by Ella Brooke
Tiffany balled her fists up at her side but forced herself to push her anger away. She couldn’t just hit a princess again. It would be embarrassing for Sirhan and, worse, there was always the risk Azah’s own security could seize her for assaulting a dignitary. The last thing she needed was to be sickly, pregnant and stuck in a holding cell or God knew what until red tape cleared. Still, her blood boiled and she had to ball her fists until her nails cut into her own palms in a futile effort to deflect her anger.
“You’re the gutter trash here, Azah. You lost. He’s not yours, and the throne for Dubaya isn’t yours either. Now take your sour grapes and get on your camel or whatever and get out of here. You’re not welcome in this palace anymore.”
Azah shook her head. “It’s you who isn’t welcome. It’s you who’s the joke of Dubaya. Do you really want that for your child? Those whispers for all of his days. Leave now, American, and go back where you belong.”
Tiffany couldn’t stand any of this anymore, but shaking with rage, fled out of the bathroom and back to her wing of the palace.
***
“I don’t even recognize you!” her mom said, concern coloring her voice.
Tiffany could hardly blame her. She’d pulled up in a cab at seven o’clock in the morning and almost a week before she was actually due home. On top of that, she was dressed in a canary yellow kaftan that didn’t do much to hide the round swell of her belly, at least not enough for her mom’s observant eyes.
“Mom, hi.”
Her mother frowned as she ushered Tiffany into the house. Tiffany was glad for that. It was a blustery, cold day in the Chicago suburbs she’d been raised in. Oddly, she’d spent years both here and in Switzerland but the last four months in Dubaya had already reset her thermostat. 60ºF felt cold so being in the 9ºF cold snap in Chicago felt like the Arctic.
“Honey, you must be freezing. Did you bring a coat?”
“I left pretty fast.”
Her mother shook her head and pursed her lips. “What happened? Actually, wait, let me skip the small stuff. Even if the dress you have is billowy, I can tell you’re pregnant, and I can already guess that Sirhan’s the father. So why are you here, thousands of miles from Dubaya, and he’s nowhere in sight? Why are you here so early?”
She sighed and set her head in her hands. Tiffany didn’t cry. She no longer had the energy to do so. She wept bitterly on the plane home. Two nights ago after her feud with Azah, she snuck out of the palace and head to the airport as fast as she could. She hopped the first plane to LaGuardia and then finally routed herself to Chicago. She had been traveling for close to two days and felt like her eyelids were practically glued shut.
“I can’t even explain it.”
“You need to,” a deeper voice called out.
Her head shot up and she frowned back at her father. He was thinner than even the last time she’d seen him and pale, but the chemo rounds were over and he had the tiniest hints of almost down-like hair on the top of his head. It was a step toward health. Tiffany scolded herself for not trying harder to get him to quit smoking. She could have lectured him more. As a teenager, she had initiated epic fights over his dangerous reporter habits — the love of Scotch and cigars, among other things. But it was too late for that now. Still, she never should have fled here. She could have gone to her sister’s. There was no reason to trouble her parents, especially when her father was struggling.
“Daddy, you should be resting.”
He shook his head and sat down next to her on the sofa. Then he opened his arms and let her curl into him. Even if he were sick and more frail than usual, even though her body felt awkward and different now that she was four months pregnant, this embrace felt familiar. This was what she did every time she was scared or upset as a kid, and even as a teenager. She and her mother had a good relationship, and they did get along well, but when Tiffany needed to feel truly safe, she thrust herself into her father’s arms.
“Daddy, it’s my fault.”
He shushed her and stroked her back. “I think it takes two to make this situation.”
She sniffled and rubbed at her nose. “The baby isn’t a ‘situation.’”
“Then where’s Sirhan? I thought he was such a miracle for us, such a joy to have. I don’t care if he saves my life a dozen times over, not if he makes you cry like this.”
She pulled her face reluctantly from her father’s shoulder. “Sirhan didn’t ask me to leave. Daddy, I left.”
Her father’s brows furrowed and he stroked her back faster. “Sweetheart, why would you do that? You seemed so happy on Skype and whenever you visited. How could you leave with his child?”
“It’s just not right. I’m just an American. The baby… he or she will never feel like a true Dubayan because of me. I’m going to ruin everything, and I don’t want the baby to suffer because I’m an idiot.”
Her dad shushed her again. “The only thing you can do to ruin the baby’s life is to keep it from Sirhan. A child needs his or her father. I think I’m an expert on that, you know.”
Tiffany sniffled. “But no one in Dubaya will ever respect the next sheikh. It’s my fault. We weren’t planning on this happening so, uh... soon,” she started, “And I know I’m not a Middle Eastern princess or royalty or anything special. Sirhan deserves someone amazing.”
Her father nodded. “Then it’s a good thing that he has that woman in his life. Don’t you see? You are amazing. You’re everything he could want. Honey, you get some sleep, and we’ll figure out everything else.”
Panic lanced through her even as she tried to keep her eyes open wide. He father couldn’t get in contact with Sirhan. This was for the best, wasn’t it? Just get some distance for a few weeks, and then she could help Sirhan understand that he needed to have a wife who really matched his prestige and upbringing.
In other words, anyone but her.
Chapter Eleven
Sirhan was already checking in to his suite at The Tower Hotel in Chicago, not too far from the famous Sears Tower, when his phone rang. When he woke up that morning and found his fianceé had fled and left the engagement ring on her pillow he was furious, but not at Tiffany. He only had to review the security tapes to see not only the confrontation between Azah and Tiffany, but also the clandestine meeting in the hall five minutes before that where his former wife-to-be and his father had clearly exchanged words. It wasn’t hard to deduce that his father had sent Azah after Tiffany. It had been his supreme pleasure to end all trading contracts for the foreseeable future with Qutaria and then have his father exiled to the summer palace at the other end of Dubaya. He was done.
The old man was growing frail, of course. Sirhan’s father never would have ceded the throne otherwise. The bastard was still his father and did need care, but he wasn’t going to be on site or anywhere near either Tiffany or the baby. Sirhan wouldn’t allow it. If his father could do nothing more than be rude and plot, then he could plot alone, far from anyone else in the royal court and then see how far that got him. Maybe one day the old sheikh would have a relationship with his grandchild, but Sirhan wasn’t holding his breath on that.
Setting all his affairs in order had taken some time, but Sirhan knew there was only one place that Tiffany would flee to. If his mother were still alive, she would be the first person he would run to if he were that upset. It was easy to assume she would do the same.
And considering a local phone number was showing up on his caller ID, Sirhan was certain he was right.
“Hello?” he asked, sitting down and urging his guards to give him a bit more space.
“Is this Sheikh Sirhan Hakim?”
“Yes.”
“Good. This is Tiffany’s father.”
“Mr. Saunders, how good to hear from you. I’ve been so heartened by your progress.”
“And I’m so grateful, Sirhan, for everything you’ve done for my family. I just wanted to let you know that Tiffany is here.”
“I’m already in Chicago.
If you could remind me of your address…”
“You don’t have it?”
“To be honest, I was being polite and didn’t want to seem like I was abusing my power,” Sirhan admitted. “I could check your medical file if I wanted.”
The older man laughed. “I think that I shouldn’t have pressed. Good point. However, I have my little girl and my grandchild — well at least they will be in about five more months — over here without you. I’m so sorry she took off, but I know she cares about you. My baby has never, ever reacted to any boyfriend the way she has to you. I’ve never seen her so torn up like this over anyone.”
“I understand why she left, and I’m not mad. My father is an ass. Now he’s an exiled ass, but he set her up. I’ll be over in a few minutes, Mr. Saunders, and I promise I’ll make it right.”
“You better. I’m already looking forward to having you as a son-in-law.”
Sirhan paused, a warmth flaring through his chest that he’d felt so very rarely since his mother died. “Thank you, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Sirhan. Just show me. Make Tiffany happy, and that’s all I ask.”
“It’s all I demand of myself too, sir.”
***
Tiffany mumbled in her sleep and tried to turn over on her side. It was then she remembered she was awkward, had gained almost twenty pounds with her pregnancy, and rolling over wasn’t quite as easy as it had been before. God, by the time she was eight or nine months along, she’d be a damn turtle. Sighing, she opened her eyes in her effort to get into a more comfortable position. What she saw before her made her heart flutter.
“Sirhan? You came?”
Her fiancé nodded at her and sat down on the bed next to her. His eyes were as pensive as ever, those enchanting pools she could lose herself in forever, for the rest of her life. But wasn’t that selfish? Didn’t he deserve so much more than she was? Jesus Christ, wasn’t she holding him back?
“Of course, Tiger. First, I should say I reviewed the security footage from that night. I’m so sorry that my father was behind yet another attempt to break up our family. He’s gone now.”
Tiffany looked at him with wide eyes. “Did you send him to the dungeon?”
“Alas, I still don’t revive ancient practices, but he never liked the summer palace. He’ll call it a dungeon for its lack of proximity to a major city and spotty wifi.”
“You devil!”
“I do try,” he said. “Your parents both went out to grocery shop. They figured we’d all be hungry soon, or at least that’s what your mom said. I think they both wanted to give you space to be as honest as you could about your feelings. Truly, though, Tiger, you have nothing to apologize for. My father is a master manipulator and he used Azah against you, too. That’s a double team that would mess with anyone’s head, especially on such a monumental day.”
She sighed and rubbed at her eyes. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and she couldn’t stop them, couldn’t make them fade away. “She ambushed me, sure, but she wasn’t wrong.”
Tiffany’s voice was small and unsure when she finished, but she wasn’t sure how else to make her point, what else to say. The truth was she was swept into a fairy tale, but Cinderella wasn’t a true story. It was just a fantasy, and besides, didn’t most fairy tales have dark sides? The only thing she’d ever been was a maid, and a sheikh deserved so much more than that.
“She’s always wrong. Azah was sent there to do exactly as my father wanted. She was a tool, quite literally, and nothing more. Any words she did say were nothing more than my father’s lies and propaganda.”
“But our child… I think that some Dubayans and some of the elite of the Middle East will hate her or him for being part American. I’m not good enough. I’m scared we’re not good enough for you.”
Sirhan clenched his jaw. “I’m going to cancel the air conditioning to the summer palace, I swear. That old bat had no right to put ideas like that in your head. You’re not the only American to marry a sheikh. I’ve heard rumors of quite a few settling with distant cousins and college friends of mine. The old rules are ancient and outdated for a reason. We no longer need to have only ‘pure’ blood lines — whatever that is. If it’s a Muslim woman or an American Christian, it doesn’t matter. I know it’s more complicated, but there’s nothing that says we can’t raise our child in both worlds. It will make him or her a better ruler, make them understand more world views. How can you see who you are and who our child will be as anything but a strength?”
She sighed and felt the tears slide down her cheeks once more, even as a chill swept through her body. “Because I can’t be who Azah is. She’s the perfect princess.”
“For my father’s plans or for someone who has their life all set out for them, sure, but that’s not me. I’m not living off a plan. You know me. I’m playing it by ear and living by my passions, and my passions are telling me that you’re the only one for me, Tiger. I need you to believe me.” Sirhan smiled earnestly back at her, those hints of dimples in his cheeks. Then he pulled his mother’s ring from his pocket. “Please, I only want one woman to stand by me as my sheikha and there’s only one child I could ever want,” he finished, by putting his free hand over her belly. “I love both of you, and there’s nothing you can do to change that feeling.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A threat of love,” he said, winking, even as she extended her hand to him.
The ring felt so right on her finger, and she’d missed it in the couple of days it had been off her hand. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It pales next to you,” he said.
“But if you ever change your mind… if I’m ever not enough, I’ll understand.”
“You want me to be free.”
“Yes,” she said, even as she looked away and heard her voice crack.
“I am free. Azah barely knew me. She couldn’t even know what would make me happy. You do, and you care so deeply that it floors me every day, Tiger.” He said, standing and then unbuttoning his top.
Her eyes opened wide, and she was glad her parents were gone, although she was beginning to think that Sirhan might have actually heavily hinted that they needed to make their grocery store run. It was a smart ploy. Her mother loved to check the specials and price match at three different stores every time. They’d be gone for hours, which would give her and Sirhan time to reacquaint themselves with each other. Losing two days with that sex god was quite the punishment that Tiffany had inflicted on herself.
Raking her eyes over his bronzed skins and the broad ripples of his abs, Tiffany licked her lips. Then she worked to slip off her own kaftan and shimmy out of her panties. Feeling more adventurous than she had in a while, especially since her morning sickness had started, Tiffany pushed the covers off of her and laid herself bear for the man she loved. She watched as Sirhan’s eyes went wide and then mewled as his hand reached out to softly stroke the swell of her belly.
“You’re the most amazing woman, did you know that, habbibi? There’s no one on Earth I could ever love as much as you, not ever.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, and I didn’t know that two days could feel like a lifetime.” He slipped off his trousers, his erection springing free. She licked her lips again, anticipating how filling and warm his length would be inside of her. “A minute seems like forever, so much agony...” Sirhan crawled up from the foot of the bed, each move as smooth as a tiger’s pacing. Then he settled himself over her and made sure the bulk of his weight was propped up on his elbows.
Still, Tiffany loved the feel of his heft over top of her, the scent of pure male and saffron that tickled her nose, length of his hardness teasing up against her belly and promising her far more to come. This was heaven; this was home.
“I guess we don’t have to worry about protection. The horse is out of the barn on that one.”
“Then I’m overjoyed in another way too. After all,
I’ll finally be able to feel everything, to feel and relish every inch of my Tiger,” he said, leaning down and nipping at her shoulder.
She moaned beneath him and dug her fingers into his back. “Please, Sirhan, I need you inside of me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Her lover angled his hips and slid tauntingly slowly inside of her, his length slipping in inch by seductive inch, filling her with its impressive girth. She mewled at his ministrations and couldn’t keep herself from arching up her hips to meet his own. Tiffany was glad she wasn’t so far along with her pregnancy that her favorite positions were out. There was nothing wrong with the other ones, but Sirhan’s eyes were so appealing, so soulful, that she couldn’t imagine making love to him without looking deeply into them.
He started to thrust his hips in earnest and she worked to meet him. The waves of pleasure were swirling through her body, rising higher and higher, even as Sirhan pumped into her and his tongue played with her right nipple. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, bodies tangled together, souls touching one another, when he finally came, shooting his seed deeply inside of her. His climax set her over the edge, and when Tiffany orgasmed, it felt like she was coming apart at the seams; like she’d been detonated into a million pieces in her ecstasy. She fell back to the bed, and Sirhan folded his arms around her.
He kissed her temple before he spoke. “Never leave me again, habbibi. I love you so very much.”
“I love you too, Sirhan, and I’ll work so hard to be worthy of you.”
“You always will be, Tiger, no matter what.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
Tiffany set her son, Gadi, back into his crib. At seven months, he was fast outgrowing his second set of pajamas, and even if he loved his Peppa Pig onesie, they’d soon have to invest in new clothes. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it. Obviously, they could buy out several stores’ worth of baby clothes and not blink. He was merely growing so fast. This first year of his life was flying by, and in a few months would be his official christening and then, soon enough, some of their formal promises and ceremonies in the mosque, vows to also raise him in the faith of his father’s family. All she wanted was to hold her little man to her chest forever and cuddle him.