by Nadia Aidan
He pursed his lips and frowned. I could tell a war waged within him. If he helped me and Amir found out, he would never forgive him, but if I took my chances with black market smugglers to get out of Sharjah and something terrible happened to me, not only would Amir never forgive him, Khalil would never forgive himself.
“I told you what I did so that you would be armed with knowledge, so that you would have leverage. Not so that you could run away. The woman I know is strong, courageous—”
“The woman you know also has someone else to think about besides herself—”
“You love him, and yet you can so easily give up and walk away.”
I knew what he was up to, but I refused to allow Khalil to goad me. I was refused to allow the disappointment in his eyes to shake my resolve.
I regarded him coolly, with a sure confidence that belied my tenuous predicament. “It’s not love, Khalil, not if the person doesn’t love you back.”
CHAPTER NINE
4 months later
Amir stared at the glass in his hand as if transfixed by the potent amber liquid that at one time had served to numb his pain, but each day it’s affect upon his senses lessened. One day he knew it would do nothing but cloud his mind and thoughts, but it would no longer have the power to dull his pain. That notion led him to tighten his grip around the glass. Nothing on this earth could dull his pain, save one person, and she’d lied to him, betrayed him, and then she’d abandoned him as soon as he’d turned his back.
The bitch.
The glass gave way to the pressure of his forceful grip. It was only his lightening quick reflexes that kept his hand from being sliced open by the shards of glass that crumbed to the titled floor.
One of the employees suddenly appeared out of the shadows to clean up the mess, as he inquired if Amir needed medical attention. When he received no response, the young man disappeared back into the swirling mist of cigar smoke that filled the gaming room where a few patrons still gambled away their fortunes, while well paid exotic escorts fawned and flattered them.
A gentlemen’s club was no place for the ruler of Sharjah to idle his days and nights, not even if it was a private, exclusive establishment for the billionaire oil tycoons and wealthy Westerners who were eager to indulge in the luxury and decadence of Dubai.
With a bitter smile, he corrected himself, former ruler of Sharjah, but no matter, Amir knew it was only a matter of time before the rumors made their way back to his country and the powers that be discovered where he’d disappeared to for the past three months.
A cavalry would be dispatched to retrieve him then, and they would try to reason with him to resume his rightful position as the regent of Sharjah, but he would refuse. It wasn’t fair to his people or even himself to return. He wasn’t fit to lead, not with his mind always consumed with thoughts of the bitch, for he could not bear to even think her name, the pain was too raw.
When he’d returned from Cairo, and discovered her gone, he’d sent his best spies and investigators searching for her, first within Sharjah, and then within neighboring countries. When they’d turned up nothing, he’d sent Khalil, along with more of his men, first to Georgetown University where she was a professor, and then he’d had them scour the entire Eastern Seaboard of the fucking United States. Nothing.
No traces, not one sign of her anywhere. She’d taken a leave of absence from her job. She’d rented out her home. And no one was talking. Not her family, not her colleagues, it was as if she’d vanished. The only solace that kept him halfway sane was the knowledge that she was definitely alive and apparently well, because when Khalil returned, he’d given Amir an envelope that had come directly from Daniella’s mother. The envelope had been sealed and addressed to him, and to this day he wished he’d never opened it, but at the time he’d been so desperate for something, just one word, just a hint of how she was doing. A simple handwritten note, such a feeble connection to her, but he’d grasped it in his hand as desperately as a drowning man gasping for air.
Every single word was forever imprinted in his memory. It was a scathing character assault, a vitriolic denial of everything they’d shared. He’d wanted to rip the letter to shreds, but it had still carried her unique scent, when nothing else of hers that remained in her abandoned villa did. It was a sultry combination of blooming roses and warm, rich vanilla. In one breath, fresh and sweet, while in the next, sultry and intoxicating—just like her.
After receiving her letter, he’d stopped searching for her. Somehow she’d learned how betrothal contracts were broken among Sharjah’s nobility. Misfar al-Sharaf. After telling him she was not pregnant, in no uncertain terms she also told him she had no intention of remaining in Sharjah because she would not be used in such a way. In a few paragraphs scribbled out in her bold handwriting, she made it quite clear that she hated him, and that she never wanted to see him ever again.
He was not a man to give up so easily, but once his anger had waned, he was forced to accept the truth, she didn’t love him. And no matter what he did, she never would. He could search the ends of the earth, and even if he found her, it wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t force her to love him if she didn’t. He had a life that most envied, but for all the fancy education and abundance of riches, he could not have the one thing he would give it all up for—the love of the one, and only woman, he’d ever given his heart to.
Once he’d accepted his fate, the spiral had begun. He’d abdicated his rulership at once, mostly because in the month long search for her, he could barely make it to any of his meetings, he’d cancelled all of his scheduled trips, and the budgets and reports Fatimah put on his desk had begun to pile up and over onto the floor.
Once he’d given up his position as regent, the only thing left for him to do was to end the farce that was his betrothal. Sheikh Abdul al-Mujaher, Sabeen’s father, his own godfather. Amir had believed him a man of the old ways, but soon discovered his assumption had been very wrong. Left widowed by his beloved Ethiopian wife after just ten years of marriage, Abdul had found himself raising three very beautiful, precocious, headstrong daughters. Admittedly, he’d spoiled them, which was probably why when Amir met with him to end the betrothal contract, Abdul didn’t wage a blood feud or some other antiquated custom meant to avenge the perceived slight to his honor. It was obvious in his eyes, the deep love he held for his daughter when he spoke. Sabeen’s father wanted her to find happiness above all else, and had long ago realized she would never be happy with a man who did not love her.
Abdul had truly surprised him when Amir had stood before him and told him he could not marry his daughter because he loved another woman. Not only had Abdul accepted Amir’s reasoning for absolving the betrothal contract, he’d praised his honesty, saying he considered it far more honorable for a man to admit the truth and accept his fate, then to enter into a marriage for no other reason than the fear of losing face and power. Abdul had known how much Amir had risked by doing what he’d done. Not only his rulership, but his honor, that of his family’s name, and his family’s pride. The older Sheikh had even gone so far as to admit he’d long wished to nullify the contract, but had seen no way to do so without deeply offending Amir’s father, and longtime friend. Both men had known the traditional nullification of the contract could only be executed if Amir entered into a misfar al-sharaf, which Amir had always rejected. He would never use a woman as an escape clause, and despite how much she irritated him, he would never resort to humiliating Sabeen in such a manner.
As such, there was no precedent for their actions. Both Abdul and Amir knew the other noble families would balk if they just shook hands and walked away, claiming the al-Azizs’ thought themselves above the law as the ruling family of Sharjah. If not handled properly it could turn ugly with power challenges from the other families.
Khalil had presented him with an alternative, to which Sabeen had surprisingly seemed amenable, which left Amir suspicious. Sabeen was not known for being amenable to anything, but he had
n’t dwelled on her odd behavior long. She was now Khalil’s problem.
After sharing with Abdul his plan, the older man had carefully considered Amir’s proposal, before he offered a reply, “If Sabeen and Khalil are both in agreement, as well as yourself and your parents, then I do not object and I doubt any of the other families shall protest, as long as you understand that they must be properly appeased, of course.”
Oh, of course Amir knew exactly what Abdul meant by proper appeasement. Gifts would flow like rivers from the al-Aziz family to practically everyone in Sharjah. First, to Sabeen’s father because Amir needed to give the appearance that he was begging the al-Mujaher’s for their forgiveness, and then to the remaining noble families, also for the same reason, to beg their pardon, so that he did not appear as if he was above the law. In the end, everyone would get what they wanted, and all parties would walk away happy.
That was all parties except for him.
Once the matter of his betrothal had been settled, Amir had considered his affairs in order, and had promptly disappeared. Sabeen and Khalil’s wedding had taken place a month later, and with Amir still in the wind and given his very noticeable absence from his cousin’s wedding, the gossip rags had reported he’d been suffering from the bitter heartbreak of lost love and betrayal—that his cousin would steal his bride.
Well at least they’d gotten half of it right.
He looked down at his hand, wanting another drink only to remember what had happened to the last. He could already hear his mother’s reprimand—proper men of Sharjah didn’t consume alcohol. Amir let out a wry chuckle, full of deprecation, proper men of Sharjah didn’t do a lot of the things he’d done.
It was approaching dawn, or so he guessed since there were no windows in the room, but the place was starting to empty so he figured daybreak was close. He stumbled to his feet, deciding against ordering another drink. He would just drown himself in one of the many bottles awaiting him back in his suite, and hopefully pass out for the rest of the day. If he was lucky he would awaken from a dreamless sleep, but it was more than likely that he would once again dream of her, only to awaken to the reality that her curves were not still pressed against him in sleep after he’d spent the night losing himself over and over again inside her tight, wet cunt.
He entered his room with a furious curse, not even bothering to flip the light on as he stalked toward the bar. He hated that he still wanted her, and that she still managed to consume his every fucking thought.
Amir was so distracted that it took him five strides before he drew up short. His light was now on when he knew he’d turned it off before he’d left.
He spun around, another curse slicing through the air as his anger bubbled over.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well good-morning, brother. I would say it’s nice to see you too, but you look like shit and death—”
“And you smell even worse.”
“It could be the room, Nasir.” Khalil said to his brother, as he lifted his nose to the sky and actually sniffed the air. “It reeked before he even walked in.”
Amir glared at his two cousins, Nasir and Khalil, and his younger brother, Malik.
He narrowed his eyes when his brother started to chuckle.
“Fuck you.”
He looked at Khalil then. His cousin now grinned, but even his notorious dimpled grin could not disguise the strain lines framing his mouth, nor the tension that furrowed his brow, and especially not the weathered look in his eyes. He recognized the face of a man who was reaching the end of his rope, and Amir highly doubted searching for him was to blame. Sabeen. His expression softened at the thought of what that woman was probably putting him through, and for a moment he actually felt sorry for him. Until he remembered Khalil—although unintentionally—had still had a hand in his misery.
A week before Amir had left, Khalil had admitted everything, even as he admitted that he realized he’d been wrong, and asked for his forgiveness. Eventually, he’d forgiven his cousin, who thought he’d only been doing what was right, but not before his fists had also made their point about butting into his private life.
“What are you smiling about? You look worse than dog shit too. I take it married life isn’t treating you so well.”
Khalil’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’ll let that slide cause I know you’re drunk.”
“Not drunk enough,” he muttered under his breath. “But please, don’t do me any favors, Khalil. Your favors have a way of fucking up my life—“
“Stop this, brother. We’re here to help—”
“Well then you can leave, because I didn’t ask for your help.” His eyes sharpened on Malik, as his lips twisted into a mocking grin. “But I already know, none of you are here to help me, especially not you dear brother, second eldest son. Running a country must really be cutting into your social life right about now. Hard work, isn’t it, and I know you don’t have the head for politics.” Amir reached for the bottle of whiskey he’d been looking forward to downing before he’d been ambushed. He opened it and took a quick swig, ignoring the matching frowns of the three men before him. “Cause all of us know that when you’re not flying or in the field, the only head you ever think with is the one you can’t seem to keep in your pants.
“Hey.” He shouted, as if he had a brilliant thought; and still holding the bottle of liquor in his hand, he hoisted it into the air, causing brown liquid to slosh all over his knuckles and onto the floor. “If you had been the ruling sheikh, you would have invoked misfar al-sharaf many times over.” He chuckled. “Babies everywhere, no betrothal would have been a problem for you.” He laughed harder, pleased with himself for making what he considered such a brilliant deduction.
Malik cut his eyes at him. A pilot and intelligence officer in the military, it was no secret that he had no interest or desire to be stuck in one place or on the ground for that matter. Same was true when it came to women—he never stayed with or in one for very long. He wouldn’t apologize for appreciating and indulging in the opposite sex, and it was because of his cavalier ways, that the last thing he would allow his brother to accuse him of was being reckless. Protection was as sacred to him as religion was to others. Amir obviously couldn’t say the same or else they wouldn’t be standing there now.
“The only person who has a baby anywhere is you asshole.” Malik glanced over at Khalil then. “Tell him so we can get the fuck out of this shithole. I’m not talking to him again until he’s sober—”
“What did you say?” Amir glared at Malik who had turned to leave, but when his brother faced him again, it was clear he wasn’t getting anything out of that stone wall who looked as if he was on the verge of knocking Amir out.
“What is he talking about?” he questioned, Khalil.
Khalil didn’t immediately reply, and the look in his cousin’s eyes Amir easily interpreted. Guilt.
“Tell him,” urged Nasir.
But Khalil didn’t have to tell Amir anything, not now. Between his guilty expression, Malik’s outburst, and that letter she’d sent, filled with such loathing, which he now recognized was her desperate attempt to keep him away—he had just figured it all out.
“How could you.” He lunged for Khalil, but Nasir and then Malik forced him back.
“Those were her wishes—”
“You are my blood.” He shouted. “I deserved to know.”
Khalil’s eyes swirled with fury. Angry even in defeat. That was typical of Khalil. But he knew that wasn’t how his cousin saw it. His cousin was deliberate, meticulous. He didn’t make rash, impulsive decisions. In his eyes, he could tell Khalil truly believed he’d been doing the right thing, that it was his duty to protect her, where Amir had failed. But she was never Khalil’s to protect. She was his woman. And his cousin should have trusted him to do right by her. Amir had already been on a quick descent downward, but that realization took him to rock bottom. His anger dissipated and he was just left there feeling empty.
“We were raised as brothers, and yet you think so low of me.” He drank in the disrepute of his suite, before returning his vacant gaze to his cousin. “You probably walked in here and looked around and thought, this filthy, seedy place is right where a monster like me belongs—“
“Amir—,”
He blocked out the tortured look on his cousin’s face. “You wound me, cousin, more than I ever thought possible—”
“I thought you didn’t love her, that you were using her. Had you seen the anguish in her eyes—”
“Anguish you put there—”
“No, it was anguish you put there.”
He didn’t realize Malik and Nasir still restrained him until he tried to charge forward, but found he couldn’t move an inch. He growled at the two men.
“Let him go, let him beat me til his self-righteous anger is assuaged.” Khalil’s dark glare slammed into him. “Three words you could have said, and none of this would have mattered.” Khalil stalked closer, and Amir saw deep within his cousin’s eyes some twisted, death wish because he himself had been there, was still there, so he recognized that same tortured look of despair in another. What the hell had Sabeen done to him? “Had you stopped for once to get over your arrogance and that bull-shit pride of yours, you never would have lost her. Had you just told her you loved her, she would have been secure in her own love for you. She would have trusted you. She would have stayed with you.”
Everything Khalil said was true. Amir had been too prideful and too arrogant to admit he loved Daniella, because she had always seemed so impervious to him that he’d feared looking the fool if he bared his heart to her and she rejected him. Yes, everything Khalil had said rang true for Amir, but the despair that reverberated through Khalil’s every word was filled with such sorrow, that he knew Khalil was speaking more to himself than to Amir.
The anger that had threatened to explode just moments before quickly dimmed, and he regarded his cousin with new eyes, but what he discovered was so implausible to him that he didn’t stop to think before he blurted out, “You’re actually in love with that crazy bitch?”