by Ella Brooke
Somehow, though, something had seeped in. Something about the way she had looked at him had gotten to him, and if he were frank with himself, it was more than that.
Adil was a man who considered himself something of a connoisseur of female beauty and good looks. He had been with many women, charmed them, lavished them with attention and gifts, became intimate with them, and in general, he found them interchangeable. He never really missed them when they were gone, and he had always assumed that that was the way it was going to be.
He found himself missing Annabel.
From the first, there had been some kind of spark between them. There was something that had drawn her to him, like the point of a compass seeking true north. He was compelled by her in a way that he couldn't understand, and Adil wondered if, after a few truly uncomfortable weeks spent frustrating and frightening his palace staff, he was beginning to get the shape of it.
He touched the scar, the one that so easily could have snuffed out his life.
"This time in my life should be over," he said out loud. He stood in the north tower, the highest point of the palace. It had more windows than walls, and all around him, the night sky shimmered. It was the same night sky that Annabel slept underneath, an ocean away, and that gave him more comfort than he thought it would.
"Things must change," he continued. "I need to return to America."
That was just the start of it. Adil had always considered himself a quick study as things went, and now he could see the beginning of what he needed to do, and the sheer amount of it would have been daunting to a lesser man. He was himself however, the son of a long line of men who would never give up as long as there was life in them. He would figure this out, and the first, last and most essential piece to all of this was a woman in the United States who was furious with him....
***
Across an ocean and unaware that she had caused so much furor in the life of the Sheikh of Sakhi, Annabel was getting worried. The six hundred dollars that she had wanted to scorn had gone so quickly, and Marissa seemed no better at all. The formerly active four-year-old had lost even the last reserve of energy she had for running around the apartment, let alone wandering around the city with Annabel, and most of her days were spent playing games in bed.
Where once upon a time she might have watched television or puzzle her way through books that were far too advanced for her, the truth was now, she was mostly sleeping. It frightened Annabel badly, and late at night, when she knew her daughter was deeply asleep, Annabel cried in her own bed out of fear and anger.
The doctors' wait lists were long, and it had taken months for Marissa's referral to go through. How much longer would it take for the doctors to find out what was wrong? When they found the solution, would it even be something that they could afford on her miniscule salary? Annabel would have sold her soul to make her daughter well again, but it seemed that very few people were in the soul-buying business. One dark night, she wondered how much money she could get for her hair. Black and thick, it tumbled down to her waist. She usually kept it in a bun, but after a few internet searches, she found that most of the places that bought hair for wigs paid very little indeed.
It didn't help that her mind kept wandering to the man she had saved. It would have been easy if she had just resented him. That would have made sense. He was rich, he was lucky, and he likely couldn't even understand her problems. They would never have happened to him. He had the feel of a man born rich. However, Annabel didn't think of him with anger. God, that would have much easier.
Instead, she thought about the scar on his chest. Was it very terrible? Would it pain him in the time to come? She thought of the smile on his face. What would it look like if it were a little more sincere, if she could be convinced that he was looking at her and not the next conquest?
She remembered the bare moment they had touched, and how it had felt as if electricity had leaped from his skin to hers. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Perhaps it was something that he felt all the time. Maybe it was something that even knew how to produce. It was ridiculous, but it was better than believing that it was something that was singular and unique.
Somewhere, deep within herself, Annabel still had the ability to dream. Her dreams in that deep place were towering and immense, wild and exotic, and she knew better than to waste a single moment chasing them, but they were there, and there was a man who called himself Sheikh Adil who seemed to have taken up residence.
Things were going from bad to worse. She had taken too many days off of work, and though people wanted to help her, there was nothing they could do. They said their hands were tied. They were cutting her hours, and when she was already desperately trying to find a food bank that would help them, they cut them again. Marissa was a smart girl, and after one question about why dinner was cheap macaroni and water again that had caused Annabel to tear up, she never asked about the food again.
Annabel thought that she could feel her heart break when her poor brave daughter talked about their dull small portions as if they were Arctic explorers or runaways, and it only made her resolve to do better. She did her best to keep looking for jobs, she all but begged for leniency from their landlord, and she kept looking for food banks and charities that might help, but it was shaping up to be a bad winter, and everyone else was looking out for themselves.
She was just coming back from another measly two hour shift when she realized that someone had fallen into step next to her. Annabel tensed because she was used to the kind of New York creep who did that, but then a tingle up her spine told her that this was something different. She knew who it was before she even looked up at him, and she felt some small satisfaction at denying him her surprise.
"So you're back again," she said casually.
Adil raised an eyebrow at her.
"That's all you have?" he asked, his voice teasing. "No rejoinders about my morals or about how a good man should or should not behave?"
"Did you do anything that would deserve that?" she retorted, and then she could have slapped herself.
What the hell are you doing? This is a rich man, and you live in New York. You should know by this point that rich men can do as they like, and that insulting them can be disastrous.
Instead of taking offense at her words, he chuckled instead, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
He looked a little different, she noticed suddenly. She wondered for a moment if it was because he had lost weight, but then she decided that he looked a little harder, a little sterner. When she had met him a short while ago, there was something softer in his face, for all that she would guess that he was older than she was. There was something more grown-up about him now.
"As far as I know, I have not done anything to deserve your ire," he said gravely, "but the truth has become apparent to me that I do not know all that much about how I should properly comport myself. That is in fact what I would like to speak with you about. May I ask a moment of your time?"
She looked up at him, realizing all at once how much she wanted to say yes. She was intensely curious about what he had to say, but more than that, there was a small part of her that wanted nothing more than to spend time with him, this man with the charming smile and the dark eyes she could drown in.
She was also tired and desperate, and with a feeling that she should be blushing down to her heels, Annabel lifted her chin at him.
"How much will you give me for it?" she asked. She refused to feel the shame that was gnawing at her heels. She was a mother with a daughter to care for, and shame was not something she could afford.
He looked startled at that, and she hastened to correct the assumption that she could see brewing in his eyes.
"Just talk," she said. "I'm not inviting you up for anything but a sit on my couch and maybe some tea if I've still got some. Not... not for whatever you might be thinking of."
She had expected him to be at least a little amused, but instead, he only nodded.
/>
"I would rather not be seen accosting an innocent woman and then handing her money. Perhaps if we could step into your building at least?"
She nodded, and as she led him back to her apartment, Annabel wondered all over again what she was getting in to.
Chapter Five
Annabel had to admit that Adil was as good as his word. The moment they were in the shelter of her lobby, he pulled out that wallet and handed her a wad of bill. She thought that it was perhaps even larger than the amount he had given her before, but there was still a shred of pride remaining to her that did not want to be seen counting it. Instead, she stuffed it into her purse and led him up to her apartment.
As they went, she could see his eyes taking in everything from the ragged carpet to the peeling wallpaper. She wanted to protest that it was a good deal for the neighborhood, and that more importantly there would be close to a school that Marissa would really benefit from when she got older. There were better apartments she could have afforded, but the truth of the matter was that Marissa was always going to be her first priority, and that meant that some things were going to be left behind.
To his credit, however, Adil did not say anything. Instead, he only followed her into her apartment. The babysitter met her at the door and took her leave, and when Adil and Annabel were both inside with the door shut, Annabel sighed.
"Awww, sweetheart, you didn't have to wait out here..."
Marissa was in the kitchen, her feet swinging under her chair as she colored carefully.
"I wanted to color a picture for you, and I wanted to get it to you as soon as I could," she said practically.
She glanced curiously at Adil, who gazed back with frank curiosity as well.
"Who is this?" she asked, and Annabel sighed.
"This is an acquaintance of mine. His name is Adil and we have some grown-up stuff to discuss. Do you mind taking your things to your room?"
Marissa made a face that was both cross and tired, something that looked far too old on her.
"If I go to my room, I'm just going to get sleepy and tired again and fall asleep," she complained, but she gathered up her things.
Before she retreated into her room, however, she walked up to Adil, as fearless as a well-fed kitten.
"I'm Marissa Lister," she said, offering her hand.
Bemused Adil took her small hand in his large one. For some reason, Annabel bit her lip at this exchange. It made her nervous to see a man so large next to her diminutive daughter, but Marissa showed no nervousness at all.
"I'm Adil al Mahsi," he said gravely, and Annabel could have sighed with relief. Marissa could never stand not being taken seriously.
"Pleased to meet you," she recited with satisfaction, and then she trotted back to her own room.
Annabel listened until she had heard her daughter close her door, and then she took a breath.
"Thank you for not making fun of her," she said, and for some reason, Adil looked slightly shocked at that.
"I would never," he said. "She seems like a smart and determined girl, nothing to mock there."
"She is all of that," Annabel agreed. She took a seat at the kitchen table, and she gestured for Adil to do the same. She knew with painful certainty that he was used to far, far better, but she also knew that this was the best she had to offer.
"Now, you didn't come here to tell me what you think about my raising my child," she said. "Why don't you tell me what you are here for, Mr. al Mahsi?"
"The proper term of address is Sheikh Adil," he said patiently, and in a way, you are wrong."
She wondered if she saw a flicker of discomfort cross his face, but then it was gone. It was replaced by a determined look that felt strangely new to him, and he looked at her seriously.
"I am here to ask you to be the mother of my child," he said, and she stared at him.
It felt as if his simple words had unleashed a flood of thoughts into her brain. First and foremost was disbelief. Normal men did not ask women to do this. It was like something out of an ancient fable or myth. What in the world was he thinking? The second thing was irritation. Dear god, did he think that that was something that you could just ask people? As far as she understood it, this wouldn't have been acceptable anywhere in the world. Third... well, perhaps the third thing that she was thinking didn't really get a say. It was startled but curious, and she was not sure that she trusted that curiosity.
"All right, it feels as if you are playing some kind of ridiculous joke on me," she said holding up her hands. "Are you serious at all? Is there a good reason that I shouldn't just throw you out right now?"
He sighed a little, and for some reason, that small gesture simply emphasized how handsome he was. She could get very irritated with how good looking this man was if she were not careful, Annabel realized.
"This is not an offer that is meant to offend you, I swear this on my life," he said. "I understand how it might seem... unorthodox, but very little of my life has been ordinary, so I feel as if I am doomed to continue the trend. Annabel Lister, will you listen to my proposal in its entirety before you ask me questions? You can say no and kick me out right now, but you can still do that when I am done. It seems to me that the best thing you can do is listen."
"You're standing in the United States right now, mister," she said sharply, "and let me tell you that I can kick you out of my house whenever I please... but yes, I think I do want to hear this."
He ignored her sharp tone, and when she said yes, his face lit up like Christmas. He took her breath away when he smiled, and she could tell that sooner or later, that was going to be trouble.
"All right, to begin at the beginning, I am a sheikh. It has a few things in common with being a king and a few things in common with being a president. I rule my people, my word is not law but it can become law, and the position is habitually passed from eldest son to eldest son."
A faint and rueful smile crossed his face.
"By the time my father was my age, I was already a young man. If fate had been kind, he would be ruling still, but unfortunately, an auto accident killed him and my mother."
He spoke casually enough, but there was an old and buried pain there that struck Annabel right through the heart. Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached her hand out to squeeze his. He looked so startled that she drew back, but she thought that the look he cast at her was strangely grateful.
"I stepped up to the throne. I was lucky and good counselors and no jealous would-be rivals. I learned to rule, and I hazard that I even do a good job of it. Thanks to the work of my parents and grandparents, I have inherited a country that has allowed me to build and expand even farther."
He took a breath, and she wondered if he what he was going to say next was difficult.
"I was a model ruler in law and in statesmanship, but I am afraid that my personal life left a little bit to be desired."
"You were... inappropriate?" she guessed, and he laughed.
"Thank you for the euphemism," he chuckled. "I think a better thing to say would be that I was and have been until very recently, a bit of a nightmare for my staff. Away from the duties that I consider sacred, I liked nothing more than fast cars and faster women."
She must have made a little sound of surprise, because this time, he was the one who had reached over to take her hand.
"There was nothing dark or even illegal," he promised her, and whether it was a good idea or not, she believed him. "The only problem is that as far as some are concerned, that meant that I was falling down on my one true duty, which is to ensure that the line of my people stretches out unto eternity."
She blinked.
"That means... it's your most important duty to create an heir?"
"Exactly."
He sighed, and for a moment, he looked downcast.
"You were there when my world tilted on its axis."
"When you..."
She touched her heart where she had seem him stabbed, and he nodded. She wo
ndered if he was relieved that he didn't have to say it.
"Yes. Suddenly, and most viciously, I was reminded that I was not immortal, and that the line of my family, an ancient royalty that had been in existence for almost five hundred years, could be ended in a moment of rash heedlessness."
Adil was quiet, and somehow, Annabel could feel that pressure coming down on him, the weight of hundreds of relatives and ancestors, looking at him, wanting their due. She had a moment to be grateful that her family had never been anything but common.
"And so we come to you."
"Me?" She had almost forgotten his mad offer as she got caught up in his story.
"Yes, you. I have considered my options. I can find a suitable bride, and hope that we are compatible, and hope that she will prove to be as good a mother as she is a suitable wife. I find that that is unlikely and risky. I know my fair share of noblewomen, and all the ones who would be good mothers are already mothers."
He paused, and Annabel wondered suddenly what it was he saw in her. She was a single mother in her thirties with a little girl, for God's sake...
"And then my thoughts went back to the night we met and all that happened then. I want a mother for my child that will rush into battle, who will be brave. I want a woman who will stand up to me when I am wrong and who will teach our child that they should trust their hearts. Of all the women that I have met, I want you, Annabel, to carry my child."
"But... but... you hardly know me," she said, and he waved her concern away.
"I know you well enough."
"But my health... genetics..."
"All things that can investigated."
My daughter Marissa..."
"Will be treated with the courtesy shown a princess," he said firmly. "Even if she cannot inherit herself, she will be noble in her own right. She will share blood with the heir to the throne."
He paused, and when he continued, there was a slight note of hesitation in his voice.