Free Sheikh's Hired Mistress by Sophia Lynn, Ella Brooke

them.”
    “As in other products?”
    “No. As in the experience. As in the lifestyle. Clothing stores name their lines after the type of woman their customers want to be seen as. It seems weird outside of Western culture, but people’s tastes are shaped by the idea that they can select who they are through their purchases.”
    Aziz nodded and frowned seriously as they passed a clothing store. “So what lifestyle is being sold when the ad has a scantily clad woman eating a burger while washing a car?”
    Laine opened her mouth and tilted her head to the side. “Um, hedonism, I suppose.”
    “The burger would get soap in it. You would get sick,” Aziz said with an earnest smile.
    Laine laughed. “I wouldn’t take any lessons in dining from burger commercials.”
    They spent a little more time looking around, but as nice as it was and as much as Laine liked the graceful architecture of the shopping center, it wasn’t showing her quite what she needed. Aziz signaled to Faruq, and their car came around to meet them at the exit. Twenty minutes later, they strolled together through the city’s souk .
    The outer wall of the market was almost impeccably white, but when they stepped inside, colors inundated Laine. Flags were strung above their heads between each side of the street. Each shop was crammed up against the next, spilling over with clothes, jewelry, pots, rugs, and other goods.
    Very quickly, Laine noticed the difference in how Aziz held himself. He was much less relaxed, and he moved in close to her. She raked her eyes over the crowd. The people didn’t seem so different from those at the mall, but Faruq made himself visible as he followed them. It was an interesting shift, definitely.
    Aziz remained by her side as they looked through local wares. Laine positioned herself so that Aziz towered behind her, and she pulled out her notepad to scribble down a few ideas and make some sketches.
    “Ah, this inspires the artist!” Aziz said
    “I could have used the internet or something,” Laine muttered.
    “I can’t imagine that would be enough.”
    “No. Not even close.”
    Laine took in the ambiance of the market. A musky, human smell mingled with the scent of spices and meat cooking and heavy perfume. The dress code here was much like the mall: very little skin shown, but everyone dressed very well. In fact, the market-goers may have been dressed even better than the people at the mall. The men passed in Western-style suits or in locally popular dishdashas . The long robes hung to the ankles and though mostly white, also came in other light, cool colors. Most, but not all, of the women covered their hair with lovely, ornate scarves in the way Hadiya did. Either way, being well-groomed seemed to be a point of pride. Laine was glad that Hadiya had given her a selection of garments that were appropriate to wear in public.
    The people went about their business, barely noticing the two of them, although one or two seemed to notice Aziz and his bodyguard. She supposed most of them didn’t necessarily recognize Aziz, just as most Americans didn’t recognize the top one percent of American businessmen, unless they made huge clowns of themselves in the media. Now that she thought about it, the few glances they got might have had more to do with Aziz’s recent outing to New York and the subsequent videos than anything else.
    “Oh, these are nice.” Laine walked over to a wall of hanging lamps. They sparkled in the sunlight and from a light glowing within. Likely, they caught the eye more easily at night, but the patterns, the way the little tile fragments of mosaic came together to reflect the light, that caught Laine’s attention.
    “You like these?” the shop owner asked Laine as she looked over the dozens of hanging lamps, each one a little different. “I can give you an excellent price.”
    “They are eye-catching.” Laine looked back at Aziz. “You have so much direct light with the lamps on the walls