Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

“It’s practically inviting an injury. And you know as well as I do that this kind of place—people would attack. They would attack because everyone knows that children’s games are supposed to be about goodwill. And fun. There’s nowhere to hide at such an event.”

  He pulled out his phone and started typing out some notes about his plan for enhanced security. “We have to make this situation more efficient. Safer. Cleaner.”

  Kyril reached over and took the phone out of his hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  His older brother’s eyes were calm. “Listen to me.” Issam tried to snatch his phone back, and Kyril held it out of reach. “Life is messy. As hard as you try, even if you try with everything you have, you’ll never be prepared for everything. Nothing will ever be perfectly safe.”

  “How can you say that? You’re a father.”

  “I can say that because I’m a father.” A new brightness came into Kyril’s eyes. “Do you think I wouldn’t lay down my life for Inan? I would. If I could, I would make sure he was never hurt. He would never have to suffer. But that’s not life.” Kyril raised his hands helplessly. “That would ruin him.”

  “What are you possibly—”

  “It makes us who we are, Issam. Experiencing the world. Taking a few risks. Not stupid risks. No. Not if we can help it. But falling down is a part of life, just like getting up. Inan fell plenty of times when he was learning to walk, but if I hadn’t let him, he would never have learned how to pull himself off the floor.”

  This didn’t make Issam any happier. In fact, it made him angry, and he scoffed at Kyril. “Marriage and children have made you soft. And relaxed. All of you.” He was, apparently, the only one who understood the dangers of life.

  Kyril stabbed a finger at him, though he looked like he might laugh. “You need to realize that happiness is not the enemy. Do you know what the enemy is?”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  “Paranoia is the enemy.” The truth rang like a bell in Issam’s mind, and he wanted to clap his hands over his ears. But Kyril wasn’t finished. “You should slow down and enjoy your pretty fiancée before—” Kyril turned to check on Inan again. The coaches had corralled the children back into some semblance of a game.

  “Before what?”

  “Before she realizes she doesn’t need you in her life. Not if you’re going to pin her down and steal the joy from it.”

  15

  Mackenzie blinked once, then again, into the candle in the center of their little dining table in Issam’s private dining room. Her eyes burned at roughly the same temperature as that candle. As it turned out, there was not much time for sleep when one was planning a wedding and doing semi-covert information gathering at the same time.

  Her conversations with Sahr had opened Mackenzie’s eyes. All along, she’d had a network of powerful, influential women at her fingertips, and it had been hidden behind floral arrangements and favors. She’d spent every meeting since then learning all she could about the women’s various connections, sussing out as much additional information about the women’s shelter as she could.

  She was beyond excited to share it all with Issam.

  Mackenzie had spent more than a few midnight hours staring up at the ceiling or tapping notes into her phone, and she finally had all the threads together. There were several interesting legal arguments they could use when it came to occupying the fort, and telling him those would easily lead to the necessary course of action for actually supplying it—and keeping it well-maintained and running.

  She had it all planned out. When Issam arrived for dinner, she’d wow him with all the progress she’d made with the wedding plans. She had, after all, been meticulous in making sure every meeting she had was bookended with forward progress. Mackenzie never left a meeting without another item checked off the wedding planning to-do list. And that would make Issam even more willing to listen to her about the women’s shelter.

  Mackenzie stifled a yawn behind her hand. It was too early to be tired, but here she was, waiting for a sumptuous meal with her beyond-handsome fiancé and trying her best to stay awake.

  “The candlelight makes you irresistible.”

  Mackenzie stood with a smile, turning directly into Issam’s arms. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You were staring into the candle like it made an inappropriate advance.” He held her tightly, and at the mention of inappropriate advances, she felt Issam’s cock twitch between them.

  He had already been thinking about her before he came into the dining room.

  It made Mackenzie’s blood sing, the way his body needed her like this. But people’s lives were at stake, and—

  “I need more of you.” Issam cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face back to his. “I need more of you, right now.”

  Oh. Oh.

  His eyes were dark pools of lust, and Mackenzie’s mind went spiraling off in two different directions. She needed to have this conversation with him, but she wanted him to look at her that way, and—

  Issam leaned down and kissed her. It was so hard and possessive that Mackenzie gasped. He lifted her into his arms, her skirt riding up around her waist as her legs went around his, and she pushed playfully at his chest. “Issam, we’re in the dining room—”

  “You have a problem with the dining room?” He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. “Let’s go elsewhere, then.”

  And he was off, striding from the dining room and down the hall to his bedroom.

  “What about dinner?” she teased, but it was only half-teasing. As much as Mackenzie loved having sex with Issam, the conversation had been a crucial one, and she’d gathered so much momentum—

  “Dinner will wait.” He went through the door and kicked it shut behind him. “On your hands and knees.”

  Sweat collected between Mackenzie’s shoulder blades as she rolled over, pushing herself onto her hands and knees, still reeling from the first round of Issam’s dominance. He had thrown her onto the bed and stripped off her clothes with rough movements, and it had turned her on. It had made her so lightheaded with pleasure that she struggled to keep her talking points within reach.

  And she had to do that, because once Issam had had his way with her—and oh, god, it was a good way—she still wanted to talk to him about the shelter.

  They flew right out of her head when Issam reached between her legs and spread her open with his fingers. It was so wickedly filthy, the way he touched her like that—as if she belonged to him, as if every part of her belonged to him in a way that was so primal, it made her even wetter. She wriggled against his hand to provoke him, and he responded with a growl, his hand coming down hard on her hip to keep her in place.

  “Head down,” he said sharply, and Mackenzie pressed her cheek against the cool surface of the pillow. Issam ran his hands over the curve of her back, his fingertips lingering there, and it had the effect of spreading her open wider, and oh—

  Issam drove into her slowly, letting her feel every inch, and Mackenzie took him, slick and wet from his earlier attentions. He was quiet, small noises escaping from the back of his throat, and all of her heated and warmed at how much he needed this. He needed to possess her. And she needed to be owned. The sheer submission of it made her clench around him, and he groaned.

  “You’re too much,” he said through gritted teeth. “Too much—” And then he was thrusting harder, his hips slapping against the curve of her ass with a filthy sound, and it was so deliciously dirty that Mackenzie came while he was buried deep inside her. Issam reached his own release, and she felt his gorgeous abs tighten as he forced himself to stay upright to the bitter end.

  When they’d both come down from the peak, Issam wrapped an arm around her waist and they tumbled into the sheets.

  Mackenzie curled up next to Issam, her hand on his chest. His heart beat evenly, as if he hadn’t exerted himself at all, although his skin had a glowing sheen to it. She studied him for a few long moments. His d
ark lashes rested peacefully against his cheeks, though his abs in any form never looked peaceful. They looked like an invitation.

  She traced her fingers over those ridges and cleared her throat. “Did you have a good day today?”

  “Yes.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Though this was the best part by far.”

  Mackenzie laughed. “I’d have to say the same.”

  Issam opened his eyes and looked at her. “How did the planning go?”

  “It was fine. It was—more than fine.” She propped herself up on one elbow so she could see his face. “I’ve been having some very productive discussions with some of the women I’ve had meetings with.”

  “About the wedding?” Issam’s voice held a note of caution.

  “About the wedding, and about the shelter.” She went right into it with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “I wish I’d known it earlier, but many of the women in this industry are very well connected, and their businesses are successful enough that they have influence over certain organizations, and—” She was veering sharply away from the point. “I’ve learned a lot about the fort, about what it would take to make the housing sustainable, and what it’s going to take from Al-Dashalid to safely occupy and fortify—"

  “Are you paying attention to the wedding at all?” He’d gone tense beneath her touch, his dark eyes suspicious.

  “Issam, what do you mean? Of course I have. I sit in meetings all day with all kinds of planners and vendors.”

  “You just told me that you’ve been spending your time talking to them about the shelter.”

  “Yes, after we’re done making sure every detail is perfect.”

  “Not every detail.” Issam frowned, and Mackenzie’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine why Issam would be this upset about the information she wanted to share with him. “Things are slipping through the cracks.”

  “What things?” Mackenzie wracked her brain for anything that had gone wrong in any of the meetings that day. Nothing had.

  “The flowers.”

  “The flowers?” She laughed out loud. “Why are you concerned about the floral arrangements?”

  “Because my mother is allergic to one of the blooms in the centerpieces. She told you so last week. I was there. But the arrangements haven’t changed. Sahr sent me a preliminary invoice this morning.” He shook his head. “It got by you and Sahr. I meant to talk to you about it at dinner.” His tone became stern. “These are the kinds of things you should be focusing on.”

  Mackenzie wanted to pull away from him, but she forced herself to stay close. Fights were won in close quarters, her mother would say. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I should have remembered that.” She struggled to summon guilt and shame, and she couldn’t do it. Yes, one detail had been overlooked. But she was trying to do two crucial things at once, and she was doing an incredible job. “But you should listen to me.”

  “You should listen to me.” Issam, in the end, was the one who drew himself away, just slightly.

  “I’ve been listening to you.” Mackenzie was losing control. “But here you are, dismissing me.”

  “I’m not dismissing—”

  “You’re dismissing me and the information I got because you’re too obsessed with punishing me for the floral arrangements.”

  “My mother is allergic.”

  “Fine.” Mackenzie sat up and pushed her way to the side of the bed. “Don’t listen to me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to my room,” she said, the weight of the day even heavier on her shoulders. “I’d rather be alone.”

  16

  Mackenzie sighed in front of the mirror in Issam’s massive bathroom. Her earrings weren’t cooperating—or maybe it was her fingers. Either way, it was all off.

  They’d officially made up after the tiff about the flowers, and she’d gone back to sleeping in his bed, but ever since then Issam had seemed distant. And she had felt distant. A discomfort hummed in the air between them, and Mackenzie couldn’t decide from minute to minute whether she wanted to approach it head on or let it lie.

  Sharing information about the shelter hadn’t gone well, that was for sure, and Issam had gone back into his meetings without another word to her about it.

  She tried again to put in the earring, and this time she succeeded.

  Issam came to stand beside her and straightened his tie. The lipstick she needed was on the other side of him, across the sink. Before that conversation, she would have reached out and touched him, brushed her body across his while she reached for her lipstick.

  Now…

  Issam didn’t seem to notice that she needed the lipstick. He was focused on his own reflection.

  “Excuse me,” she said stiffly.

  He stepped aside, giving her enough space to reach without making any contact.

  Yes, this was how she wanted to be spending the week before her wedding.

  Tonight’s party was to be held in one of the palace’s ballrooms. It was a family party. When Issam had told her that the previous day, she’d asked him whether it was an intimate family gathering or a family event like their surprise engagement party.

  “Like the engagement party,” he’s said, scrolling through the last of the day’s emails on his phone. “My mother will have invited everyone.”

  She hadn’t had much to say about that.

  And she didn’t have much to say about it now, as they walked through the hallways together, past the silent bodyguards doing their best to blend in with the walls.

  Issam’s phone rang.

  Mackenzie stifled an irritated sigh as he pulled it from his pocket and swiped the screen to answer. “Yes,” he said, and there was a new tension in his voice. It made her perk up.

  “The ambassadors met?”

  Issam blew an irritated breath out through his nose. Mackenzie strained to hear what the voice on the other end of the line said to him. Whoever it was spoke too quickly and quietly for her to make out most of it.

  “All right,” said Issam. “Keep me updated.” He ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

  Mackenzie kept her mouth shut for as long as she could, which was about three steps. “What was that?”

  Issam’s shoulders were drawn up tight and tense. “I took some of your proposals to the director of foreign affairs.”

  “You did?” It gave her a strange flush of pride to hear that from him, especially now.

  “We sent an ambassador with a draft of a treaty that would have allowed Al-Dashalid to occupy and fortify the site.”

  “And?” Her heart pounded.

  “Al-Madiza’s leadership wanted nothing to do with it.”

  She wanted to slam her fist into the wall, a punching bag, anything. “My brother-in-law. That’s who you mean by leadership.”

  “The only thing our two countries agree on is that the women and children need to vacate the area immediately.”

  “What? No—”

  “He—the leadership in Al-Madiza thinks that I want the land for military advantage. Against both countries. They’ve taken it as a sign of escalating tension.”

  “You could—”

  “No.” Issam held up a hand. “No more suggestions.”

  They reached the double doors to the ballroom, and two palace staff members opened them. Light streamed out of the doors—light and music and laughter—and Mackenzie wanted to turn right back around and leave.

  “Ready?” Issam asked, but his voice was clouded with frustration.

  “Yes.”

  She took his arm, and they walked into the party, smiles plastered on their faces. Mackenzie felt a million miles away from him. If only he’d talk it through with her. Together, they could come up with a better solution. She’d apologize to her brother-in-law again, if that was what it took.

  But there was no time. Issam was swept away from her within a minute, and Mackenzie found herself hanging back, trying to
keep her expression neutral.

  “Why the sad face?” came a voice from near her elbow.

  She had to laugh. “Adira, I thought I was doing better than that.”

  “You look miserable.” Her future sister-in-law studied her. “Yes. Miserable.”

  “I just got here. How do you know I’m not just…in a transitional expression?”

  Adira nodded toward Issam. “Because you’ve got a laser focus on my brother. Is it something he did? Or something you did?”

  Mackenzie sighed. “Nothing like that. Really.” She still felt protective of Issam, even during this ridiculous fight, which only irritated her more. “He’s been…distant lately.”

  “That’s to be expected,” Adira said matter-of-factly. “The negotiations aren’t going well. Not for Al-Dashalid, anyway.”

  “The negotiations have gone that far?”

  “Of course.” Adira scanned the crowd, probably looking for gossip. “The draft treaty that went out earlier in the week was supposed to be the next step. I assume it didn’t land the way he wanted it to.”

  “No,” said Mackenzie, frustration catching in her throat.

  “Little sister,” Issam said, coming back to where Mackenzie stood with Adira. “Are you enjoying the party?”

  “You two aren’t.”

  Issam blinked at Mackenzie. “We aren’t?”

  “Tell him, Mackenzie.”

  She gaped at Adira. “What?”

  “Tell him what you’re sulking about. We hadn’t gotten there yet, Issam, but now that you’re here, let’s have it.”

  Mackenzie tried to calm her thoughts. “Fine. I—” She took a deep breath. “I think we’re overlooking a tactic that could result in a win for everyone.”

  Issam crossed his arms over his chest. “And what’s that?”

  “Separate the shelter from the no-man’s land. Turn it into an international place of refuge.” Mackenzie had spent hours poring over this dispute, and that was the one solution that came up again and again.

  Issam laughed, a sharp little sound. “Oh? Is it that simple?”