THREE
Lily scoffed at the coldness of the woman in the green gown. Couldn’t she even say thank you? Would it have killed her to smile? Lily poured another drink and held the anger at bay. She was tired, hungry, angry and lonely. Those were never good things to be all at once.
Even growing up as a kid, Lily had kept to herself. She didn’t have any siblings but had always wanted them. In school, she had been a bit of a loner and made friends with figures from history rather than her classmates. In college, she worked so hard to get ahead that she never made time for friendships. When she got to Chicago, she did make a few good friends, but she never dated. In fact, she had only been on a handful of dates her entire life. It usually didn’t bother her that much, but when she was hungry, angry and tired, the lonely part kicked into high gear.
Lily poured another drink and handed it to another smug party goer. She wanted to scream something like, “Hey! A thank you would be nice! I’m a human being, you know!” But she held it in.
“Cabernet,” the voice said. Lily reached for the bottle and began pouring without looking up.
“Well, isn’t this appropriate?”
Lily looked up and saw one of the professors she had worked with in her teaching days at the Art Institute of Chicago. He was wearing a black tuxedo, white shirt and the stupidest bowtie she had ever seen. It had little sea turtles on it. Not now, she said to herself. Please don’t say another word, Professor.
“Finally, a job that you’re perfectly suited for.”
Lily felt her hand tighten on the bottle as she finished pouring the drink. Oh, how she wanted to launch the contents of the glass right at his stupid bowtie. Breathe, just breathe, she told herself.
The Professor smiled a satisfied grin and walked away just as Lily felt the sting of the tears in the corner of her eyes. She looked around frantically, hoping that no one else she knew saw her. She dabbed the corner of her eyes with her apron and looked around for her manager, regretting the fact that Jill wasn’t working this event. Lily spotted the shiny bald head and made her way past the other servers.
“Mr. Jacobs, I’m really not feeling well. I think I need to go home.”
Jacobs turned his round, sweaty face away from the chafing dish and looked at the guests in front of him when he spoke.
“No, can’t do that,” he said, barely acknowledging her presence.
Lily persisted. “Mr. Jacobs, I think I’m really sick. I have to leave.”
Jacobs turned his face toward her and she saw the anger in his beady eyes. “Listen, Bailey, we’re swamped here. You’re not going anywhere! Now get your skinny little butt back behind that bar and start pouring!”
Lily felt the anger rise in her. “Can’t go home?!” she asked, infuriated by the ignorant little man. “You won’t let me go? Well in that case… I quit!”
Lily ripped off her apron and threw it on the ground. Before Jacobs could say another word, Lily moved past him and walked out on the dance floor, toward the staff exit. Her long dark hair fell loosely over her bare shoulders and the straps of her slim fitting black cocktail dress. Her brown eyes bore holes through the crowd as she made her way quickly across the room. The tears dried quickly on her cheeks and she hoped they were unnoticeable to the guests as she passed them.
She moved as quickly as she could, but got delayed by the throng of people on the floor. Large, puffy gowns and servers with trays obstructed her every move and in seconds, Lily found herself looking around, taking in the beautiful couture and elegant surroundings. She moved slowly toward the exit and before she could get to the door, a server carrying a gold tray offered her a glass of champagne. Lily was about to refuse and then paused. She looked at the server and realized that she didn’t recognize him. She smiled politely and took the glass as she watched him disappear in the crowd.
She stood still and let the bubbly champagne tingle her nose and tongue. The feel of the fine crystal in her hand was different when you were drinking and not serving. Lily watched the crowd. She didn’t recognize any of the guests, except for a few museum board members who stuck out like sore thumbs. The rest of the crowd was a mix of musicians, artists, and the international elite. Lily was certain the
y were benefactors of the museum; the museum often held lavish events in the hopes of coaxing more money and donations out of them. And it usually worked.
Lily finished her champagne and before she could set the glass down on a nearby table, another server replaced it with a fresh glass. She had all but forgotten about quitting her job and moved around the room, listening to bits and pieces of conversation as she sipped on the champagne. Lily knew enough about the art world to make small talk with the guests. Every time the conversation turned to what she did for work, she politely excused herself and joined another conversation.
After a few glasses of champagne, a tipsy Lily decided she needed some time away from the crowd. She walked out of the main room and down a hall that led to one of the Middle-Eastern exhibits. The quiet of the museum after hours always brought Lily peace. When she worked there, she would stay long after the museum closed and walk the halls, just admiring the art work and the exhibits. She felt like she could study them and really get to know the history behind them when it was just her and them. It was almost as if they were speaking directly to her.
She rounded a corner and entered a gallery containing some of the museum’s more valuable pieces of Middle-Eastern artwork. She walked along the marble floor, the click of her heels the only sound. As she neared the end, Lily stopped when she realized she wasn’t alone. Standing next to a bronze plaque on the far end of the gallery was a tall man with dark hair. He turned to face her when he heard her gasp in surprise.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, standing a few meters away from him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She knew that many people got lost in their thoughts when looking at art; after all, she was one of them.
The man’s handsome face softened in a smile. “Not at all,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling.
Lily felt her heart jump. She looked at the man and thought she recognized him, but wasn’t sure where from.
“Please, join me,” he said, extending his arm in invitation.
Lily smiled back and nodded politely. He must think I’m another guest, she thought. She decided to play along for a little while. After all, this exhibit was one of her favorites.
“What do you think?” the stranger asked as Lily stood next to him, head cocked as he looked at the plaque. She breathed in and let the musky scent of this stranger fill her and her skin began to tingle.
“It’s early Arabic, 12th century,” she said, matter-of-factly. Then she realized she would blow her cover. “I think,” she added hastily.
The stranger smiled down at her, admiring her tall, curvy frame and beautiful soft features. “Yes, you really know your art.”
“My father was diplomat for the region and I’ve been to nearly every museum in the Middle East,” Lily lied.
The stranger nodded. He knew she was a guest from the ball. But now he also knew she was from a prominent family. And her olive skin and dark features told him she was probably of Middle-Eastern decent.
He turned to her and held his hand out. “Please, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sheikh Khaled bin Mahmoud al Halam.”
Lily turned and smiled, trying to hide her shock. She placed her long hand gingerly in his and he lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. Lily felt a shock ripple through her when his lips touched her skin. She blinked several times and smiled.
“Lady Lillian Bailey,” she said, adding a little fluff to her name to keep up appearances. She had met several royals in her time, but never one as handsome as this.
“And this is your family’s plaque,” she said, pointing to the bronze plaque on the wall.
“Yes,” Khaled said, shrugging off the electric feeling he got touching Lily’s hand. It must be the champagne, he said to himself. “I’m the eldest son of Sheikh Khilnar’ak bin Mahmoud al Halam.” He paused for a moment. “The late Khilnar’ak.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s right, I heard about your father,” Lily said, placing a hand on his shoulder. She felt the warmth of his strong body through his suit and felt her blood tingle.
Khaled was surprised to hear that this woman had heard about his father’s death. She must be part of the royal network, he thought; his father was not that well known outside Al-Zumayn and the surrounding areas. He felt his mood shift as Lily put her hand on his shoulder.
Lily realized that she had lost her job shortly after Khaled’s father died. With his passing, the family had stopped donating to the museum, and now a ball was being held to entice Khaled to continue the donations. His father’s death that was also the reason Lily’s job had been eliminated. When the donations stopped, the budget had been slashed and Lily’s position had been one of the first casualties.
She looked up at Khaled and realized that even though his family was the reason she was no longer employed at the museum, it might not be Khaled’s fault. He may not have been involved at all. But what did she have to lose by trying to find out?
Khaled turned and looked at Lily, feeling his heart race as he looked into her dark, inviting eyes. He felt a spark that was undeniable. He had always been attracted to beautiful women. And he had no problem flirting with them. But this was different. He couldn’t identify exactly what was happening. But he wanted to find out.
“Would you like to dance?” Khaled asked, holding his arm out to Lily.
As she slipped her arm into his, Lily realized this was the same man who had dodged the woman in the green ball gown. And now, here he was, asking her to dance.
“I’m afraid I’m not that good a dancer,” she said, not wanting to lose the opportunity to get to know him better.
“Don't worry, I’ll lead,” Khaled, smiling as he walked her back to the ballroom.