Sold To The Sheikh: His Indecent Proposal (An Interracial Sheikh Romance Novel) (7 page)

“That’s—thank you. That’s
one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“I’m honored that you’re
willing to do this for me, Mia. You’re a generous, big-hearted
person, and I will owe you a debt for the rest of my life.” Mia
smiled, taking another breath and exhaling slowly.

“So…” she said, “how
exactly are we going to do this?”

“First, I will need you to
meet with my accountant to arrange the first transfer to your
account,” Rami said. “Then, when you’re ready, we can book a
consultation.” Rami paused for a moment. “How much notice will you
need to give the school that you’re planning to go on leave?” Mia
considered the question.

“I think I need to give
them a month,” she said. “But I can go to appointments and things
during that time—especially if you can find someone who’s willing
to see me on a weekend.”

“That can definitely be
arranged,” Rami said. “Oh I’m so excited! Mia, you have no idea.
You’re an angel, really. Thank you so much. I’ll contact my
accountant to let him know he needs to meet with you. I’ll tell him
to call you, and he should be able to see you after work one day
soon.” Mia nodded. She couldn’t quite believe she had made such a
momentous decision in such a short time—but now that she had made
the choice, she was glad that Rami wasn’t going to put her on hold
to wait for a long negotiation or anything else. She wanted to get
down to the business of carrying his child as quickly as
possible.

FIVE

Mia sat in the waiting
room at the OB/GYN Rami had enlisted for the complicated and
delicate task of overseeing her pregnancy. She looked around at the
other women, men—and a few children—waiting for their own
appointments. Rami would be there soon, Mia told herself firmly as
her heart fluttered in her chest. She no longer questioned why she
felt better when Rami was around, especially for the appointments.
At first she had told herself it was because she felt weird being
in the waiting room alone, thinking everyone would assume her to be
her some kind of unwed mother—which technically, if she
successfully became pregnant, she would be.

Thankfully Dr. Farber had
put her at ease, making it clear to her that she didn’t regard what
Mia was doing as strange in the slightest. In her first meeting
with the OB/GYN, the doctor had sat Mia down and said, “Rami has
explained to me that you’re a friend, and you’ve done him the honor
of agreeing to be the carrier of his child. I think that’s very
noble of you—especially considering you could have asked for much
more money than you did.”

As she waited for Rami to
arrive, Mia tried to tell herself not to be disheartened by the
fact that it had been three months and she had yet to become
pregnant.
It can take up to a year, Dr.
Farber said. Or multiple years.
At lunch
after their initial consultation, Rami had told her that he was
more than happy to continue paying, no matter how long it took for
her to become pregnant. But Mia had set a deadline for herself: if
after a year of trying she still hadn’t become pregnant, she would
end her contract with Rami. It didn’t seem right to keep taking his
money when she wasn’t sure if she would ever conceive at
all.

While teaching had been
stressful, it at least meant that Mia had plenty to occupy her
mind; now that Rami’s payments made it possible for her to spend
more time at home, and with her mother, the only things she had to
think about were her mother’s illness and the fact that she wasn’t
pregnant yet. Mia smiled to herself when she remembered her
mother’s reaction to the news that the bills and debts were going
to be a thing of the past.

She had gone to her
mother’s house as soon as the first payment had deposited in her
account. Mia had found her mother asleep on the couch, a faint
rattle in her breath—the lingering effects of the pneumonia. “Mom!”
Mia had tried to keep her voice quiet enough not to completely
startle her, but Amie Campbell had nearly fallen off of the couch
anyway.

“Mia, baby,” Amie had
said, smiling at the sight of her daughter. “It’s a little early
for you to be here, isn’t it? Lord, I should’ve set an
alarm.”

“No—no, Mom, you’re fine.
I am early, and if anyone can see you in your nightgown it’s me,
right?” Mia’s mother had chuckled weakly, sitting up with a
struggle. “I have amazing—awesome—just…just great news,” Mia had
said.

“Did you win the lottery
or something? Tell me!” Mia had taken a deep breath to steady her
rushing heart.

“Something like that! Mom,
you don’t have to worry about the bills anymore. In fact, I think
we can probably take you to that expert in New York, if you want.”
Mia had taken another breath. “I’m going to be making a hundred
thousand dollars a month for…well, for a while.”

“What?! How are you going
to do that, baby girl?” Amie’s confusion deepened into a frown.
“Please tell me you’re not escorting or something?”

“No, no, no—no, Mom, I’m
not—I’m not doing anything like that,” Mia had said, blushing. “I
am going to be a surrogate mother for someone’s child.”

“Whose child?” Mia had
worried at her bottom lip slightly.

“A really wealthy man by
the name of Rami al-Hassan. He wants to have a baby, and he’s asked
me to carry it for him. He’s paying all of the medical costs, and
he’s giving me a monthly payment for my trouble.”

“A hundred thousand a
month is a lot of trouble,” Amie had said, looking at her daughter
dubiously. “And let me guess, you have to conceive ‘naturally’?”
Mia’s blush had deepened as she shook her head.

“No, we’re going to do
artificial insemination, or IVF. No…sex.” Mia’s mother had smiled
slightly, giving her daughter a knowing look.

“Taking the best part out
of the situation, eh?” Amie had taken a deep breath then and
exhaled, ending on a spasm of coughing. “As long as you’re not
doing something you think is shameful, I think it’s a wonderful
thing that you’re getting paid to bring a life into this
world.”

The door to the OB/GYN
office opened and the bells attached to it clattered and chimed.
Startled out of her thoughts, Mia looked up to see Rami walk in. He
was as well dressed as ever, in a pair of designer jeans, oxford
shirt, Ray Bans—which he took off as soon as he was inside—and
polished, wingtip shoes. Mia had grown somewhat accustomed to the
reaction of the other patients in the room whenever Rami arrived;
she was sure that next to him she looked like the ultimate frump,
dressed to a much cheaper budget, with no makeup, and her hair
pulled back in a bun, ponytail, or braid; they were as mismatched a
couple as anyone could have imagined.

“How are you feeling?”
Rami sat down in the chair next to her, looking her over quickly.
To her relief, Mia didn’t see even a flicker of disapproval in his
glance.

“I’m okay. A little
nervous,” she replied, smiling slightly. “What if…”

“Nope, don’t go there
right now,” Rami said, interrupting her. “We’re going to see what
Dr. Farber has to say. Just because it didn’t work one way, doesn’t
mean it won’t work another way.”

“I just feel really
terrible,” Mia told him. She pitched her voice lower. “If I can’t
get pregnant, I hate to keep taking your money.” Rami
shrugged.

“It’s an investment cost,”
he said, giving her a quick, charming smile. “My dad has had a
bunch of investments that didn’t pan out. It happens. Let’s wait
until we know for sure that you can’t conceive to start feeling
bad, hm?” Mia smiled in spite of her nervousness.

“Okay,” she said,
smoothing her hair back from her face. “I promise I won’t start
feeling guilty until then.”

“How’s your mother doing?”
he asked. Mia’s smile deepened.

“Well, all her bills are
cleared,” she said quietly. “We’re working on getting her an
appointment with a renowned specialist in New York City.” Rami
nodded, smiling broadly.

“If you’re going to New
York, then you’ll need some new clothes,” he pointed out, gesturing
to her outfit. Mia blushed.

“I can’t—I don’t want to
spend the money on something like…”

“Then I am taking you
shopping after this appointment,” Rami said firmly, with an air of
absolute confidence. “We’ll get lunch and I will make sure you’re
properly attired for a trip to New York.”

“Rami—you’re already
paying me so much…” Mia felt her cheeks burning as she looked
around the room to make sure that no one was listening in. “I don’t
want to take more of your money.” Rami shook his head.

“I insist. It’ll barely
cost me anything at all, and I want to see you in nicer things.”
Rami smiled. “Not that you don’t make these clothes look like they
should be on the runway.”

“Oh hush,” Mia said,
rolling her eyes.

“Ms. Campbell? Mr.
al-Hassan? The doctor will see you now.” Mia stifled a giggle as
she stood up. Rami gestured for her to precede him through the door
into the office proper, and Mia took a deep breath. Even if she was
hesitant to accept Rami’s offer to take her shopping, the
conversation had helped distract her from her nervousness. They
followed the MA back to Doctor Farber’s private office, and Mia
reminded herself that they still had plenty of options.

Dr. Farber was a tall,
slim woman with graying blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a
slightly hoarse voice from smoking through the first decade of her
medical career. She rose as Mia and Rami came in, and Mia
admired—not for the first time—the way her white coat looked over
her simple but elegant crew-neck tee shirt and tailored slacks.
“Good morning,” the doctor said, smiling at them both. “Can you
close the door behind them please, Alicia?”

“What’s the news, Doctor?”
Rami asked as he sat down.

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve
both realized, our first attempts haven’t taken,” Dr. Farber said.
“This does happen sometimes, and there’s no one to really blame for
it.” Dr. Farber looked at Mia as if she had divined some of the
guilty anxiety Mia was feeling. Mia thought that the older woman
had probably worked with enough women to predict their reactions
before they had them.

“Do you have any idea why
it’s not working?” Mia asked, trying to keep her voice
level.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work
and we don’t know why,” Dr. Farber said. “But your initial
fertility tests show you’re both plenty fertile.” Mia suppressed
the urge to worry at her bottom lip. “I want to keep things as slow
as possible—it’s better that way for both of you, and healthier.
But the next step is IVF.”

Mia took a deep breath;
when she and Rami had had their first consultation with Dr. Farber,
after they’d each done their separate blood tests and other exams,
the OB/GYN had said that she wanted to take it as slowly as
possible with them; both Mia and Rami were young enough that more
aggressive methods of conception were probably unnecessary. Mia’s
monthly cycle was fortunately as regular as a train schedule, so
for the first month she had just charted her cycle, taking her
temperature several times a day, every day, to pinpoint the moment
she would ovulate. When the moment came, she had hurried to the
doctor’s office, calling ahead to inform the staff that she was
ready for her first attempt. Once she was ready, they had put a
catheter inside of her and flushed her full of Rami’s semen. It was
one of the most awkward, uncomfortable, and strangest experiences
of Mia’s life, but she had lived through it; at least it hadn’t
exactly hurt.

When the first attempt
didn’t take, the doctor suggested that Mia could take some of the
milder fertility drugs to increase the number of eggs she was
producing. She had done as she was advised, and for two more cycles
had gone to the doctor when she was ovulating and experienced the
discomfort of having Rami’s sperm flushed into her. Now that
neither of the “enhanced” attempts at artificial insemination had
taken, Mia had begun to wonder if there was something that the
tests had simply failed to take into account. Not for the first
time in her life, she wished that she knew
something
about her birth parents;
some fraction of their medical history, something that might
explain why it was apparently so difficult for her to
conceive.

“Now,” Dr. Farber said,
jolting Mia out of her thoughts. “IVF is a lot more intensive than
regular artificial insemination. I’m going to need you to follow
the directions to the letter, Mia, and it would be best if you can
make sure you get as much rest as possible.”

“She’s on sabbatical from
work,” Rami said. “But her mother is ill, and Mia takes care of
her.” Dr. Farber nodded.