A Surprise for the Sheikh

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Violet had already been a fool more than once, but she couldn’t help but feel that Nasira was being honest with her. The woman’s reaction to Violet’s pregnancy had been too raw, too real.

  And if Nasira was being up front, then it followed that...

  Rafe’s father had gone far beyond punishment. Rafe had spent literal, actual years planning this revenge. He claimed it was for Nasira’s honor but...

  She wasn’t going to care. Rafe’s history was tragic, but that didn’t excuse his behavior now. He was single-handedly trying to ruin her family, her business and nearly the entire town of Royal, Texas. Violet needed to focus on protecting herself, her assets and, above all else, her child. Rafe wasn’t even on that list.

  So why did she hope that Nasira could talk some sense into him?

  Yup, she was just that big of a fool.

  Eleven

  The Wild Aces was his.

  True, it had cost Rafe an additional million dollars, but three million was nothing when he was worth a thousand times that. Three million dollars was nothing compared to the satisfaction of having finished what he set out to start.

  This was a moment of victory. Years of planning and biding his time had finally come to fruition. Rafe had finally, finally avenged his family’s name and honor.

  He owned the Wild Aces.

  He owned Mac McCallum.

  Yet...

  As Rafe sat in his car outside the Holloway Inn, he could not help but wonder if this was really what victory was supposed to feel like. That dull pain in his chest was back and had been ever since Rafe had dragged the real estate agent away from her family during dinner and driven madly through the countryside to get to the Wild Aces.

  That pain had only gotten stronger when, coughing hard, Lulu Clilmer had told him she’d promised Violet McCallum twenty-four hours in which to match Samson Oil’s offer. That was when Rafe had made an offer Lulu could not refuse—provided, of course, she signed the papers right then.

  It had taken all of his self-control not to order the woman to sign. But in the end, a warm smile and obscene amounts of money had done the job for him. Lulu had signed.

  Rafe should celebrate this victory. But the moment that thought occurred to him, his mind turned back to Violet—to meeting V in the bar of this very hotel and taking her to his bed. Promising that her pleasure would be his and then keeping that promise. Taking her to dinner at Claire’s and waking up in her arms. Going for a ride across the Texas grasslands and watching her rope a wayward cow and feeling that, for once in his life, he was at peace. He’d glimpsed what happiness could mean for him—not as a distant, undefined thing he would never know, but a real thing he could hold in his hands when he held Violet close.

  He was not at peace now. And he wasn’t sure why. This was what he wanted, after all. Exacting his revenge upon Mac was the very thought that had kept him going during those dark years. Ruining Mac’s life just as Rafe’s had been was everything he had been working toward. His work here was about to be done.

  Except that Mac had welcomed Rafe back with open arms, even vouching for him to his friends. Except Nolan Dane had been the closest thing Rafe had had to a true friend since Mac’s betrayal. Except for Violet and the child she carried.

  What was it about these people, this town, that made him doubt himself? No, this was not doubt. He was a bin Saleed. He did not have doubt and he did not question his motives. His motives were pure. The code he lived by—the code that had governed his family for generations—required this. Rafe had damaged the honor of the bin Saleed name. Retribution was the only way to restore that honor.

  It was unfortunate that Violet had become a part of the scheme, he thought dimly as he exited his vehicle. And it was unfortunate that Nolan had lost sight of the larger goal and turned his back on Rafe.

  It was unfortunate that they had all turned on him, but it did not signify. All that was left to do here was to confront Mac and let him know that Rafe had been the source of his downfall and that justice was finally served.

  Then Rafe would be on the family plane, headed back to Al Qunfudhah. Back to the stretches of sand that backed up against the deep blue of the sea. Back to the family home, where Fareed ruled and Rafe was, once again, an unnecessary second. Back to where happiness was an unknown, unknowable thing that was not for him. Never for him.

  It was fine. Rafe would turn his full attention back to the shipping business. Piracy was a growing concern and he needed to take measures to prevent his ships from being hijacked. If he could keep his costs low, he could undercut his competition and increase his share of the market, which would in turn increase the standard of living in Al Qunfudhah. That was how his time would be best spent. That was how he was most useful to his people. His personal happiness and sorrows did not signify. He felt nothing.

  The pain in his chest was so strong that he paused outside the sliding doors of the Holloway Inn. Had it only been a matter of months since he had walked through these very doors and seen her sitting at the bar, the black lace of her dress contrasting with her creamy skin? Since he had taken one look at her wide smile and beautiful face and decided that he needed her in a way that he had not allowed himself to need another person?

  Had it only been that long since he had given a part of him to her—a part he had not realized was his to give?

  He rubbed at his chest, but it did nothing to help. He needed to leave this accursed place, he decided. In the morning, he would seek Mac out and then he would leave. He needed to be far, far away from Royal, Texas, and the people in it: people who made him want to care about them, people who seemed to care about him.

  None of them did. Mac had not cared enough to keep his hands off Nasira. Nolan had not cared enough to stand by Rafe’s side when he met a woman. And Violet...

  Well, she had cared. Perhaps too much. More than was wise. And he had made her hate him.

  At least she hadn’t shot him.

  One more day. He would be gone by this time tomorrow and then he could begin again. Perhaps Fareed would have selected a wife for him and he could produce legitimate heirs. That had been the purpose he had been raised for, after all. He would visit his wife when appropriate and the children would be shown to him by their nannies in the evening, as was proper. He would hardly know they were there.

  And his child here...

  Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to us, Violet had whispered, and he had wanted so desperately to turn back to her, to take her in his arms. In that moment, it didn’t matter if it was a sign of weakness, but he could not inflict this pain on her. Not willingly.

  But really, what choice did he have?

  Still, he did not have to keep hurting her. No, he decided, he would not take the child from Violet. Her only crime was being Mac’s sister—that and opening herself to him. There was no just cause to hurt her for that.

  A voice in the back of his head—a quiet voice that sounded nothing like his father’s—whispered that perhaps there was no just cause to hurt her at all. Perhaps, this soft voice suggested, there was no just cause to hurt any of them. Not Mac, not Nolan, not Violet and not the town of Royal.

  Rafe pushed this thought aside. That was weakness talking and he had not come this far only to let doubt destroy everything he’d worked for. He’d spent years planning for this moment. This was not the time to have cold feet, as the Americans said. If anyone knew he was filled with this hollow pain, they would use it against him.

  Rafe forced himself to breathe regularly. Years of his father’s abuse had taught him that the only way to survive was to be as impervious as stone, no matter what Hassad had said or done to him.

  Rafe was that stone now. Nothing could hurt him. Not even Violet’s stricken face or the way she had cradled her stomach, seemingly without even being aware she was doing it, while she told hi
m she would fight him at all costs.

  It did not have to be that way. He had no wish to treat his child as he had been treated. Just the thought of his own flesh and blood having to survive what Rafe had survived at the hands of his father made his stomach turn.

  Rafe focused on the movement of each breath in and out of his body. It would not be that way, not if he had anything to say about it. Perhaps, after some time had passed, he could return for a visit or he and Violet and the child could meet somewhere neutral. New York, perhaps. He could give her the deed to the Wild Aces and see his child and that would be enough for him, to get a glimpse of that happiness again, to be near it. He had made do with far less.

  Perhaps he could, perhaps he could not. But could he really do that to Violet?

  What happened to him did not matter. It never had. But what happened to her—to their child—could he really do this to them?

  There had to be a way. He had to do something to protect her and the child, to show her that he cared for her. Something more than just holding the Wild Aces for her.

  He could not destroy her. But this was weakness. If his father were still alive, he would beat Rafe for his weakness until he had no more skin left on his back, but he didn’t care.

  He had to show her she was not the pawn in this game—that she was something more. Much, much more.

  This thought calmed him and he was able to straighten up. He would find a way to shield Violet and, until such time as he did, he would continue on. This happiness with Violet was separate from his revenge on Mac.

  Besides, it would not do for Sheikh Rafiq bin Saleed to be seen staggering into a hotel as if his heart had been ripped clean of his chest. He was victorious. He had damned well better act like it.

  When he was in full control of his faculties, he walked through the sliding doors of the inn. Habit had him scanning the lobby. He had been doing it for months now—every time he returned to the inn, in fact. And he was always looking for the same thing—his beautiful, mysterious V.

  His gaze came to rest on a woman, sitting stiffly in a cushioned armchair facing away from him. With a start, he realized he recognized that posture, that hair, that regal bearing.

  Not V. Not Violet.

  Nasira.

  His sister was here? He had not seen her in several years, although they communicated via email on a regular basis. He was so stunned by her sudden appearance that he had to pause and think—had he called her here? He remembered promising Violet that he would arrange a meeting between the two women. But that was back when Violet was still speaking to him, and Rafe had been so busy in the interim that he was certain he had not had the time to summon Nasira.

  Rafe did not allow himself to feel uneasy about this development. There was nothing to feel uneasy about, after all. This was merely his sister, the woman he had promised to protect. The woman he had failed. The woman whose honor he was avenging at this very moment.

  “Sister,” he said. He had always called her that instead of using her name.

  “Ah, Brother, I see you are looking quite well.” She rose gracefully to her feet and smiled. “Texas, it seems, agrees with you.”

  Rafe was immediately on the alert because he certainly didn’t feel quite well. “Sister, why are you here?”

  If he had offended her, she did not show it. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and gave him a piercing look. “Are you not glad to see me?”

  “But of course I am.” He stepped forward to wrap his arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her cheek. “Does Sebastian know you are here? Are you well? Are you...” He glanced down at her stomach.

  That got a reaction out of her. As Rafe watched, he saw her eyes grow flat and he knew that his question had caused her pain. For so long, she had been struggling to have a child with her husband. To ask such a question so baldly was in poor form. “Forgive me,” he said gently. “That was unkind.”

  “Never fear.” She put that sunny smile back on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We are much the same. He is aware I am here.”

  Something about that admission sounded off. “Will he be joining you?”

  Color bloomed on her cheeks. “Ah, no.”

  Rafe and Nasira were not children anymore, but to see her embarrassed in public brought back uncomfortable memories, and an old instinct to shield her from attention kicked in. “Shall we continue this conversation in my room? Or your room—are you staying here? I do not even know how long you plan to be in Royal. I intend to leave tomorrow, but if you are here, I do not see why I should not stay with you. I am sure that Sebastian would feel better knowing you are well cared for.”

  Again, she tilted her head to one side. “I am sure that Sebastian would appreciate that, if he knew you were here. And as for how long I am staying, that depends, I suppose. But yes,” she went on before Rafe could ask what, exactly, she meant by that. “It would be best to talk in private, I believe.”

  “This way.” He led her to the elevator. As the doors closed, he felt another unfamiliar stab of panic. “I must ask, Sister—how did you know where I was?”

  “Fareed informed me,” she said, but she did not elaborate.

  “I am glad to see you. In fact, I had thought about calling you several days ago.”

  “Oh?” She turned to him. “Was there a reason?”

  This was his sister, after all. He was not any more comfortable lying to her than he was lying to Violet. “You were in my thoughts,” he said, which was both the truth and not exactly the truth.

  She tilted her head. “I am honored.”

  Finally, the elevator came to a halt on his floor. He led the way down to his room and unlocked the door in silence.

  Nasira swept into the room, but she did not take the office chair, nor did she sit on the edge of the bed. Instead, she stood in the center of his room as if it were hers, her hands folded in front of her. “So, brother,” she said once the door was shut and he was facing her. “Tell me how you came to be here in Royal, Texas.”

  What had Fareed told her? “I could ask the same of you.”

  She waved this away. “I am here because Fareed gave me good reason to think that you are here for less-than-honorable reasons.”

  “I can assure you, sister, my reasons for being here are entirely honorable.” It came out harsher than he meant it to. He did not speak harshly to Nasira. He protected her. He tried anyway.

  And wasn’t that really why he was here? He had tried to protect her and failed.

  She sighed heavily, as if his statement had inspired nothing but disappointment. That was how she looked at him—with disappointment. That hollow pain in his chest bloomed again, burning with emptiness. “It is as we feared, then.”

  “What is?” He was the stone. He felt nothing because feelings were weaknesses and weakness was not tolerated. He was a bin Saleed.

  “It began with me, so it shall end with me.” She squared her shoulders and fixed him with a fierce gaze. “I was a virgin when I married Sebastian.”

  “What?” The statement caught Rafe so off guard that he recoiled a step.

  “I never slept with Mac McCallum,” she went on, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. “Nor did he even know I was in his bed that day. He had agreed to kiss me in front of our father to help me escape the fate that awaited me, but I was young and foolish and impulsive.” She favored Rafe with a sad smile. “So foolish. I was afraid that a mere kiss would not be enough to dissuade our father, so I hatched a different plan. I snuck into Mac’s bed when I knew you would be showing Father how you lived.”

  A strange numbness overtook Rafe’s limbs as the scene played out in front of his eyes again.

  Nasira had been nude under the covers, all of her clothing in a pile on the floor where they would be impossible to miss. Her hair had
been freed of its braid. She had looked exactly like a woman awaking in her lover’s bed. “We found you there. In his bed.”

  “Yes, I had been counting on it. My dear brother,” she said in a voice that was almost pitying, “you are not the only one in this family who is capable of great schemes.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Why are you lying for him again?”

  There was no mistaking the pity in her eyes this time. “Why do you persist in believing that I am lying for him? I tried to tell you on the plane ride back. I did not want to marry that monster Father had assigned me to. I did not want to be forced into any marriage against my will. And to that end, the scheme worked perfectly. But I had not foreseen the other consequences. I did not realize what Father would do to you. And worse, I did not realize that you would do this, Rafe. I never dreamed you would even be capable of it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped at her. “You have no idea.”

  “Oh?” She was unruffled by his anger. It only made him madder.

  “Everything I have done, I have done for you. For your honor. For our family name.”

  “That is why I have come to stop you.”

  “Are you quite mad?” he roared.

  “Are you? You are the one who has nursed this perceived hurt for years. Years, Rafe. I understand that you are bitter that Father treated you like a prisoner in our home. I regret every day that my choice led to such dire consequences for you. That is a burden I carry with me everywhere I go.”

  He opened his mouth to say something—what, he did not know, but something, dammit all, that made her realize that bitter did not even begin to describe him. But she held up a hand, cutting him off with all the commanding manner of a member of the royal family. “But I have never given up hope for you, Rafe. You are not our father. He is dead and I am glad of it. You no longer have to do as he would do. You no longer have to prove that you are as cruel and heartless as he was.”