The Sheikh’s Second Chance Lover

by Holly Rayner

  It was the actual getting to Shunayy that was the problem. Once she had finished packing her bag, Brooke tried to sit down on the couch to await Blaine’s call, but found she couldn’t stay still. She paced back and forth, trying to plan out what she would say to him when he arrived. She had to confront him about whatever it was he’d been hiding from her. It wasn’t wise to travel with someone who kept secrets. It was possible he had been outright lying to her about any number of things. Brooke didn’t think so, but it was possible, and she was determined to get answers before she left this apartment with him.

  But how would she get the answers she needed? She didn’t want to put him on the spot, make him feel interrogated. She didn’t want to be rude. Was there a polite way to ask someone if he’d been lying to you about his past? She tried a few lines in her head, but they all sounded rude and confrontational.

  She would simply have to tell him what she had found, she decided. She would confess to the morning’s internet search. It wasn’t so unusual to do a search on someone you were dating. The worst he could think of her for that was that she was a little obsessed. She could then ask him to explain why the search results had turned up nothing.

  Somewhat reassured now that she had a plan, Brooke stepped into the kitchen and heated up a couple slices of leftover pizza. Who knew when her next chance to eat would be? Blaine hadn’t been clear about when their flight would take off, so she didn’t know if she would have a chance to grab a meal at the airport, and airplane food wasn’t to be relied upon. Would her next meal be in Shunayy? That was an exciting thought.

  It occurred to Brooke that, despite all the tension she felt over discovering whatever Blaine might be hiding, she still felt confident she wouldn’t cancel the trip. She wanted answers, but in her gut she had no doubt that Blaine would provide them, and that after they spoke she would feel satisfied. She would be flying with him to Shunayy tonight.

  That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

  She dressed for the plane. Comfortable clothes would be important—she knew it would be a long flight—but she didn’t want to wear sweats or pajamas as she often did when flying. After all, who knew what would happen when they landed? What if Blaine’s parents would be meeting them at the airport in Shunayy? It was important that Brooke look her best. She chose a simple blue sundress that she thought brought out her eyes, and a hoodie, in case it was cold on the plane. She paired the dress with her most comfortable pair of brown leather boots and thought the effect was rather nice.

  There was no point in worrying about makeup now. It would have faded by the time they arrived in Shunayy, anyway. But Brooke did pack a bag with mascara, lipstick, eyeshadow, and a pocket mirror. She slipped this into her carry-on bag alongside her novel and headphones. She would make sure she was looking decent when they were close to landing.

  Brooke looked at the clock. It was now four fifty, and she and Blaine had agreed on a pickup time of five o’clock. She took one last look around her apartment. Had she forgotten anything? If she could, no doubt she could get it in Shunayy. It was a city, after all, she reminded herself. It would have every modern convenience she was used to—probably far more than what Jasperville had.

  Four fifty-five. Butterflies fluttered in Brooke’s stomach, and she couldn’t seem to quell them. There was no denying this was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. But then, Blaine in general was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. The thought of sitting on a plane beside him for the next several hours, sharing a narrow armrest, his arm pressed up against hers, made her feel like a schoolgirl. She wondered how long it would take, once they had landed, to find a place where they could be alone. After last night, she was itching to get behind closed doors with Blaine again for a repeat performance.

  Four fifty nine. She got to her feet, unable to sit still any longer, and hauled her suitcase over to the door. Blaine would be here any second, and although they wouldn’t be walking right out to the car, Brooke wanted him to see the suitcase as soon as he came in. She wanted him to see that she’d had faith he would be able to provide answers to her questions. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel accused or called out. This should be a friendly conversation.

  Five o’clock…

  5:01. It was unlike Blaine to run late, at least in the evenings. If he was late in the morning, she would figure he had overslept. But then, Brooke thought, he wasn’t really late, was he? One minute? He would be knocking any second.

  5:04. Brooke paced, trying to distract herself. She would never have noticed this crawl of minutes if she hadn’t been so anxious to see him.

  She went to the bathroom to freshen up, taking her time. No doubt he would knock on the door while she was in there. That was the kind of infuriating thing Blaine would do.

  Five ten. Nothing.

  Five fifteen. She wasn’t being ridiculous anymore. Fifteen minutes was officially late, and he hadn’t even had the courtesy to give her a call and let her know the time had changed. He must be rushing to get out the door, she decided, and he hadn’t looked at the clock. But would they miss their flight because of it? Already Brooke was worried about whether they would have time to sit down and discuss the things she’d wanted to before they left. Maybe they would have to have that conversation in the car. That would be all right.

  By five twenty, Brooke had had enough. Blaine must have forgotten to keep an eye on the clock, and at this rate they would run a serious risk of missing their flight. She didn’t know how much he had paid for those last-minute plane tickets, but they couldn’t have come cheap. No matter how much disposable income Blaine had, she would hate to see it go to waste in such an extravagant manner. Besides, Brooke wanted to go to Shunayy. Even though she knew she and Blaine would be able to have a good time together no matter where they were, she would be disappointed if they didn’t get to make the trip.

  She fished her cellphone out of her carry-on bag and called him, but the phone rang and rang. There was no answer.

  What was going on? Could he have fallen asleep? That seemed unlikely. Maybe he was hurt and couldn’t get to his phone? She couldn’t imagine what could have happened to him in the course of packing a suitcase, but something was definitely wrong. He was twenty minutes late now, and he wasn’t answering his phone. What did it mean?

  Anxiously, Brooke looked around her apartment. Should she take her things down to the lobby? Maybe he had meant for her to meet him there. Maybe he had already put his phone in airplane mode, and that was why he wasn’t answering.

  But one thing was certain: this was another to add to the many mysteries surrounding Blaine and his behavior. To be late for a flight was one thing, but to fail to answer a phone call at such a crucial time required explanation.

  This time, Brooke decided, she was going to get an answer.

  She pulled on her hoodie and grabbed her apartment keys. Leaving her packed suitcase behind, she stepped out the door of her apartment and locked it behind her. Then she walked briskly down the hall to Blaine’s apartment. Feeling a little foolish—after all, she was probably overreacting, wasn’t she?—she knocked on the door.

  The door swung open. It hadn’t been locked. It hadn’t even been closed all the way.

  What on earth?

  Hesitantly, Brooke stepped inside. All the lights were out, and the curtains were drawn. The living room was lit only dimly by light coming in through the balcony.

  “Blaine?” she called.

  No answer.

  Brooke moved farther into the apartment. The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen. The bathroom door stood ajar, and when she peeked inside she saw that Blaine wasn’t in there either. His bedroom door was closed, and she knocked quietly, thinking he might be asleep. When there was no answer, she carefully turned the knob and looked in.

  No Blaine.

  He wasn’t in the apartment.

  Puzzled, Brooke looked around. What was going on?

  It was th
e bookshelf that caught her attention first. Blaine had never had an abundance of books there, but the few he had possessed were gone now. With a prickling at the back of her neck, she returned to his bedroom and opened the closet. Most of his clothes were gone, and so was the duffel bag he’d had with him when he first moved in. She checked the bathroom. The toothbrush he kept by the sink was missing, and so was his electric razor.

  He had packed, then. He had packed his things. And now he wasn’t here.

  Would he be in the lobby? She left the apartment, taking care to pull the door all the way closed this time, although she couldn’t lock it. Why would he have left without locking the door? Had he forgotten? She would remind him. She would find him waiting for her in the lobby—he would be just as irritated as she was about this miscommunication, but they would laugh about it later—and she would send him back up to lock his door, and then they would go to Shunayy. Like they’d planned.

  But the lobby, too, was empty.

  Brooke slumped against the wall and found herself sliding down to sit on the floor. Blaine was gone. Had he left for the airport without her? Decided to make the trip to Shunayy on his own? She couldn’t think where else he could have gone on such short notice.

  This must have had something to do with the phone call she had overheard this morning. She had known then that something had been wrong, but she had trusted him. She’d had questions, but she’d allowed them to go unanswered. If she could go back to that moment in time, she would…

  She would what? Demand answers? Brooke shook her head to herself.

  Clearly, Blaine hadn’t wanted to be honest with her. He had left without her because he had wanted to do so, and forcing him to explain himself wouldn’t have changed that. She had been right to be suspicious of him, but there was nothing she could have done. He had probably already been planning to go without her. There had probably never been a plane ticket with her name on it. The whole thing had been a lie right from the beginning.

  But what did he have to gain from such a lie? He could have told her he was going back to Shunayy on his own, and she would have accepted it. There had been no need to deceive her. Brooke could think of only one reason for Blaine’s dishonesty—cruelty. He had wanted to hurt her. He was probably somewhere laughing at her right now. He probably thought it was a great joke that she had been so stupid as to believe he was taking her home to meet his parents.

  It was stupid, she thought in sudden frustration. What had she been thinking? Who made such a gesture after knowing someone for such a short amount of time? They had only met a month ago! Brooke probably wouldn’t have introduced Blaine to her own mother yet had they not run into each other at the Taste of the Town, and Brooke’s mother only lived a mile away. To fly halfway around the world to meet his parents—it was ridiculous. How could she have believed he would want such a thing?

  Had everything he’d ever told her been a lie? Had he really lived in New York? She tried to remember who had mentioned the city first. Maybe he’d only said he’d lived there because she had lived there, and he’d wanted to get closer to her…but why?

  And the story about not knowing how to drive. That had never felt true. Surely most people who lived in cities got a driver’s license at some point. And once Blaine had gotten behind the wheel, he’d been a very quick learner. Could he have been lying about that, too? What about his inexperience with firearms? He had definitely lied about that at least once.

  Brooke got to her feet, shaking her head in disgust. What did it matter? Who cared if he could drive? Who cared if he’d lived in New York? It was indisputable that he had been lying about one thing, one thing that mattered more than any of the rest—he had never cared about Brooke. She had spent the past month convinced that she was falling in love, but it had been a sham. And she had let him coax her into his bed based on absolutely nothing. Now he was gone, probably congratulating himself on the conquest of a stupid American girl.

  As she dragged herself up the stairs and back to her apartment to unpack her suitcase, Brooke reassured herself that at least she would never have to see Blaine again.

  15

  Ali

  One Week Later

  Ali sat on the bench in the corner of his father’s hospital room with his head on his knees. His mother had gone home for a few hours to get some sleep, but Ali hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital since he’d arrived here a week ago. Seeing his father like this, unconscious and hooked up to machines, had been a rude awakening. Even now, after the doctors had assured the family that the Sheikh was stable and no longer in a critical condition, Ali was unwilling to leave the hospital. It seemed as though, at any moment, something might go wrong.

  His world had always been one in which he was safe and protected. He had grown up surrounded by security guards who would lay down their lives to keep him from harm. Was that why he had been incapable of taking a death threat seriously? Had he taken it for granted that he was untouchable? Or perhaps he had never thought himself important enough to kill. Despite the privilege Ali had grown up with, despite the fact that he was in line for the throne, royalty had never fit him comfortably. He was just Ali. Why would anyone go out of their way to kill him?

  He looked over at his father, resting peacefully on the hospital bed, and for the first time he truly saw something more than the man who always looked at him with disapproval, the man who pushed him into upholding traditions Ali felt were stupid. This man was, to most of his country, a beloved ruler. He represented the country’s history and culture and everything it meant to call yourself a citizen of Shunayy. And as he thought this, Ali realized that the people felt the same thing when they looked at him. As the rising Sheikh, he represented to them the future of their country.

  It was a future that someone had wanted to snuff out.

  The door opened quietly and Ali’s sister slipped inside. She crossed the room and took a seat in the reclining chair beside their father’s bed.

  “I’m going to stay with him overnight,” she told him.

  “Okay.”

  “Mother thinks you should go home.”

  “I don’t want to go home, Saida.”

  “Omar thinks you should go home, too,” she went on, as though that settled the matter. Although Ali’s brother was three years younger than Ali, the entire family acted as if he were the oldest. From the moment Ali had landed in Shunayy a week ago, Omar had been in charge, directing the rest of the family where to go and when. It was Omar who had determined that their mother ought to go home and rest today. Up until now, Ali had managed to avoid Omar’s direction altogether.

  “I want to stay here,” he said. “In case Father wakes up.”

  Saida shook her head. “Omar needs help at home. People have been coming to the house to pay their respects, and you should really be there.”

  “Omar can accept their well-wishes.”

  “That isn’t proper, Ali. You know Father wouldn’t like that.” His younger sister’s eyes blazed. “You don’t take your responsibilities seriously enough.”

  “All right,” he groaned, getting to his feet.

  If staying here was only going to get him yelled at by Saida, then he might as well leave. Being at the palace right now, where he’d be able to ruminate on his future and that of his family, was the last thing he wanted, but technically, Saida was right; if visitors were paying their respects at the palace, it was the responsibility of the first in the line of succession to receive them. Ali had no doubt that his father would be wanting a full report when he awoke, and he didn’t want their next conversation to be about him shirking his duties.

  * * *

  It took several hours to greet and thank everyone who had come to the palace to give their regards to Ali’s father. By the time the great hall was cleared of visitors and he was able to retreat to the private living quarters, he was utterly exhausted.

  He came upon Omar and his mother in the kitchen, sharing a cup of tea. His mother looked up as he pa
ssed the door, and waved him in. “Ali. Come and sit. We haven’t seen you in so long.

  Unable to refuse her, Ali took a seat at the kitchen table. Omar poured a third cup of tea and pushed it over to him.

  “Do they know anything yet?” Ali asked. “Anything about who was behind this?

  Omar shook his head. “No leads.”

  “But do they know…” Ali trailed off. He had no idea how to ask the question he wanted the answer to: had the assassin been after his father, or had he been the target? The thought of his father falling victim to someone who had been after Ali had been plaguing him, keeping him from sleep. Was it his fault his father lay in the hospital now?

  Ali’s mother yawned. “I think I’ll get some sleep.”

  “That’s a good idea, Mother,” Omar agreed. “We’ll wake you if there’s news.”

  She shuffled out of the room, looking older and more exhausted than Ali could ever remember her.

  Omar refilled their teacups and took a sip. “How are you holding up, Ali? You seem as though you’ve had a lot on your mind lately.”

  “We all have,” Ali pointed out.

  “There was a girl, wasn’t there?” Omar said shrewdly. “In Vermont.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I heard Mother and Father talking about her. They’re not very happy about it.” Omar smiled slightly. “You were supposed to be keeping a low profile.”

  “I was keeping a low profile. She was my neighbor.”

  “Good-looking?”

  Ali thought of Brooke in her sculpting outfit of dirty pajamas, her hair thrown up in a bun. “Amazing. Even now, I can’t get my mind off her.”

  “This calls for graybeh.”

  Omar brought the tin of butter cookies, handmade by their cook, over from the counter and set it between them. Ali bit into one and felt it burst apart in his mouth. It was delicious, as always, but it did little to distract him from Brooke.