His Indecent Proposal (Sold To The Sheikh 1)

SEVEN

"Okay," Mia said, setting her phone down on her bathroom counter. "I want you to know that this isn't any less weird the fifth time than it was the first." Rami laughed on the other end of the phone, the sound echoing from the speaker.

"Well you won't let me be there in person, so what choice do I have?" Mia rolled her eyes and tried to fight down the blush that warmed her cheeks. She had agreed to call Rami when she took a pregnancy test after the first cycle of artificial insemination; now on the second cycle of IVF, she would have thought that she couldn't have a single shred of modesty left-and yet she still felt strange handling her urine while she had him on the phone.

"I can't believe you're actually awake for this. What were you doing last night?" Mia felt a flicker of envy that throughout this process, Rami's life had not been nearly as interrupted as her own. I didn't go out much even when I wasn't trying to get pregnant, Mia reminded herself.

"For your information, I stayed in last night because I knew I would be waking up early to do this with you," Rami told her, sounding haughty.

"I'm sure the models at the club were just heartbroken," Mia said wryly.

"I wouldn't know," Rami countered. "I haven't been hanging out with them."

"Lies. Filthy lies." Mia took a deep breath and took the cap off of the test applicator. She looked at the tiny cup and exhaled. "Okay, dipping the applicator now."

"How long do we have to wait?"

"The directions say three minutes," Mia replied. She held the fibrous tip of the applicator in the liquid for a moment to make sure it absorbed, then quickly took it out and put the cap back on. "Starting now." She set the timer and sat down on the edge of her tub.

"So, what were you up to last night?" Rami inquired.

"Oh God, this small talk," Mia said, shaking her head. "I ate at a restaurant with Mom."

"How's she doing?"

"Better," Mia said, smiling to herself. "The doctor in New York gave her some recommendations on who is best to see around here, and gave her some fresh information to give to the new doctors. We're hopeful."

"That's great! Have you started looking at houses?" Mia bit her bottom lip.

"Kind of. Not seriously, yet. I guess I'm sort of?waiting to see if I'm going to be pregnant anytime soon."

"Yeah," Rami's cheery tone quieted slightly. "That's something to consider."

"I would love to see you baby-proofing your house when the time comes," Mia said, trying to lighten the mood. She had been to Rami's penthouse apartment once. As the months had passed, they had become more and more comfortable with each other, and one afternoon Rami had invited her over to see his place. Whenever she remembered it, Mia was torn between shock and amusement at how incredibly grand it was.

"All that expensive furniture getting covered in scotch-guard; all those priceless cabinets with those ugly locks on them. It'll be hilarious."

"I might abandon the idea completely," Rami said. "Get another place and start over."

"Now, see, you say things like that and you have no idea how ridiculous it sounds to someone who isn't so insanely wealthy."

Rami chuckled. "Everyone I know thinks it makes more sense to get a house out in the country instead of trying to make it work here."

Mia shook her head. "With the exception of me, who do you know who makes less than, say?half a million dollars a year?"

"Hmm," Rami considered. "I don't think I know do know anyone. But hey-you've already made more than half a million this year. You no longer count."

Mia's eyes widened. "I did not even realize that," she said. "You're right."

"You're one of us rich kids too now." Rami laughed. "You can't talk shit about me anymore!"

"Yeah, well actually?" but before Mia could finish her sentence, the buzzer on her timer went off. "Okay, here goes," she said. She stood and walked the two steps from the bathroom to the counter. Looking down at the test applicator, her heart sank.

After a pause that seemed to go on forever, Rami broke the silence. "What does it say?" Mia took a deep breath.

"Not pregnant. That's what it says. It says, very clearly, 'not pregnant.'" Mia trembled and sank onto the floor of the bathroom, her vision wavering as tears began to form in her eyes. Rami sighed.

"Dr. Farber said it's not unusual for it to take up to five tries, Mia," he said, his voice full of sympathy. "Sometimes even more."

"What the hell is wrong with me?" The words left her in almost a wail. "Why the hell isn't this working?"

"Let me come over," Rami said. "I'll bring you breakfast, and we'll watch something-something with no babies in it." Mia brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly, waves of grief washing through her.

"What's wrong with me, Rami?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Mia. It just takes time. That's all."

"It's been six months!"

"Some people have to keep trying for years," Rami reminded her. "You have to stop beating yourself up about this, it's not healthy."

"It's not healthy? Neither is pumping myself full of hormones to ovulate, or producing fifty freaking eggs at one time! None of this is healthy, or normal, but it's supposed to be-it's supposed to work." Mia shuddered as a sob worked through her. "You need to just?just give up on me. Please, just find someone else; it shouldn't be too much trouble."

"Mia," Rami's voice was so soft down the phone. "Come on. I know it's tough. I know you're tired. Please just let me come over. I'll bring you some food, and I promise we won't talk about this or even think about it for the rest of the day."

"I just feel like a freak," Mia said, sniffling as her nose began to run. "I can't do the single most important thing a woman's supposed to be able to do." Mia's abdomen shook as another sob wracked her.

"Shh, Mia, it's okay. You're not a freak, you're a wonderful woman. God knows this is a really tough way to get pregnant, Dr. Farber's told us both a dozen times."

"Doesn't make me feel less like a failure," Mia muttered, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against her knees.

"You're not a failure. Come on. If you don't want to stay in, let's go to a museum, or a park or something. You need to get your mind off of this."

After a long, pensive pause, Mia wiped at her face and took a deep breath. "I guess," she said finally. "Okay. You can come over with breakfast and we'll figure out what to do from there."

"Good," Rami said, and Mia thought she could hear him smiling. "As my contractor I hereby order you to not even think about babies or pregnancy for the next forty-eight hours, do you hear me?" Mia laughed weakly.

"Right up until we meet with Dr. Farber again and tell her I'm still just as un-knocked-up as ever?"

"Exactly. Get a shower. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

As Mia showered, she tried not to think too much about why she felt fluttery all over that Rami was coming round. "It's just a comfort to have him here, that's all," she told herself as she rinsed conditioner out of her hair. She had started taking prenatal vitamins on Dr. Farber's recommendation during the first IVF cycle, and her hair had never been thicker, her skin more radiant. She stood under the showerhead for a long moment, letting the hot water sluice down her body. Mia had told her mother on more than one occasion that she and Rami were keeping things strictly professional between them, but after six months of seeing each other-even if mostly in the context of medical appointments-she had to admit to herself that her initial negative impressions of Rami's boastfulness, his ostentatious displays of wealth, had all but vanished.

He's really, weirdly, one of the sweetest guys I've ever met. Mia turned off the water in her shower and reached for a towel, wrapping it around her body in well-practiced movements. She had always found the rich guys at her school irritating-sometimes extremely so. Though they had all been so attractive she couldn't help imagining what it would be like to date them, it had left a bitter taste in her mouth when one member of the school's most exclusive fraternity had managed to get a drunk

driving charge overturned with nothing more than a phone call; a feeling she had thought she would forever associate with the extremely wealthy. She had found out later that the same frat brother had later nearly killed a family of four when he'd gotten into a car accident while once again driving under the influence. He had been charged, and convicted of the offence-and yet, he'd gotten little more than house arrest and court-mandated attendance at Alcoholics Anonymous.