The Sheikh's Redemption

by Olivia Gates

  “So you told him you wanted the Pride of Zohayd’s origin piece, and he just gave it to you? How will he justify this—and this will come out—to his council, to the people of Zohayd?”

  “He’s going to tell them to shut up or he’ll auction off the rest, as he threatened to do before he took the throne from Father.”

  “Wow.” Her head shake was dazed, her lips twitching. “I bet I could fill volumes analyzing him and his methods.”

  “Just think—when you marry me, you’ll have open access to that one-of-a-kind specimen as his sister-in-law.”

  She scrunched her face. “Yeah, that’s the main reason I’m marrying you—so I can get my analytical paws on your big brother.”

  “How about getting those paws, analytical and every other kind, on me?”

  She ran her shabkah-clad hand down his chest, gently scraping his flesh. “The problem will be in getting them off you.”

  He took her lips, pressed her hand harder, every abrasion a sledgehammer of arousal. “I only need them off to get work and self-maintenance out of the way. Then they’re back on. And on.”

  She shuddered as he deepened their mouth-mating.

  It didn’t feel strictly like pleasure. “What is it, ya naar rohi?”

  “This—” her gesture was eloquent with what raged between them “—fire of my soul.” Her eyes were almost uncertain. “Are humans supposed to attain this kind of happiness?”

  He crushed her to him, pledged, “I only know we are.”

  Eleven

  “We are confident you are well ahead of your competitors.”

  Haidar swept his gaze from the man who’d just spouted such an unsubstantiated claim to his other supporters, who were regarding him as if he were hiding their Christmas presents.

  For the past two weeks since he’d proposed to Roxanne, they had left him no waking hour without intrusion, offering strategies, asking about his own, pushing for confirmation that he would go all out to claim the throne. Not to mention constantly pandering to his ego.

  He sighed. “Let’s not indulge in make-believe, please. Rashid is a formidable contender, an all-Azmaharian war hero—”

  The group’s spokesman cut in. “He’s a fledgling in the world of finance and politics compared to you.”

  “A fledgling who flew out of the nest a fully grown vulture of the first order, and who might tear me apart if I turn my back on him like…I don’t know, like I’m doing now while I pursue this quest? And then there is Jalal, who is the more—”

  The man interrupted again. “Jalal is too Zohaydan. You are the perfect combination we need, if you’ll only take this more seriously.”

  “Like Rashid, you mean?” He huffed. “But aren’t you claiming this is all about what’s best for Azmahar? If he proves the better—”

  “He isn’t,” another man insisted. “And neither is Jalal. But Rashid is forming alliances beyond his supporters. And Jalal has the kingdom’s top politico-economic expert as his consultant.”

  Everything hit Pause inside Haidar.

  There was only one person that could describe. Roxanne.

  It was impossible. “You are misinformed about Jalal. Which makes me wonder about all the information you’ve been feeding me.”

  “We have proof,” a third man said. “Photos of Jalal with Roxanne Gleeson for the past month, phone recordings—”

  His heat shot up. “You’re monitoring her phone?”

  The man shook his head. “His. This is a major fight, and we will do anything to stop our adversary from gaining unfair advantage. And with her on his side, he certainly has that over you and Rashid. Not that we regret breaching her privacy. It’s almost unethical to be supplying him with information she has come by from her job here.”

  Haidar didn’t know what he said, or how the meeting came to an end. He found himself alone, paralyzed, in body and mind.

  Then in the numb silence inside him, a voice rose. Serene, cajoling, knowing, explaining it all.

  Roxanne was playing both of them. Until one became king. Then she’d pick him up like a ripe plum. She thought secrecy would even serve her if Rashid took the throne. She’d remain on his good side, maximize on his good opinion to win an even bigger role. While it would keep her options open with him and Jalal until she decided who would provide the most benefit to her. Probably Jalal. Putting up with a friend-turned-husband was one thing. Dealing with someone as emotionally and physically demanding as him was another. She might even dump them both and go for Rashid. And she’d get him. Not only was she irresistible in her own right, she had the insider info she needed to pull Rashid’s strings.

  He pressed both palms to his ears, shutting out that maddening, mutilating voice. The voice he now recognized.

  His mother’s.

  That was her talking. She’d passed down to him the seeds of paranoia and mistrust and then fostered them every way she could. Listening to that voice had served him well in the cutthroat world of business. It had decimated his personal life.

  He was done listening to her. He was done doubting Roxanne.

  He would ask her about Jalal. And whatever she told him, it would be the truth.

  End of story.

  * * *

  Haidar dived beneath the turquoise waters, surfaced with Roxanne wrapped around him. He squeezed her satiny flesh, ravaged her lips with smiling kisses that she reciprocated with enough ardor to turn the sea to steam. Though he’d just finished making love to her on the island, that hadn’t even begun to satisfy him.

  He slid his lips to her ear, gently bit her earlobe. “Race me back to the pier?”

  She giggled, nipped his chin. “I have not turned into a dolphin yet. You’d have the fish cooked by the time I catch up.”

  “But you are a saherah. You can just use your magic.”

  Her eyes blasted him with unadulterated appreciation. “‘Look who’s talking’ seems to comprise most of what I say to you these days.”

  She did make him feel as if he possessed magic. She made him feel craved, treasured to his last cell. Just as he craved and treasured her.

  He swept her into his arms, swam on his back with leisurely strokes in the still waters that had mercifully been untainted by the oil spill. She nestled into him, the largest part of his soul. His gaze swept what she called their oasis in the declining sun, luxuriated in feeling her through the silk medium of perfect-temperature water, in being with her in such a huge personal space. He had scheduled the estate caretakers to come only when she was at work.

  Being here with her had long surpassed any heaven he’d ever heard about.

  It would stay their secret heaven until the whole throne business was concluded. He didn’t want to beat his opponents through the mass appeal of a fairy-tale wedding and the promise of the best queen the kingdom could hope for. He wanted to either take the throne by personal merit, or not at all. He also wanted to separate them from any tinge of business and politics.

  They swam to the pier in languid silence, tapping into and feeding each other’s energies and emotions in a closed circuit of harmony. Time stretched when they were together. The month since they’d found each other again felt like a year. More. He barely remembered his life before this month.

  He certainly didn’t want to remember the time after he’d lost her, when the knife kept twisting harder each time his siblings found their soul mates. Aliyah had found Kamal, Shaheen had Johara, Harres had Talia, and most shocking and improbable of all, Amjad had Maram. But he’d found Roxanne again, and at last had her for real, and this time forever. It was nothing short of a miracle.

  He sighed, felt enveloped in the contentment and certainty only her embrace imbued him with.

  Suddenly she wriggled, broke his hold, kicked away.

  She laughed as h
e gave pursuit. Despite her earlier joke, she was such a strong swimmer, he almost didn’t need to slow down for her to beat him to the pier. She pulled herself onto it in one agile move, stood in her flame-colored torture device of a swimsuit grinning down at him.

  He took his time following her, to look his fill as she dried herself in brisk movements. Those grew languid as he neared, gathered her, cherished her every inch in caresses and kisses as she stroked him dry.

  He lifted her in his arms and she clung around his neck as he walked to the house. “I was thinking of the incredible relationships my siblings have, and it made me think of Maram. I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’ll hit it off right out of the region.”

  She nuzzled his neck. “You never told me about her before.”

  He was realizing more and more how he’d shortchanged her. He never would again. “I adored her growing up. Still do. She’s one of those rarities in life, an anomaly who liked me more than Jalal. Turned out my mother was behind throwing us together as part of her long-term plan to put me on the throne of Ossaylan, too. But all it did was create a special bond between us. And boy, did we milk that to give Amjad a well-deserved hard time.”

  “I’m not supposed to be jealous, right?”

  “Never be, of anything in this world. B’Ellahi, I am yours.”

  His reward for the fervent vow was a kiss that almost had him taking her right there and to hell with showering and eating.

  He pulled back, knowing she needed both. “As for Maram, she was my cherished friend, like Jalal was yours. I lost almost all touch with her as she went through the ordeals of her two marriages and temporary defection to the U.S., but once we saw each other again, it was like we never stopped being friends. I hope you can have the happiness of Jalal’s friendship back, like I do Maram’s.”

  He waited for her to tell him she had been seeing Jalal since he’d come back to Azmahar, that they had resumed their friendship.

  She only looked away. “I would love that, too.”

  Arjooki, ya habibati…please, my love, trust me, tell me.

  She didn’t.

  * * *

  “You did what?”

  Cherie’s exclamation felt like nails against Roxanne’s nerves.

  She was again almost sorry she’d run to her friend with this.

  But she hadn’t been able to share it with her mother. Her mother, who was deliriously happy for the first time in…ever, after she’d told her about Haidar’s proposal.

  She’d told Cherie and Jalal, too, asked them to keep it a secret until the kingship issue was settled. Her mother had decided to cancel her retirement and come help her settle things faster so that the wedding could happen that much sooner.

  Before any of that happened, she had to settle this mess.

  She’d lied to Haidar point-blank, pretended she hadn’t seen or heard from Jalal since the original breakup.

  “You call this desert god of yours and tell him the truth right now, Roxanne. The more time you let pass between your…omission to tell him you’ve been seeing his twin behind his back, and helping him against him… God! What were you thinking?”

  “It didn’t happen that way!” she groaned. “I started this when Haidar was my worst enemy and Jalal my best friend. Suddenly Haidar is my fiancé and I’m helping Jalal, who’s now his rival. I’m bound to Jalal by friendship and my word of honor, and to Haidar by love and everything else. But I couldn’t tell him when he gave me the opening. It isn’t my secret to tell.”

  “Famous last words.” Cherie groaned, too. “You gotta fix this, and fast. Things like this can spiral and spoil everything. And your reconciliation with Haidar is too new and emotions too high.”

  “But Jalal still hasn’t decided how to settle this whole mess between himself and Haidar!”

  “Then tell Jalal to get his gorgeous butt settled, and tell your fiancé the truth before it messes up your newly fixed relationship!” Cherie came down beside her, hugged her to her side. “Listen, I took your advice and I’m getting back together with Ayman. We’re even moving out of Azmahar so we can adopt. And as you jogged my mind back into the right place, I have to return the favor. Besides, the first time I nudged you to go after your man, you ended up with the biggest catch of the century in your net and the freaking origin piece of the Pride of Zohayd jewels on your hand. So am I good, or am I good?”

  Roxanne hugged her. “You’re superlative. I owe you far more than I can repay. And oh, I’m so happy about you and Ayman.”

  Cherie fluttered her lashes at her. “This means you forgive me for the mess I made of your immaculate place?”

  A laugh burst out of her tight chest. “I’ve come to believe immaculate is overrated. And by the way, Haidar is asking if you’ve thought of his offer to finance your catering project.”

  “Have I thought?” Cherie jumped up in elation. “Apart from Ayman, I haven’t thought of anything else. The moment you tell me you cleared things up with him, I’m hitting him with my proposal!”

  After more nudges to tell Haidar, Cherie left Roxanne alone. In turmoil.

  Cherie was right. It wasn’t all about Jalal and her promise to keep his secret. She was scared to upset the perfection, the balance. Haidar would be disappointed she hadn’t felt confident enough in their relationship to tell him. And after they’d agreed they’d never hide anything from each other again.

  But she hadn’t been hiding a thing. She just forgot about everything when she was with him. The only time she’d remembered Jalal lately had been when she’d told him, as her friend, about her and Haidar. The conflict of interest hadn’t crossed her mind since Haidar’s proposal. The only time she’d thought of the kingship issue in the past two weeks had been with Haidar, discussing his prospects and plans.

  But Cherie was right again about needing to tell Haidar the truth. And Jalal was wrong about Haidar. Beneath the bitterness and alienation, Haidar loved him, or he wouldn’t have been so hurt by his accusations. She should be the one to bring them back together, as she’d had an unwitting role in the formation of the fissure that had torn them apart. She’d summon her inner negotiator, go after Jalal—

  The bell chime had her jumping.

  God, her nerves were shot.

  Which wasn’t strange, with so much at stake.

  She rushed to the door, opened it, found Jalal standing there.

  “Gebna sert’el ott! Speak of the cat!” she exclaimed, dragged him in and into a hug.

  Jalal chuckled, hugged her back. “And he comes bounding. Konti b’tenteffi farweti ma’a meen—who were you plucking my fur with?”

  “I wasn’t talking about you, just thinking of you, really.”

  “I should hope so, since you texted me to come over.”

  “But I…”

  A key turned in the door. Cherie? She’d come back this soon?

  Next second her skin almost pooled to the ground. Haidar.

  Her heart stopped as she watched him walk in. One thing became clear at once. He wasn’t surprised to see Jalal. Which meant…

  He was the one who’d arranged this. He must have texted Jalal from her phone when she’d been at his house a few hours ago.

  He kept his eyes trained on Jalal. Her dazed gaze moved to Jalal, saw her same shock mixed with as powerful dismay, even if it had a different origin.

  Silently, Haidar approached them as they stood frozen. He stopped feet away, bent slightly. A sharp smack jolted through her, had her heart stumbling like a horse on ice as her eyes searched out the sound’s origin. A dossier on her coffee table.

  Haidar straightened, still looking at Jalal. “These are the analysis reports that Roxanne supplied you with, that you were building your campaign around. I thought it only fair to inform you that they no longer constitute an edge, since I have them
, too, in case they were the resource you were banking on to get ahead in this race.”

  Heartbeats blipped inside her chest, none pumping blood.

  She didn’t have to examine the dossier to know. It contained what he’d said. He knew. About her arrangement with Jalal.

  But…he didn’t seem angry. Or disappointed. He seemed…nothing. She could feel nothing from him. That opaque wall was up again. Was he hiding his disappointment or…or was this nothingness real?

  And if it was…why? And how had he found out? When?

  He’d brought up Jalal only yesterday, seemingly in passing, as if he knew nothing. But he couldn’t have uncovered all that information during that time. So had he already known when he’d mentioned him? Had he been out to see if she’d come clean, or…?

  A suspicion too terrible to contemplate detonated inside her.

  No. She wasn’t suspecting him again. She’d promised. Vowed.

  But…God. He no longer seemed like the man she loved more than life. He was again the unknowable quantity, the inaccessible entity he’d been. The ice in his eyes was obliterating everything, leaving only stone-cold doubts and possibilities.

  Could he have known about Jalal from the start? Investigated and put two and two together? He did have an uncanny deductive mind. It wasn’t only possible. It was probable.

  It appeared to be the truth.

  But if he’d known, why had he never broached the subject?

  Because you wouldn’t have told him anything. Not as things stood between you at first.

  So was that why he’d pursued her again? To get her to the point where she would talk? And supply him with better information than she’d given Jalal?

  She had given him far more info than she had Jalal, thinking she’d been discussing Azmahar’s future with her fiancé, discussing his major worries and plans.

  Had it all been to beat Jalal at the game, again?

  His mother’s cold venom came back to her in a scalding rush of memory. Her pride in his long-term manipulative powers, which he’d inherited from her, the woman who’d plotted a region-smashing coup for over thirty years and almost pulled it off.