Privilege for the Sheikh

by Annabelle Winters

  “Something? Like what? I haven’t said two words to the man! Besides, he’s a Sheikh . . . of some obscure Islamic kingdom! How could there ever be something there?!”

  “Aha!” Carmen said, pointing a long index finger at Lora. “So you admit you’ve thought about it!”

  “Get out,” Lora said, pulling at her hair and closing her eyes so hard her head hurt. “Just get out, OK? I can’t deal with you right now. I’ve got to deal with Mark.”

  “Yeah, where is Mark, by the way? Still on the phone with that sleazebag attorney of his? Did you know his lawyer’s been married three times and doesn’t pay a dime in alimony even though he’s rolling in it?”

  Lora couldn’t help but smile. “No, and I don’t want to know how the hell you know that! Now please go. Mark’s here.”

  The door to the suite clicked open, and Carmen walked out just as Mark walked in, the two barely acknowledging one another. Mark slammed the door shut and strode in, plonking himself down on the couch and putting his feet up on the table. He looked pissed. About time, Lora thought.

  “Well, I couldn’t get the police to file a damned report,” he said, his face red, his eyes darting back and forth like a badger’s. “They said that whatever happens within the walls of the Sheikh’s palace is out of their jurisdiction! Can you fucking believe that?! Is this the goddamn Middle Ages? And of course there’s no American Embassy in this bumblefuck country, so we can’t get their help either. What the hell am I paying taxes for, anyway?!”

  Lora wanted to remind Mark that he spent months every year holed up with his lawyers trying to find ways to avoid paying taxes, but she stayed quiet. At some point he was going to ask if she was doing OK, wasn’t he? She almost laughed as she waited.

  But Mark was in his own world—that world where money was everything. He sat up and hunched over, biting his nails as he muttered and shook his head. “Maybe we call the media right away,” he said, those black badger-eyes moving again. “Get the story out there. Embarrass the hell out of the Sheikh. Make him write that check.”

  “But once the media publishes the story and it’s out there, what incentive does the Sheikh have to pay anything?” Lora said with an almost playful tone, a perverse sensation coming over her as she marveled at how little she knew the man she was about to marry. Or perhaps she knew him too well. He really didn’t give a damn that another man had just kissed her! What did that mean? Did it mean he was an elevated soul who was beyond feeling jealousy? Did it mean Carmen was right and that he was a cheater at heart, so it didn’t matter if his wife-to-be also cheated (not that she did anything of the sort, but that wasn’t the point)? Or did it mean his opinion of Lora was so low that he couldn’t even consider the possibility that a handsome billionaire Sheikh might actually be interested in her?!

  And as she thought it Lora realized Carmen was right. Somewhere in the depths of her subconscious Lora had considered that very possibility: That the kiss was more than a kiss, that it meant something.

  Stop it, she told herself. You’re in shock and you’re not thinking clearly. That was an arrogant assertion of power by the Sheikh. Nothing more and nothing less.

  She closed her eyes and took a breath and shook her head. Give Mark a chance, she said. Everyone reacts differently to the unexpected. Give him a chance.

  “You’re right,” Mark said, smiling like a madman as he chewed his nails. “We need to simply threaten to go to the media. The threat is what’ll make him pay up.”

  “What makes you think he’ll pay you anything?” Lora finally said, folding her arms beneath her breasts and looking down at Mark. “Clearly he didn’t give a damn who was watching.”

  Mark glanced up. “Did you give a damn?”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You know what it means, Lora. I didn’t see you resist.”

  Lora’s mouth hung open and her eyes flicked wide. “I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was over! And why am I even defending myself here?! I didn’t see you resist! Did it even matter to you that another man kissed me?”

  Mark shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Punch a king in the nose for touching my woman? Get real, Lora. I’d be in a goddamn prison right now, probably awaiting execution.”

  That doesn’t sound too bad, Lora thought as fury ripped through her. She didn’t know why she was so damned angry, but she was. Perhaps it was guilt at secretly enjoying that kiss, secretly feeling special that a handsome billionaire king with a jawline that looked like it had been chiseled from granite seemingly lost control of himself because he wanted her so badly. Perhaps she was seeing parts of Mark that she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to believe existed.

  Perhaps I’m seeing parts of both of us that I don’t want to admit exist, she thought as she turned from Mark so he wouldn’t see the anger in her eyes, the disgust on her face.

  “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat, “what’s done is done. We can put this behind us. We’re getting married in a few days.”

  “You still want to?” she said carelessly, shocked at herself even as she said the words. For a moment that disgust had taken over, and in that moment she swore she felt no love for Mark, none at all. How was that possible?! Had she ever loved him? Was there even such a thing as a love which burned forever bright, always on, never in doubt? Or was it just some crap she’d read in all those books as a teenager?! Was she as bad as Mark? Getting married to satisfy her own private needs? Oh God, she was no better than Mark, was she? She’d said yes because he was the best option available, not because she truly loved him! She just wanted that wedding and that happily ever after, and perhaps it didn’t matter who it was with!

  What’s happening, she wondered as she heard the rustle of papers and slowly turned back to Mark. Why are all these thoughts coming out now? Is it last-minute jitters? Is Carmen finally getting to me? Was it that kiss? Am I a whore? A naïve girlchild in the body of a thirty-year-old woman with a big butt? Perhaps I’m just insane, she thought as she watched Mark place a set of papers on the wooden table in front of the couch and clear his throat again.

  “So,” he said, looking up at her and then down at the papers. “Don’t take this personally, love, but I had the lawyers draw this up and fax it over. It’s pretty standard these days. You understand.”

  “Understand what?” Lora said, blinking as she stared at the papers and then into Mark’s eyes. He couldn’t hold the eye contact, and she snatched up the papers. “You’re kidding,” she muttered, shaking her head and thinking back to what Carmen said. “A pre-nup?” She shook her head and blinked. “You think I’m a whore,” she said to him. “Is that it? You think I’m going to cheat on you?”

  “No, of course not!” Mark said, standing up and grabbing her by the arm. “I was going to . . .” he started to say, stopping mid-sentence and looking down as if he was trying to remember lines he'd memorized.

  Then Lora got it. Mark had screwed up. The pre-nup hadn’t just been drawn up and faxed over in the last two hours. Mark had it with him all along. He’d planned to hijack her with it all along, just like Carmen had warned! The Sheikh’s kiss had messed up the timing, messed up his plan, maybe messed up his thinking as well! Maybe he thought this would be a good time to get her to sign without a fuss, while he could play off her guilt and shock? That bastard!

  “You were going to what?” Lora said firmly, one hand on her hip. “Have me sign a pre-nup anyway? I thought you just had this faxed over from the lawyers?”

  “Yes,” Mark said hesitantly, and she could see he was stuck between two strategies. “I mean, it’s pretty standard these days, Lora. Grow up. I’ve got three million in the bank, and you’re a goddamn librarian. Sixty percent of marriages in the US end in divorce. You gotta play the odds. It’s simple math.”

  “I didn’t realize love was about math,” Lora said, dropping the papers onto the carpet a
nd smiling in a way that disturbed her. “I don’t give a damn about your money, Mark. But I’m not signing anything. What are you going to do now?”

  Mark frowned as he stared at the scattered sheets of white paper on the red carpet, but just as he started to speak there came a solid knock on the door.

  Without thinking Lora walked over and yanked the door open. She frowned when she saw two men in black tunics with the insignia of the Royal House of Johaar embroidered in gold silkthread. They bowed their heads as one of them handed her a rolled-up sheet of thick paper, closed with a wax seal like this was a scene from the 1400s.

  “What the hell,” Lora muttered, shaking her head as she tried to move her attention from what she was feeling for Mark and his ridiculous timing with the pre-nup. She took the paper and broke the seal, her eyes going wide as she read. Then she just started laughing, shaking her head again as she collapsed on the couch and read the order from the Sheikh once again:

  Pursuant to the laws of the Royal Kingdom of Johaar, the supreme Sheikh hereby invokes Sheikh’s Privilege, by which any betrothed woman within the borders of the Sheikh’s domain must present herself to His Eminence the night before her final vows are taken.

  She was still laughing when Mark snatched up the letter and read it. He cursed and shouted, finally showing some of that jealousy Lora thought she wanted to see. But now it was too late. Things were out of control. Reality was no longer a consideration. This had turned into a goddamn farce, where she was caught between two men’s different versions of pre-nups, one of them insulting as hell, the other straight up bizarre.

  Bizarre, but strangely exciting.

  6

  “What did Mark say when he read this?” Carmen said as she felt the thick cotton-fiber of the paper on which the Royal Proclamation had been written.

  “What do you think? Fuck this, fuck that, fuck everyone. Then he called his lawyer,” Lora replied, putting her sunglasses back on as the two women stepped out of the small café they’d found on one of the narrow side streets of the old part of Johaar.

  Carmen laughed. “Luther the lawyer? You know, he used to have billboards up all along the highway outside Baton Rouge like ten years ago. Now I guess he’s too respectable for that. Hah!”

  Lora took a deep breath and smiled. She felt strangely calm even though they’d just downed two cups of thick Arabian coffee at the quaint little café where everyone sat on cushions on the floor and all the men stared at them like they were alien lizard-queens. The aroma of freshly ground coffee followed them for a few paces, but then they were back on the cobblestone streets, strolling through one of the many crowded marketplaces.

  “Luther the lawyer is the furthest thing from respectable I can imagine,” Lora said with a snort. “Though Mark loves him. They seriously spend maybe ten hours a week on the phone together. And that’s besides the regular meetings they have. I’d swear they were having an affair if I didn’t know better.”

  “Honey, you wouldn’t know better. I was right about the pre-nup, wasn’t I?”

  Lora blinked twice and reached for a blue-green silk scarf that a street-vendor held out for her to touch. It was the smoothest silk she’d ever felt, the colors shimmering in the overhead sun. She nodded at the vendor and asked how much. “Well, Mark said he’d just gotten the pre-nup faxed over,” she said hesitantly as she paid the vendor and smiled at the old man. He smiled back, showing shockingly well-aligned teeth. Good dental plans in Johaar, Lora thought absentmindedly as she wrapped the blue-green scarf around her bare neck and turned to Carmen.

  “Even you aren’t naïve enough to believe that. Though it’s a new low for Mark to try and play on your guilt by implying you’re going to cheat on him because of what happened with the Sheikh. Speaking of which,” Carmen said, snatching the letter back from where it was sticking out of Lora’s bag. “What the hell is this? Is this even legal?”

  Lora shrugged. That calmness was back. It was like she’d just blocked all of this out, told herself it was a dream, one of those teenage fantasies that belonged in a book and not in her life. It was so much easier to process that way, wasn’t it? “Apparently it’s an old law that’s still on the books in Johaar. Luther the lawyer checked it out, I guess. Amir really is the king of the land here. What he says goes.”

  Lora took a breath when she realized it was the first time she’d said the Sheikh’s name like that, like she knew the name, knew the man, knew more than others did about him. Of course, she knew nothing about him except for what she’d read. Oh, and what he’d done. Did that really happen? It couldn’t have, could it?

  “So the wedding’s off, I guess,” Carmen said casually, pointing at some almonds that a vendor was roasting on a slow flame. She paid for the almonds as Lora stared at her friend.

  “Excuse me?” Lora said, hands on her hips, new scarf fluttering in the desert breeze.

  “I mean the wedding, not the marriage,” Carmen said, popping an almond into her mouth and holding the bag out to Lora. “Nut?”

  Lora smiled and shook her head. “There are enough nuts in my life right now. Thank you.”

  Carmen snorted. “I set you up for that joke. See, we make a great team. Unlike you and Mark.”

  “Carmen! What the hell is wrong with you?! When will you stop saying shit like that?!”

  “When you end this engagement before it’s too late. I hated this idea from the beginning, and I’ve always been honest about my opinion of Mark. You can call it jealousy or envy or sour grapes or whatever hell else you want. I call it being a friend.” She stopped chewing her damned almonds and turned to Lora, looking her dead in the eyes, with all the seriousness in her. “Even if it costs me your friendship.”

  Lora closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, God, I can’t believe everything has gotten so out of control.”

  Carmen raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty calm to me, actually.”

  “Because I’m in denial,” Lora retorted.

  “You’ve been in denial of reality as long as I’ve known you, Miss Librarian, so that’s not it. This is different. Something’s different,” Carmen said, raising the other eyebrow and glancing at Lora up and down. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you. There’s a part of you that’s enjoying this.”

  Lora looked away as the two of them walked in silence for a moment. Then Lora spoke, her voice trembling, her tone warped with the heaviness of guilt mixed with excitement. “Yes,” she said softly, stealing a glance at her closest friend, glad they both still had sunglasses on. “I’m horrible, aren’t I?”

  Carmen smiled and locked her arm with Lora’s. “Nope. You’re just a woman, Lora. You were kissed by a handsome king, who’s now demanded that you present your sweet ass in his chambers or else heads will roll. Every woman, whether she admits it or not, would be secretly excited.”

  “Though of course she can never admit it,” Lora whispered. “So if anyone asks, I have to say I’m appalled, disgusted, and enraged. Which of course I am. How dare a sexy billionaire Sheikh lust after me to the point where he invokes an outdated law just so he can tap this fat ass.”

  Carmen almost fell down as the two of them burst into laughter, and people stared as they stumbled through the streets, drunk on the madness of what was going on. Finally Carmen got a hold of herself long enough to ask the question again:

  “So the wedding’s off, right? You'll just get married back in America? As weird and strangely exciting as all this is, there’s no way you’d even consider going through with that ridiculous law.”

  Lora nodded and frowned at the same time. “Well, if the wedding’s called off, the law doesn’t apply. Problem is, when we spoke to the hotel, they told us that if we cancel the wedding, then the entire deal for the free rooms and meals is off and we’d be getting a fat bill for all of it.”

  Carmen shrugged. “So what? Mark can afford it.”

 
Lora took a breath and blinked. She didn’t reply.

  “Wait,” said Carmen. “Did Mark say he wasn’t going to pay for—”

  “Oh, God, no!” Lora said hurriedly, walking a bit faster so Carmen wouldn’t see the expression on her face. “Of course he agreed. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Say it, Lora. You’re gonna say it sooner or later, so just say it.”

  Lora stopped in her tracks and turned to face Carmen. “He hesitated. For just a moment, but it was there. He hesitated, Carmen! Which means for a moment Mark actually calculated whether it was worth sending me off to another man’s bedroom the night before our wedding!”

  Carmen blinked and looked away. “It was probably just an unconscious reaction.”

  “Well, that’s even worse, isn’t it?! It means it’s so deeply rooted in his personality that it’s just who he is! Everything has a price! Everything and everyone! Maybe you were right, Carmen. Maybe I’m making a mistake here.”

  Carmen blinked again. “OK, listen, don’t jump to any conclusions here. Everyone’s a bit turned around by what happened yesterday with the Sheikh. Mark’s probably just . . . I don’t know . . . he’s probably just . . .”

  Lora’s mouth hung open in feigned surprise. “Wait, are you defending Mark now?!”

  Carmen shifted where she stood. “I don’t know. I mean, although I’ve made it clear how I feel about Mark, there’s still a part of me that doesn’t want to be responsible for breaking up your engagement! You have a right to be happy, and if Mark makes you happy, then, well . . .”

  “I don’t know what makes me happy,” Lora said, clenching her fists and shaking her head as she felt that silk scarf billow in the warm air. Then for a moment she felt like it would choke her, and she loosened it and exhaled hard. She looked around, taking in the sight of the old sandstone bungalows with their weathered teakwood doors, old brass handles that were polished to a bright sheen, multicolored silk curtains and intricate paisley tapestries covering the large windows as the breeze whipped the thin cloth into a frenzy, mimicking what was going on inside Lora’s head.