by Leslie North
“My father played.” His smile flickered, but then it was back in place. “He built the club. He had a handicap of eight. I couldn’t get into it.” They stepped into the VIP box, with its sheltering roof and clusters of comfortable seats. “I liked basketball in high school,” he offered. “I played in university, and I still play here when I get a spare moment.”
“You’re here!” Shahd waved from a group of seats in the center, face pink and eyes bright. Did she really love polo that much? But then Gina took a second look at the crowd and spotted Amjad in a white shirt similar to Skandar’s, his hand around a glass and his eyes on Shahd. So he had gotten Gina’s invitation. Good. A man in a blazer claimed Skandar’s attention and pulled him off for a chat, and Shahd pulled Gina down to sit with her. “Gina, was this you?”
“Was what me?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“You had to be the one who invited Amjad.”
Gina caught Amjad’s eye and waved him over. He made a careful approach, edging toward Shahd while seeming to pay attention mostly to his drink.
Shahd’s hand went to her neck. “I can’t believe he’s here. That you got him an invitation. I’m a little nervous.”
“What could happen? It’s a polo match.”
But then a shadow fell over them, and Gina turned her head to find two men standing there, eyes narrowed. They’d met at the wedding dinner—Saud al-Abboushi and his father. Their family company, Boushi, sponsored the cup. Gina’s stomach tightened.
“Hello,” she said, smiling at the both of them. “It’s good to see you here.”
Saud’s eyes flicked down to hers, and he gave the briefest nod possible. “I see there’s a rather unique crowd here today.” At that moment, Amjad stepped up to the gathering of chairs, positioning himself just behind Shahd. It didn’t feel right to keep sitting. Gina got to her feet, Shahd following smoothly. “And what do you do, young man?”
When Amjad smiled, a dimple decorated his cheek. He looked so nervous and sweet, and Gina wanted badly to send these two men away. “I work at my parents’ café.”
Saud smirked at his father, and the two of them shared a meaningful look. “I was sure we hadn’t seen you here before. Did you win some sort of prize?”
The smile faded from Amjad’s face, and it was like a dark cloud had come over the sun. “I was invited.”
“And as long as you’re here, could you bring me a drink?” Saud waited a beat too long, then put his hands to his chest. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
The two men moved on, leaving Shahd shaking with anger. “The two of them,” she hissed into Gina’s ear. She took one deep breath, then another, and then her expression settled into something neutral and pleasant. “I’ll be angry later.”
“I’ll be angry now,” Gina murmured.
“But not publicly,” warned Shahd. The two of them sat back down.
“Maybe I should go,” offered Amjad. “If it’s upsetting people—”
“Stay.” Shahd pulled him down into an empty chair.
“Yes, stay.” Gina had called the café to invite Amjad, and he’d been excited about the horses. She could tell Saud and his father weren’t by the way they never glanced toward the field and only looked inward, to all the other wealthy people. “We’ll be excited about the horses together. And the match.”
Saud and Bakir made the rounds and stationed themselves nearby. The national anthem played, and Shahd, Amjad, and Gina stood, but when the music settled, Saud and Bakir were still talking. The match began, horses and players gathering on the field. Conversation swelled in the VIP area, but one voice was the loudest—Bakir.
It had only been a few plays when Bakir started in with criticism. “The umpire’s not seeing the lines right. None of them are.” A whistle blew. “Nonsense—that was fine blocking.”
“It was a foul,” Amjad said, his voice covered by the chatter from the people in the booth with them. “The player cut him off by zigzagging in front of him.” Sure enough, the referee stepped to the side of the field and called a foul, awarding a penalty.
Bakir muttered loudly to Saud, complaining about the referee, the umpires, and all the players on the opposing team. Saud joined him in his complaints, and Shahd rolled her eyes. She leaned toward Amjad. “Let’s go see the horses.”
His face lit up, back straightening, and Amjad was out of his seat in an instant, offering her his hand. Shahd took it with a blush and a smile that made Gina’s heart flutter in recognition.
“I didn’t know Amjad would be attending today.” Skandar slipped into the seat next to hers, his question dampening the joy she felt for Shahd, pushing it out to some faraway place. He scanned the field for the next play and returned his eyes to hers, his gaze steady. “He seems to be here as one of our party.”
Gina swallowed against a sudden dryness in her throat. Skandar’s tone was neutral, but she had the sinking sensation that she’d done something terribly wrong. “I invited him. Shahd likes him very much.”
Skandar looked over his shoulder, toward the exit. “I have a few things to check on. I’ll be right back.”
She managed to stay in her seat for only a few seconds after he disappeared behind the velvet rope. Gina stood up, pantomiming the realization that she’d forgotten something, somewhere. Nobody noticed. She hurried after Skandar, catching a glimpse of him at the bottom of the staircase. He turned the opposite way from where they came in, and when she got downstairs a door at the end of a hall was closing.
Gina kept up her pace even as she went out into the sunlight. A well-worn path, bordered by a fence, led directly to a huge stable painted the same white as the club. It even had matching blue trim. Her heart leapt into her throat. What was Skandar going to do? The closer she got, the less sure she was of her plan—to burst in behind him and demand that they all go back to the match. So embarrassing. How could she ever have thought that was a good idea?
The doors to the stable were wide open for the match, but Gina spied a side door that had been propped open a crack. Better to use that one. She reached it in a matter of moments and pulled it open with her fingertips. Voices came from the far end of the building, and she moved inside to the shadows. She was on one side of what looked like an office building by way of a horse stable—lots of equipment hung on walls, and a filing cabinet stood next to a desk. The other wall hid her from view.
“—give us some privacy, please,” Skandar was saying.
Amjad came by a moment later, and Gina held her breath, scrambling for something to say if he spotted her. But he didn’t. He strode out of the building with his hands in his pockets and his face set in determination.
A heavy silence descended on the stables. It made her want to run.
“You’re supposed to be here with Saud.” Skandar’s voice held an edge of frustration. “In fact, Bakir has agreed that you and Saud will be the ones to present the cup.”
“I know, Skandar.” Shahd, for her part, sounded exhausted.
“Do you?”
“I know how important it is for you to ensure the support of the business leaders. I know their opinion will count in the convocation.”
Gina made a mental note to figure out how the convocation worked. She knew it was the official challenge for the throne, but the last week had been so busy that she hadn’t had time to work out all the steps.
“If it’s clear, then why—”
“I don’t like him,” Shahd burst out. “I don’t feel the way I should feel about my future husband.”
The tension rose in her chest until it reached a breaking point, and Gina couldn’t stay hidden any longer. She stepped out into the light of the doorway.
“Skandar? Shahd? I heard you talking about Saud.” They both turned to face her, and she moved to Skandar’s side. “Amjad is much nicer,” she said lightly, rising up on tiptoe to kiss Skandar on the cheek. There. This felt better. What had she been doing, hiding in the shadows like that? It wasn’t the way to get anything done.
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nbsp; “I’m sorry.” Skandar met her eyes. “But I’m in talks with his father for a match. It’s not official yet, but it will be as soon as my position is solidified.”
“Yes, well.” Shahd lifted her skirt and gave Gina a smile sad enough to break her heart. “I’m going to head back. We’ll be missed at the match.” She swept from the stables before anyone could say another word.
Skandar looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, brushing a kiss to her lips. Why, even when she was not on his side, did it feel so good to kiss him? It was too good. He lowered his hand to the small of her back, and the two of them strolled out to the path. At the polo building, Shahd was disappearing behind the door.
It had to be hard, on such a gorgeous day, with such a gorgeous man who made her so happy. Shahd had to go up and sit and make conversation with people she detested all for Skandar’s shot at the throne, and no matter how much it meant, it still couldn’t feel good.
“What?” Skandar’s eyes met hers, dark against the intense brightness of the outdoors.
“Nothing,” she said. “Let’s go back.”
12
Karima arrived a short time into the match, and the royal family gathered around her and engaged in an old pastime—pleasant conversation in public. They watched the match, cheering judiciously for both teams. Gina and Shahd sat close together, listening to Karima’s stories and whispering to each other. But there were times when he caught his wife—his wife—with a thoughtful expression, her fingertips to her lips. Quiet.
She stayed quiet as they went out to the oversized SUV that had brought Karima, with room to take them all home. Skandar helped Karima in first, then Gina and Shahd, and he and Amjad climbed in last.
Karima sighed. “Doesn’t ice cream sound delicious right now?” Her eyes twinkled. “Do you prefer popsicles or ice cream, Gina?”
Gina smiled at her. “I like them both. Any frozen treat is good with me.”
“I know a place.” Amjad glanced at Skandar as he spoke, and Skandar saw that he was waiting to be dismissed. Well, he couldn’t marry Shahd, but that was no excuse for rudeness. He could see his sister biting her lip, watching the interaction like a spectator at a tennis match. “If you’d like to go.”
“I would,” put in Shahd. “It would be so delicious.”
“Me, too,” added Gina, and that was that. Amjad leaned forward to give the driver directions and within twenty minutes they were pulling up in front of a building styled like a 1950s diner from the US. “Fun Palace.” Gina read the sign, her eyes shining. “It looks like fun.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” Amjad promised, and they all went inside. It caused a bit of a stir, but the patrons inside quickly turned back to their own tables.
“It’s way bigger than it looks from the outside,” mused Gina, taking in the fifties-style counter with its gleaming chrome surface and ice cream machines spinning behind it. The man standing there in a red-and-white striped apron and peaked paper hat welcomed them with a wide grin. A big sign on the wall above his head listed an enormous selection of smoothies and shakes and gelato and slushies, all of them available with a variety of toppings. He handed out sherbet to Karima and a lemon freeze to Gina, who sipped at it as she spun in a slow circle. Her eyes met something in the corner of the room and went wide. “Skandar—tell me you play pinball.”
He laughed out loud. That happened much more frequently when Gina was with him, didn’t it? “I’ve played a few times.”
A line of pinball machines took up most of one wall. “I got some tokens,” Amjad said from behind them.
“Good. I’m officially challenging Skandar,” Gina announced. “How did you get tokens so quickly?”
“I used to work here.” Amjad smiled, the dimple in his face prominent. “My father wanted me to get experience in the industry at a place that had spaces for big groups.”
“There’s more to this place?” Gina cocked her head to the side.
“A whole separate room with more pinball machines, air hockey, table football...”
Just then a ball crashed into pins, and the noise echoed into the main diner. “Bowling, too,” said Skandar. “Does the Fun Palace have anything else up its sleeve?”
“We should wait and see,” said Amjad, and their group moved as one unit toward the pinball machines. Skandar took the one in the middle, with Gina on his right and Amjad on his left. “What do you think, Sheikh Skandar? Should I be diplomatic or real while we play?”
“Real.” His sister was right—Amjad was much nicer than Saud had ever been, and once Skandar gave him the go-ahead, he attacked the pinball machine with all his skill, his tongue settled neatly between his teeth.
“Good try,” said Gina, and Skandar looked over at the end of the game to see that she’d beaten them both.
“No way,” protested Amjad. “I demand a rematch.”
They had four rematches, and then Amjad revealed the Fun Palace’s extra surprise—a full mini golf course outside. The sun was fading toward the horizon, and the orange light bathed everything in a warm glow.
“A selection of beautiful countries, right here for us to visit.” Karima seemed delighted by the theme.
Golf clubs chosen, they worked their way around the world. Gina posed for a picture at the Eiffel Tower. “Look. I’m back at headquarters. Do you think they miss me?”
“They miss you like crazy,” said Skandar, and a brief silence twined its way through their little group. His face heated. He hadn’t intended to reveal himself in front of his family—and Amjad—like that, but after a moment Shahd blinked and moved on to take her shot.
“Have you ever been to Moscow?” Shahd asked Gina on the next hole. “I went once in winter. Not my brightest idea.”
“I’ve always wanted to visit there.” Gina had her golf club in an awkward grip, and the ball kept going to the right. She chased it down. “Redo,” she called.
Skandar stepped up behind her as she bent over the bright purple ball. “Here,” he murmured into her ear. “This is how your grip should be on the club.”
She turned to brush a kiss against his cheek, laughing. “Everyone’s going to see you standing so close.”
“How am I supposed to teach you anything from across the green? Pay attention,” he scolded, and she wriggled against him subtly enough that anyone who was watching could confuse it for adjusting her stance. “You’re a tease.”
“It’s impossible to resist teasing you when you’re touching me like this.”
Skandar twined his fingers through hers, an electric heat thrumming through his body. Gina just smelled so good. Sweet and clear, and open somehow—like the dry expanse of the desert at night. It made him want to run over a starlit dune with her, running, running, running until they were out of sight of everything and everyone. The ends of her hair tickled his face, and he took a deep breath. Focus. This was about golf, not about some grand fantasy escape.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” she breathed, and they swung the club together. Her purple ball zipped across the green and clattered into the cup. Gina jumped in the air, whooping, and answering cheers rose from around the rest of the course. “Thank you,” she called, giving a bow. “Thank you so much.” She spun back into Skandar’s arms. “And thank you. For the tips.” Gina wrinkled her nose. “I spent quite some time in my youth playing mini golf, but I’ve gotten rusty.”
He laughed, spreading his free hand out across her back and pulling her in. “I’m more used to real golf. But that’s neither here nor there.”
“I lied,” said Amjad, clearing his throat. “There is one more thing at the Fun Palace, if everybody’s up for it.”
The sun sank below the horizon, and lights came on all around them, illuminating the golf course and bringing something else sharply into view—a go-cart track. Shahd grinned from behind Amjad.
“I see you knew about this,” Skandar told his sister. “Why didn’t you let us in on it earlier?”
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nbsp; “I didn’t want you to have time to prepare.” Then Shahd was off, moving quickly toward the go-cart rental. “I’m racing against Skandar first.”
“What are the stakes?” he called after her.
She raised one shoulder in a shrug. “Whatever I want.”
It was an old taunt, back from when they were children—if I win, I get whatever I want. Shahd had rarely won, and while they put on helmets and climbed into the go-carts, Skandar felt a twinge of regret about that. It wasn’t an emotion he could act on, that regret. Shahd had duties just like he did. She’d lost a few games growing up, but that didn’t mean she could put their family legacy at risk.
Did it?
Shahd looked over the front of her car with the kind of absolute focus he admired. So often, Skandar felt like his mind worked against him, drawing his attention to small moments of beauty when it should have been completely lost in the business of running a kingdom.
“If I win,” she said suddenly, “then I get to bring Amjad to the next dinner.”
The race began before he could answer, and Shahd stomped on the gas, speeding out ahead of him.
He couldn’t catch her.
When they finished their loops, Shahd gave no sign that she even knew she won. She climbed out of her cart and focused on Gina instead, laughing with her, the two of them recapping the event for Karima. Amjad joined them at the side of the track, and they all went back in for a last to-go sherbet.
In the SUV on the way home, Gina leaned her head on his shoulder and settled in, raising it only when Amjad got out at his house. After he left, a strange silence descended on the vehicle. Like someone was missing.
But that couldn’t be. Skandar watched the city roll by outside his window. Amjad was much more pleasant than Saud—Shahd was right about that. An afternoon with Saud and his father would have been a strained, polite affair, and it definitely wouldn’t have taken place at the Fun Palace.
Shahd had won her go-kart race...
But no. Gina shifted in her seat, beginning a conversation with Karima, and Skandar concentrated on keeping his expression blank. Saud was the better bet strategically, especially with Uncle Nassif causing such disruption. He needed Saud and Bakir on his side.