by Lara Hunter
She shook her head to clear it, reminding herself of the facts. She hadn't forced Derek away. He'd chosen to disappear. He'd “gotten control” of his gambling multiple times before. It never lasted. And in the end, the gambling had only been the straw that broke the camel's back. It was this, what he was doing right now, manipulating and bullying her, forcing her out of her own home with his selfishness and excuses, that had made her leave him. She couldn't, wouldn't, go back to that.
She turned to face him.
"Move."
"You're being unreasonable," Derek said, squaring his shoulders to block the doorway more completely. "Getting all hysterical like I'm threatening you or something. I just want us to be a family again. If you'd stop being so dramatic, you'd see that I'm right."
"Move," she repeated. "Now."
"I'm not moving until—"
Tracey didn't wait to hear any more. She ducked her head and charged, slamming her shoulder into his sternum. The minute he stumbled back, she ran past him. She barreled out of the door at top speed. Adil was already halfway out of the car, having heard her shout.
"Get back in," she said, hurrying toward him. "Let's go."
"Is this who you've been screwing around on me with?" Derek shouted, a step behind her.
Tracey saw the outraged anger in Adil's eyes and shook her head quickly.
"Not in front of Charlie," she begged. He nodded, his jaw tight with suppressed anger. He took the bag and moved around to put it in the back.
"You're really gonna go this far just to piss me off?" Derek bellowed. He grabbed her by the arm as she started to get in the car, yanking her back. "That's it. You choose now: some rich nobody, or the father of your son."
"I already chose," Tracey snapped, fighting to pull her arm back. "The answer is not you!"
She yanked her arm away and hurried to get in the car, slamming the door behind her. Derek was opening the door to the backseat.
"He is my son," he was shouting. "You are not going to take him from me!"
Tracey's heart stopped as he reached in for Charlie. Charlie's eyes were wide and full of confused fear. Andre, silent and vast and ominous, leaned forward suddenly, quick as a trap closing, and caught Derek by the wrist.
"I think not," the bodyguard said, calm and certain and implacable as a mountain. Derek's eyes widened. Andre released him, and Derek backed away quickly.
"Do not be here when I get back," Tracey said through the window.
As they drove away, leaving him standing in the parking lot in her bathrobe, something sinister rendered slightly ridiculous. But she didn't for a minute think that made him any less dangerous. She was already dialing the non-emergency police line on her phone.
After a brief conversation explaining the situation to a dispatcher, Tracey hung up, her hands shaking. She had never wanted to do that, never wanted Charlie to see her call the police on his father. But Derek, already emotionally abusive, had crossed a point of no return in that hallway, and she wasn't going to give him the chance to go any further.
"Your hair."
Tracey looked up as Adil, glancing briefly away from the road, reached out to touch her. He paused, waiting for her to refuse him, and when she didn't he stroked her hair gently, regretfully. Her ponytail was a sloppy, half-fallen mess from Derek grabbing it. As she reached up to fix it, she came away with a fistful of pulled-out strands.
"I'm sorry," Adil said softly. "I had no idea it was that bad. I should have done something."
She shook her head as she let her hair down, her scalp aching.
"I needed to do it myself," she said, taking a deep breath. "I hadn't really accepted what he was until just then. I was still blaming myself for not being good enough to make it work with him. He was good at making me think I wasn't good enough."
Adil was silent, looking at her with remorse in his eyes. She didn't want to see him pity her, but she didn't know how to explain that this was good. The wound was still raw, but the infection was burned out and now she could heal.
Adil glanced back at Charlie, and Tracey followed his gaze, her heart aching at how scared and small and confused he looked, huddled against Andre's side.
"Are you okay, buddy?" she asked, reaching back to him.
"Is Dad going to come back?" Charlie asked, staring at her with unreadable eyes.
Tracey considered it for a long moment. Then she shook her head.
"No, honey," she said. "He's not coming back."
"Good," Charlie answered, and he closed his eyes, shivering.
"Everything is going to be all right now," Tracey said. "Things will go back to normal soon."
FIFTEEN
And they did. They spent another night at Iris's so that she could watch Charlie while Tracey signed paperwork at the police station, including a restraining order against Derek. Then they returned home. Tracey cleaned up the mess in the living room and scrubbed the stains out of the couch and the carpet. She returned to work the next week. Adil stopped to ask how she was doing every day, but he didn't push for her decision about continuing a relationship with him. He understood that she needed time—he was still deciding as well, about whether to end his charade as the Sheikh. They all needed time and space to recover, especially Charlie, for whom a return to normalcy was desperately needed.
"I can't tell you how glad I am that you're back," Tracey told Detta, accepting a mug of coffee. It was an uncomfortably warm summer morning, already humid though the sun was barely up. "Charlie really needed this."
"I won't be back for too long," the other woman said, leaning on the porch banister beside her. "I'm moving down there permanently. Theresa is going to need someone to watch the baby once she's ready to go back to work. And, to be honest, I’ve missed her too much since she moved."
"I'm sure she missed you too," Tracey said with a smile. "I know we did. However long you're here is a godsend. Besides, in a few more months Charlie will be going to school anyway."
Detta laughed. "Good luck with that."
"I have no idea how I'm going to handle it," Tracey said, shaking her head.
"You'll manage," Detta said. "I'm pretty sure you can do literally anything you put your mind to. Never met anyone who could push themselves so hard every day and still think they haven’t done enough."
"I'm working on that," Tracey said, smiling. "It's a process."
"Good." Detta nodded. "You deserve to be proud of yourself."
Tracey smiled into her coffee, telling herself that Detta was right. It was still a conscious act, telling herself she was doing well, fighting back against the voice in her head that told her she was failing. That voice had recently begun to sound more and more like Derek and less like herself, and that made it easier to ignore. Even if she still had to make an effort, it was progress. Maybe it was time to allow herself to progress in other ways as well.
***
"Tracey?"
Tracey, hard at work later that day, looked up from sweeping the foyer when she heard a familiar voice say her name. She smiled at Adil.
"Yes?" she said, leaning on her broom.
"Could I speak to you for a moment?" he asked, moving closer. "Privately?"
"Of course," she said, putting the broom aside. "I've been wanting to talk to you too."
They took a seat on a couch in one of the upstairs sitting rooms, angling toward one another as Adil took her hand.
"I'm ready to come clean about the Sheikh," he said.
Tracey's eyes widened. "Adil—"
"Please," he said, stopping her, "call me Matt. And I want you to know this isn't about my relationship with you. Whether or not you want to be with me, this is something I need to do. I've felt guilty about it for a long time. It's estranged me from my mother and it puts everything I've worked for at risk. You're right. It's time to tell the truth."
Tracey smiled, squeezing his hand.
"I'm proud of you," she said, her heart warmed. "And, if it's all right, I'd like to be there to suppo
rt you."
She reached into her pocket to take out the photograph, handing it back to him with a smile.
"I think I'm ready too."
They scheduled the meeting for the next day. For now, it would just be with his key investors and the other partners working with him on his construction project. He would expand from there once he'd seen their reactions.
In the high-rise conference room, Tracey stood beside Matt as his PA again while he, dressed in his traditional attire, faced the other businessmen.
"What's this meeting about, Sheikh Hajjar?" one of them asked as everyone settled in. "It wasn't on the schedule. I had to do some serious shuffling to make it. It isn't the zoning again, is it?"
"No, no. Nothing like that," Matt said. "It's an announcement I need to make. I apologize for the urgency, but as it might affect your willingness to continue working with me, I thought sooner might be better."
There was a concerned murmur around the table, and Matt took a deep breath and then reached up and removed his keffiyeh.
"I am not a sheikh," he said, confidence in his voice despite how anxious Tracey knew he was. "I am not even Saudi. My family is Palestinian. I was born in this city and I've lived here all my life. I have lied to you."
"The money—" one of the men said, looking panicked.
"It's all real," Matt said quickly. "I used the persona of the sheikh to build my business, but the money I've made and the projects I have invested in have all been real. Only the name on the papers is untrue, and even that I had legally changed, so there won't be any problems there, I assure you. My real name is Matt Hajjar. Aside from that, everything you know is true."
There was a moment of surprised silence and an exchange of confused whispers around the table. Then the man who'd spoken first, the one with the fine goatee, sat up.
"Is that really what you called us all here for unannounced?" he huffed.
"Given my dishonesty," Matt said, striving to be diplomatic, "I understand if any of you would prefer to pull out of the project now before it proceeds any further."
"Don't be absurd," the man scoffed. "You are one of the finest businessmen I know. I am not involved in this project because of your title. I am involved because your record has shown your ability to make your investors a frankly ludicrous amount of money, and good will with the press to boot. I have no intention of giving up that opportunity over something as trivial as a name, and I'm certain the others feel the same."
There was a chorus of agreement from the other men at the table.
"I am a bit miffed," one of them confessed. "Here I was bragging to everyone on the golf course that I knew a prince. But I've worked with you for years, and I know exactly how skilled and dedicated you are to your projects. That has nothing to do with any dubious royal title."
There was more agreement from the other men.
"You're a highly educated, incredibly talented, and freakishly hardworking young man," a third offered. "That you had to enact such a charade in the first place is the only travesty here."
The man with the goatee nodded as there were more cheers and scattered applause from the investors.
"You see?" he said. "You never had anything to worry about. And we are all dedicated to continuing this project with you, as the Sheikh or as Matt Hajjar."
"Thank you," Matt said, moved by their understanding. "I truly did not expect such support. You all have my eternal gratitude."
The goateed man laughed. "Forget your gratitude. Just keep making me money! And if you need it, I have some tips for how you can spin this to the press. I've overcome a scandal or two in my day."
The men gathered around Matt, reassuring him of their support, asking questions, and offering suggestions. Tracey stepped back a little, letting him have his moment. She slipped out of the conference room, a little overwhelmed.
She listened to the talking and laughter continue inside, her happiness for Matt battling a strange heaviness in her chest. Doubt plagued her, as it always did, wondering if maybe, now that he was free of his secret, he might be done with her. It was clear now that he'd only stayed single for fear of having the truth discovered. Now he could have anyone he wanted. So why would he choose her?
She shook off that doubting voice, reminding herself that he had done this for her. He thought she was beautiful and smart and hardworking. And, she told herself firmly, he was right. Still, she hoped she was enough for a man who could have anything...
The door opened, and she looked up in surprise to see Matt himself slipping through it. He smiled at her dazzlingly, reaching out to her. She stepped into his arms without hesitation.
"Thank you, Tracey," he said. "Thank you so much. I could never have done this without you. You are, without a doubt, the most incredible person I've ever met."
Tracey blushed, smiled, and ignored the little Derek voice that wanted her to tell him he was wrong. Derek didn't have any power over her anymore.
"I could say the same to you," she said to Matt. "It's not every day you meet a prince, even a pretend one."
He chuckled, brushing her hair back from her cheek.
"May I kiss you?" he asked, and her heart skipped a beat at the warm desire in his voice.
"Please," she said, and she turned her face up to his as he pulled her close. Unlike the times they'd kissed before, there was nothing held back in this kiss, no unhappiness hanging between them. There was just her lips against his and their growing desire for each other. His fingers combed through her hair, gentle and tingling against her scalp. She felt the muscles of his chest through his shirt and his heart beating against her hand, just as quick and excited as her own. As he pulled away, he looked into her eyes, his own as dark and inviting as a warm summer night.
"Tracey," he said, lacing his fingers with hers, "I know a lot has happened these past few weeks, but through all of it I've come to truly, deeply care about you. Charlie as well. I want to be with you. If you think you might ever feel the same, then please, give me a chance to love you."
Tracey’s heart tried to leap from her chest, and for a moment she felt so dizzy she thought she might have to sit down. Instead, laughing a little, she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder as she recovered. Finally, she met his eyes again and smiled.
"I want that too," she said. "I care about you too, Matt."
"That's the first time you've called me by my real name," Matt said, smiling, and he kissed her again, lifting her off her feet in his excitement. Tracey wasn't sure what the future held for them, but she had no doubt this was exactly where she wanted to be.
SIXTEEN
The next few months passed in a happy blur. Though how things had ended with his father had been more distressing for Charlie than Tracey could hope to know, over time she watched him slowly return to his happy, energetic self. Matt helped immensely. Once things had settled down a little, he was only too happy to become a father figure to Charlie, playing with him while Tracey worked, and showering him with gifts and attention.
Still recovering from the fallout of his public announcement about his real identity, Matt was working from home primarily to avoid the press. Things had come out mostly positive for him (the papers had loved the story of a second-generation immigrant using hard work and cleverness to achieve the American dream, and loved even more that he had then used his money to improve conditions in low-end neighborhoods like the one he'd grown up in), but the constant attention and paparazzi got exhausting, positive or not. Whether Matt was hiding out at home or taking unannounced trips abroad, he was happy to spend that time with Tracey and Charlie.
Though they were dating now, Tracey continued to work as his maid, both because she didn't want him paying to support her and Charlie and because it was a way to hide their relationship from the press until their attention was drawn to something else. And in the meantime, every few weekends Matt would jet them off to some remote and lovely part of the world, where they could be in love in peace.
Matt d
elighted in finding educational opportunities for Charlie at the places they visited, exposing him to art and science and nature. Tracey had grown used to Charlie changing what he wanted to be when grew up every day or so, but so far he was still hanging on to oceanographer. It seemed the Hawaii trip had made a real impact, and he grew more excited to learn about deep sea creatures and life on coral reefs every day.
Though Charlie went with them on every trip, they always found time to spend alone, during which the desire between them only deepened. By the time Charlie started going to school in the fall Tracey was beginning to realize she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. As much as she'd denied it and put it off, fretted and fussed about whether it was too soon or too late, this was love.