Servant To The Sheikh

by Holly Rayner

  “It’s the one my parents live in now,” he told her. “It was built in the ’50s, but they didn’t begin using it till my grandfather was the sheikh. It’s absolutely gorgeous—just doesn’t have the same charm of the old palace, the one I showed you.”

  “So, this is the place you grew up in?” Audrey asked, watching as the palace grew larger through the windshield. They entered through golden gates, Jibril giving a slight wave to the guard.

  “I did indeed,” he said. “But we weren’t allowed in the ceremonial ballroom very often. That’s where the party is being held tonight. Ali and I would always get in so much trouble if we were caught in there. Pretty hilarious, looking back—my mother scolding us and saying we’d never make it to our 30th birthdays.”

  “Guess you really showed her,” Audrey said, teasing.

  Jibril stopped the car at the grand entrance to the ballroom, at the base of a large staircase, on which several guests were already ascending, dressed in stunning traditional gowns and suits.

  The moment Jibril exited the car, they began crying out to him, greeting him in Arabic and telling him happy birthday. Their eyes gleamed; they were clearly overjoyed to see him. As Audrey joined Jibril, they changed to English and spoke directly to her.

  “Welcome to Ash-Kahlbi!” they exclaimed. “Audrey, you are one of us now!”

  Audrey pressed her lips into an anxious smile. Taking Jibril’s arm, she walked up the steps, careful not to trip on the long train of her dress, and then found herself entering a dramatic ballroom with ceilings at least five stories tall, murals painted on the walls, and a gleaming, patterned floor, on which several people were already dancing to traditional music. A large table was stretched across the back wall, and it had a several-tiered birthday cake atop it.

  Before her eyes could explore more, Audrey felt two bulbous arms wrap tightly around her, clinging to her. “Oh, Audrey, I’m so, so glad you could stay,” Amara said. “You don’t know how much this means to me. You don’t know how much it means to Jibril.”

  Audrey eyed Jibril, wondering how true that was. “I’m grateful to be here,” she said. “I belong here.”

  Moving ahead, Audrey greeted both Habib and Ali, giving them handshakes before diving in for hugs, grateful that she already felt comfortable enough with them that being this close didn’t feel strange. With the music surrounding her, she felt ecstatic, alive. Sensing Jibril’s eyes upon her, she turned back and caught his hand in hers, laughing.

  “This is marvelous,” she whispered to him, her lips mere inches from his.

  “Let me show you the food,” the Sheikh said, guiding her toward the long, thin table, which was decked out in Middle-Eastern dishes. Children lined the sides, grabbing at little snacks and shoving them between their lips, chewing and looking mischievous. Jibril handed her a grilled piece of halloumi, and watched as she chewed and savored the salty cheese, her eyes growing wide in pleasure.

  “I could stand here and eat this food all day,” she said. “But then I’d never fit into this gown.”

  “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll have you back in San Francisco with your green smoothies and your yoga classes in no time,” Jibril teased, winking.

  “Ha. You don’t actually think I’m one of them, do you?” she asked.

  “I’ve known you were different from the beginning,” Jibril said, his voice earnest. “I just didn’t know what to think of a burrito lover.”

  Jibril’s mother burst toward them, her arms flailing and tossing the ceremonial fabric of her dress left to right. “It’s time for the dance!” she cried, pushing Jibril and Audrey into the center of the room with a dramatic motion. “The music’s about to begin!”

  Hurriedly, Audrey swallowed the remainder of her halloumi, watching as her hands took their natural course: one in Jibril’s hand, one up by his neck. As the rhythmic music formed around them, they dove into the traditional dance, Audrey swirling three times in a row, her eyes focusing on Jibril’s face each time she circled around. He caught her on her last rotation, grasping her around the waist and then bending her backward. Audrey grinned up at him as the crowd roared with affirmation.

  They looked good together.

  As the ceremonial dance came to a close, Audrey peered up at Jibril, her heart hammering. Not knowing if her words would be heard over the crowd, she whispered to him: “I think I’m falling for you.”

  Jibril shifted forward and kissed her in front of his entire family and all 300 of his friends, sealing their romance and causing Audrey’s breath to stop. They kissed for nearly a minute, but Audrey felt it was an eternity. She forgot about the past and the future, allowing her to live precisely in the moment—for perhaps the first time ever.

  It was the most beautiful moment of her life.

  And then it was over.

  Someone in the third row of family members surrounding them began to flail his arms wildly, leaping up. Amara tried to stop him, thrusting herself through the crowd and speaking to him in rapid Arabic, clearly angry that he was making a mockery of the celebration, but the man continued to wail out in English, holding his phone skyward and causing everyone to turn toward him and listen.

  Even the music stopped, causing both Jibril and Audrey to stop rocking to and fro. Their hands parted as they turned toward the mystery man, a third cousin of Jibril’s. What they heard turned Audrey’s heart to stone.

  “She’s not who she says she is!” the man shouted, pointing at his cell phone. “She’s a fraud!”

  “What on earth do you mean?” Amara asked, pressing her hands on either side of her waist. “Why are you interrupting our ceremony? Please, you were barely even on the guest list. Leave. At once.”

  The man stood his ground, his feet planted firmly on the geometric designs of the shiny floor. “No. You don’t understand,” he said, his voice catching in his excitement. He glared at Audrey, shoving his phone toward Jibril’s mother. “She’s just his stupid public relations rep. Look at her. She’s playing a game just so we all think he’s got a girlfriend, just so we all don’t know about his Playboy reputation back in America.”

  Audrey’s jaw dropped. Jibril stood steadily, his voice booming out over the crowd. “Cousin, that’s simply not true,” he said firmly. The group was silent, studying him. “Please. Take your cell phone and leave my birthday.”

  But Amara cut forward, grasping the phone and glaring down at the article he’d brought up. “Audrey Parker is the Sheikh’s spin doctor, trying to make him glow in the eyes of the American people again,” she read aloud, clearly shocked. “But Parker is in over her head, as the Sheikh has a long trail of failed past relationships just in the Bay area, and everyone knows his reputation. Good luck, Audrey.”

  His mother glared first at the Sheikh and then at Audrey. She looked incredulous. Audrey had never felt heartache like this before. Taking a step back, she felt a sudden urge to run.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Amara demanded. “Jibril? Audrey? Explain yourselves.”

  Jibril’s smile faltered. Audrey hunted for words, trying to make use of her public relations degree. But smoothing over something as big as lying to an entire family—to an entire kingdom—hadn’t exactly been covered in her university classes. Her palms sweating profusely, she slid them across the fabric of her traditional gown, feeling like she were on trial.

  “Mom, Dad, everyone, I can explain,” Jibril said, a false smile flickering across his face.

  But his cousin, his friends, and his parents moved forward, their fingers pointing and their anger mounting. Rage burned across their faces.

  “A Playboy?” someone shouted. “Jibril, you weren’t raised like that!”

  “You’re making a mockery of us. You’re making a mockery of our entire country!”

  “And the girl! How dare she come here. She’s going to take the stories of our culture and tear them to shreds in America. That’s what these PR people do.”

  Audrey backed away, watching as the crowd
pushed in towards Jibril, attacking him like an angry mob. Slipping farther back, she collapsed behind a large pillar, hiding from them. Tears coursed down her cheeks. The love she and Jibril had been building over the previous weeks was being deconstructed, torn apart. Now, because of her mistake with April Brevet, Jibril was in the midst of a dramatic family crisis, and during his 30th birthday party too.

  Feeling lower than ever, Audrey stripped her gown from her shoulders. She’d worn a simple black sheath beneath, since the traditional gown was slightly see-through. Tossing the gown over a railing, she slipped into the kitchen and raced passed the sizzling fryers and skillets and out toward the open door. She was abandoning Jibril, conscious that anything she said to his family would now be read as a lie.

  She was a spin doctor. She was a hack. She could never be his love.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Night had fallen over Ash-Kahlbi, with stars beginning to appear overhead. The palace was about a mile from the center of the city, and Audrey set out, hopeful that she could find the hotel on her own, book a flight back to San Francisco immediately, and allow the beautiful memories from the previous few days to float away. Loneliness was her lifestyle. She’d return to it.

  As she wandered the streets aimlessly, she began to dive deeper into the ancient alleyways of the old town. Finding herself shrouded in shadow, her stomach began to squeeze with fear. Around every corner, down every alley, she was conscious that someone could leap out, attack her, rob her. She was lost, staggering, her shoes beginning to carve painful lines into her skin. She’d already walked for miles.

  “I’ll never make it back,” she whispered, her eyes searching the sides of the alley, hunting for clues, but unable to see well through her tears.

  After another half hour, Audrey’s panic had wound itself up to great heights, making her breathing jagged. Placing her hand against the stone wall of an alleyway, she tried to focus, recognizing the signs of a panic attack. “Not now,” she whispered. “Get ahold of yourself. Slow your breathing.”

  As she stood, staring at her thin, white fingers against the dark stone, she smelled the familiar scent of falafel sizzling in a fryer somewhere behind the wall. Blinking wildly with sudden recognition, she realized she was standing in the exact alley in which she and Jibril had met his childhood friend and eaten falafel sandwiches with pita on their first day of exploration.

  Which meant she wasn’t far from the palace at all.

  Ecstatic, Audrey turned back the way she’d come, her footsteps rapid against the stones of the alleyway. After just a few turns, she found herself on the dramatic steps of the palace entrance, her eyelashes fluttering. She fell to her knees on the stone steps, putting her in near-prayer form as she thanked some higher power for allowing her to find safety.

  Beyond anything, she knew that if Jibril wanted anything more to do with her—if he felt their growing love was worth it—he would search for her here. His grandfather represented a love that could conquer all. Maybe their growing love was strong enough.

  Rising, she pushed against the large wooden doors, surprised to find the palace open. Walking tentatively down the wide, high-ceilinged hallways, she listened as her footsteps echoed off the far walls, giving the place an ominous, otherworldly feeling. She was the only person in the once-filled palace, carrying the weight of the present day in the midst of so much that had come before.

  Staring up at Jibril’s grandfather, the once-sheikh himself, Audrey allowed herself to drop to her knees once more. She huffed, trying to force herself not to cry again. The tears were there, hovering at the edges of her eyes. Sheikh Kassim’s stern gaze told her a single truth: she had no one but herself to blame for this misfortune.

  If she’d only done her job correctly with April Brevet, none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have been made a personal assistant. She wouldn’t have fallen for the Sheikh. She wouldn’t have ultimately destroyed his familial relationships by allowing them to see the portrait of who he was in America rather than the image he’d constructed for them in Ash-Kahlbi.

  Audrey didn’t think he would return to find her. Why would he? She’d brought him nothing but trouble. With countless PR managers in the Bay area, he could surely find another, regroup, and pretend she had never existed. Perhaps that was what she would recommend given what she’d done.

  “As my final act as your PR manager,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall, “I request that you fire me.”

  The words fell from her lips and echoed against the stone walls of the palace. She sniffed to herself, recognizing she shouldn’t linger long in the palace halls. She knew the way toward the more populated part of the city, where she could grab a taxi and head back to the hotel. With a heavy heart, she prepared to rise to her feet.

  Someone cleared his throat behind her, almost in answer to what she’d just said. Every cell in her body seemed to freeze with immediate panic. A shadow formed across the portrait of Sheikh Kassim, one with broad shoulders, thick hair, and an incredible stature.

  “Audrey, I would never fire you,” the voice boomed behind her.

  In a rush, Audrey lifted herself from the ground and turned to face Jibril, her shoulders sagging in disbelief. He’d come to find her. Racing into his arms, she was surprised to find that he hugged her warmly, passionately. His heart hammered in his chest as well, as if he’d been running to find her.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Jibril,” Audrey whispered, her voice raspy. “I caused so much drama between you and your family. Had I known the consequences of my actions, I would have ensured even more that those headlines had never existed. I can’t begin to describe how sorry I am. Jibril—”

  Jibril pushed her back gently, gazing into her eyes. His lips parted. Silence stretched between them, making Audrey sizzle with expectation, with fear. “I ruined your life,” Audrey whispered, caught in a continuous cycle of anxiety. “And I can never repay you.”

  “Don’t be so foolish,” Jibril said, running his fingers through her hair in a tender motion. “I take full responsibility for what happened back there with my family. It wasn’t you. You’ve been absolutely marvelous, helping me instill my lie. But in the end, the lie was my own, not yours.”

  Audrey blinked rapidly, bringing her hands up to his chest. She eased them across his muscles, remembering what he’d looked like when he’d slept so peacefully beside her. God, what she’d do to get that back again.

  “If anything,” Jibril said, “this will give me an opportunity to come clean to them about who I actually am.”

  “A playboy who sleeps his way across San Francisco?” Audrey asked, her heart sinking.

  “No,” Jibril said. “Not anymore. I’ll come clean to them about my past, of course, but I’ll also introduce them to who I am now. Even I’m fascinated with the change.”

  Audrey tilted her head, not sure if she’d heard him correctly. “Does that mean you’re ready to settle down with someone? For good?”

  Jibril nodded. Light flickered in his eyes. “I’m ready. I never thought it would happen, but here we are.” He swallowed. “And I want to settle down with you, if you’ll have me.”

  Audrey gaped at him, hardly able to comprehend his words. Her heart bursting with love, she reached toward him, grasping his neck, and then kissed him on the mouth with incredible passion, her stomach fluttering. Jibril wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close before lifting her from the ground. With closed eyes, they kissed for moments more until their lips parted slowly and they gazed into one another’s eyes, both arriving at the same conclusion.

  “I love you,” Audrey whispered.

  “I love you, too,” Jibril said. “I never thought it would be so easy to fall in love, but my grandfather was right all along.”

  “What are we going to do?” Audrey whispered, still wrapped tightly in his arms. “About your parents, about your family?”

  Jibril was quiet for several moments, his eyebrows pushed together thoughtfully. “Well,
I suppose another thing I learned from my grandfather was that honesty is always the best course.”

  “You think we should just tell them the truth?” Audrey asked. As a PR manager, she’d long been divorced from the truth, always having to spin it in a way that suited her clients’ needs.

  “I think we should, and as soon as possible,” Jibril said. He took her hand and led her from the palace at a dramatic pace, leaping down the steps toward the black car that was parked near a large statue of a lion. Audrey laughed, feeling apprehension press against her chest like a brick.

  “They just ended the party, just like that?” she asked as he revved the car engine.

  “Of course not,” he said. “The party’s still going. But my parents retired upstairs, too frustrated with me to say much more. It morphed from a birthday celebration to something quite different; I’m sure the guests have eaten the cake already, sensing they wouldn’t be singing any sort of birthday song.”

  The car zoomed along the city roads, pausing for mere seconds at each stop sign and then racing toward the modern palace. Jibril held Audrey’s hand over the gearshift and blared the radio. A sense of solidarity formed between them, assuring Audrey that no matter what happened at the palace—no matter what his parents said—they were in this life together now.

  Parking at the front entrance, near the ballroom, Jibril lifted the ceremonial jacket from his shoulders and removed the flowing, golden-and-red pants, revealing that he, too, wore a simple black suit beneath. “No more birthday nonsense,” he told her, winking. Leaning across the car, moments before the point of no return, he kissed her with abandon, his eyes closed. Audrey’s heart felt squeezed to the point of exploding.

  Taking her hand, Jibril led her up the steps and back into the after-midnight chaos of his once-birthday party. The music had transitioned from traditional to more pop-sounding, with people dancing in the center of the room and bobbing their heads. They didn’t notice the couple slipping through the crowd and making their way up the grand staircase, marching up to the third floor where Jibril said his parents’ room was located.