Seduced by the Sheikh Surgeon

by Carol Marinelli

‘We have a private wing here and I can speak with the consultant gynaecologist, Mr Oman. Or you can be transferred to the hospital you’re already booked into, though I doubt they’d operate tomorrow. You might need a few days to rest and recover from this bleeding.’

  ‘I think I would rather stay here but I shall discuss it with my son. Will you speak with him, please?’ Leila asked Maria. ‘He will be so worried and I am so embarrassed.’

  ‘Stop thinking like that,’ Adele told her. ‘Zahir is a doctor, he deals with this sort of thing all the time.’

  ‘Adele’s right,’ Maria said. ‘Can I tell Zahir that you were already planning to have surgery?’

  ‘Yes.’ Leila nodded. ‘But please don’t mention what I said about Aafaq.’

  ‘I shan’t. Do you want him to come in when I’ve finished speaking with him?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Check first, though,’ Adele called, as Maria left. ‘I’m just going to help Leila freshen up.’

  Adele left to make preparations so that she could give Leila a wash and change of sheets. When she came back into the cubicle Leila was staring at the photo but then she placed it back in her bag.

  It must be so hard for her, Adele thought, not to be able to speak of her son. She wondered if Zahir even knew about the baby his mother had lost.

  ‘Were you going to tell your husband after the operation?’ Adele asked as she washed her.

  ‘Yes,’ Leila said. ‘I might even have told him before or got one of my sons to. I know it is hard to understand our ways,’ Leila said. ‘Most of the time I am very grateful for the care I receive. There are times, though, that more is needed.’

  Aafaq had been one of those times, Adele guessed.

  Soon she was washed and changed.

  ‘Thank you for caring for me,’ Leila said.

  ‘It’s my pleasure. I’m just going to take your blood pressure again.’

  She was doing just that when Maria checked that Leila was ready to receive visitors and a concerned-looking Zahir and Dakan came in.

  They came over and Zahir gave his mother a warm embrace and spoke kindly to her in Arabic.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You could have told me that you have not been well.’

  ‘I have been trying to deal with it myself.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to. You have two sons who are doctors.’

  ‘The healer seems to think...’

  What was being said, Adele did not know but she watched as Zahir’s jaw gritted.

  ‘Zahir, don’t just dismiss it out of hand. The potion helped at first but in the end was not working. It was the same when...’ She didn’t finish.

  Zahir looked down at his mother’s swollen eyes and he knew that she would have been asked about previous pregnancies.

  And he knew that subject must not be raised by him.

  ‘When things were getting no better, the healer suggested that when I was in London perhaps I could see someone.’

  Zahir frowned. ‘He suggested it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Leila said, ‘but please don’t tell your father that. I don’t want the healer to get in trouble.’

  It was a long afternoon that stretched into the evening. Dakan got paged to go to the ward and Zahir saw patients while keeping an eye on his mother.

  Mr Oman came and saw Leila. It was decided that she would be admitted to the private wing and that surgery would take place on Monday.

  ‘For now we’ll have you moved somewhere more comfortable and you can get some rest.’

  He spoke with Zahir on his way out. ‘You know that I shall take the very best care of her.’

  ‘I do. Thank you.’

  ‘Try not to worry. It will be a laparoscopic procedure and there will be minimal downtime.’ Mr Oman said.

  Zahir knew that.

  It was a straightforward operation that his mother had had to travel for ten hours to get access to.

  Dakan came in to visit again and they persuaded their mother that Fatiq, the King, needed to be informed as to all that had happened today, and finally she agreed.

  ‘Go easy on him, Zahir,’ Leila said, for she knew how they clashed, especially on topics such as this. ‘He will be so worried and scared for me.’

  Zahir nodded.

  And at the beginning of the call, knowing how deeply his parents loved each other and the shock this would be, he was gentle. He sat in his office, explaining as best he could what had happened and that his mother would have surgery on Monday.

  ‘No,’ his father said and Zahir could hear the fear in his voice. ‘I want her here. Last time she went into hospital...’ He didn’t finish.

  They never did.

  That topic was closed for ever.

  ‘Zahir, if anything should happen to her—’

  ‘She needs surgery,’ Zahir interrupted, but they went around in circles for a while, with Fatiq insisting that surgery was unnecessary and that the healer could sort this.

  Zahir bit back the temptation to tell his father that the healer had been the one who had suggested it.

  That had surprised Zahir, yet it pleased him also.

  Perhaps some progress could finally be made.

  ‘She is seeing one of the top surgeons in London,’ Zahir said. ‘I will ensure that she gets the very best of care and shall keep you informed.’

  The call ended and Zahir replaced the receiver. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb and took a deep breath to steady himself. He was so angry with his father about the health care back home and it was a battle they had fought for way more than a decade.

  It was the reason he was here.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘ARE YOU OKAY?’

  Her voice was soothing.

  Pleasant.

  He opened his eyes and there, standing at the office door, was Adele.

  Zahir thought he had closed it and was uncomfortable that she’d caught him in an unguarded moment.

  ‘I’m not about to have my second Al Rahal faint on me today?’ Adele checked, and Zahir gave a reluctant smile.

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’re just about to move your mother to the private wing.’

  ‘Good,’ Zahir said, and then glanced at the time. ‘You must be finishing up. Thank you for all your help with her today.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Who’s taking her up to the ward?’

  ‘I am,’ Adele said.

  His mother had insisted on keeping Adele around and, because queens were something of a rarity, the rules had been relaxed.

  ‘She wants to know if you’ve spoken with her husband.’

  ‘Tell my mother that he knows. I’ll come and speak with her on the ward. I just have a couple more patients to see.’

  It took ages to settle Leila into the private wing. She was lovely but extremely demanding and by the time Adele had everything to the Queen’s liking and had handed over it was way past the end of her shift and she was exhausted.

  ‘I shall see you in the morning,’ Leila checked as Adele wished her goodnight.

  Zahir had come in to check that his mother was settled too.

  ‘No.’ Adele shook her head.

  ‘But you said you started tomorrow at seven.’

  ‘Yes, but I work in Emergency.’

  There was an exchange in Arabic between mother and son. A rather long one and finally Zahir translated what was being said.

  ‘She wants to know if you can nurse her. I’ve just explained that that is not how things work.’

  Leila spoke now in English. ‘I want Adele to be my nurse.’

  ‘She’s very used to getting her own way.’ Zahir gave a wry smile and then went b
ack to speaking in Arabic.

  His mother was adamant and, seeing that she was getting upset, Adele intervened.

  ‘Leila, I would love to care for you but it isn’t my specialty and I’m already rostered on to work in Accident and Emergency tomorrow. They’re very short of staff. I can come and visit you, though.’

  ‘You’ll visit me?’

  ‘I’d love to.’ Adele nodded. She often caught up with patients once they were moved to other wards and few were more interesting than Leila. ‘I can come in during my lunch break tomorrow. For now, though, you need to get some rest. It’s been an exhausting day for you.’

  Adele headed down and changed out of her scrubs and into jeans and a T-shirt. It was well after ten and she had missed her bus and would have to wait for ages for the next one.

  It wasn’t the first time it had happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  It was, however, the first time that the silver sports car that usually glided past pulled in at the bus stop.

  The window slid down and Zahir called out to her.

  ‘The least I can do is give you a lift home.’

  Even though Adele was still sulking about last night, she knew it would be petty to refuse.

  Finally she sat in the passenger seat.

  ‘You don’t drive?’ Zahir asked.

  ‘No.’ Adele shook her head. ‘There’s no real need to in London.’

  She gave her regular excuse, but the truth was that since that awful day even the thought of getting behind the wheel made her feel ill.

  ‘Surely it’s better than getting a bus late at night?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Adele gave a shrug.

  Perhaps she couldn’t afford a car, Zahir thought. He had heard that she was saving up to move out of her flat.

  He would buy her a car, Zahir decided.

  It was as if cultures had just clashed in his brain.

  That was what his family would say—buy her a car, repay the debt, return the favour tenfold—and yet he knew that she would find such a move offensive.

  Today was not a debt that needed to be repaid to Adele.

  It was her job. Nursing was what she did.

  And she did it very well.

  It wasn’t her fault that he was terse with her at times.

  It was necessary for him to function.

  She entranced him.

  She was funny and open and yet private and deep.

  Adele was the woman he kept a distance from because she was the one person he would really like to get to know.

  And no good could come from that.

  ‘I really am grateful for all your help today,’ he said.

  ‘I was just doing my job.’

  ‘I know, but you helped my mother a lot. I know that she would have been scared, given that she is so far from home, and that she would have needed someone to talk to.’ Zahir hesitated. He thought of his mother’s eyelids, swollen from crying. He hoped she had given her full history to the doctors. ‘Did she mention that she lost a baby?’

  Adele frowned as Zahir glanced at her. From the way Leila had asked that it not be mentioned, Adele had assumed Zahir didn’t know about his brother. She thought about it some more and realised he would have been about seven when it had happened.

  When she didn’t answer the question, Zahir elaborated.

  ‘I don’t really know the details,’ he admitted. ‘It’s a forbidden subject in the palace. I just know she was having a baby and that she flew to Dubai. Then my father left and they all returned. Aafaq is buried in the desert but to this day...’ He glanced at her again, hoping he might glean something.

  Anything.

  ‘You need to discuss that with your mother,’ Adele said, though there was regret in her voice. She knew how it felt to be kept in the dark. She could still clearly remember trying to get information out of Janet. It was awful knowing someone held facts that were vital to you but could not be shared. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know,’ Zahir admitted. ‘And I’m sorry to have put you in that situation. I just hope she has been frank with Mr Oman.’

  Adele didn’t answer.

  Zahir respected her for that.

  ‘Just here,’ Adele said, and they pulled up at a large building with heavy gates.

  ‘Again—thank you again for your help with my mother today.’

  ‘No problem. Thank you for the lift.’

  ‘Any time.’ Zahir gave an automatic response.

  She let out a short, incredulous laugh. For a year he had driven past her; last night she had been drenched and he’d utterly ignored her. And, yes, it might seem petty but she would not leave it unsaid. ‘Any time you feel obliged to, you mean.’

  Zahir stared ahead but he was gripping the steering-wheel rather tightly.

  He knew that Adele was referring to last night.

  Of course he had seen her.

  It had taken all he had not to stop.

  ‘Goodnight, Zahir.’

  She got out and opened the gates.

  Zahir knew he hadn’t dropped her at her flat. This was a nursing home. He knew that Adele’s mother was very ill and that she visited her often.

  He had never delved.

  Zahir had wanted to, though.

  He wanted to explore his feelings for Adele. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone.

  But he had been born to be king, which meant at all times he kept his head. His emotions he owned and his heart had to remain closed until marriage.

  And he would marry soon hopefully.

  It was the last bargaining tool he had with his father.

  King Fatiq wanted a selection ceremony to take place and for Zahir to choose his future bride.

  There were several possibilities and the union must be the one to best benefit the country, yet Zahir had refused to commit himself so far.

  Only when he had free rein to rebuild the health system in his own country would Zahir choose a bride. His father had resisted but Zahir was now thirty-two and the King wanted his son married and home.

  And so Zahir chose to remain aloof in relationships, knowing, hoping, that at any given time his father might relent and summon him home and the work on the health system in his country could truly begin.

  There was nothing aloof about his feelings for Adele, though.

  It could only prove perilous to get involved with her.

  The last time he had been home he had sat in the desert and asked for a solution.

  Always he asked for help regarding Aafaq and the clash with his father, and always he asked how best to serve his people. Lately, he had asked about Adele.

  There could be no solution there, Zahir knew.

  Yet he had asked for guidance and in the quiet of deep meditation the answer had been the same.

  Have patience.

  In time the answers will unfold.

  Do what is essential.

  Zahir’s patience was running out.

  He watched as Adele pressed the buzzer and then she turned around and frowned.

  She was surprised that the man who left her standing in the dark night after night seemed to want to see her safely inside.

  Within a matter of moments she was walking into the nursing home and towards her mother’s room.

  ‘Hi, Adele.’ Annie, one of the nurses, had just finished turning her mother and smiled at Adele as she came in.

  ‘I know that it’s late but I couldn’t get here this morning and...’

  Adele stopped herself. They always told her that she didn’t need to give a reason if she couldn’t come in. Tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to—she was on an early shift and, even though the nursing home was close by, she was going out on that da
te with Paul.

  The trouble was she wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ Adele said, and took a seat and held one of her mother’s hands.

  Lorna’s nails were painted a lovely shade of coral.Adele did her mother’s finger-and toenails each week. Her once brown hair was now a silver grey. Adele had used to faithfully do her roots but in the end she had stopped that.

  Oh, she knew she had to get a life and yet it was so hard not to come in and visit.

  And people simply didn’t understand.

  Lorna had been so vibrant and outgoing. A single mum, she had juggled work and her daughter, along with an active social life. She’d had a large group of friends and at first they, along with relatives, had filled the ICU waiting rooms and then later they had come by to visit when Lorna had been on the ward.

  Over the years those visits had all but petered out.

  Now the occasional card or letter came and Adele would read it out then add it to the string on her mother’s wall. Lorna’s sister, Adele’s aunt, came and visited maybe once or twice a year. Another friend dropped in on occasion but apart from that it was just Adele.

  And so she brought her mother, who lay with her eyes closed, up to date on what was happening in her life.

  ‘I finally my got my lift from him,’ Adele told her mum. ‘It was very underwhelming.’ It really had been, she thought. ‘Anyway, I’m over Zahir. I really do mean it this time. I’m going out with Paul tomorrow night. He’s one of the paramedics,’ Adele explained to the silence. ‘He’s asked me out a few times and I decided maybe I should give him a chance after all. I guess I’m not going to like everyone in the same way I do Zahir.’

  It really was time to get a life.

  But then she told her mother the real reason she had stopped by after work.

  It wasn’t just that she might not be in tomorrow, there were bigger reasons than that for her being here tonight.

  If her mother would just squeeze her hand or blink or do one thing to acknowledge that she knew Adele was here, it would help.

  This was agony, it truly was, sitting here day in, day out, and yet she was all her mother had.

  But Adele made herself say it out loud.

  ‘Mum, I’ve got some annual leave that I need to take and I’m thinking of going on holiday.’