Owned By The Sheikh: An Alpha Billionaire Sheikh Romance Read online

  © Copyright 2016 by (Kylie Knight) - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

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  Owned by the Sheikh

  Billionaire Bachelors Club

  By: Kylie Knight

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapte 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Bonus Book 1

  Bonus Book 2

  Bonus Book 3

  Bonus Book 4

  Bonus Book 5

  Bonus Book 6

  Bonus Book 7

  Bonus Book 8

  Bonus Book 9

  Bonus Book 10

  Bonus Book 11

  Bonus Book 12

  Bonus Book 13

  Bonus Book 14

  Bonus Book 15

  Exclusive Bonus Book 16

  Chapter 1

  The laptop beeped. She had an incoming message. Cheyenne Camacho keyed in her password and saw the e-mail at once. Someone at the Sattaran embassy had responded to the query she had sent. She opened the message. It was a longer, more detailed want ad than the one she had sent her email address and name to two hours earlier. The first one was in the thread below the response she had sent: Are you a young woman interested in an exciting opportunity for travel and work overseas? If you think you have what it takes to handle the adventure of life abroad, send your name and email address to the Sattaran embassy at the link below for further information.

  Sending her information had been a no-brainer. She had always wanted to travel, and since there was nothing to keep her stateside and her current jobless state would pay no bills, she had jumped at the chance. Besides, none of the other want ads had piqued her interest, though she had sent her resume to two theater companies looking for actors for bit parts. Not musicals, but she had reminded herself to stop being picky. She read the new message.

  Wanted: Companion for position of trust in household of high ranking Sattaran official. Eligible applicants must be single females between 25 and 30 years old, fluent in English, in good health and of sound mind, living independently, financially stable, with no criminal record. Must be willing to travel often; valid passport required. Responsibilities include being hostess for frequent official functions, overseeing the day to day operations of a large official residence, as well as being a companion and caregiver to a small boy. Experience in any of these areas, though not required, would be a plus. Initial interviews will be conducted via email; finalists will be interviewed in person. Send all resumes and letters of interest via this link.

  Chey fit the bill in every regard except perhaps “financially stable”. She wasn’t sure what that meant. She paid her own way but had no money saved, and still had significant student loan debt. But she fed and clothed herself and considered her finances stable…well, until she had been fired. She was an actress…she could charm the birds off the trees if she put her mind to it. She hoped the fact that she had been fired from her last job, or the number of jobs she had had to hold in order to be as “financially stable” as she had been before being let go, would not count against her. She clicked on the link and uploaded her resume and letter of interest. A few more questions, another click to indicate that she wasn’t a robot, and the application was off to the unknown person at the Sattaran embassy. She sat back gazing into space. She had only just a few hours ago been fired unceremoniously from her job, though that was not the word that had been used.

  “We’re sorry to have to inform you, Ms. Camacho, but we find ourselves unable to keep you any longer in our employ. Please clear out your desk and return your ID badge and building key pass to the security officer on your way out.”

  The office manager, a short, thin woman named Sandra Jones with features that had earned her the nickname Mousy behind her back, pushed her heavy-rimmed glasses up her nose as she spoke. She had just turned to leave the cubicle when Chey’s questions stopped her.

  “Mind if I ask why? And what about my right to notice and severance pay?”

  Ms. Jones turned back to face Chey, her eyes darting around as though she had a sudden concern that their conversation might be overheard. That concern had not been in evidence moments before.

  “Management did not specify a particular reason but did indicate that your position was no longer needed. As to the other question, I suggest you take that up with Mr. Jeffers yourself.”

  Then, she turned and scurried away before Chey could respond. Wimp! Chey wondered how the woman had managed to land the job as office manager when all she really did was slavishly carry out whatever orders the boss laid down. Chey suspected that they were sleeping together, which made her stomach heave. Tom Jeffers was a big-bellied, coarse man as opposite to his office manager as night was to day. How could they possibly…? Chey left that thought right where it landed, unwilling to upchuck her breakfast at the images that would no doubt ensue.

  As she packed, she realized she knew why she was being summarily dismissed. Her job in their organization, Pan’s House, which sold “everything erotic and exotic for enhanced adult entertainment”, was to answer the phones and to entice new customers to buy products they had no need for. She achieved this by spewing half-truths and pretending to be a consumer of said products herself. Most of the things they peddled were fairly harmless and probably gave their buyers a lot of fun times. A few made her wonder and knit her brow. Still, she read whatever spiel was handed to her using all her acting training to make customers believe her. But two days ago, a woman had called to complain about one of the products and Chey directed her call to Jeffers’s office knowing he was there and would pick up the phone. He claimed that he was always available to answer his customers’ concerns because he knew if the call went through to him, it was the last resort.

  However, calls were never usually sent through to him because he knew nothing specific about the products that his company peddled, and had specified that the only calls that should reach him were ones from distributors or colleagues. In addition, his people skills were nil. Chey had suddenly felt the weight of her job, the meaningless grind of it, thecheating and equivocation that deadened her spirit daily. She had sent through the call because it was the last straw, and it had broken her. She could no longer lie about her knowledge of these products and she really didn’t know how to address the woman’s complaint, or how to fix her problem.

  Predictably, Jeffers had been livid calling her into his office and berating her in front of Ms. Jones. He called her careless and spiteful and described her as not a team player. He accused her of having an agenda to harm the company. He told her she had barely passed through the probationary period, and her work ethic left much to be desired. He insisted that she was the laziest member of his staff and that her performance was up for immediate review after the debacle. He told her she had probably lost the company thousands of dollars due to her inability to do her job, her ineffective sales techniques, and her poor teamwork. He opined that she would be lucky to keep the job much longer if she continued as she was going. Then, he dismissed her. She supposed she was lucky to have lasted a whole twenty-four hours longer.

  P
acking the few personal items she had scattered around the desk and in the drawers, she pulled out her ID card and key pass and walked out to the front lobby of the small building. This housed the offices of Pan’s House, its warehouse, and the store where people could come in to purchase items in person instead of online or by phone. Handing the items to Mac, the security guy, she smiled and said cheerfully, ”Well, Mac, it was nice knowing you. Give my regards to your wife, and take care of yourself now.”

  Mac’s brows rose in surprise. ”Didn’t you just get here a couple of hours ago?” he asked.

  “Indeed, I did but my services are no longer required,” she said breezily as though it were not a serious matter that she was now without a means to support herself.

  Chey had majored in acting in college and had managed, in the six years since her graduation, to find acting work a total of four times, not including the occasional voiceover gig. One had been for a six-month stint on a soap opera, though she had known going in that her character was going to be killed off. A second had been for a summer camp, where she taught the kids acting techniques; she was hired for two more summers, and then the camp closed. A third one had been for an off-off-Broadway show that had closed within two months of its opening, and the last one had been for a commercial. In the meantime, she had worked as run crew for three musicals, as a box office agent, and she had also been a waitress. Other jobs included working as a receptionist in a doctor’s office, a store clerk in a local bookstore and in a department store chain, a babysitter, and, lately, a purveyor of sex toys.

  The irony of the job from which she had just been fired was not lost on her. Chey’s last serious relationship had only been her second, in college, with a nice young man who had gone on to law school and to a poli-sci girlfriend who had since become his wife. She read about him in the news once in a while, and he and his wife made the society pages occasionally…one of the perks of rubbing shoulders with the right people, she supposed. He was two years her senior, and at thirty, he was one of the youngest lawyers to make partner in his law firm. Mind you, the firm was his father’s, so there was reason to suppose that he had an in. He had come with his wife to see her perform in the off-off-Broadway show and afterward had brought her a lovely bouquet of flowers, introduced his wife, and wished her a happy life. No apologies for the way he had left her high and dry, allowing her to find out about his new life and love on her own. She wondered how he even knew she was in the show, but never asked.

  Chey chose not to be bitter. It would have been so easy to throw his flowers in his face, berate him to his wife, and throw them both out of her dressing room, but the show hadn’t been doing as well as she would have liked on stage, so she didn’t think any drama off stage would go over any better. Besides, she realized she didn’t really care. It had been good while it lasted and she had learned some great ways to please a man in bed, but there had been nothing to write home about and nothing to make her think she had lost the man of her dreams. She was still holding out hope for that, and in the meantime, she had decided that she needed to stop being so picky about what gigs she took if she wanted to make it as an actress. She hadn’t had any better luck, although, the commercial had paid a tidy sum because it had taken more than a day to shoot. Hence, the string of odd jobs.

  Now, she was jobless once more, and back to trying to find a way to keep a roof over her head and food on her table. She searched through the want ads for another two hours, but nothing appealed to her. Finally, after a late lunch, she decided to spend the rest of the afternoon at the orphanage where she sometimes volunteered on weekends. She could watch the kids and read to them, and get her mind off her troubles for a few more hours. Hopping off the bus a block from the building, she hurried around the corner to the brightly decorated building which housed one hundred children ranging in ages from newborn to preteen. It was a wide two-story structure, formerly a car showroom and garage with a small parking lot and a bigger play yard. It sat across the street from low-rise apartments, a funeral home, and a chapel. Next to it was a flower shop on one side and a mom-and-pop pharmacy on the other.

  The huge iron gate, over which a weathered sign read ”Our Lady of Mount Carmel Children’s Home”, creaked as she pushed it inward and she smiled as she recalled the reason the gate was never oiled. Sister Maureen Claire, the Mother Superior whose nuns ran the orphanage, claimed it was better than a guard dog at heralding the arrival of friend and foe alike. As she approached the wide porch, the front door, a massive wooden affair, swung open and Sister Mary Frances, the Mother Superior’s second in command and the top administrator who worked directly in the orphanage, stepped out to meet her.

  “Ah, little sister,” she greeted Chey, a broad smile of welcome creasing her cheeks. ”I was not expecting you today.” She reached out and took Chey’s hands between her own. ”Is everything all right?”

  For the first time that day, Chey had a qualm. No, she thought, everything was definitely not all right. But she had no intention of telling the kind-hearted woman who stood before her anything other than the lie that sprang swiftly from her lips.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” she said cheerfully. ”I’ve been given a day off, so I thought I’d come in earlier and help with afternoon story time.”

  The nun smiled warmly at her. ”That is very sweet of you, little sister. The toddlers will love having you read to them. Come along in.”

  Chey left her bag in Sister Mary Frances’s office and followed her through to the back porch where bean bags had been set out in a reading nook. Little kids were already gathering for their afternoon treat before naptime. Chey picked up the book that was on the big armchair reserved for the afternoon’s reader. Today it was Horton Hears A Who by Dr. Seuss. The little ones all sat around waiting patiently. When Chey settled her back against the back of the chair, they all quieted as though an invisible hand had signaled them to silence. She cleared her throat and began.

  She loved to act out all the parts for the children, creating voices for each speaking part, sharing the pictures with them and, as she read, answering their questions as they asked them. By the time she got to the end of the story, a few of the younger ones were dozing in their seats. Chey smiled as she closed the book, and the children smiled back and began to wander away to their rooms for the afternoon nap. Sister Mary Frances appeared with a cold glass of lemonade and two large chocolate chip cookies.

  “Thank you, Sister,” she said with a smile.

  “I thought you’d like to whet your whistle after that,” the nun said. ”You are so good at this,” she continued, ”why aren’t you swamped with job offers?” The nun knew of her career choice, and of the lack of jobs in her field.

  “I’m too picky, I guess, Sister,” she said finishing the first cookie.

  “You shouldn’t have to settle for poor quality work,” Sister Mary Frances insisted. ”An audition should be enough to satisfy these people that you are just who they need.”

  Chey laughed. “You’re very good for my ego, Sister,” she said, ”and I appreciate the vote of confidence. I guess the parts I try for are very competitive. And as an unknown, I have to work twice as hard to get a foot in the door.”

  “Well, we are praying for you, dear,” the nun said. ”And we’re looking forward to your first successful show.”

  Chey finished her snack, followed the Sister back into the house, and asked what else she could do to help.

  “Well, if you have a little extra time, I’d love it if you would stay with Timothy. He’s been having interrupted sleep during the day as well as at night, and sometimes when he wakes he is fussy.”

  “I’ll stay with him till dinner,” Chey said and took herself off to the second floor.

  She knew where Timothy’s room was. He shared it with an older child who helped to watch him at night, but his roommate was in school and wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. When Chey walked through the open door, Timothy was on his side, curled up in the fetal posit
ion and he was whimpering. Chey sat at the head of the bed and pulled the little boy into her arms. He cuddled close and sighed in his sleep, as though he knew he was safe now and could relax. She hummed quietly while stroking his head as he slept and thought about how much she wanted children of her own. She was getting older, and, though she knew she would be of childbearing years for a while yet, there was no man in her life to help her achieve her heart’s desire. She continued to soothe the child in her arms in an effort to soothe herself as she thought dismally of how little chance she would have of finding a man, especially now if she landed the job in Sattaran.

  When the grandfather clock by the front door chimed the hour, she realized it was dinner time at the orphanage and it was time for her to go. Timothy stirred in her arms, as though his body was tuned to the chimes of the old clock, and he sat up rubbing his eyes sleepily.

  “Hi there, sweetie,” Chey said smiling down at him as he opened his eyes. ”How are you feeling?”

  The little boy yawned widely before answering. ”I wanna pee,” he said, climbing off her lap and hurrying to the bathroom that was happily across the hall from his room.

  She waited for him, listening to make sure he washed his hands and then, she went with him down to the dining room. The place was already abuzz with the voices of the little ones who were fed first, while the older children did homework and chores. Chey collected her things from Sister Mary Frances’s office and spoke a quiet word of goodbye before heading back to her apartment. On the way, she stopped to buy pasta and tuna for dinner. She would check her emails once she got home again. Hopefully, she would have some more job interviews scheduled.