by Holly Rayner
“Well, I was hoping to make it a surprise, but I think the distance of our destination might have you too curious to wait.”
“Something tells me this is not a Stateside venture?” she quipped.
Tariq shook his head, grinning. “No, but I hope to make it an adventure you will never forget; we’ll be spending the weekend visiting my home country, Al Dirhan.”
Emily gasped; they were headed for the Middle East!
Chapter 7
As the plane began its descent the following morning, Emily realized that the Sheikh was right; Al Dirhan was more breathtaking than she could have imagined. The sky was bluer than anywhere she'd ever seen and there was a beautiful city skyline dotted with intricate shapes. The gleaming city was surrounded by water, with docks easily visible from the plane window.
Though Tariq had informed her that his country was thirteen hours ahead of Arizona time, thanks to a sleeping pill and a luxury bed on the jet, she barely felt jet-lagged at all. She and Tariq had spent the majority of the ride sitting on the couch together watching movies, exchanging thoughts on their favorite books and music, and revealing their most embarrassing stories.
As they descended from the jet, Tariq insisted that the best way to take in all that Al Dirhan had to offer in just one day was to do a whistle-stop tour of the country’s most unmissable cultural and historic sights. Emily gladly agreed and eagerly joined Tariq in the queue for the bus.
“I’m surprised we aren’t being carried around by your own personal litter,” she joked.
“My litter?” He looked around curiously, suddenly looking embarrassed. “You’re going to have to explain that to me, otherwise I am going to have a very strange depiction in my head involving tiny kittens with my face on them.”
“Gotta love that imagination,” she said with a wink. “You know, a litter! One of those vehicles where the four men carry a chair or sofa around on a set of poles while a pretty princess sits atop it?”
“Ah,” he nodded. “If you like, I can arrange one, otherwise you’ll have to stick with a trolley tour instead.”
“You sure are working hard to impress me, Sheikh.”
“You are someone worth impressing,” he explained with no change in his tone. He looked her up and down before brushing her cheek with his finger. “Don’t you think?”
She scoffed. “Hardly, but I’m flattered you think so.”
“Am I doing a bad job?”
She leaned into him on the bench where they were waiting and made sure he could feel her breath on him. “You’re doing a fantastic job,” she whispered.
Tariq seemed to perk up as she did this; it was the first look of surprise on his face since she’d met him. For a shy girl, Emily found herself loving the feeling of catching him off-guard.
“That being said,” she began; her tone snapping back to playful faked indifference, “I’m still waiting to get to know the real Tariq.”
“I didn’t realize I was being mannequin Tariq.”
She waved him off. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t!” he protested, a sly smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “I showed you the songs on my iPod; my guilty pleasures. Trust me, you don’t want it to get any more real than that.”
She burst into laughter, recalling some of the eighties hits he had admitted to boogying down to. The eruption caused other patrons of the upcoming tour to stare at her with annoyance.
Emily covered her mouth in mild embarrassment and leaned back in to Tariq. “Yes, you did. And I will be scarred for life because of it. But, I want to know the real Tariq. The one who isn’t showing off his millions of dollars.”
“Billions, actually.”
“Ha-ha,” she said dryly.
He blinked pointedly at her and she let out a small gasp.
“Wait, seriously?”
“Surprise.” Tariq shrugged. “Not exactly something you should tell someone you’ve just started dating, but I figured the jet may have tipped you off.”
Emily didn’t react to this. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say. She’d never been in the presence of a billionaire before and was shocked at how normal he seemed. He didn’t seem to be tainted by money, didn’t seem greedy or arrogant. In fact, the only thing he seemed to be was utterly interested in every word she was saying.
Before long, the trolley showed up. The first stop on the tour was the Wasim House, a palace made out of the finest riches. Emily marveled at the architecture of the building even before they had left the bus. Tariq couldn't help but laugh at her oohing and ahhing and insisted there was much more to the building than its appearance.
“You want to know something about the real me?” the Sheikh asked quietly, looking at the building through the bus window. The glass was stained with fingerprints from patrons gone by, but Tariq looked right through them to the sight before them. Emily nodded and noted a shift in his mood as he said, “Consider this tour a tour of my life.”
Emily looked out the window once more before grabbing her bag and standing from her seat; getting in line as other patrons began getting off the bus. “Please don't tell me that's your house.”
“No! I'll explain when we get inside.”
The pair walked off the bus and away from the rest of the tour to inspect the palace more closely. While the entire palace was open to the public, Emily wanted to get the best view from outside first.
The palace had architecture like nothing she'd ever seen before. Tariq explained how the man who commissioned it four centuries earlier had an architect brought in from Egypt to design the world’s most unique palace. The man wanted to inspire the people of Al Dirhan, and his exotic and pristinely built palace would be just the thing to do it.
Instead of peaks for the roof, the palace featured gold, domed towers. There was a vast, open porch and hundreds of windows, all with intricately detailed glass casings. Balconies were concealed throughout the massive structure—hidden lookouts, Tariq said, for its owner to scout for his enemies. What made the house truly spectacular was that it was made entirely out of red sandstone, save for the gold used in the towers.
Walking into the palace made Emily feel small, overwhelmed in the best way possible by how grand the structure was and how much detail was put into every inch of it. The walls were smooth and red, with giant pillars throughout the house, as if put there to add emphasis to how majestic it was.
“And this is you because…” Emily gave pause as she looked around at the sparsely decorated palace interior. “You are a giant show off?”
“Because I am hollow,” he said evenly. His tone belied the bright expression on his face as he walked around the palace, hands in his pockets.
“Come again?”
“Look here,” he said and led her into the center of the room, where an ornate sarcophagus lay. The tomb looked more like a small ark, rather than the bright yellow sarcophagi with mummies inside them that Emily had seen in movies. This one was different. The tomb was made of the same red sandstone as the rest of the building, with soldiers carved onto the coffin and the occasional gold inlay. The carvings depicted men with weapons, as though they were meant to guard the body inside.
“Sheikh Aashiq Karim Muhammad,” Tariq read on the plaque that stood in front of the tomb.
“Who's that?”
“He’s the one who commissioned this palace to be built.”
“Ah. So you’re like Sheikh Aashiq because you also commission…” Emily frowned. “No, wait, you lost me.”
“I know you can’t read our language, but look here,” he said, tracing his finger across the plaque and beginning to read aloud.
“As legend has it, Sheikh Aashiq was to be married to the Pharaoh’s daughter. She was said to be beautiful, intelligent, and madly in love with him. Once they were married, the Sheikh decided he wanted to build something his people could look up to, something to make the nation stand out. Soon, his desire to boost morale turned into an obsession and all of his money
, resources, and time were spent on building the grand palace. He had three children, all of whom fell ill. Even after his wife sent word to him, he wouldn’t leave the palace construction site. All three of his children died, and two years later his wife would follow. Of course, the legend says she died from heartbreak,” he explained.
Tariq cocked his head to the side and stared at the sarcophagus with bitterness in his eyes—a scornful appeal that Emily couldn’t quite read. “Who knows what the truth is. At any rate, he had become so engrossed in his work that he didn’t have the time to mourn his family, to notice what he was missing. Rumblings said that he never loved his wife, and that his only intention was to marry her for the generous dowry he would get in exchange. The dowry was, of course, spent on this palace.”
Emily looked around the beautifully crafted building and couldn’t believe such a distinguished display of design and architecture was the result of something so hollow, selfish, and misguided.
“The Sheikh died before the palace was even completed. He put our nation into debt, made enemies with his wife’s monarch, and created this pink eyesore. After he died, his workers finished the job they had been paid for and placed his body in a tomb inside, saying he should rest inside the thing he loved the most.” Tariq quirked his brows quickly, as though contemplating something. “Sheikh Aashiq’s wife and children are buried thirty miles from here, for the record.”
Emily went to say something and then thought better of it. A moment passed before she finally opened her mouth to speak. “But wait,” she gave pause, tapping her lip methodically with her finger. “I thought this was called the Wasim House? Why would they name it that when the guy’s name was actually Aashiq?”
“That’s your take away from my story?” Tariq’s expression was incredulous.
She shrugged. “It’s just a thought.”
“It was a nickname.”
She gave a deep frown and stared at the Sheikh in disbelief before looking back at the plaque with the dead man’s name on it. “But…”
“I know,” he said casually.
“His name is—”
“I know, it makes no sense; but that’s the nature of nicknames, isn’t it?”
She thought on this. Maybe Tariq was right. Why do people call someone named Barbara ‘Bunny’ or Richard ‘Dick’? Still, she felt this was somewhat of a stretch, and that was putting it lightly.
Emily could hear the click of her heels tapping against the smooth floor beneath her and walked a few more paces before turning around to face her new crush. She wondered what about this story he could possibly see in himself, and she wanted to ask him but wasn’t sure if she would be prodding.
Surely he wasn’t the first person to classify themselves as hollow, yet it seemed like such a strange stretch to make, considering the man was a billionaire. Emily believed that money couldn’t buy happiness, but it sure could buy a lot of fun stuff to do. She loved to travel and was almost one-hundred-percent certain that if she were able to travel the world at a moment’s notice, she wouldn’t have time to feel grim.
Finally, she shrugged at him and lowered her eyebrows inquisitively. “So why does that make you him?” She paused, and then corrected, “Why does that make you hollow?”
He stared for a moment and then a smirk crept upon his lips. “I’m about to go on a rant, so I insist you say something about yourself before I do.”
“Anything?”
He nodded, his brown eyes darkening as he stared over at the sarcophagus. “Anything. What’s something I should know about Emily?”
She thought on this, walking around the empty room and shying away from the visitors that seemed to crowd into the room out of nowhere. She took her place next to Tariq and bit her lip, thinking about the question.
“I’ve got it,” she said suddenly, snapping her fingers together. “I get really obsessed with certain foods. Like, if I eat something and I like it, I’ll eat it every day until I can’t stand the taste of it anymore.”
“Fascinating,” he grinned. “And I imagine very convenient if you end up loving salad.”
She scoffed and patted her non-existent gut before chuckling, “Bad if you happen to love nachos.”
“You’re funny, Emily,” he said finally, reaching his hand to hers and taking her fingers in his palm. “You’re so shy, yet once you get going you turn into an absolute chatterbox. I gather you have no idea how utterly captivating you are.”
She was shy, it was true, but she had no problem with perceived awkward silences. Suddenly she realized he was holding her hand and her entire face went hot and her heart began to race. His fingers were so warm and inviting.
“And that!” Tariq exclaimed with glee. “I love that.”
“The blushing?” she questioned with some disgust. “Ugh. I hate it! It gives me away.”
“No, it’s cute!” He laughed and began leading her up the stairs within one of the pillared towers. She could only assume he was stealing her away to one of the gorgeous balconies she’d seen from outside. “Think of it this way, Emily. Sometimes it’s nice to know where you stand without playing games with someone.”
Emily blushed again. Being the quiet one had made her more of a ‘watcher’ than a joiner, and one thing she loved to do was people-watch. She loved learning people’s little intricacies without actually having to speak with them.
“Sorry, weren’t we supposed to be talking about you and your likeness to the old sheikh, here?”
Tariq smiled, then nodded. “I was engaged,” he said while opening his hands thoughtfully. He quickly corrected, “It was an arranged marriage.”
Emily’s heart sank. “Oh,” she said, not quite able to voice the questions that had suddenly filled her mind.
Tariq took her by the hand and helped her into one of the balconies. The glass had gold carvings etched across the outside window—this particular design looked as though some ivy had crawled across the glass and been frozen there forever in time.
Tariq stared out the window for a moment before turning back to Emily with a defeated expression. “I know it sounds silly, but at the time I was eighteen, and all I could do was think about Aashiq.”
“But… I thought his wife really loved him and all that? I thought she was super into the marriage and missed him terribly when he left?”
“Yes,” Tariq shrugged, his expression unreadable. “But he didn’t love her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he would rather work on a ridiculous house all day than spend an ounce of time with her. There were even rumors that he only made love to her to carry on his family name. Imagine how she must have felt, being nothing but an obligation to him after all the love she poured into their marriage.”
Emily exhaled. “Good point, I guess.”
“So I was supposed to get married, but I felt haunted by the life of this man I had never met, about his failed marriage. I was supposed to marry my fiancée when she became of age, a year later. And so I left.”
“Like, backed out of it?”
He shook his head. “No, as in I called off the marriage and left the country.”
Emily blinked in surprise. She couldn’t imagine sweet, attentive Tariq bailing out on a commitment. Then again, she couldn’t imagine herself stealing thousands of dollars from her workplace, either. People did the strangest things when put under pressure. She gave a sympathetic look to her companion. Unsure what to say, she took his hand and walked out onto the balcony, bringing him with her.
The view from the balcony was wonderful. The chiseled stone railings, now eroded, gave a wonderful ambiance of what the palace would have looked like if it were still in its glory. The view looked out over a small ghost town of sandstone houses, and the deep blue ocean in the distance. She could practically smell the water from where they stood.
Tariq explained how Sheikh Aashiq had become hugely unpopular during the process of building his palace—especially after draining the nation’s funds
for the sake of constructing his great, red home. Fearful and paranoid, Aashiq would traverse his many balconies for days on end, scouting the seas for any sign of approaching enemies.
The story was fascinating and sad, Emily thought, but she could hardly pay attention anymore—all she could think about was the mysterious woman who her crush was supposed to be married to, and what it was that had made Tariq feel as though he didn’t have any love to give her.
“Why did you go to the States?” she asked quietly.
“Well, I loved travel, even back then. And I knew I wasn’t ready to settle down and be with this woman, as lovely as she seemed. My parents…” he trailed off, sighing. “Our family has a long-standing interest in oil. My whole childhood was oil, oil, oil. Can I tell you something?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t even like filling my car up at the gas station. How was I supposed to take over an oil company, or be someone’s husband? All I wanted to do was travel. So I went to the States—against my parent’s wishes, of course—and I started my own business. At twenty-two years old I launched my own airline. Needless to say, this caused quite a bit of tension at home.”
“Well,” Emily retorted, “you did come back a billionaire, so I’m sure there was no love lost.”
Tariq didn’t reply; instead, his eyes cast over the water in the distance. His tan skin soaked up the sun so much that he nearly glowed like the golden domes above them.
Emily felt her heart rate quicken as she thought about him being previously engaged. Sure, it didn’t so much count when you were contractually obliged to marry the person in question, but even the fact that he had called her lovely had made Emily feel jealous. Jealous over a woman who had been abandoned, and all because of a man she’d only met two weeks ago.
Uh-oh, Emily thought to herself. You’re in deep with this one!
Chapter 8
The hot sun shone down on Emily and Tariq as they exited the palace. Thankfully, Emily had thought ahead and worn a modest maxi dress with a black-and-white chevron pattern and a large, wide-brimmed hat. She felt stylish—old Hollywood, almost. Something about being in another country made her feel like she could break out of her plain, ordinary office wear and break out the vacation clothes.