Servant To The Sheikh

by Holly Rayner

  Chapter Seventeen

  Upon entering the third floor, which was the size of two American houses yet probably only an eighth of the entire palace, Audrey found herself face to face with Jibril’s mother. She sat in a plush chair near the far end of a small sitting room, still wearing her party dress. Her hair was mussed; her makeup lined her cheeks with black streams from crying. She blinked rapidly at them, almost unable to believe they’d found her there.

  “Jibril. Audrey. Can’t you leave a woman in peace for the night?” she asked them, her voice like a child’s.

  “Mother, don’t do this to yourself,” Jibril said, approaching her, still clinging to Audrey’s hand. “You’re just going to make yourself sick. Just like that time Ali broke up with his girlfriend and you didn’t approve—you remember?”

  “Well, I still think he should have kept that girl around,” Amara said hesitantly. “You’ve seen him. He still doesn’t have any prospects. I never—I never worried about you, Jibril. I thought certainly you were married to your job, but not that you were making a mockery of this family, dating every woman in San Francisco.”

  “How many articles did you read after I left the palace?” Jibril asked.

  “Too many,” Amara admitted, sighing. “All those women you played with, Jibril. It’s disgusting. I didn’t raise you to be this way. I raised you to be kind and considerate and loving.” She shook her head sadly, rising from her chair. “And I wish to be left alone.”

  “Wait, Mother,” Jibril pleaded. “I need to tell you this before you go to bed. It’s extremely important.”

  “It will have to wait,” Amara said, disappearing through a door without a look back.

  Jibril’s face grew red, his eyes focused. He rushed forward, following his mother into the library, where Habib was situated at a large wooden desk, his nose in a book. “Father, Mother, please. Listen to reason.”

  “There is no reason to be found in this situation,” his father snapped, turning his icy expression toward Audrey and Jibril. He slammed his book shut, anger washing over him. “As the ruling Sheikh, I could banish you from this country for disobeying the rules of this family. But I won’t do that for the sake of your mother’s sanity.”

  Jibril thrust his hands into his hair, tugging at the dark strands. “Father, Mother, I’m not like the man you read about online. I was for several years. I admit it. I was a treacherous, poisonous person, and I dragged women through the mud.”

  “So you changed so quickly?” his father roared. “Some of these articles were written only two weeks ago, the ones that say that Audrey there is your PR manager and that she’s been attempting—and failed—to repair your reputation. How on earth can we believe you?”

  “Because I’m in love with her,” Jibril said, his voice sure. “I didn’t know what love was like before this.” He drew Audrey close, cupping her shoulder with a firm hand. “The past two weeks, Audrey has worked diligently by my side, becoming my personal assistant and my closest friend. I’d forgotten what it was like to show someone who I really was. None of those women you read about in the tabloids actually got to know me. We just used each other to show off to the press.”

  Jibril’s mother shifted uncomfortably. His speech made her eyes grow wide. Audrey had no words. Her throat clenched tighter with each uncomfortable moment.

  “I just don’t know if I can believe you,” Habib said, shaking his head sadly.

  “Wait,” Jibril said, wrapping his other arm around Audrey. He gazed down at her. “Don’t you remember the story of Sheikh Kassim, my grandfather?”

  “He was a great sheikh. An honest sheikh,” Habib said sternly. “My father was a good man. He would have never let this happen.”

  “Oh, but Father, he did,” Jibril said. “He risked everything to pursue happiness with your mother. You’ve told me the story countless times.”

  Habib turned to look at Amara, his expression stony.

  “Grandfather wasn’t concerned about what impression he was making on the people of Ash-Kahlbi. He knew who he wanted to love, and he loved her wholly and completely. Wasn’t that the bravest possible thing he could have done? Mom? Dad?” Jibril still clung to Audrey tightly, his eyes growing wet with passion.

  “How can it be the same, son?” Habib said. “My father was always honorable, never dragging anyone through the mud. With Audrey, this is your tenth, twentieth affair. How can you know if it’s real?”

  “Father, when you know, you just know,” Jibril responded.

  Silence hung in the air around them. Amara bit her lip, as if in an attempt to not cry more.

  “I—I think I’d like to say something,” Audrey said, her words tentative.

  Having not heard from Audrey yet, Jibril’s parents turned toward her with sad eyes, awaiting another disappointment. But Audrey’s heart hammered with love for their son and a resolution to make everything all right. She loved Jibril, and her love extended to his parents and to his culture as well.

  “I’ve gotten to know this city over the past few days,” she said, trying to appear confident. “I’ve gotten to know the two of you and the fierce love you have for your family and for tradition. It’s been absolutely remarkable, to say the least. But above everything else, I’ve gotten to know a side of Jibril that, perhaps, he’d forgotten existed. He’s shown me his interests; he’s shown me his love for his family; he’s shown me that he’d do anything to ensure they’re happy, including lying to them.”

  Jibril’s parents were warming to her. Their faces were more relaxed, accepting.

  “Perhaps Sheikh Kassim felt the same about his wife as Jibril currently feels about me, and perhaps not. But doesn’t Jibril deserve to try?” she asked, her voice finding more confidence with each word. “We all deserve a chance at love, even after so many mistakes.”

  Everything that could have possibly been said was on the table. Now Jibril and Audrey waited, still clinging to one another as if they found themselves sinking in deep water, acting as each other’s life rafts.

  “We want you in our lives,” Jibril said finally. “Please.”

  Tears dripped down Amara’s cheeks. She burst forward, wrapping both Jibril and Audrey in a hug, sliding her forehead against Jibril’s chest. “Oh, my children. My poor, poor children,” she wept. “All I want is happiness for the two of you.”

  Habib rose from his study chair, bringing his arm around his wife and drawing her close. Slowly, a sneaky smile crept across his face. Shrugging evenly, he found words.

  “Perhaps this is the modern-day version of your grandfather’s story,” he said. “I know Sheikh Kassim would find no reason to refute true love. And if what you’re saying is true—”

  “It is,” Jibril said firmly.

  “Then I cannot refute it,” his father said. “I accept you both as a couple, Jibril and Audrey. I welcome you with open arms.”

  “And me too,” Amara affirmed, swiping tears from her cheeks. “Oh, my darlings, I wish you so many, many years of happiness.”

  Bringing his hand forward, Habib wrapped the two in a hug and then shook Jibril’s hand, sheikh to sheikh. “You’ve done wonderful work in the world of business, son,” he boomed. “And now you must do wonderful work in the world of love. You aren’t on your own anymore. This woman is counting on you.”

  “Trust me,” Jibril said, his eyes fiery, “I will work to make her happy every single day of my life.”

  Overjoyed, Jibril’s parents gave them additional hugs, along with several loud, teary smooches from Amara, before sending them back down to the party.

  “Everyone will be too drunk to take any notice of you. Enjoy your birthday party, Jibril. As you’re 30 now, I finally see that you’re ready to be a man,” Amara said.

  Jibril lifted Aubrey from the ground, swirling her in a circle and kissing her, still in view of his parents. Audrey waved to them, feeling both sheepish and utterly happy, unable to stop smiling.

  “We’ll see you soon,” she said b
efore Jibril rushed them toward the staircase, carrying her down the steps.

  “I can’t believe it,” Jibril cried, bouncing her in his arms. “They finally see me. I told them the truth, and they understand…”

  “They raised a remarkable person,” Audrey said, sounding wistful. “I can’t believe I get to share my life with you.”

  Back on the dance floor, Jibril and Audrey danced throughout the next hour and a half, laughing and kissing and drinking wine. At one point, they shared a slice of Jibril’s birthday cake, all the while going unnoticed by his cousins and friends, who’d all grown too inebriated to care about or even remember the previous few hours’ events. The cake’s icing was creamy, flowing delicately across Audrey’s tongue. As she chewed, gazing up at Jibril, she imagined that this wouldn’t be the last time they shared cake together.

  In fact, she imagined they’d be eating cake in that ballroom, in that palace—perhaps years from now, whenever they deemed it time—on their wedding day.

  “You’re looking at me strangely,” Jibril said, laughing and tucking another bite of cake into his mouth.

  “I’m just thinking,” Audrey said. “About nothing in particular, really, just how happy I am.”

  “I think you’re lying, but I’m not going to press you,” Jibril said, teasing her.

  After their cake, they walked into the chill of the 3 a.m. air, Jibril hiring a driver to take them back to the hotel. In the backseat of the car, Audrey huddled close to him, loving the feeling of his head tucked against hers from above. The twinkling lights of the city swept past them, and she felt cozy and content in the safety of the car.

  “What do you think we should do now?” she asked him, her voice a whisper. “Sleep?”

  “I think I have a few more things up my sleeve for tonight,” Jibril said.

  Leading her toward his hotel suite, Jibril carried her through the doorway, allowing her to fall, bouncing, atop his mattress. Ripping his black shirt from his torso, he revealed his gleaming muscles, giving her a deep, penetrating expression.

  “I hope you’re not too tired,” he said, leaning toward her and kissing her, sliding the tip of his tongue along her upper lip.

  “Never too tired for you,” she whispered. She reached her arms around his neck, pulling him on top of her. “Never.”

  They made love on the king-sized bed, their naked bodies folding into one another and discovering new ways to find pleasure, new nooks and crannies of their bodies. It was beautiful: two people who’d had nothing but menial relationships for years had finally found everlasting support and love in one another. Their bodies grew tired, yet elated, as the hours passed into morning.

  With the lavender shade of dawn coming in through the window, Audrey collapsed against the mattress, sighing languidly. “Wow,” she said, blinking up at him. “That was absolutely wonderful.”

  “I’m pretty great,” the Sheikh said, pretending to be cocky. “And there’s always more where that came from.”

  “Ha,” Audrey said, stirring slightly. He lay beside her, drawing his arms around her. He inhaled her scent. “Does this mean we’re an official couple now? I can tell my friends about you? And my parents?”

  “I think it does,” Jibril said. “I want to shout it from the rooftops, so I think it’s only fitting you should tell your parents.”

  “You’re always such a jokester,” she teased him.

  “Would you have it any other way?” he asked.

  “I’m just worried. It’s been an absolute fantasy here in Ash-Kahlbi, but what will happen when we resume our lives in America? Won’t you want to return to your old life?”

  “No. Never,” the Sheikh said sternly, cuddling her closer. “That was wearing thin. Every relationship was a fling. Nobody really knew me the way you know me now. Get it in your head, Miss Parker: you’re stuck with me.”

  Audrey smiled. “And you won’t fall in love with your new personal assistant all over again, whoever she is?”

  “No. I’m not going to fall in love with my personal assistant. That was a one-time thing. I don’t like to repeat myself,” he said. “Plus, it seems that I’m pretty centered on being in love with my public relations manager.”

  “So you still want me to work for you?” she asked, grateful for that. Otherwise, she was out of a job.

  “Of course. Nobody can do this as well as you. I hired you for a reason those three fateful months ago. And when I hired you, I knew you were one of the most beautiful women I’d seen in all my life, but I’d assumed I would never be able to have you.”

  “Yet here I am,” Audrey whispered.

  “But tomorrow we’ll return,” he said, easing his head upon his pillow. “I want to get back. I have loads of meetings, tons of things to catch up on. And I’m assuming you’re a little bit homesick yourself.”

  “Not for the rain,” Audrey said. “But you’re right. The Bay is in my blood now. I miss it.”

  As they began to drift off to sleep, Audrey’s head buzzed with a sudden idea. Nudging him slightly, she whispered into his ear. “Do you think your pilot could take us somewhere before we go home?”

  Curious, Jibril’s eyebrows pushed deep across his eyes. “Where?”

  “I think it’s only fair you meet my parents,” Audrey said. “And with a private plane, it doesn’t seem so difficult, does it?”

  “Now that you’re not so frightened of the air, no,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay. But we can’t stay long,” he said, tucking her closer to him. “Good night, baby. Thanks for giving me the most epic birthday of my life. I don’t know if we’ll ever top it.”

  Audrey drifted to sleep, humming with excitement for the next day, and the next—so curious about how the rest of their lives would change and flourish. Deep in a dream, she felt she could see it all: the apartment they would decorate together, the children they would raise, and their trips to Ash-Kahlbi, where their children would be greeted like princes and princesses. For some reason, the world had opened its arms to her, giving her the most perfect of gifts. Nothing could top it.

  After saying a final good-bye to Jibril’s mother, father, and brother, the new couple boarded the plane the following day, embarking to a starkly different atmosphere: Alaska. When Jibril informed his pilot of their destination, he balked at it, asking him to repeat himself. But Jibril said the foreign word with greater force, causing the pilot to toss his hands into the air in a comedic gesture and clamber into the cockpit, ready to whisk them around the world.

  “I’ve told them we’ll get there tomorrow in the afternoon,” Audrey said, clinging to his hand as the plane careened down the airstrip.

  “Have they met many of your boyfriends before?” Jibril asked her.

  “They certainly haven’t met any of my world-famous boyfriends before,” she told him, pressing her lips together as they neared the end of the runway.

  Audrey had a split-second of panic as the plane burst into the sky and soared toward the clouds. Her hand clung to Jibril’s with intensity, making him close his eyes to handle the pain of her squeezing. The moment the blue sky opened up above the clouds, Audrey unlocked her seat belt and stepped toward the window to press her fingers against it, as if she could hold on to the sky.

  “You’re a bit more daring than you were on the way over,” Jibril said, also unbuckling his belt and heading straight to the open bar. “Perhaps a mimosa will suit you?”

  “Always,” she said, becoming short of breath as the plane flew over the open ocean, making her feel weightless. “You know, it’s just as you told me that day you took me out to dinner. It is just like magic.”

  “Are you always going to remember everything I say?” Jibril said, handing her a flute of the gently bubbling liquid.

  “I hope so,” she said. “I want to hold on to every single moment.”

  The plane landed in Anchorage, Alaska, after many hours of slumber and conversation, both Jibril and Audrey exhausted from t
ravel and confused about the time zone. Audrey’s mother and father awaited them at the gate exit, Audrey’s mother holding a sign that said “WELCOME BACK TO THE USA”, causing Audrey to blush.

  “They’re adorable,” Jibril chuckled, holding her hand.

  Audrey’s parents were about 60 years old, and they both had gray hair. Her father, Paul, was wiry, short, and wore thick glasses, and her mother Julia was thick around the middle, with strong, muscled calves from her long Alaskan hikes. As they hugged Audrey, she sensed that the love they felt for her was precisely the same as the love Jibril’s parents had for him. They worried about her; they wanted her to make good decisions. Yet they had to accept her, flaws and all.

  Paul shook Jibril’s hand, looking up at the taller man. “Audrey never did like short guys,” her father said, his voice loud, almost overcompensating.

  “That’s not true,” Julia piped in, her voice bright. “Remember that little boy who took her to prom? He was shorter than her!”

  “Mom, come on,” Audrey said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s not air out all my dirty laundry at once.”

  “No, please. I want to hear all of it,” Jibril said, laughing already. “She’s just spent days with my family, learning far too much about me. It’s only even if I get the dirt.”

  “There’s plenty more where that came from,” Julia replied, taking Jibril’s arm and guiding him toward their station wagon, which was in the parking garage of the airport. “But we’ll save it till we’re at home eating the banana bread I made. It’s Audrey’s favorite.”

  In the backseat of the station wagon, Audrey marveled at the Sheikh’s strange appearance there with her parents and the white-topped Alaskan mountains surrounding them. He looked slightly out of place, but his deep-set eyes and half smile told her he didn’t want to be anywhere else.