“What the…” she began and broke out into a full run. Robel shouted for her, and she weaved toward him through the people, checking over her shoulder for the camel. She’d lost her tail. Adrenaline pumped through her despite the danger having passed.
“What is going on here,” she hissed. The stable hand reappeared across the space, a rope attached to the donkey’s halter. Some camel-friendly passerby had wrangled the beast into complacency down by the sculpted fountain.
“He’s bringing them back into position,” Robel said. Tension creased his face. The stable hand arrived a moment later, sweat beading at his temples. Sondra watched as he reattached the ropes to either side of the nativity scene. A frazzled-looking Joseph arrived next, speaking in hushed undertones with Robel.
Sondra’s belly knotted. Something didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t tell what might be awaiting them. They’d planned this event to perfection, which she knew better than anyone didn’t mean much. We plan, God laughs. She wrung her hands together, gaze wandering over the makeshift stable scene.
Soft giggles snagged her attention. Petite hands poked through the log siding of the stable. She furrowed a brow, side-stepping the disgruntled camel to peer behind the scene.
Some shushing. And then, like magic…the donkey wandered off again.
“Robel,” Sondra said, jerking her chin toward the donkey. He signaled for the stable hand, who rushed forward again. While he chased down the meandering donkey, Sondra stepped behind the scenery.
“Aha.” She crossed her arms as she spotted Sesuna and Winta tucked between the poles propping up the stage area. The twins looked up at her, guilt written all over their faces.
“And just what are you two doing back here?”
“Nothing,” Sesuna said, but Winta must have chastised her in Arabic because then she said, “We’re very sorry!”
“Girls.” Sondra squatted down to sit with them at eye level. She sighed, tilting her head from side to side as she thought about how to approach this. Coming at it from the that-camel-gave-me-the-stink-eye angle wasn’t a very good idea.
“This is the most important production of the season,” she finally said, keeping her voice level but firm. She leaned closer. “Why are you untying these animals and letting them wreak havoc?”
In the park in front of the scenery, a royal commotion was unfolding, but Sondra struggled to stay focused on the twins. To let them know how serious this was. The girls shared a glance, but it was Winta who broke down first.
“Papa Noël will understand,” Winta insisted. “He already knows what we want for Christmas.”
“And you think he’ll give you anything after this display?” Sondra asked.
Winta’s bottom lip went out, full and pouty, and she shouted “Sorry!” before running off. Sesuna frowned, looking between her sister and Sondra. In the park, shouts in Arabic punctured the air. There was a hot mess unfolding, but without any language context clues, she couldn’t piece together what was going on.
“He has to,” Sesuna said. She crossed her arms, glaring at the ground. “All we want is our mother back.”
Sondra sighed, massaging her forehead as she tried to figure out how to handle this delicate situation. Sheikh Yared’s wife was not well. She had gathered from Robel that their mother had opted for intensive treatment related to stage 3 ovarian cancer somewhere in Switzerland, with plans to return once she was fully recuperated. But only the sheikh knew the full details about her progress, and the twins were kept mostly in the dark—for their own well-being. Sondra glared over at Winta, who pranced near Robel. She motioned for Winta to come back.
“Your mother will be back soon,” Sondra said quietly, unsure if this was a lie, as Winta reluctantly rejoined. “And her being away to…rest…is no reason for you to sabotage the events.” She nibbled on her lip, thinking back on the issue with the musical instruments recently. “Did you girls also make problems for the musical procession? Hm?”
Both girls avoided her gaze.
“The musical instruments were damaged mysteriously,” Sondra went on. Winta nudged Sesuna, who finally nodded.
“Listen. I know you girls are upset, missing your mom.” Sondra’s heart wrenched in her chest, thinking of what it might be like for Nessa growing up, missing her own mom. Even though Sondra would always be her mother, Nessa might still have that ache for the woman she never knew. “So I won’t tattle on you. But you need to stop getting in the way of these events, okay? And this is the most Western celebration of them all! I thought you two would want to join in!”
Sesuna’s eyes lit up. “This is the most Western?”
“Yes!” Sondra crossed her arms, glancing out at the park through the wood beams of the stable set. Robel was shaking his head, jaw tense. Something out there demanded her attention. Her belly knotted. “Now I need to go back out there and get to work. Promise me you’ll help. Promise.”
“We promise,” the twins intoned at the same time.
Sondra tousled their hair and stepped out from behind the set. She headed for Robel, who had his phone pressed to his face. When she came up behind him, her phone buzzed.
“Hey,” she said.
“Oh, for God’s sake—” Robel muttered something in Arabic and swiped his phone off. “I was just calling you. Where the hell were you?”
His tone made her stomach tighten, but she didn’t want to out the girls. That would add a new wrench to the chaos, and besides, she had promised she wouldn’t rat them out. “I was taking care of something. What’s going on here?”
“Taking care of something?” His incredulous tone rubbed her the wrong way. “While you were taking care of something, the entire production went to shit.”
Robel kicked at a hay bale nearby. She furrowed a brow, looking around. People had cleared out; none of the actors were around. And then she noticed.
The entire nativity set had been destroyed.
“What happened here?” she asked, pointing.
“Your precious live animals destroyed it,” he spat. “And now they’re gone. Camel escaped. Donkey went to who knows where. This whole thing is ruined. I don’t know why you think it’s fine to disappear in the middle of the event preparation like that, but we have you to thank for the utter failure of this supposed nativity.”
Sondra blinked in disbelief, taking a few tentative steps backward as Robel’s vitriol hit right where it hurt. She didn’t know what to address first—his anger or the flagging production.
“I’m cancelling it,” he spat, pulling out his phone again.
“Wait.” Heart hammering, she held up a hand. His anger—and hurtful words—could wait. This event could be saved. If anyone could wrangle meaning from chaos, it was her. “Let me figure out what to do.”
“You better do it quick,” he snarled.
She clenched her teeth, biting back the words that threatened to spill off her tongue. He wasn’t helping. At all. But she’d have to react to his foul mood later.
“Are the animals gone for good? You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he said, swiping through his phone. “I’m calling my father to cancel this event.”
Sondra swung around to assess the scene. The cradle where Nessa would lay was splintered, fractured in two. Mary’s veil had been ripped in half, probably by that evil camel. Hay littered the park, left in a trail that led wherever the donkey had wandered off to. Passersby walked down the sidewalks, holding up cameras to film the mess. She balled her fists.
“We can save this,” she said.
Robel scoffed.
“Don’t cancel it,” she insisted. “I know what to do.”
Robel’s jaw flexed, and he lowered his phone. Before he could spout off anything else, she said, “I need you to get our helpers here to clean up the hay trail. See if someone can get the cradle together, at least on the ground. We’ll put a blanket in it, and it’ll be fine for Nessa. And the backdrop…” She assessed the splintered piece, the torn veil. “It’ll
do. Mary doesn’t need a veil.”
“And the animals?” There was so much resentment in his voice Sondra nearly choked.
“I have a plan,” she said. “Just take care of those details, and the production will go on as scheduled. Alert the actors. This show is not over.”
Sondra walked on wooden legs to where she left the twins. She snapped her fingers, and they popped to standing, their dark tresses gleaming in the golden light of the waning sunset.
“Listen. We’re having some issues with the show. Can you girls do me a favor?”
The twins nodded.
“I’m going to need you to be the stars of the scene.” She took a deep breath, forcing a smile she didn’t feel, not even a little bit. “I’m going to make you two the sidekicks to Jesus—the camel and the donkey!”
15
The event went off—but barely. Robel cringed through the entire production. Mary looked a mess; Joseph’s wig had been carried off by the escaping donkey. Nessa cried the entire time. And the twins…Robel could only bury his face in his hands when he saw the makeshift animal costumes Sondra had put them in. Pure palm fronds and galloping. Probably not a single soul in the audience knew what they were supposed to be.
And the crowd was big. Way bigger than he’d expected. Plenty of citizens to witness this dismal palace production, and probably talk about it for the rest of time. Robel left early, intent on avoiding Sondra until he’d let some of the sting fade away.
But leaving early meant more time for stewing. He went straight to his bedroom back at the palace, and all he could do was stare at the ceiling, ankle throbbing, while he replayed the failure of an evening in his head.
He finally managed to fall into a tense sleep, more of a restless half-awake state than anything. When morning came, he dreaded facing the day. Facing Sondra. Facing the mess he’d left between them.
Because things certainly didn’t feel right after the living nativity scene. His escaping had been one thing, but he was uncomfortably aware of how short he’d been with her. But when memories flooded him—the look of confusion on certain audience members’ faces, the laughter of journalists when the “donkey” and “camel” had entered the scene—the anger returned.
This whole thing was Sondra’s fault.
He stewed the rest of the morning, and when noon came, he almost wished she would skip their meeting. But she showed up—either a gutsy or stupid move on her part. He barked at her to come inside, and she entered wordlessly.
Sondra slid into the chair facing his desk. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her.
“So I guess we’re not going to start the day with my bare ass on your desk again,” she finally cracked. But her voice was lacking the good humor she was known for. There was no warmth this time. He snapped his eyes over to meet hers, and she frowned.
“Definitely not.” He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know what you thought you were doing last night—”
“Saving the production,” she interjected.
“But I cannot tolerate another disaster.” He reached for a pen, clicking the end mindlessly as he gathered his words. “My family’s reputation cannot tolerate a disaster like that.”
Sondra sat up, face creased with anger. “Disaster? Robel, I saved that show.”
“No. You ruined it. Cancelling it would have been saving it. Instead, you let it degenerate into a joke. A complete mockery of what it was supposed to be.”
“Well, holy cow,” Sondra said, her cheeks flushing. She snatched the folders she’d set on his desk, bringing them into her lap. “I suppose the last decade of experience I have doesn’t mean much to you, let alone the other miracles I’ve pulled off here, but by anyone’s standards, the audience enjoyed that show. It was delightful. If you can’t pull your head out—”
“You have been against me every step of the way,” Robel said through clenched teeth. “You weren’t on board with my joining the planning from the very beginning, but as we can see, what was needed here was more planning, not less.” He huffed. “I hesitate to imagine what the previous events would have been like without my interference.”
Her eyes widened, and a bloated, incredulous silence hung between them. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Robel blinked at her, crossing his arms. “Not in the slightest.”
“I am a skilled and professional event planner. I am able to react to surprises, chaos, and disasters. Events, much like life, are uncertain. Even though we have our routines, our ways of doing things, we have to be prepared—and open—to things changing on a whim. You can’t be a victim to your expectations, least of all in this profession.”
“I’m no victim, I assure you.” Robel rifled through some papers, not even seeing what they were. He just needed something to do with his hands. “If there’s anyone equipped to deal with the changing nature of life, it’s the Crown Prince of Maatkare.”
“You might think you’re so great because you inherited your position, inherited this family, but let me tell you something about hard work. I have been working my ass off for your family, and these events have been well-received and a total success. You, Robel, have been nothing but a handicap. Both literally and figuratively.” She gestured to his ankle behind the desk. “You can thank yourself all you want, but your father hired me for a reason, a reason that you have never once been able to understand.”
“Well, going forward—” he began.
“No. There is no going forward.” She popped to her feet, a sneer curling her lips. “I’ll do this job on my own. Like I should have from day one. And if there’s any issue, you can just fire me.”
Sondra stormed out of the office, pulling the door shut behind her with a loud thud. Robel stared at the closed door for what seemed like an eternity, letting her words cycle through him on painful repeat.
* * *
Sondra couldn’t do shit the rest of the day. All she could do was replay Robel’s words and think of all the things she should have told him.
She was proud of herself, at least. For sticking up for herself. Her work. Her career. But alongside the pride came the humiliation. She’d allowed herself to fall for this man. This man who had seemed so certain and proud. This man who had turned on her, out of nowhere.
Robel didn’t come after her, nor did anyone from the palace arrive to politely escort her to the airport. So she wasn’t fired—yet. But she had a small handful of palace events to oversee, small things that would barely make her break a sweat.
Being within shouting distance of Robel would be the hard part.
She didn’t know if she wanted to keep yelling at him or just grab him by the shoulders and demand that he kiss her until all the confusion melted away. He was a hard ass. Stubborn. Set in his ways. But they’d shared something, and he relented slightly, and hadn’t there been something?
Sondra didn’t want to classify herself as heartbroken, but it sure felt a hell of a lot like it.
The last few days of events around the palace were quiet. She didn’t need to do much, and she kept away from Robel as much as possible. He didn’t come looking for her either—another sign he was a total, arrogant asshole. Mulish. Stick in the mud. The list in her head went on and on.
So meanwhile, she spent more time with Nessa, planning her trip back to the States, trying to figure out what the next chapter of her life might look like. The palace would pay her handsomely, as long as Robel didn’t try to interfere with that, too.
Despite her firm resolution to stay away from Robel, her mind wandered to him constantly. Wondering what he was doing. If he was still mad. Why he’d treated her so poorly. Whether or not he’d be open to having sex just one more time. Imagining the satisfaction of telling him he sucked. Imagining groveling for just one last kiss.
Whenever she spotted Noel and Ana together in the palace, or more recently, Yonas and Maia, her heart wrenched strangely.
She could have been part of the third, perfect couple.
Robel and Sondra.
Except their coupledom was far from perfect. No, it was fraught. Doomed. Totally over.
It had never even started, really.
So why did she feel like she was missing out on one of the biggest things to ever happen to her?
16
Robel relaxed into his large, overstuffed chair on January seventh.
Finally. Christmas Day.
He forced a smile as he looked around the large living area. Everyone in the family was here, except their mother of course, perched on couches or armchairs gathered around a crackling fire. It was early morning, per tradition, just after the daybreak church service. Fast had broken, so their breakfast that morning would be a light fish stew with a rice pudding.
The traditional Magi gifts had already been dispersed among the family members. They were usually small, traditional things—sometimes only well-packaged dates, or bundles of lavender—but the twins looked extra gloomy as they pondered their pile of gifts.
“Sesuna. Winta.” Robel tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Have you had a good Christmas this year?”
The girls shrugged, looking away. He cleared his throat, signaling for the palace employee lurking in the corner to bring the next round of gifts.
It wasn’t typical, and it certainly wasn’t traditional. But Sondra had helped him realize, earlier in the Christmas season, that the girls were wanting something more from Christmas this year. So he’d arranged for some Western-style gifts for them. The employee brought in a small stack of garishly-wrapped presents in loud reds and greens, stripes and bows galore.
“Papa Noël heard what you wanted for Christmas,” Robel said, trying to sound happy, excited even. “He arranged for some very special gifts to be delivered. Straight from America.”
The girls perked up slightly and tore into the wrapping paper.
The Sheikh’s Christmas Lover: Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs Book Three Page 9