his head when he saw me in the formal dinner dress they had chosen. It was a deep hue of blue that reminded me of twilight, right as stars start to appear but before the moon rises. The sweetheart cut would have been out of place for a conservative dinner, but with a skin-tight long-sleeve lace overlay the length of the dress, only discrete windows of my skin were exposed. I felt like something out of a fashion magazine. As we walked into the sheik's mansion, I knew that that was the point. I was here as Owen's arm candy tonight.
Sheik Mohammad al-Saffar greeted us warmly as we entered a large open room in the center of what I could only call a palace. Marble archways and lavish gardens made his home exactly what I had imagined the castle from Aladdin to look like in real life.
The older gentleman wore the traditional white dishdasha that I was already associating with the Middle East. He looked exactly like what I thought a sheik would look like. "Mr. Parker, what a pleasure," the sheik greeted Owen with perfect, though slightly accented, English. I wasn't quite sure what I had been expecting, but it wasn't that.