by Leah Leonard
Ever since his father’s death, Ghazi’s grandfather became moody, sullen and troubled, and seemed increasingly obsessed with finding him a proper wife. The future of the company was at stake now, and who could blame the aging Sultan? Ghazi certainly didn’t. The high profile funeral and all the media attention weren’t at all flattering to the family, and although losing his father had been tough on him, his grandfather was even more devastated by the whole ordeal.
The trip today had likely taken its toll on him as well. He was a powerful man in his day, but he was in his eighties now and the recent loss of his only son had aged him quite a bit.
Ghazi didn’t want to hear any more about wives or his lifestyle, nor did he wish to upset the man who raised him, so instead, he chose to share a tea and a quiet ride back to the family estate.
Within a few hours, they arrived at the family’s second home nestled in the cliffs above the quaint seaside town of Bodrum, in the southern part of the country.
The limo pulled into the circular drive and the two men went inside without another word between them.
Ghazi retreated to the balcony overlooking the turquoise waters of the Aegean. Dusk settled over the land and off in the distance, the city lights of Rhodes, Greece, sparkled like diamonds, illuminating the pink and tangerine streaked sky.
He thought about the stunning Sarah, her full lips and curvaceous body. He remembered her well from high school and how he wanted more than she was willing to give at the time. Apparently she hadn’t changed much. Still, he saw how she looked at him. Time would tell. No matter what, he would not let the Sultan in on any of these thoughts though. It might unnecessarily encourage the old man to have hope where there was none. No matter how gorgeous or alluring any woman was, Ghazi remained dead set on being single. Nothing could ever change his mind about that.
"Ghazi," the Sultan called to him from inside.
What now? He slid the balcony door open and stepped into his grandfather's office, which would all be his one day, and gazed at the built in floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with family treasures collected over several generations. Ghazi loved this place, even though it was modest in comparison to their palace outside Istanbul. This felt like home. He had many happy childhood memories, many of which took place here. Photographs covered the walls. Ornate crown moldings offset an antique crystal chandelier and lush white carpet.
Still dressed impeccably in his slacks and dress shirt, his weathered grandfather poured two cups of steaming hot Turkish tea from a silver pot and set it atop a small marble topped table in the corner. “Want one?”
"Thank you." The tea invigorated him. He needed to be alert tonight so he could focus on Sarah.
“Take a seat.” The Sultan loosened his tie and sank behind his desk.
Ghazi remained standing.
"Go on," Sultan pointed to the chair across from him. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Your future, the future of our company…everything."
Ghazi scowled and glanced at the clock on his cell. He had to leave to go meet Sarah soon. "Look, if this is another lecture about how you want me to find a wife, forget it. I have been loyal. I ran the company for several years. I assure you the board and our investors don’t care about my marital status."
"Perhaps not, but I assure you they will care about this." His grandfather slapped a copy of the local Turkish tabloid down on his desk.
Billionaire Playboy Strikes Again
The headline was centered above a photograph with a not-so-discreet shot of Ghazi in Athens last weekend. Three amazingly gorgeous lingerie models graced his arm, his black silk shirt was slit to the navel, his head was tilted back in a laugh and he held a tall drink in his free hand while the three vixens clawed at his muscular body.
Ghazi chuckled. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. The stress of the past few months, the funeral and family scandals had taken their toll. The mix of emotion erupted into laughter at the most inappropriate of times.
“What exactly do you find so amusing?” the Sultan glared.
“These girls mean nothing to me. I don’t even recall their names. There is no story there.” Ghazi finished his tea, got up and poured some more, topping off his grandfather’s cup.
“How are we going to continue to dominate world markets with trash like this circulating in the media about our family?” The Sultan tossed the rag aside, rose and stepped toward the window as if to distance himself from the distasteful images.
"Don't take this so seriously, grandpapa. I was out at a club, nothing more." Ghazi approached him, patting the older man on the shoulder. “I am young. What can I say?”
“Utilizing the family jet for non business purposes, disgracing the family name, dishonoring our religion.”
“I meant no disrespect.”
Unfortunately, his grandfather wasn’t done yet. “What are the investors to think? You’re no better than your father!”
“Untrue!” His father’s exploits led to his recent untimely death in a boating accident were hardly comparable to Ghazi’s occasional trip to Athens on the family jet. “I am nothing like him.”
“Not yet, which is what concerns me.”
The comment stung Ghazi like a wasp. Tabloids speculated because of his father’s affair with a married woman his accident was anything but. Still, Ghazi would never venture into such territory, and was insulted to the core to hear his grandfather’s misguided accusations.
“Besides,” the Sultan continued, “Why Athens? Don’t you know better than to go to Greece? At least stay on our soil.” The comment was directed at the age old dispute between the Greeks and the Turks, which, like many of his Grandfather’s old fashioned ways, Ghazi found both distasteful and unnecessary. “That’s ridiculous and you know it. You cannot expect me to spend all my time in Istanbul.”
“I promised your mother I would watch over you, care for you, and provide you with a positive role model so you could ultimately become what your father never did – a responsible and respected businessman worthy to take over our empire one day. Unless you change, I’m afraid that won’t happen. I can’t bear to think of how your poor mother would feel seeing these photos of her only son.”
“I did nothing wrong.” Ghazi slammed his cup on the marble desktop. “I am young, I am unmarried.”
“I have lived a life of honor.” Sultan whispered. He opened the sliding glass window and the ocean air filled the room. A dazed expression crossed his face as he gazed out at the sea. “In all my years in business, I never made a promise I couldn’t keep…until now. You make a liar out of me with this behavior.”
“What does that have to do with me, Grandpapa? I am promised to no one, I’ve done nothing to disgrace you. I cannot help the tabloids follow me around. My father caused us shame. Not me. I refuse to carry his burdens and will no longer pay attention to what the media thinks of either of us. You should do the same. Father is gone. Buried. They don’t have a story anymore and should leave our family alone soon enough.”
“I promised her.” Sultan lifted a silver framed portrait from a bookcase. “The trouble is, you. I haven’t been able to control you. Without that, my word is no good.”
Why did his grandfather always have to bring her into these lectures? Ghazi’s mother was a sacred topic, not to be discussed. He glanced at the photo, the tender smile, long black curls framing her face. She carried a baby in her arms – him – and glowed with maternal happiness. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. His throat still caught when he thought about how she put up with years of heartache, misery and neglect caused by his philandering father.
The Sultan had several women in his harem, as did Ghazi’s father. So what was the problem? Ghazi had nothing more than a few girlfriends here and there. It wasn’t like he betrayed anyone. He hadn’t sunk to the level of either of the other patriarchs of his family.
His mother was the main reason he refused to marry. Unless he was cert
ain he could do better than his father, Ghazi had no intention of ruining someone’s life. He couldn’t imagine being fully committed to any woman now or in the foreseeable future. He’d seen the damage that kind of loyalty caused. Love had no place in his life. Passion? Lust? Desire? Of course, but love? No. Never. “You cannot control me. I am my own man. So I like parties, so I like beautiful women…so what?”
“This behavior is not good enough for a Deniz. Period."
"What's done is done."
"Do you think a lady like your Sarah would want a man like this?" He pointed to the paper.
"She will never know. Besides, I told you, there is nothing going on between Sarah and I. You have nothing to worry about."
"You should hope not."
“Sarah is American. Do you really think she could put up with a part time husband who divided his attentions between her and his harem?”
“Ah, so you are considering a harem, now, are you?”
“No. Never. Even though I know that is what you expect from me, I refuse to pursue such a life. I am better off as I am. Alone.”
The Sultan sighed. “Life is short. Do not be a fool and let your stubborn pride stand in the way of future happiness. This Sarah…seeing you today…the two of you reminded me of your grandmother and I when we were not much younger than you are now."
“Before you met your other mistresses?” Ghazi smirked.
“Your grandmother was special. She was the one. I am speaking of love, Ghazi.”
Ghazi had no idea what his poor grandmother must have gone through. His grandfather was devoted to his family, above all else, but still, although his grandmother proved her stock was far stronger than his mother, the hurt from sharing one’s husband with other women must have been difficult at best. Ghazi had no intentions of devoting himself to any one woman. Not now, not ever. "What happens will happen. Believe me, even if something developed between Sarah and I, it would never last." Ghazi glanced at his cell. "Speaking of which, I must go. I would hate to make a bad impression by leaving the beauty in question waiting. I will see you this evening, Grandfather. And please, let’s not bring this subject up again.”
CHAPTER THREE
On the bus ride back to her hotel, Sarah stared out the window at the cliffs surrounded by the clearest blue water she ever saw and listened while Maureen shared her entire life story about her kids, her ex husband and how she scraped together enough money to go to school and eventually land a scholarship. It was quite impressive, actually, and yet Sarah hardly heard a word.
Aside from not listening to her roommate, Sarah realized she should be thrilled, and anxious to take in every little detail about the country she'd waited so long to visit, but instead, staring out at the sea, the blue sky and the clouds, all she could think about was Ghazi Deniz and the strange serendipity of seeing him again.
Speaking of which, her fingers still tingled from touching him earlier, and the smell of his cologne, which hadn’t changed since high school, sent her mind wandering back to a place long forgotten, to a deep desire that never materialized.
Because of the intense emotions she felt years before, she pushed him so far down into her subconscious, she practically forgot about the fact he was the sole reason she became interested in Turkey and ancient ruins in the first place. Meeting him in school, hearing the talks their teachers asked him to give in front of the class about life in Turkey, the history and culture stimulated her mind. She hated to admit it, but he was the main reason she chose archeology in college. To think one person could have such a profound impact on her life frightened her, especially since she was now face to face with him again. She couldn't let him hurt her the way he did back then. But of course she was an adult now, capable of handling emotions better, right? Wrong. If today was any indication of how she dealt with Ghazi, the idea of him picking her up tonight for dinner scared her half to death.
“So anyhow….” Maureen droned on. “That’s how I wound up here.”
Sarah nodded. “Good for you.”
****
Soon the bus pulled up in front of a luxurious towering hotel built within the cliffs and within walking distance of the ocean. The white stucco façade and ornate ironwork showcased a line of flags representing each scholar’s home state. Sarah was from Dallas. The Texas flag blew proudly in the breeze. Maureen was from Alabama. Or was it Arkansas? Sarah couldn’t recall with all the details she’d heard. One of those. Three students were from California, three from Florida and another three were from New York and one extremely quiet girl grew up in the far reaches of Alaska. Quite a good representation of the United States, Sarah thought.
The group climbed from the bus and was greeted warmly by a uniformed staff. Several bellmen stood near the entrance of the bus, helping each passenger to the street. Once outside, Sarah gazed up at the building and down both sides of the street unable to believe her eyes. The vegetation and flowers were stunning and the air was fresh and crisp. A faint breeze blew her hair and the air smelled of sea salt. This was her dream come true.
She followed her group down a palm tree lined walkway and up several steps where several doormen greeted the party. A water fountain stood in the center of the room and tanks filled with tropical fish served as the front desk.
She waited in line, listening while the other scholarship recipients received their room assignments. Most were on the second, third and fourth floor.
Maureen went first, got her key and said to the agent behind the counter, “She’s with me.”
Sarah smiled and presented her brand new passport to the young girl behind the desk. "Miss Taylor. Welcome."
Sarah was surprised to receive such a greeting. The others in the group were not called by name.
"Your suite is ready. I will call someone to assist you right away."
"My what?" Sarah asked. Did she say suite?
The girl was too busy on the phone to answer.
Sarah gazed over her shoulder, but Maureen was already gone toward the elevator, following the bellman who had her gargantuan suitcase.
“Wait,” Sarah tried to catch the attention of the girl again, but she wasn’t listening.
Within a moment, another smiling bellman appeared and took her luggage. “Follow me please.”
To her dismay, she followed the bellman and her bags as they wandered away from the rest of the group who gathered near a main bank of elevators just off the lobby. "Aren't we supposed to be with them?"
"Oh no, ma'am," the bellman said. "The entrance to your room is this way. On the far side of the building."
They walked a long distance past a restaurant and bar, several conference rooms and a grand ballroom. What would Maureen think when she didn’t show up to their room? Sarah hoped she wouldn’t be mad. This had to be some kind of mistake.
She followed the bellman over about a half mile of marble tiled floors, passing by more ballrooms, one of which had a sign outside that read Welcome Scholars, which she assumed was where tonight's festivities would conclude.
After walking to what must be the farthest possible corner of the hotel, the bellman unlocked the elevator with a key before pressing the button. He handed it to her. "Here you go. You will need this to access your room."
Sarah stuffed the key in her handbag. “Thank you.”
The elevator arrived momentarily. He held the door with a free hand. “After you.”
Sarah stepped inside the marble walled elevator.
There were only two buttons, L and P. The bellman pushed P and to her surprise, she realized her room was on the top floor. A small brass placard read PENTHOUSE.
"Um…" Sarah began. "This can’t be right. The rest of my group is on the other end of the hotel, sharing rooms. My roommate’s name is—"
"I assure you, madam, this is correct." He walked briskly to the end of the hall where two French doors stood, unlocked them with a golden key and swung them wide open. "May I present your room?"
Almost afraid to take a l
ook, Sarah stepped into the wide expanse that appeared to run the entire length of the hotel on the Aegean Sea side. The western wall consisted of a full plate glass window that provided a perfect view.
"The balcony," the bellman opened the sliding glass door.
Sarah briefly stepped outside. The sun hugged the horizon, casting a translucent glow on the ocean below. She gripped the handrail and held her breath for a moment, unable to believe her eyes.
The bellman called to her from inside. "Do you approve?"
"Yes, but…this can't be right," she stepped back inside. "I didn't ask for this. I can't afford it. There must be some mistake."
"No mistake." Keeping the balcony door open so the breeze blew through the room, he crossed to a table. "I have a message here, madam."
A five-foot high spray of flowers sat atop a marble table. An envelope spelled out Sarah in the most stunning calligraphy she had ever seen before. "These are for you."
"I don’t get it. Nobody knows I'm in Turkey."
Hands folded at his waist, the bellman smiled.
Sarah pulled the card from the flowers, their fragrant scent filling her nostrils. Her jaw dropped when she saw who they were from.
Sarah,
So amazing to see you again.
Welcome to Turkey.
Until tonight,
Ghazi
It couldn't be! "I can't accept this.”
“We insist.”
“Please, I need you to move me. I’m begging you.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that.” The bellman sighed. "The members of the Deniz family are long time friends of our establishment and we have been given strict instructions to provide you with the finest room at our hotel."
Well, when he put it like that, how could she refuse?
The bellman bowed, left her bags and moved toward the door. "Is there anything else I may assist you with today, madam?"
"No thank you." Sarah handed him a tip, walked him to the door. She returned to the living room, which was larger than her entire apartment back in Dallas. "What am I going to do with a place like this?" she asked aloud. This was ridiculous for one person to stay in such elaborate surroundings. Her voice practically echoed off the walls.