The Sheikh's Illicit Affair Read Free Page B

studio for her next class. She missed her best friend desperately. They’d met when they had dance classes together in high school, and as they’d grown up and moved onto college, they had always kept in touch, seeing each other whenever they could. Rachel had moved to New York a few years before Megan, and her being here had been one of the biggest draws of choosing the city for her studio.
     
    In the early days of Megan’s studio, Rachel had come to many of the classes there, sometimes acting as an assistant. Now she was nearing the end of her pregnancy, she’d decided to take a break from dancing for the time being, and Megan only saw her when they had lunch together. Soon, Megan thought, Rachel would have a baby and would slip into mommy world, becoming one more frantic parent running around her studio.
     
    The worst part was, Megan wanted to be one of those parents. What Rachel had said, about her having a little girl in a pink tutu, had touched on a deep yearning that existed within her. Megan could see her daughter there, her hair tight in a bun, playing with a doll. She could see her ballet shoes coming loose and her learning her first plié.
     
    Megan strolled down the sidewalk, casually eyeing the people she passed. All these people in New York. Was there anyone that would be right for her? And where was he?
     
    Zaakir came to her mind. She wouldn’t mind someone like him. Handsome, classy. She didn’t particularly need the money part, though. She’d seen too much of what it did, and how it corrupted people. Having someone with less money, but stronger morals was much preferred over money and conceit. This was why none of the rich boys her parents tried to set her up with had stuck. They were more into themselves than anything else. They just wanted a prize to put on their arms and someone to sleep with when they were bored. They had everything else—money to travel and to buy whatever they wanted and to do anything they desired. There wasn’t much left for a relationship to fulfill.
     
    Maybe those boys were different now. Maybe they’d grown into upright businessmen, running companies across the world and going home to their wives and children who they loved. But she wasn’t sorry. She still wanted no part of the society life with the dinners and the expectations and the gossip. She much preferred the skimpy vegetable diets of dancers, and the chiffon and ribbons and leotards of the dance world.
     
    Back at the entrance to her studio, Megan unlocked the door and flipped the lights back on. She took down the “Out for Lunch” sign and headed into her office. There were still several more minutes to kill before her next class, so she got on her computer and paid a few bills, then she opened a fresh internet tab.
     
    The logo and empty search bar sat before her, waiting. All she had to do was type. With a deep breath, Megan slowly typed the words “sperm bank New York.”
     
    Megan stared at the photos that popped up, all happy families and smiling children. Could she really do it, though? Choose the father of her child by his height and hair color? Have a baby all on her own? Her parents would never approve. They might even disown her over it, regardless of the fact that she would be giving them a grandchild. The hassle of the gossip and controversy around her decision would outweigh any desire to know their grandchild.
     
    The start time for her next class was approaching. Megan clicked off the website and closed her browser, staring for a moment at the image that formed the background of her computer screen: a group of small girls in their leotards, with her at the center. The first class she had ever taken. Maybe having these kids as “her children” was enough, she thought. Even if it was only for a few hours a week.
     
    Well, Megan thought, she didn’t have to do anything about it today. Right now, all she had to do was get ready for her next class.

THREE

All afternoon as Megan