by Leslie North
“Rebecca Reid, I’d like to introduce you to my middle son, Sheikh Zaid Al-Qasimi. He will be supervising the tour. Zaid, this is Rebecca Reid, American envoy to the diplomatic tour party you are supervising,” the Sultan said.
It was him. She hadn’t been listening when the two men introduced themselves earlier and while she shouldn’t have been shocked to see him, she hadn’t anticipated their meeting to occur so quickly. She stared up into his dark Arabian eyes and that warm, inviting smile that had won her over before. His dark, reddish skin and distinctly Middle Eastern features were more gorgeous in person than she remembered. She felt herself getting lost in his eyes. Again.
The Sheikh held out his hand. She took it, and a surge of electric attraction shot through her body. Her knees were weak. She felt like she would collapse against his golden gown. She imagined him wrapping those strong Arabian arms around her and holding her against the rock hard muscles of his chest and stomach until she regained her balance and wits. He hadn’t changed much in the ensuing years and clearly, her attraction to him hadn’t lessened.
“She has some questions about the itinerary,” the Sultan added, bringing her back from Zaid’s eyes.
“Yes,” she stammered, “I was wondering if we would be going to Rajak and Timina.” Even though their affair had been short-lived, Zaid knew of her work in global poverty intervention. Even though they had lost touch, she hoped he would understand her reasons immediately and the importance of those impoverished areas to the tour’s mission. Her life’s work was representing the people in areas like Rajak in the hopes of preventing crime and violence.
“The itinerary is full,” Zaid explained, his tone indicating that he’d prefer not to continue this discussion.
“Well, is there any way we could swap out some of the stops at tourist attractions for a visit to those two sections of Sharjah?” she asked. Given that was a trip to lure investors, a tour of the local Souqs seemed unnecessary, as did spending a full day at the Sharjah Desert Park and Reserve.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but the itinerary is set, and it would take too long to make any changes. By the time everything was approved, we would end up missing the chance to do either option. The itinerary stands as is.”
“So, is that it?” she asked him. “Are you going to pass it off like that and pretend you can’t control what happens on the tour?” She felt like he was trying to avoid taking responsibility.
“Father, Khalid, please excuse us.”
Grabbing her arm gently, he stepped away from the Sultan with her in tow.
“Are we still talking about the tour?” he asked, as they walked.
“Of course. What else could we be talking about?” she snapped.
“You tell me. We haven’t seen each other in years. Suddenly, you are here and rather than following diplomatic protocol, you interrogate my father, instead of speaking to me first. Is there any reason why you wouldn’t want to speak to me first?”
Rebecca opened and closed her mouth a couple times trying to figure out how best to answer; especially since he did deserve an answer even if she wasn’t prepared to share it. Who was she fooling? She should never have come here. There was no way she was going to be able to do her job knowing how she felt about him.
“So, how did you wind up here?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “And are you going to cause problems for me the whole time you’re here?”
She wanted to laugh, but his hushed tone sounded genuinely embarrassed. “Sadly, yes, I’m probably going to bust your chops the whole time,” she teased. “But to answer your first question, I ended up taking this job because the person originally signed up for it backed out.” She didn’t mention that she suspected one of her friends at the Embassy in the United Arab Emirates, who was aware of their affair, pulled some strings to get her in Sharjah with Zaid, in anticipation that she would see him again.
“We’ve had other diplomatic envoys visit us from the US, why now?” Zaid asked.
“You sound disappointed. I would have thought you’d be pleased to see me again.” She couldn’t keep the twinge out of her voice. While she had hoped to see him, given how they had parted, she hadn’t anticipated a warm response, but he seemed angry that she was here.
They had walked away from the Sultan and everyone else by that point and now stood alone off to the side of the hall. Zaid loomed over her. She remembered how much she loved how he would tower over her. His wide shoulders hid her from the rest of the room. She recalled those shoulders spreading wide over her in bed as his body moved above her.
She felt her desire for him growing once again, creating tension within her. Something about their current meeting didn’t feel right. It already felt like they were at odds here. She wondered if they would have the opportunity to put that behind them and get down to some personal business at some point.
“I’m excited to see you,” he said quietly. “I just feel like you’re trying to spoil this tour before it’s officially started.”
“I’m not trying to spoil anything,” she argued. “I’m simply trying to draw attention to what’s already spoiled. As long as you aren’t hiding anything and you’re not opposed to fixing the problems you have here, you and I should get along fine.”
“I think part of the problem is we don’t have the problems you’re implying. We have a couple of areas that haven’t kept up with the progress we’ve made. The crime in those areas has prevented us from making as much progress in poverty alleviation. But, if we get more businesses and more investments into those sections of Sharjah, we should be able to pull them up. Of course, if we show these business investors what we’re fighting against, it could scare them away,” he explained.
“So, are you saying you’re not completely opposed to showing them Rajak and Timina?” Rebecca asked.
“No, I’m trying to explain to you why we won’t be going to those places as part of the tour.”
“So, it has nothing to do with the difficulty of trying to reschedule your precious itinerary, huh?” She loved getting to call him out.
“No, that was the answer I had to give to keep my father happy,” he admitted. “It was the most politically correct answer I could give.”
“Then, why are you telling me any differently?” Rebecca teased. “That doesn’t seem like the kind of move that would please your father, does it?”
“No, it isn’t,” he admitted. “But there isn’t anything to hide.”
“Good, then, we can go.”
“I didn’t say that, either,” Zaid reminded her.
Another man stepped up to the Sheikh just then. He was a little shorter, but he was also wider than Zaid, making him look bigger. He had severe, heavy-set features, unlike Zaid’s welcoming face.
“Sir,” the second man said, “it’s time for lunch.”
“Thank you. We’ll be ready right away,” Zaid replied. “First, Alacabak, I want you to meet Rebecca Reid. She’s the envoy for the tour. Rebecca, this is Alacabak Noozu, my father’s Chief Advisor.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Alacabak said to her. “The Sultan has sent a coach around for everyone,” he told Zaid. “It’s time to start moving our guests outside; the restaurant is waiting for us.”
Rebecca shot Zaid a look to let him know their conversation wasn’t over despite being interrupted. Then, she allowed Alacabak to usher her up to where the other members of her tour were waiting to step onto the coach.
As she waited, Rebecca knew she needed to find an opportunity to get Zaid alone to persuade him to let her take the tour through Rajak or Timina. She couldn’t shake the conviction that they needed to see some of the cracks in the Sultan’s skillfully crafted façade. While the investors needed to know about any potential complications that could affect their investments, more importantly, she was determined to make sure the people in those areas finally received the help they so desperately needed. Rebecca hoped that if the Sultan wasn’t willing to see reason, perhaps influence from his m
uch sought after investors would ensure that reforms were made.
She also couldn’t shake the emotions stirred up by running into Zaid again. The desire she’d felt for him all those years ago had been reawakened, but it was more than just a sexual need for him that she felt. She wondered if their politics would once again keep them apart this time, too.
3
When they arrived at the Waterfront Palace restaurant, Sheikh Zaid led the U.S. diplomatic tour members through to the terrace overlooking the waterfront in the back of the restaurant.
The table had already been set ahead of time to serve twenty people, including every member of the tour, Zaid and Alacabak, and the attending staff from the Sultan’s palace. There were no place settings for security, who had traveled separately and had already been positioned in the restaurant ahead of the Sheikh’s arrival.
The long wooden table was draped with an immaculate white table cloth with small floral centerpieces spaced every two seats along the table. Deep red napkins were folded in front of each seat for the guests, accompanied by silverware. The terrace’s tiled floor reached from the back of the restaurant all the way to the water, with an ornate wrought iron fence lining the edge and a pergola covering that spanned the entire terrace to protect against the heat of the midday sun.
Each place at the table had been set with a glass of iced tea, a small serving of pita bread with hummus for dipping, and a sample of dolma. The Sheikh’s and Alacabak’s places had also been set with black coffee. Everything was perfect, just as planned.
After the wait staff seated each member of the party, Zaid stood to give a toast with the glass of iced tea at his seat. “Again, we thank you for your interest in investing in the future of Sharjah. The Waterfront Palace staff has prepared two dishes for you, one with shrimp and the other with chicken in case anyone wishes to have something other than shrimp, though I couldn’t imagine why.”
He was pleased that the group laughed with him.
“To progress.” He raised his glass, as the attendees echoed his gesture and took sips from their respective glass.
Zaid sat back down at his seat in the middle of the table. Alacabak to his right, the waterfront and the view of the financial district at their backs. Across from him sat a beautiful woman with dark hair who had introduced herself as the head of the tour party, Candace. Since her arrival, he had noticed her obvious attempts to get close to him and if Rebecca had not suddenly shown back up in his life, he might have been tempted. Part of him wished that Rebecca was paying more attention but she had intentionally placed herself as far from him as possible, which displeased him.
“The Waterfront Palace is one of the few restaurants in Sharjah allowed to serve alcohol,” he explained to the party. “As you understand, our liquor laws differ significantly from yours at home. We do ask that you refrain from consuming alcohol in public, except where appropriate.”
He hoped his explanation didn’t discourage anyone from enjoying the fine selection of wine provided by the Waterfront.
“While I do hope you’ll enjoy a selection from the wine menu, there are also non-alcoholic beverages available. Once they have your drink orders, they will ask which selection you would prefer for your main course.” And with a nod from the Sheikh, the wait staff descended upon the table to get everyone’s orders.
He heard a few of the delegates order wine, and he watched their faces change when confronted with the main course options.
“Ro-be-yann nashif is jumbo prawns, fried and served over rice and vegetables. It is a local favorite. Ruz bukhari is chicken and spiced rice with a tomato sauce. It is also a local favorite, especially among tourists. If it helps, this region is known for its prawns,” Zaid explained to his guests. His sister-in-law, Melanie, had helped him choose the menu for the lunch, going with dishes that had simple flavors that eased foreigners into the food culture of the United Arab Emirates.
After the orders were placed and wine came out, Candace took a sip of her wine and leveled her enticing gray eyes on Zaid. Her dark waves rushed down around her face like water shimmering in the moonlight. “What is that across the water from us?” she asked him. Her voice dripped with suggestion, as if she wanted to talk about anything other than the sights and sounds of Sharjah.
“That is the financial district,” he told her in a proud tone. “As you can see from the towering modern skyscrapers, a lot of money passes through Sharjah.”
“You must be very proud of the success of the Emirate,” she told him, as other guests turned to look at the skyline across the water.
“I am. We are,” he corrected himself. “Our people have been able to climb out of poverty through our business and banking connections throughout the rest of the world. Just a couple of decades ago, this place looked like one of the poor market towns you see in so many American movies. It has since grown to be one of the cultural and financial hubs of the UAE.”
Her eyes sparkled as she hung on every word he said. “You’re going to personally see to it that we visit these places where you have focused your energies, correct?”
“Absolutely,” Zaid smirked. “I’ll make it a personal priority to ensure you get the best treatment on this tour.”
As the food was delivered, and Candace became distracted by the succulent shrimp placed in front of her, Zaid’s eyes drifted to where Rebecca was seated. He certainly appreciated Candace’s flirtatious attention, but he was much more interested in the beautiful redhead seated at the end of the table.
Rebecca was laughing over a glass of iced tea with another delegate who was enjoying his glass of wine. The way she smiled at him, the way she laughed and cocked her head with those attentive eyes; those were supposed to be his. He was shocked by the jealousy that suddenly welled up inside him. It threatened to turn to anger as he watched their exchange, unable to hear what was so funny or interesting over the conversations around him.
He turned his attention back to the alluring Candace sitting across from him. If he had been anything like his brothers, he would have seduced her, bringing her some place more private to have his way with her tight little American body. She wouldn’t have declined his advances. She was practically throwing herself at him.
When their eyes met again, she grinned and ran one of her petite feet up his leg, underneath his gown. She grabbed a piece of shrimp with her fingers and took a slow, tempting bite out of it. He watched the way her lips wrapped around the food as she bit into it. He surprised himself when the only thing he felt was amusement at her blatant attempts at seduction.
She put the shrimp down and licked her fingers clean slowly. Her apparent desire for him was incredibly typical. He was a member of royalty, and he took great care to maintain his physique. It was fairly common for women, especially foreign women, to display an undue sense of attraction towards him. He wasn’t above using that attraction for his own personal gain, but poor Candace was falling over herself for him while the person he really wanted sat at the end of the table, engulfed in an incredibly interesting conversation with another man.
Zaid’s jealousy fueled his desire to flirt with the raven-haired beauty sitting across from him, if only to catch Rebecca’s attention.
“So, what do you think of Sharjah so far, Ms. Candace?” he asked, knowing he was toying with her by opening a door he had no intention of walking through.
“I haven’t seen much yet, but I like what I see,” she answered with a wink, looking him up and down. “It is a beautiful region. I especially love the way the modern world blends with the ancient world here.”
He ignored the way her words dripped with seduction and innuendo. It seemed to him that the blending of the old and the new versions of Sharjah was the first thing any Westerner noticed when they visited the Emirate. It was a source of pride to know they’d done so well that both aspects were still unique despite co-existing.
“I want to see it all,” she said with a suggestive look in her eyes. She reached across the table and st
roked his hand. “Maybe the Sheikh wouldn’t mind taking me on a private tour sometime,” she suggested.
Even as Zaid grinned, he found himself glancing toward Rebecca, hoping no one else was listening to their conversation. Alacabak was discussing investments and banking with another delegate. Everyone appeared engrossed in their respective conversations and weren’t listening.
“I might be able to work something out for you,” he told her at last. Why wasn’t he having this conversation with Rebecca instead? He wished he’d known she was coming. He could have adjusted the seating accordingly so that the envoy and lead representative both sat across from him. Of course, with Rebecca being the envoy, the lead representative would have found herself seated across from the Chief Advisor instead of the Sheikh.
Zaid amused himself with the thought of sticking Alacabak with a star-struck foreigner.
“How are the prawns?” Zaid asked her in an effort to keep the conversation going and keep himself distracted from Rebecca’s conversation.
“Divine,” she said with enraptured delight. “Possibly the best shrimp I’ve ever had,” she added.
“Is that right?” Zaid asked with a smirk, sipping his coffee.
“Yes, indeed,” she agreed. “So, what’s our next stop after this?”
“I believe the itinerary shows us walking along the waterfront to take a tour of the restaurant and entertainment district. Much of the architecture here reflects traditional styles. Plus, it is a great place to invest your personal finances.” He winked at her.
Turning instinctively to see if Rebecca was paying attention to his conversation, though he was sure she wouldn’t have been able to hear him over the ever-so-interesting conversation she was having with one of the other tour members, he was surprised to see an empty chair.
Where did she go?
4
“Where is she?” Zaid said aloud as he scanned the terrace area.
“Who?”