by Olivia Gates
Horror dawned on Aliyah’s face. “The Exhibition Ceremony!”
He nodded grimly. “Yes. And that’s still months away. So we have time. And I will take every possible second of it. Give me your word that you’ll let me have it, Aliyah.”
Aliyah’s expression filled with conflict as she met his gaze head-on. He struggled to bring his emotions under control so he wouldn’t give her more cause to doubt his judgment.
She finally nodded. “You have it. And Kamal’s, too.”
“You told him!”
“I tell him everything.” She suddenly dragged him into a fierce hug. “If you love her like I love Kamal, I wish nothing more than for you to prove her innocence, that you can have her and love her.”
He hugged her back for a long moment. Then he kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him one last time then walked out.
Shaheen staggered to the nearest chair, sank down onto it.
It was all too much to take in.
The bridal ordeal, finding Johara here, what happened since. Now Aliyah’s discoveries. Their possible explanations and ramifications. Yet one thing trumped it all.
Johara wasn’t here for him. She was here for her father.
Yet the realization didn’t pain him. She thought she had no place in his life. She hadn’t thought she could come back for him. In fact, it must have been torture for her to attend the reception tonight. To not only know he was getting married to someone else, but to watch him pick that wife.
And Berj had chosen tonight of all nights to hand in his resignation, and hours later, Aliyah discovered that his paramount duty, safeguarding the jewels, had been compromised.
No. He couldn’t doubt him. And he would never doubt Johara. There was another explanation.
But until he found it, this was a catastrophe in the making.
The Pride of Zohayd jewels were far more than the foremost national treasure.
Legend had it that each piece of jewelry opened doors where none existed, attained coveted results where they had seemed impossible, courted monarchs’ favor, brought true love, achieved undying glory and even cheated death.
Five hundred years ago, when tribal wars in the territories that had yet to become Zohayd were at their peak, Ezzat ben Qassem Aal Shalaan knew that on the day the leadership of his tribe fell to him, he’d need more than wisdom, power and military triumphs to bring an end to the conflicts and gather the tribes under his rule.
He’d followed the history of each jewel, charted an infallible plan to possess them all and wield unparalleled authority. To his father’s horror, he left the tribe when he was only eighteen and went on his quest to collect those jewels from all over the Asian continent.
It took him twelve years to do it, but on his return, the tide turned in his tribe’s favor, and within months, he’d united the tribes and became the first king of Zohayd. Together, he and the jewels had become known as the Pride of Zohayd.
The jewels became the symbol of the royal family’s entitlement to the throne. Legend went on to say that they remained in no one’s hands if unworthy of the privilege and power.
Each year for the past five centuries, Aal Shalaan monarchs had held a week of festivities to renew their claim to the throne, culminating in a grand ceremony to exhibit the jewels to representatives of the Zohaydan people as proof that the Aal Shalaans remained the rightful rulers of the land.
There was only one reason the jewels would be stolen and replaced by fakes.
This was an insidious plot to overthrow the ruling family.
For what felt like hours, his mind raged with scenarios and solutions. Each time one started to seem possible, he slammed into a dead end.
He felt he’d been battered by the time he got to his feet, a basic plan—the only one he believed could work—in mind.
To set it in motion, he had to get away from the palace.
And get Johara out, too.
She had to get out of here.
That was the only thing on Johara’s mind since she’d stumbled away from Shaheen.
All through the palace to her quarters, she’d struggled to walk naturally and greet the workers who were everywhere in the aftermath of the reception, undoing its havoc.
By the time she reached her room, she couldn’t remain upright, slumped against the door to stop herself from collapsing to the ground.
Her body was still in turmoil, her whole being rioting. She wanted to run back to Shaheen’s quarters and throw herself in his arms. Come what may.
But she couldn’t. Ever again.
And not only would she be deprived of him forever, she’d probably be here to witness his marriage, if her father still needed her by the time it came to pass.
“I did it.”
Johara’s heart almost burst through her ribs. She swung around, found her father walking in from her suite’s kitchenette. He looked as if he’d aged another ten years.
“I handed in my resignation to the king.”
So he’d finally done it! He’d attended the reception with her, stood beside her for most of it, and hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t said a word, period. He was taking this even harder than she’d thought.
The desolation in his voice sent compassion surging through her, propelling her to him so she could hug him, absorb his misery.
He let out a ragged breath, accepted her silent embrace.
Then he pulled back with a sad smile, love shining in the eyes he’d passed down to her. “You always know what to do and say. And more important, what not to do and say. I don’t think I could have stomached platitudes about how it’s for the best, how it’s time to start a new life.”
A smile trembled on her face in an attempt at teasing. “Even though it’s true.”
He pinched her cheek softly. “Especially since it is.”
She smiled back into his eyes, thankful that he was letting her steer him away from moroseness.
She’d been urging him to resign for the past three weeks, since the day she’d come back and he’d told her he was thinking it was the solution to everything, to sever his connection to Zohayd. And he’d had no idea of her dilemma.
She couldn’t have agreed more. Yet it had taken him this long to bring himself to do it.
“This place, these people, are far more than a job to me.” He walked to the nearest couch, sat down with a heavy exhalation.
She nodded. “Mother always said they held your heart as much as we did, but with the added feeling that you were doing something far bigger than yourself, playing a major part in maintaining the peace and prosperity of Zohayd.”
“It’s not a feeling, it’s a fact.” A faraway look of bittersweet reminiscence came over his face. “She once told me I was delusional, considering myself a knight who swore undying allegiance to a great king. But it’s not a delusion. I am, and he is.” He looked back at her, dejection dimming his gaze. “The only reason I’m ending my service is because I’m no longer in any shape to deliver what he deserves. Even as I lost my family, first Jacqueline, then you, then Aram, I still…functioned. But lately, I seem to have lost my focus, my skills, my stamina.”
“You never lost us. We love you!”
“But you’re no longer with me. Did you know I’ve been begging your mother to come back to me and to convince you to return, too?”
No. That was news to her. Her parents’ relationship had always been a mystery.
“My efforts intensified after Aram went back to the States six years ago. She always refused, so I came to see you both more, stayed longer each time. When he realized my need to be with you, King Atef went out of his way to afford me extended leaves.”
She’d wondered how he’d been able to visit them for such long periods. Each visit had always left Jacqueline Nazaryan distraught.
“Your mother has never stopped loving me, you know?”
Johara looked at him helplessly. It seemed he had suddenly decided to answer all the questions he and her mother had a
lways evaded. It had always been impossible to fathom her mother when it came to her father. Jacqueline talked about him and to him with such ire and intensity, but she’d never asked for divorce, or hooked up with another man.
Now Johara watched her father smile to himself, the smile of a man remembering the woman he loved, a sensual pain filling his eyes and lips. “We’re still lovers.”
She inhaled. Now that was something they’d both left her in the dark about. Very efficiently. She doubted she and Shaheen could hide the intimate nature of their relationship that well. Or at all. Which was why she must never be seen with him again.
She exhaled. “Why won’t she come back?”
That would have saved her from coming back herself and seeing Shaheen again, driving the lance in her heart deeper.
Her father’s lips twisted. “Because she’s angry at me. She’s been angry at me for a decade and a half. There was a time when I thought she might come back, but then you joined her and she’s been adamant ever since about not returning to Zohayd, even for a visit.”
“That’s why you didn’t tell her about your heart attack. Or your depression.”
His nod was defeated. “I won’t pressure her by playing on her sympathy, Johara. And I certainly don’t want her pitying me. I chose my duty over her. I’ve made a mess of things, and that won’t be how I win her back. But I intend to. Or die trying, anyway.”
She gasped and he made an apologetic wave of his hand as he rose from the couch. “Don’t listen to me, I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’ll snap out of it. All the faster because you’re here. I’ve never felt this fragile, and I think my condition makes me more prone to clinging to what I have here. It was your presence that gave me the strength to do what I did tonight. Will you please stay until I serve my notice?”
Her father had never asked anything of her until he’d asked her to come be by his side through this.
She couldn’t say no then. She couldn’t say it now. She nodded, surged to hug him again.
As she watched him walking out of her suite, her heart churned out thick, slow thuds.
She was trapped. She’d survived being in Zohayd with Shaheen out of the kingdom, but now…
Even after the night of magic they’d shared, she hadn’t really believed he might react that way when he saw her again. During the past eight weeks, she’d tormented herself that, with his impending marriage in motion, when they met, he’d pretend she was the acquaintance he hadn’t seen in years and then ignore her.
But he hadn’t. He’d been every bit as incredible as he’d been that night. She had the same effect on him that he had on her, making him forget caution and trample on reason.
She couldn’t let him do that.
Until she could escape Zohayd, this time forever, she had to do everything she could to stop him from destroying his and his family’s credibility and weakening their power.
Most of all, she had to keep her secret intact.
A secret that, if discovered, might cost the Aal Shalaans their throne.
Seven
After coming to his decision, Shaheen had ambushed his father as he’d prepared to sleep.
He’d told King Atef he’d changed his mind. He was relieving him of the burden of choosing his bride. But he wanted more choices. Or more reason to choose one of the existing candidates over the others. Surely the families didn’t think a prettier dress or a more practiced smile would sway him? Didn’t they have more…incentives? For him, personally? He was not just the king’s son, a body with the required genes. He was a force to be reckoned with throughout the world. It was his life they were bartering away, after all, and they’d better make it worth his while.
His father had only closed his eyes then risen from his bed and walked out of his room without looking at Shaheen.
Shaheen shut his own eyes now. He hated to add to his father’s strife. But he couldn’t include him in his plan. Not yet.
His plan was simple. Kick up a controversy, drag in all those involved in his dilemma and stand back and watch. People showed their true colors in conflicts.
And that was what had been missing so far. After they’d agreed that Shaheen would pick a family through its representative bride, the tribes had fallen into a peaceful coexistence, thinking that, with Shaheen’s reputation for being completely incorruptible, there was nothing they could do beyond parading their daughters before him to influence his decision.
Now he’d as good as told them he wasn’t just acting the king’s obedient son in this matter and they should indeed fight dirty for said favor.
The reactions to this new development—and most important, the nonreactions—would expose who among their so-called allies who had access inside the palace were after new treaties within the current ruling regimen, and who was planning a coup.
He’d thrown his bomb and retreated, gone to his villa on the waters of the Arabian Sea, a hundred miles from the palace. He’d be inaccessible yet still be able to monitor the developments as the reactions of those involved reached him one way or another. Most important, he’d see Johara away from the scrutiny of the court.
She was coming to him now.
His heart expanded at the thought of her. It had taken every iota of his negotiating skills to secure her agreement. And she’d amazed him all over again.
She hadn’t resisted because she was feeling jealous or slighted or even heartbroken that he was seeking her out even as he went ahead with his marriage plans. She’d done so because she didn’t want to stir up trouble for him.
But though making everyone believe he was still in the game was paramount for his plan’s success, none of that mattered. Not when weighed against protecting her from hurt.
He couldn’t leave her in the dark about his feelings and about what he had planned.
She’d agreed to come only when he’d told her he’d come to her publicly if she didn’t. She’d believed he was desperate enough to do it. But she’d insisted on making her own way. She’d said no one would think anything of her driving away from the palace on her own, but if she left in his chauffeured car, it would probably be on the national news within the hour. She’d even asked him to send his entourage away while she visited him. Since there was nothing he wanted more than to be alone with her, he’d emptied the immediate two-mile radius.
He was now standing on his second-floor bedroom suite’s veranda, awaiting her arrival. He cast his impatience across the tranquil emerald waters, followed the curve of the bay that hugged them and the villa, untouched by human hands except for the road that arced along its edge and that would bring her to him.
The sea winked diamonds in the pre-sunset rays as it lapped froth on the white-gold shore, its mass rocking gently back and forth, its rumble a hypnotic loop. The dense palm trees embracing the villa on its eastern and northern sides swayed in the strong autumn breeze in a dance of rustling elegance and harmony.
The magnificence and serenity felt lifeless, lacking. When she arrived everything would come alive, would be complete.
A cloud of dust swirled at the edge of his vision. In moments it parted on a streak of silver. A speeding car.
“Johara.”
He whispered her name, again and again, as he ran through the villa and grounds to await her at the gates.
In minutes, she pulled the car to a gentle stop, feet from him. He covered the remaining distance, holding her eyes through the windshield. He ended up leaning down to plant his palms flat on the hood of her father’s Mercedes, trying to bring the longing under control. Then he saw her mouth his name, the feelings echoing his trembling over her face. And he failed.
He rushed to her side, yanked her door open. Then she was in his arms, and he was in hers.
He took her from gravity as he wished to from everything that caused her worry. She surrendered herself to his haven, arms enveloping him from neck to back. He savored their connection, letting their eyes embrace, mate, love welling through him as he pressed her cl
oser and closer. Then he took her lips.
She whimpered his name and he groaned hers between kisses so urgent they grew from barely letting their flesh connect, to sealing their lips in wrenching fusions.
They only broke apart when he placed her on his bed.
He loomed above her, looking down into her eyes, waiting for her to show him, to ask him.
She did, in every way. Her swollen lips joined her misty eyes in their demands, trembled on his name, begging for him.
He’d promised himself he’d talk to her first. But while he could have denied his own craving, he couldn’t deny hers.
He rose and her arms fell off his body. They thudded on the dark brown silk he’d draped his bed with for her, graceful arcs of surrender surrounding her head and fanned golden hair. Then she arched upward sinuously, in a wave of white-hot desire stroking him from thighs to chest.
He shuddered with the effort not to tear her out of her clothes and ram into her. His hands trembled when he forced gentleness into them as he stripped her out of her beige pantsuit, which could have been the most outrageous lingerie for its effect on him. He descended deeper into mindlessness as her twists and undulations helped him expose her lushness for his voracity.
“You have no idea, my Gemma…” He kissed and suckled his way from her feet, up her endless satin legs, turning her on her stomach to devour the firmness of her thighs and buttocks, to dig massaging fingers and mouth into the grace of her back and neck. “No idea, what I went through, when you disappeared. Worry almost destroyed my sanity. Then misery, when I thought you didn’t want me.”
“No.” Her cry tore through him as he ground himself against her back, finesse and restraint evaporating. Moans filled his head, high and deep, hers and his. Her flesh burned him with its own torment as she struggled beneath him, demanding he let her face him. He did, and she sank her fingers in his hair, tugged, her eyes urgent, adamant, solemn. “I’ve never wanted anything but you, Shaheen.”