by C. J. Miller
Alec didn’t stop screaming. He was on a full-blown, cursing, yelling tirade. Some of it was about her, some about Saafir and some Sarah didn’t understand.
A police cruiser pulled up and two officers got out of the car. When Alec saw them, he stopped screaming.
Saafir stepped forward to speak to the officers. Feeling like she needed to explain to her clients, Sarah returned to the tent and to the bride and groom. The wedding was silent and no one was moving. Donald, the groom, looked furious, and Calista, the bride, refused to make eye contact.
“I’m sorry. My ex-husband is sick,” Sarah said.
Calista met her gaze with tears in her eyes. “You’ve ruined my wedding!”
Sarah’s stomach twisted. “Nothing could ruin this beautiful day. Everything has been perfect.”
“Except that we hired you,” Calista said.
Sarah swallowed hard, refusing to break down into tears.
“Leave. Just leave. We don’t want you here,” Donald said.
The band began playing, the singer encouraging people to dance. As the dance floor filled with the handful of remaining guests, Sarah backed away. She wouldn’t argue with the bride and cause her more problems. Guilt consumed her and she was sure this blow to her reputation would cost her.
Sarah waited by Saafir’s car in the parking lot. Though the police were speaking to witnesses and had taken her statement, thankfully they were being inconspicuous. Most of the guests were dancing again and laughter floated out in the night air.
Sarah shivered, a chill carrying on the breeze. She couldn’t catch a break. She couldn’t do anything right. She made terrible mistakes and then she paid for them.
Saafir joined her, dropping his jacket around her shoulders. It smelled of him, and the scent and his presence comforted her.
“Another amazing event by Sarah Parker,” she said, feeling sick and disgusted with her life.
“You couldn’t have known Alec would show up,” Saafir said.
How had Alec known where she was tonight? The wedding wasn’t a secret, but Sarah didn’t post event details on her website. “The bride and groom blame me. What do you think they will remember about their wedding? What will they tell people? Someone probably took a picture and the incident is on social media by now with the caption, ‘another terrible event by Sarah Parker.’”
Saafir rubbed his hand across his jaw where some stubble was growing. “Maybe it won’t be that bad. Take it from someone who gets slammed in the media on a daily basis. For this, we can do damage control.”
Sarah leaned against him. “How? Aren’t you worried about your own damage control? Someone probably took your picture, too.”
“My guards and the police are checking cell phones in the name of security and discretion. My guards will delete pictures and not ask questions. Where is the couple spending the night?”
“The Red and Blue hotel,” she said. She had made the reservation herself. The Red and Blue was an upscale hotel known for its luxury and service. The nightly rate was over five hundred dollars for a basic room.
“I’ll call ahead and we’ll ask the hotel to put champagne and chocolates and roses in their room. They’ll forget about the incident with your ex-husband.”
If she hadn’t been running on fumes, she might have thought of the gesture herself. While Saafir went to make the call, Sarah returned to her duties, staying out of the couple’s eyesight.
* * *
Sarah awoke to the smell of coffee. When Saafir had called to make arrangements for the bride and groom the night before, he had also booked a room for them at the Red and Blue.
She had been exhausted, and after drinking a glass of wine, Sarah had fallen asleep in the large mahogany bed next to Saafir wearing a cotton T-shirt that belonged to the emir. He had been working on his computer, but it had felt good to have him close.
She was alone in the bed. Rolling over, she saw the alarm clock read 10:00 a.m. Sleeping this late was unusual for her. In the quiet of the morning, events from the previous day came screaming back to her. Saafir’s voice was low and firm, drifting in from the other room. Getting out of bed, she peeked out the bedroom door.
He was sitting at the small desk near the window, his computer open in front of him and his phone pressed to his ear. He looked every bit the royal in his crisp suit with the sunlight shining on his dark hair.
She stepped into the room. He looked at her and a smile lit his face. Speaking a few words in Arabic, he ended his call and set down the phone.
Crossing the room, she sat on his lap. “Good morning.”
“How are you feeling?” His arms slipped around her waist.
“In need of coffee,” she said.
He reached around her and poured some dark brew from the silver carafe on his right into a white mug.
She took a sip and felt like she was coming up for air. “Thank you for this. And for last night,” she said, kissing him.
“I apologize for not waking you when I got up. I thought you could use the sleep. I have a few conference calls this morning.”
A knock on the door interrupted her before she could respond.
“Your excellency, you need to answer your phone,” Frederick said. He barely glanced at Sarah. The intensity and worry on his face jolted her. Sarah glanced at the phone. It was lighting up with an incoming call.
Though Saafir’s attention had been focused and absolute on her, he must have heard the immediacy in Frederick’s voice. Saafir lifted his phone and answered it.
Sarah stood and gestured toward the door, unsure if she should leave. Her legs were bare, although Frederick was ignoring her.
Saafir shook his head, indicating she could stay. “How many?” he asked into the phone.
Something had happened. A family emergency? Saafir’s brother, the former emir of Qamsar, had stepped down under a cloud of suspicion. The problems his terrorist fiancée had caused lingered around the royal family. Had something else occurred?
“Have you deployed the national guard?” Saafir asked.
National guard? A military problem?
Several more instructions and then Saafir set down his phone. He crossed the room and turned on the television, tuning in to a twenty-four-hour news broadcast. His face was serious and his eyes shadowed with worry. Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away from him and she wanted to go to him, but she was unsure of her role. Something big was going on and as the emir’s lover, should she tuck herself out of the way? Lend an ear to listen?
The image on the television screen startled her. The story taking over the broadcast was about newly ignited oil field fires in Qamsar. Dangerous chemicals were leaking into the air and threatening the lives of everyone living in the area.
“Why?” Sarah asked. “How?”
Frederick was speaking to Saafir in Arabic, whether to exclude her or because it was more natural to him, she didn’t know. Sarah stayed quiet, feeling like an intruder.
The look on Saafir’s face was both terrifying and sad, a combination of anger and misery. He spoke in English. “Not everyone wants this trade agreement. I have tried to show the people of my country that a trade agreement will help us on many levels. Those who do not want the agreement are trying to make a point. They’d rather burn the resource than see it in American hands.”
He sat on the couch and stared at the television. Sarah sat next to him and put her arm around his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Saafir.”
Saafir balled his fists and then clasped his hands together. “This destruction is unnecessary. The resource, the environment and the people of Qamsar deserve better.”
“You need to stamp down on this hard, Saafir,” Frederick said, slamming his fist into his open hand. “Rabah Wasam is out of control. Put him in the jail near the oil fields. Let him breath
e the damage he’s caused.” Frederick’s face was red with anger. “Your primary concern should be making sure that Rabah Wasam and his cowardly followers see that they made a grave error and don’t get the idea to start more fires,” Frederick said. “What will we tell the Americans? If the oil fields are unusable, kiss the trade agreement goodbye. Say goodbye to progress. Forget new schools and services and infrastructure.”
Frederick’s words were mirrored on Saafir’s face, and Sarah wondered what she could do to help. Saafir hadn’t said much, but she could see the information churning through his mind.
Frederick glanced at her as if noticing her for the first time. He said something in another language and Sarah knew it was a curse.
“She needs to go. She is an American. They cannot be part of this. This could impact the trade agreement,” Frederick said.
Saafir shook his head. “She is an American, but she may stay. I trust her.”
His trust meant a great deal to her, and Owen’s request that she inform on Saafir ran through her mind. She would explain to Owen that she would tell him nothing about Saafir, but how would Saafir feel if he learned she’d struck a deal with Owen in the first place?
* * *
“We’re losing hundreds of thousands of dollars a day,” Frederick said, punching his fist against the table for emphasis.
Saafir was aware that every hour the oil fires raged, a valuable resource was being destroyed. “What would you have me do?” He’d authorized the deployment of the national guard to protect the oil fields and prevent more from being set on fire. Emergency response teams were setting up in the area.
“You need to return home. Show your face for a few days. Let the country see that you’re in control and you don’t fear the extremists. Let America see you won’t stick around and wait endlessly for them to come to more agreeable terms.”
Saafir had delayed his return because the trade agreement meetings had been critical and he had hoped they’d come to a successful conclusion soon. With the events of the last twenty-four hours, the meetings had been postponed. While some emails were being sent to move forward with negotiations, Saafir wasn’t needed. Since they weren’t meeting in person, Sarah’s services were on hold, as well.
But when Saafir returned to Qamsar, he would meet Alaina. Once he did, his relationship with Sarah had to end. He would commit himself to Alaina and anything less than his all was an embarrassment to himself and Alaina and unfair to Sarah.
“Set it up. I’ll leave as soon as possible,” Saafir said, feeling like he was lowering the boom on his relationship with Sarah. He glanced at her to see her reaction, but she appeared calm.
Frederick smiled, happy he had convinced Saafir.
“Stamp down hard on Wasam,” Frederick said.
The slight sympathy Saafir had carried over Wasam’s situation had been obliterated by these latest strikes against him and Qamsar. Saafir had respect for a man who wanted to improve the country, even if his way differed from his own. He had no respect for a man who used his influence to destroy.
Sarah had been attacked twice. Adham was wounded. Wasam’s mission had hurt the people closest to Saafir and had hurt the country. Saafir had to take swift, severe action.
“We need to find him,” Saafir said. “He’ll have gone underground. Don’t let him hide. Round up his followers and find out who was involved in this. If we hear even a whisper of plans of another attack, root out the source and destroy it.”
“Saafir?”
He turned. Sarah was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. While Frederick had been speaking, she had slipped away. She’d changed into clothes. She appeared timid, as if unsure if she should have said anything.
“Yes?” he asked. His adrenaline was racing and his anger had boiled over. He was sorry she had heard him declare war on the extremists, but something had to be done.
“I feel strange saying anything.” She glanced at Frederick. “But I wondered about the people affected by the fires.”
Frederick narrowed his eyes. “The emergency response teams have been deployed.”
Sarah took a step toward Saafir. “I am not the leader of a country. I don’t know how this works. But I know you. You care about people. You’re angry right now, but your anger will pass and you’ll have wasted your resources on revenge and finding Wasam when it would be better to spend the time helping those Qamsarians who need you.”
Her words struck him hard. Saafir wasn’t a man out for blood. He never had been. He checked his thinking, weighing what Frederick had suggested versus what Sarah was saying.
Sarah was right. Priority one had to be helping the Qamsarians who had lost their homes or whose neighborhoods were now too unsafe to inhabit. Saafir cleared his mind of the angry haze that colored his thinking.
He turned to Frederick. “Keep civilians away from the fires. Everyone who could be in danger needs to be evacuated. I don’t care if it’s thousands of people. Move them. Open schools, mosques, government buildings and any place where you can lay a cot.” Saafir ran a hand over his face. “Grant access to the country’s emergency fund for those affected. Move the prisoners from the local jail to somewhere safer.”
Sarah smiled at him so brightly he felt like a hero. He had only done what was right. “Thank you, Sarah,” he said. She centered him. Grounded him. Reminded him of who he was and what he stood for. “I need to return to Qamsar.”
Her body tensed. “I understand.”
He was duty-bound. “I have no other choice.”
She looked at her hands and then raised her gaze to meet his. “I understand. We knew this was coming. In some ways, I feel like we’ve been together forever. In others, we’ve had only a moment. We can say goodbye and part as friends.”
In the short time he had known Sarah, she had taken a place front and center in his heart. He wasn’t ready to walk away from her. They’d known they didn’t have a future together. Why did it feel impossible to leave her? “I want you to come with me,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Her eyes snapped to meet his. “You want me to come to your country with you?”
“Yes,” he said. He wanted her at his side. He wanted to talk to her, to hear her opinions and sleep beside her at night.
She shifted, appearing uncertain. “What about your fiancée? And your family? Won’t they have something to say about this?”
“No! She can’t come with you! Do you know the scandal you’ll start? What about Alaina Faris? We need a union with her father and the Conservatives now more than ever. This is political and social suicide,” Frederick said.
“My purpose of returning home is political. My family and my social life have nothing to do with my trip.”
“You cannot be the leader of Qamsar and have a social life of your own. The two are integrally joined,” Frederick said.
Sarah folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to get you in trouble and make more problems.” A long pause.
“I need you, Sarah. I need you to stay with me and help me through this.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yes, I will come with you.”
“This is a total disaster!” Frederick said.
Whether he was talking about the oil fires or Sarah, he was right. But Saafir was determined to face whatever came at him with Sarah at his side.
* * *
Saafir had concerns about taking Sarah to Qamsar, but if he couldn’t keep her safe in his country, he couldn’t keep her safe anywhere. It was selfish to bring her, but he needed her as his sounding board. His cabinet acted as his official political advisors, but Sarah’s advice appealed to the fair, honest side of him.
Just as his mother had filled the role of confidante and lover to his father, Sarah had taken that role for him. Saafir had never had
someone in his personal life like her and now that he did, he realized what he’d been missing.
His schedule while in Qamsar was booked from sunup to sundown. Saafir would have liked to take Sarah to one of his private homes and spend time with her, but it would have to wait.
Frederick handed Saafir his agenda. “You should not have brought her.” He spoke in Arabic. He’d said the same words a dozen times since they’d left the States.
“I did what I needed to do,” Saafir said. How could he make Frederick see that Sarah was important to him?
Frederick would never get on board with having Sarah in Qamsar. He wanted Saafir to devote himself to Alaina and their plan to unite the political parties.
Sarah appeared excited and nervous. She was staying close to Saafir and his bodyguards, but she wasn’t touching him. He loved her respect for his position and their culture and yet he yearned for the warmth and connection of her hand in his.
They took an armored car to his family’s home in west Qamsar. It was the closest property they owned to the oil fires. Even at this distance and though the air was declared safe, Saafir could smell the burning oil. The scent angered him. It was the smell of his country’s most lucrative resource being destroyed.
Ms. Bourabbi, his mother’s personal shopper, met them at the home. She had brought a large trunk of clothes for Sarah. She would need to dress in more conservative attire if she wanted to blend in in Qamsar. Clothes aside, Saafir didn’t believe Sarah would ever blend in. She was more beautiful, more enticing, and her smile more radiant than any other woman’s in Qamsar or in the United States.
Saafir looked for the words to explain the clothes without insulting Sarah. “It would be easier for you if you changed into more culturally customary clothes.”
Sarah looked down at her clothes. “I picked something conservative. Do I look terrible?”
Saafir reassured her. “Of course not. You look beautiful. So beautiful that you’ll stand out. Ms. Bourabbi will help you find something you like.”