by Erin Snihur
“Who are they? Where is Samantha?”
“Samantha cannot exit the plane or else those men will arrest her for entering the country without being welcomed first by Hattan’s government. Those men are here to escort us. I believe my father sent them,” Tariq growls and stands to full height.
Tensing, Sophie stared from the window to Tariq, her voice trembling as she speaks, “What’s going to happen? Is he going to arrest us?”
“Don’t fret, Sophie. If anyone asks, you are my fiancé and are here to meet my family in Hattan,” Tariq murmurs and reaches for his suit pocket.
Sophie’s eyes widen even more as Tariq produces the dark velvet box. Opening it, Tariq smirks at her surprised and fearful expression.
“It won’t bite, allasu alsaghir,” Tariq croons, even though inwardly a darker part of him thinks, But I might.
Sophie stared at the beautiful golden ring winking at her from the box. It was breathtaking. The most beautiful gift she’d ever been given. The only gift she’d ever been given, that she can remember. The golden ring with a ruby set in the center surrounded by unique and swirling carvings sparkled at her in the dull light.
Gasping for breath, Sophie tries to speak, but all she manages is a whisper, “I can’t…”
“It will look beautiful on your hand,” Tariq murmurs, “I found it in a jewelry store in Masarat.”
Eyes filling with tears, Sophie stares from the ring to the man holding it out, “How can you not hate me, Tariq? I am responsible for the murder of thousands of people and who knows what else!”
Smiling softly, Tariq plucks the ring out of the box and takes her left hand in his warm, large one. As he slides the ring onto her ring finger, Tariq murmurs softly, “You were a child, Sophie. How could I blame a child, who was simply trying to save her brother?”
“I’m not a child any longer, Tariq, I’ve done things as an adult, as well,” Sophie protests and stares at the ring on her finger, “I deserve a jail cell, not a ring.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Tariq growls.
Before Sophie can even protest further, the doors of the plane are opening and the stewardess is handing Sophie her bag and Tariq his suitcase. As Tariq stood in the doorway of the plane, effectively blocking her from their welcoming committee, Samantha appeared at the door of the cockpit. Smiling at her, Samantha murmurs softly, keeping away from the door and from being seen, “Don’t worry, Sophie Marks, we will see each other again. I promise.”
Meeting Samantha’s eyes once more, Sophie flinched as the engine of the plane started back up again and the flight attendant urged us off onto the awaiting staircase. Clutching Tariq’s hand tightly while her other hand held her bag to her chest, Sophie watched as one man from the large, military ensemble stepped forward. He appeared to be the leader, a general perhaps.
Bowing slightly at the waist, the man rose again, his dark eyes not even glancing at her and instead stared straight at Tariq as he spoke, “Welcome home, your Highness. We were not expecting you so soon before your father’s gala.”
Shrugging as if he had not a care in the world, Tariq sent the man a mirthless grin, “Thank you, General,” and then motioned to me, “I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Sophie Smith. Love, this is High General Cain. He is in charge of Hattan’s royal security.”
Finally, the man meets her gaze, but only briefly and it only sparked his glare, “We were not aware of this, your Highness. It is not proper protocol. Ms. Smith has not been properly vetted.”
Tightening his hold on her hand, Tariq ignored the man as he pulled Sophie along to an awaiting SUV, “Don’t worry, General. I’ve vetted her.”
Inwardly and outwardly, Sophie blushed with embarrassment. If only the High General knew how properly Tariq had vetted her.
11
Sophie and Tariq had only been in the SUV a few minutes and already Sophie had been shushed by Tariq. His glaring eyes at the driver and guard in the SUV was enough for Sophie to realize perhaps their conversations were under scrutiny. Tariq’s hand, tense in her own was enough for her to see that he was very upset by the escort.
Finally, when the silence had grown awkward, Tariq sneered at the driver, “Why are you not taking us to my hotel?”
The guard spoke up then, his eyes never leaving the road, “His Highness, the Sheik would prefer to have all of his children under one roof during the celebrations that will be occurring in the next few days.”
Tariq tenses even further and, before she can stop him, he lunges over the seat and has the guard by the collar of his shirt, pulling the man back against the seat in a choking hold.
“What do you mean, all of his children?” Tariq growls.
The driver swerves a bit at the sudden attack before righting the vehicle on the road, “Your Highness, please! He can’t breathe!”
As he releases the man, Sophie pulls Tariq back, running her hands over him in an attempt to calm him down. Tariq disregards her, his glare intently on the coughing guard who wheezes as he inhales.
“Tell me what you mean by that statement, if you want to continue breathing,” Tariq growls.
The guard’s raspy voice answers, “His Majesty, the Sheik sent for Princess Alia. She and her friends from Elish arrived last night on his Majesty’s private jet.”
Sophie’s breath catches in her throat at the mention of Tariq’s sister. The one he’d risked everything to save from an arranged marriage three years ago. Feeling Tariq’s muscles tense further as he leans back once more in the seat, uncomfortable silence envelopes the car. Raising her eyes to Tariq’s face, Sophie shudders when their eyes clash. Tariq’s are full of anger and emotion she’d never witnessed before. Fear. He held true fear for his sister.
Noticing through the corner of her eye, the guard Tariq had attacked was sneaking glances their way, Sophie acted. Startling Tariq, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her lips on his. Pulling back with a dramatic flair, Sophie turned and smiled widely at the nosey guard.
“That’s wonderful. It will be so much easier to announce our engagement now that the entire family is all in one place,” Sophie crooned, her voice dripping with fake sweetness she’d learned to perfect over the years.
Turning back to Tariq, Sophie’s raised her eyebrows in question, “Right, lover?”
Tariq didn’t know what Sophie was playing with. At the feeling of her hands tightening around his neck, Tariq finally nodded and murmured, “Of course, my love. We have much to celebrate.”
With a squeeze of her hand on his shoulder, Sophie tried to pull away, but Tariq held her firmly against him. No way in hell was he letting her slip away once she had willingly entered his arms. Leaning down, Tariq captured her lips and in Russian, murmured against her lips, “We aren’t done, little thief.”
Tariq smirked at the way Sophie tensed at the sound of her native tongue. Tariq knew the two men in the front seat couldn’t speak Russian. They could barely speak English. Rolling his eyes at the ineptitude of the guard for being caught so unaware, Tariq leaned back in the seat, taking Sophie with him. He held her for the entire ride. His arms even tightened as they entered the capital of Hattan.
Tariq sneered at the sight of the city he’d once called home. The streets were in ruins. Homes crumbling and the people were few and far between, many seeking asylum in the surrounding countries. The people he does make out are poor and scraggly looking. No doubt too poor to escape. All because of his father’s own lascivious spending and disregard for his own people. Tariq hadn’t been back since the day he’d left with Alia. Sophie, sensing his upset, reaches up and smooths a hand over his cheek. Turning his gaze away from the view out the window, Tariq smiles, what he hopes is reassuring, even as the vehicle slows before the tall, imposing walls and gate.
Tariq glares at the guards posted at the gates as they examine the vehicle and wave them through the now opened gates. As they proceed, Tariq hears Sophie attempt to stifle her gasp at the sight of the royal palac
e. Taking it all in with her, Tariq sneers once more at the sight of the golden and marble palace in all its opulent glory.
“It’s beautiful,” Sophie murmurs.
“It should be. It came at a high price,” Tariq growls lowly, no longer caring if the guard or driver hear him.
As they circle the tiered fountain and come to stop at the entrance of the palace, Sophie perks up and leans closer to the window, “Is that your sister?”
Staring out the window, Tariq’s worst fears are confirmed. His sister is standing at the entrance. Beside her, surprisingly is Sheikha Teresa el-Safar of Elish and her nursemaid, who holds the squirming bundle, that could no doubt be, Xavier, Teresa’s son and Crown Prince of Elish. Gazing back at his sister and Teresa, Tariq frowns at the sight of them covering their hair and only allowing the view of their faces, as well as the long dresses they wear. Ever since his sister had started attending boarding school in England, she had thrown away all of her old dressing habits. Tariq found he hated the restriction his father had placed not only on his sister, but now Teresa.
“She’s beautiful,” Sophie whispers, not even seeming to realize that Tariq never answered.
The guard stumbles out of the vehicle, probably in an effort to escape and report back to Tariq’s father as the driver calmly opens their door. Ignoring him, Tariq emerges from the door and helps Sophie down. With her small hand in his, Tariq stares up the steps of the palace to his sister, who waves excitedly beside Teresa.
Thankful for Teresa’s familiar face, Tariq leads Sophie up the steps and stops before his sister and his friend’s wife. Not wanting to worry his sister, Tariq drops Sophie’s hand and envelops Alia into a great bear hug. Knowing they were no doubt being watched, Tariq pulls back and grins down at Alia.
“Surprise!” His sister teases, “Father sent a jet when he sent…” Alia’s voice trails off when she finally seems to fully take in Sophie at his side, “Who is this?”
Clearing his throat, Tariq pulls away and sweeps his arm out, gesturing to Sophie, “Sister, this is Sophie Smith, my fiancé.”
Teresa’s gasp behind him is all Tariq hears as his sister immediately squeezes out of Tariq’s grasp and jumps excitedly into Sophie’s arms. Eyes wide, Sophie pats the young girl on the back, to which Tariq smirks at the sight of his sister animatedly talking faster than he’d ever seen. Giving them a moment, Tariq turns to Teresa and gives her a mocking bow, “Your Highness.”
Lips curling into a grin, Teresa pats her hijab in place, “I was wondering when you’d show up. Amoz has been trying to reach you for hours, I believe.”
Scanning the area, as if worried others were listening, Teresa murmurs softly, “Amoz is threatening to send the military. We didn’t come willingly, Tariq. I couldn’t let your father take Alia without your permission.”
Nodding in understanding, Tariq takes in the nursemaid and talkative bundle in her arms. Smiling slightly, Tariq approaches and caresses the tufts of dark hair on Xavier’s small head.
“Hello little X. How is my godson?” Tariq croons softly as the child reaches out with his baby fist and grasps onto Tariq’s finger.
“Growing more and more stubborn every day, like his godfather,” Teresa laughs cheekily and when Alia drags Sophie closer to their little group.
“And this is Sheikha Teresa el-Safar of Elish. I was staying with her and her family, but she insisted on accompanying me to Hattan until Tariq arrived. Teresa, this is Sophie. She’s going to be my new sister.”
Teresa’s amused smirk grows as she turns to face Sophie, who is looking very overwhelmed by Alia’s eager disposition. Sophie, seems startled by Teresa’s title and immediately dips into a bow as she murmurs, “Your Majesty.”
Waving her hand in a dismissive nature, Teresa steps closer and takes Sophie’s another hand, “Teresa, please. I have been waiting a long time to meet the woman that would finally snatch Tariq up.”
Snorting, Tariq grumbles, “You make me sound like some deal in a discount bin, Teresa.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Teresa motions to the nursemaid, “Margot, could you please ensure Xavier has his nap and have some refreshments sent down to the drawing room. We are going to get to know one another.”
Before Tariq can argue, Teresa shoots him a look, “Your father requested I tell you to meet him in his personal study. He wishes to catch up. His words, not mine.”
Briefly squinting his eyes up the palace walls to gaze into the many windows, Tariq curses under his breath before turning to the three women who stare back at him expectantly. Forcing a smile on his face, Tariq kisses his sister and Teresa on the cheek before stopping before Sophie.
Leaning forward, Tariq whispers softly in her ear, “Keep your eyes sharp. I won’t be long.”
Not waiting for her response, Tariq strode through the doors of the palace, that open automatically by servants he doesn’t even bother to address. No doubt they prefer to not be seen. Safer that way. Tariq’s father had never been known for his immense patience and respectfulness for his people or servants.
Knowing the route by heart, Tariq stared at the doors of his father’s personal study. Sneering in disgust at the gold infused oak door that stood between him and the man he detested calling his father, Tariq sighed. It was time to face the beast. Tariq only prayed Sophie would remain safe while he sorted out this mess.
12
Sophie had never spent this much time with two women before. Especially two women who were royalty. Glancing toward the doors of the drawing room, Sophie inwardly urged Tariq to walk through them and take her away from here. It was all becoming too overwhelming.
When the tea and little cakes arrive, Alia stands and moves over to the tray. The young girl, who really isn’t that much younger than Sophie, hasn’t stopped talking since they entered the palace. At her side, the young mother and Sheikha of Elish, who insists on being called Teresa, smiles Sophie’s way and leans in close.
“From what my husband tells me, you really have Tariq fired up,” Teresa murmurs, her American accent so obvious amongst Alia and the servant who delivered the food, as Alia who speaks in rapid Arabic back and forth about the tea and sweet treats.
Blushing at the woman’s comment, Sophie fingers the engagement ring on her finger, “It has been a whirlwind romance, that’s for sure.”
Tilting her head, Teresa winks, “You don’t have to pretend with me. My husband likes to keep me in the dark about things unpleasant, but I have my ways. A good wife knows all, even things that their husbands keep secret.”
Glancing over to Alia, Teresa smiles at the way the young girl animatedly talks with the servant before finally gazing back at Sophie, “Don’t worry. I won’t betray your confidence.”
Eyes widening slightly at the knowledge this young mother possesses, Sophie nods faintly, “Thank you.”
Leaning in closer, Teresa’s face turns serious, “But make no mistake, Ms. Marks, I value Tariq and his sister like family. If you hurt them, I shall not be so kind.”
Sophie tried to mask her chuckle, but she couldn’t help it and it escaped, much to Teresa’s startled gaze. Sophie hadn’t truly laughed in delight in so long. Trying to control herself and at the realization that she was drawing Alia's attention away from the tray of sweets, Sophie smiled at Teresa, who still held the bewildered look on her pale face.
Whispering low, Sophie nodded at the woman, “I understand completely.”
A look of amusement passed over Teresa’s face and, in an instant, they were both once again face to face to a confused Alia, who held a plate topped with sweets and a cup of steaming tea.
“What are you two giggling about?” Alia asks finally.
Smirking, Teresa leans back in the ottoman, her eyes filled with mischief as she murmurs, “Sophie here was just telling me about how Tariq proposed.”
Eyes widening in childlike innocence, Alia plopped down next to Sophie, her eyes, that were so much like Tariq’s it was startling as she squealed, “How exci
ting! You must tell it again!”
Inwardly, Sophie is steaming. Damn it, Tariq! Why couldn’t you have prepared me for our engagement! I’m going to make a complete fool of myself!
Tariq didn’t knock on the doors. He could care less if he was interrupting his father’s private work or if the man was simply fucking his secretary or the nurse Tariq had caught him with three years ago. Keeping his face passive and calm, Tariq worried his eyes would give him away. He was seething with anger on the inside. How dare this man bring Alia into this shitstorm.
As he pushed the doors open, Tariq’s glare intensified as the guard from the SUV rises from his spot in one of the loungers that sit before the large gold and oak desk Tariq’s father sits at. Tariq’s glare only has eyes for one man. Sheik Abbas Abadi of Hattan. His father.
Tariq barely pays attention as his father dismisses the guard and the man leaves quietly, though at the same time giving Tariq a wide berth. Only when the study doors are firmly closed, does Tariq’s father rise from his high backed seat. His father is just as he remembers him that day when Tariq fled Hattan with Alia. His greedy eyes are filled with an anger that clashes against Tariq’s.
“You’re lucky that man has no wish to charge you with assault, boy,” his father’s gruff and raspy voice snarls from where he stands. Protected by the size of his desk. Tariq wishes for nothing more than to reach over the desk and choke Abbas, the man who calls himself Tariq’s father.
“He can try,” Tariq growls back, knowing full well that his lawyers would have the charges dropped in a matter of hours, if it came to it.
Snorting and sneering at the same time, Abbas moves away from the desk and stops before a tray laden with alcoholic drinks and expensive nuts.
“That’s right. Nothing can touch the great, Crown Prince Tariq Abadi of Hattan,” Abbas snarls, “You won’t have that title to protect yourself forever, boy.”