Hasan Sheikhs: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  He put the phone down and turned his attention back out the window. Mennah had been such a wonderful time. He’d thought they’d have a chance to visit again together—maybe more than one chance. And now it seemed like the town would only be a thorn between them. Something they both reached to touch, then drew back from in pain.

  Yaseen let himself dwell on it all the way home. He declined the meal on the private jet, choosing to look out the window at the clouds instead. The ache in his heart still hadn’t subsided. The flight—and the trip—would have been much better if he’d brought Kara along. Even arguing with her over the sports complex would be better than being without her.

  Well. That was a thought. Yaseen had never once in his life felt that way about another person. What did it mean? For now? For the future?

  He was still turning it over in his mind when the plane touched down in Raihan.

  His driver greeted him with a nod and a smile. “Sheikh Yaseen. We’ll be taking a roundabout way to the house. There’s some emergency road construction going on, so it won’t be the usual route.”

  “All right,” he said, only a little irritated. He wanted to get home as quickly as possible. But then, once he got there, things might still be tense with Kara. Either way, he’d get there when he got there.

  He kept his phone in his pocket and watched out the window as they drove through the outskirts of Raihanabad. Ten minutes into the drive, an open field came into view. A line of trees marked one end. A group of boys ran back and forth from one end to the other. Yaseen caught a flash of white and black—a football. The way their bodies moved was intensity personified. All in, feet kicking, jaws set.

  “Pull over,” he heard himself say. “I want to stop here for a minute.”

  The driver pulled over, and Yaseen climbed out to stand at the edge of the field. A small crowd gathered at one end—families. The boys wore jerseys, some red and some blue. His eyes settled on one of the boys in red.

  Smaller than the rest, he was easily three time faster. His dark eyes were alive with focus every time the ball was in motion, and even when it wasn’t. He hung back, the rest of the team trying to get something together, and as the blue team bore down, his teammates passed him the ball.

  He ran at top speed, cutting through the other boys like they weren’t even there. The ball winked in and out of sight between his feet. Yaseen’s mouth dropped open. He’d played enough football to know when he was in the presence of greatness, and this child? If he kept it up, he’d be the greatest player in the country. No doubt about that. He swerved through the defenders, every motion an exercise in precision, and kicked the ball directly into the unguarded corner of the goal.

  The parents and friends at the sidelines cheered. The rest of the team surrounded him and thumped him on his back. The other team took the ball out and tossed it back in, and there he went, off at the speed of light. Sweat beaded on his brow, his red jersey soaked with it, but he never stopped moving until the referee blew the whistle to signal the end of the game.

  Yaseen came back to himself as the boys ran to their families. Number nine—the one with the incredible talent—jogged to the sidelines and took a water bottle from a cooler. Nobody seemed to be greeting him. Yaseen waved for his driver, who came to stand next to him.

  “Find out who these boys are,” he said. “I want to make a donation to them. Especially because of that number nine. Did you see him?”

  The guard gave him a crisp nod. “I did. He’ll be going places with that kind of talent.”

  Yaseen got back into the SUV and let the air conditioning cool him down. His heart wouldn’t slow down. So much excitement. So much passion. And he’d seen it all because the driver had taken a different route.

  The driver hopped in a moment later. He scanned the street to be sure of a gap in traffic. When they were safely on the road again, he glanced at Yaseen in the rearview mirror.

  “That was the under-15 team from Mennah,” he reported. “They traveled here for the match and will be going back tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Yaseen’s thoughts flashed back to Mennah—that day he’d played with the children on that pitted, dry field. No doubt the boys he’d seen today had played on that very same field.

  He leaned back against the seat, pressed his lips together, and let his thoughts run free. There was a merit to the sports complex—he’d always been able to see it. The numbers just hadn’t worked for his directives. Mennah could have a complex. It just couldn’t be his complex.

  With all that had happened—Kara’s pregnancy, the weddings, and the mutterings about his irresponsibility—he needed to do something spectacular. Something that would prove worthiness to his family and the members of the Finance and Commerce Council he sat on. Kara’s project was worthy, but it wouldn’t impress anyone except the residents of Mennah. And they weren’t the ones judging him.

  14

  Kara put her second earring in her ear in the dressing room of her suite and surveyed herself in the mirror. The makeup artist sent over from the palace had done a fabulous job. She didn’t look rosy-cheeked from exertion, just dewy and glowing. Sheer magic. She turned to one side. Her heart sped up at the sight of her bump. What was it? Excitement? Nerves? Probably both. With a bump that size, the birth looked almost imminent, though she knew she had plenty of time left. She shook out the tension in her shoulders with a dance move that had the effect of testing out the stretch of the dress. It had plenty. The seamstresses in Raihanabad really knew their stuff. Which was a good thing, because they were the ones custom-making all the maternity clothes for royal events.

  She squared her shoulders. What would Yaseen think of the outfit? Probably that it was fine. The navy-blue dress fell to the floor, its lacy overlay giving it a sense of movement and richness. The boatneck showcased her breasts, which were frankly magnificent at this point in her pregnancy. If only things were as magnificent with Yaseen.

  He’d been back from Germany for a week, but it was like he was still away. They were so stiff and awkward. She made a face at herself in the mirror. And she’d been avoiding him as much as possible, just to avoid the awkwardness. It was just too painful to think about how things had been in Mennah that last night, and when they’d come back to Raihanabad. She’d loved the version of him who could play with her and tease her and be in this with her.

  There could be no avoiding him tonight. She had no excuse not to attend the engagement party for one of his cousins. She considered making up some story that she was sick, but Yaseen would see through it immediately. And he’d be worried about her, but he’d still—still—hold himself at a distance. And she would hold herself at a distance. Distance, distance, distance. Miles and years of distance between the two of them.

  No. She wouldn’t beg off with an invented sickness, no matter how much she wanted to lie down, pull the covers over her head, and pretend that everything was going according to plan. And now she had no excuse to keep delaying the inevitable.

  Kara brushed some setting powder over her makeup and went out into the hall. Yaseen waited there, facing away, and turned at the sound of her footsteps. Her heart flip-flopped in a crazy rhythm. Why did he have to look so good in his tux? Yes, it had been made for him, but also his body had been made to fill out a suit. Her mouth watered at the suggestion of his muscles underneath. It was even worse that she knew intimately what those muscles were like unclothed. He smiled at her, dark eyes lighting up.

  “Good evening,” he said, holding his hand out for her.

  “Hi.” Shy. Shy again. And this was the man she was married to. “You look good.” Kara took his hand, and her body betrayed her with an electric jolt.

  “You look stunning.” Yaseen’s eyes drank her in, and she wanted to swim in that darkness forever. He escorted her out to the waiting SUV, and the truth rang in Kara’s mind—she had fallen for him. She had fallen for a prince, but he hadn’t proven himself to be a white knight.

  In the back of the SUV,
Yaseen turned toward her. “When I said stunning, I meant that this is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen, and the most beautiful woman I have ever seen is wearing it.”

  She only wished she didn’t feel like a bloated balloon. Kara opened her mouth to say it, but a strong kick from the inside made her gasp and put her hands to her belly.

  Yaseen grabbed for her elbow, panic in his eyes. “What is it? Is everything all right?”

  In answer, she took his hand and pressed it to her belly. The baby kicked again, directly against his palm. Even stronger than before. She’d been feeling the kicks for weeks, but not like this. Joy fizzed and popped like a root beer float injected directly into her veins. “It’s our child,” she said with a low laugh. “Wanting some attention, I suppose.”

  Yaseen laughed, relief coursing through him. The baby kicked at his palm a second time, then a third. He’d always known that babies kicked, but he’d never felt it before. Wonderful. Wonderful. “If the baby is so active at this hour, they’ll be a late sleeper, just like their father.”

  “You’re not a late sleeper,” Kara said with a laugh. “You get up early every day.”

  “If I had my way about it, I’d be a late sleeper.” It shocked him, how intimate it felt to have his palm against her belly like this—even through her dress. There was life under his hand. A brand-new life, kicking out to let them both know they were here. Kara grinned at him, the smile on her face lighting a flame at the center of his heart. “It’s just that I’ve had years of training and expectation to get up early and get on with the business of the country.”

  Her palm against the back of his hand was a revelation. They’d held hands so many times, but this—this was different, with the baby kicking and both of them together in that sensation. He laughed again. “The baby will be scoring goals in no time with a kick like that.”

  The mood shifted like a cold front sweeping in before a thunderstorm, plunging them both into a chill. Really? He’d had to say that? He wanted to kick himself. A hundred times over. A thousand. Kara straightened up and leaned slightly away. Yaseen let his hand fall away from her belly.

  “Yeah,” she said, with a pinched smile. She angled her body away from him and looked out the window. “Raihanabad at night is something else,” she murmured.

  “It is,” he agreed. The lights in shop windows and on the street corners reminded him, in a small way, of Mennah, multiplied by a hundred. Funny, to keep thinking of Mennah as the place to compare other places to. He wasn’t so oblivious as to mention that.

  What had he been thinking, reminding her of the rift between them? He’d taken their greatest moment and crushed it under his heel. He’d felt his baby kick. He had no idea—no idea—how happy one little movement could make him. He felt filled to bursting with pride and joy and an excitement so powerful he wanted to get out of the SUV and jump up and down on the sidewalk. He wanted to shout to all of Raihan that his wife was pregnant and the baby was strong and healthy. He wanted to put on a parade. Declare a national holiday. Declare a world holiday. Plant a flag on the moon.

  But what did that say for the years ahead of them? His excitement for experiencing all of it with Kara—the birth, and the first moments of parenthood, and the first months of his child’s life—dissolved in the face of their divorce agreement. On their baby’s first birthday, they’d end their marriage.

  He didn’t want that.

  Yaseen reached out and gripped the arm rest, trying to keep his breathing under control. He did not want that. All this time, he’d been convincing himself that the marriage was only a formality—that parenthood was something they could handle without much emotional investment. He’d been so wrong. So terribly wrong.

  Images poured into his mind. A home with Kara, either somewhere on palace grounds or in one of the city neighborhoods. His child toddling through the backyard on unsteady legs. Kara urging the baby forward as it began to walk. Taking them both into his arms for a big hug. Knowing that his family was safe under his roof. This, for days and weeks and months and years. He couldn’t let it end on the baby’s first birthday, when it had only just begun.

  He just didn’t know how he would make it happen.

  15

  The head councilman grinned across the conference table at Yaseen. “Your swift action in resolving that business problem was exemplary. It saved us millions.” Yaseen had been sitting in the Finance and Commerce Council meeting for an hour, and the head councilman had been waiting the whole time to get to this item on the agenda. “Let’s hear it for Sheikh Yaseen.”

  The rest of the council burst into hearty applause and slaps on the table. Yaseen waited for the flush of pride he was certain would follow.

  The applause echoed off the high ceilings of the council room and returned to him, multiplied threefold. But that rush of pleasure and pride didn’t come. His heart stayed steady, as if he’d just been given a casual compliment from one of his brothers. No big deal.

  He furrowed his brow. All his life, he’d worked for moments like these—when people would notice what he’d done and praise him for it. But this time, no thrill accompanied the applause. Feeling the baby kick had been a thousand times better than this.

  “Now,” said the head councilman. “We have a few other items to address before we end the meeting.” He shuffled his papers in front of him and turned to another sheet.

  Yaseen took a deep breath as the councilman launched into a speech about future business interests in Europe and prospective business partners for the next year. Yaseen tuned him out. What was Kara doing right now? She’d be back from the office, he was sure. Lately, she’d been spending a lot of her spare time curled up on the sofa, leaning against one of the big pillows from the bed. He wanted nothing more than to get back to her and take his place beside her in their home, away from the palace.

  “Sheikh Yaseen? Did you have any comment?”

  He shook his head, not bothering to ask for a recap. They’d give him a copy of the minutes when all was said and done. For now, he needed the meeting to end. “No comment.” He stood up and rapped his knuckles on the table. “I’m calling an end to the council meeting. Thank you all for coming.”

  If they had any problem with him dismissing the meeting, they didn’t say so. Yaseen hurried down the hall to his office and poked his head in.

  “Anything I can do for you, Sheikh Yaseen?” His assistant looked up from her desk.

  “Yes. I’d like you to make restaurant reservations for myself and my wife for after her speech in Geneva.” He named a couple of places he’d been thinking of, then set off for home. He had the urge to tell the driver to gun it through traffic, weaving in and out if necessary, but he restrained himself. A prince of Raihan couldn’t just disrupt the entire city because he wanted to get back to his wife. He let himself imagine it, anyway.

  At home, he went looking for Kara. She wasn’t on her favorite couch or in the bedroom suite, or even in the kitchen. Finally he spotted her through one of the big windows in the back. She paced back and forth in the garden, circling a small bench under an olive tree. He stopped at the window to look at her. Her bump got bigger by the day, but he found her all the more irresistible for it. Pregnancy suited her. He’d do almost anything to see her pregnant again, and she hadn’t even given birth to their first child.

  Yaseen sucked in a breath and shook his head. Wouldn’t that be a setup for disappointment? He couldn’t afford to let himself imagine it, as badly as he wanted to.

  He went outside into the mid-afternoon sun and made his way slowly through the winding paths of the gardens. The bench where Kara paced was visible from the house, but he could only get there through an opening in several of the rose bushes. The closer he got, the lighter he stepped. Her voice did something to him. It called to him. But not the version of himself that clung obsessively to his job. The version that wanted more.

  Kara was practicing her speech for Geneva.

  She tested out each sentenc
e on her tongue, holding her back straight and keeping a smile on her face. He listened to her go through the last paragraph three times. On the third try, she looked out at an invisible audience and bowed her head.

  “Bravo,” he called, and clapped his hands.

  Kara gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “My god, Yaseen. You scared me. I didn’t know you were out here.”

  He went into the small clearing under the olive tree. “I was watching you practice. I didn’t want to interrupt you mid-speech.”

  Kara blushed, fanning herself with one hand. “You should announce yourself next time. It’s weird to listen to people when they’re practicing a speech.”

  “But it’s a wonderful speech.” He bent and kissed her temple, then the line of her jaw. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping.” Inhaling her skin was the best part of his day by far. The worst part of his day was when he’d had to leave home this morning without her.

  Kara leaned into him. “Thank you. I guess I’m about to give it in front of an auditorium full of people, so it doesn’t matter so much if the father of my child hears it first.” She turned in his arms so she could look up at him. “I know we’ve already talked about the date change, but I’ve been thinking about it today. It’s okay if you can’t make it.”

  He put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up toward his. Yaseen let himself trace the full pout of her lips with his gaze and couldn’t resist bending down to press a kiss there, too. “I’ve already made arrangements. And I’ll be there. I want to be there.”