Sold To The Sheikh: Fated Lovers (Book Two) - Sheikh Romance Read online

  “I appreciate that, Amal, but even if it hadn’t happened so suddenly, my health would have made flying almost impossible,” Amie replied. “I’m just so relieved that nothing went terribly wrong.”

  Even before the flight, Mia had realized that in the wake of Rami’s father’s death, his family seemed to have become closer to each other; the fact that they had been so welcoming to her and baby Aziz warmed her immensely. She couldn’t quite reconcile Amal’s current caring, comforting presence with the cold reception she’d received back when Rami had announced their engagement.

  “You’ll be staying with us, I hope,” Amal said, as they made their way out of the airport. As she had only recently given birth, the airline had insisted on providing Mia with a wheelchair at both ends of the journey. Still aching and sore from her delivery days before, Mia did not protest.

  “Are—are you really sure you want us to stay with you?” Mia glanced down into the bundle of blankets that held her son, not wanting to bring up Amal’s previous threat that she would disown Rami if he didn’t sever ties with the woman bearing his child.

  “Absolutely, I insist.” Amal replied.

  “It would make a lot of sense,” Rami pointed out, and Mia glanced at him in surprise. “We need to sell off as many of my father’s properties as possible. If I sell my home, that’s money that can go towards closing out the estate. I wouldn’t worry about it; there’s a lot of room at my parents’ house.”

  “Exactly. Even if we all live there, it won’t be cramped,” Karima said.

  Mia remembered the huge, sprawling mansion she had gone to when Rami had brought her to meet his parents. She definitely agreed that the home was large enough to house the entire family; she just wasn’t certain how much she would enjoy living under the same roof as a woman who had previously denounced her for being a commoner.

  “And that way, we can help you take care of little Aziz,” Karima continued.

  Rami’s sisters had already shown their enthusiasm for helping with the infant. In the days before the flight they had been more than happy to watch him while he slept, giving Mia the opportunity to bathe, sleep, or eat unencumbered. Rami’s younger brothers had already started planning adventures with their new nephew—though most of their plans would have to wait years to come to fruition.

  Mia glanced at her mother, wishing that she could speak to Amie privately to get her opinion.

  “I think that sounds like an excellent solution,” Amie said, as if reading Mia’s mind. “As long as you don’t object to me visiting regularly.”

  “Not at all!” Amal smiled warmly at Mia’s mother. “We are family now, after all.”

  Mia suppressed the urge to shake her head in pure shock at the change in Amal’s behavior. She focused instead on getting through the airport. Listening for the slightest sound from her infant son, the chatter of the family faded into the buzz and clamor of the airport.

  Following the invitation to move into the family home, Mia began seeing more evidence of Rami’s family’s new, more modest circumstances. Rather than a limo coming to pick them up, Rami had arranged for a van to take them home from the airport. “Well at least it’s nice and spacious,” Karima commented as they loaded their luggage into the back of the vehicle and started to pile in. The company had provided a car seat for Aziz and even though Mia knew that it was the safest place for her new son to be, she still hesitated to put him down—she loved the feeling of the tiny little bundle in her arms.

  “How are you feeling, sweetie? Are you recovering okay?” Amie asked.

  Mia smiled and leaned against her mother as the van pulled away from the curb. “I’m tired, but the doctors said I’m absolutely fine, and should be fully recovered within a few weeks.” Mia blushed slightly, remembering that the doctor had told her she should not have sex with Rami for at least several weeks. She had only torn a little bit in delivery, and her stitches were healing as expected, but she hadn’t yet become accustomed to everything about her body suddenly being public news.

  “Aziz is such a happy baby,” Amal said, beaming down at the infant who was sleeping peacefully. “I’ve barely heard him cry since he was born.”

  “A happy baby is a wonderful thing,” Mia’s mother agreed, stroking her daughter’s hair lightly.

  By the time they had arrived at Rami’s parents’ home, Mia wanted nothing more than to curl up in the bed she and Rami would be sharing and go to sleep. She was still exhausted from giving birth, and hadn’t been getting a great deal of sleep. Even though his siblings and mother all fussed over her and the baby, little Aziz was insistent on nursing every two hours, although Rami or one of his sisters sometimes bottle fed the baby with her milk.

  Mia decided that right now, seeing her mother was more important than sleep. She managed to stay awake and alert long enough to give her mother the news about Rami’s family’s change in circumstances, and the fact that Rami, as the executor of his father’s estate, would be selling off the family properties and doing everything he could to close out the debt that his father had accumulated.

  “It is a shame that you won’t have the life of luxury that you were expecting,” Amie said, giving her daughter a hug. “But you and I both know that it doesn’t take vast amount of wealth to have a loving home.”

  “I’m just glad that I’ve still got a little cushion from what Rami gave me back when I was going to be his surrogate,” Mia admitted. “In terms of the future, maybe one or two of Rami’s father’s businesses can stay afloat long enough for him to take them over and bring them back into profit.”

  Mia watched as Rami’s mother took over the difficult task of informing the household staff that their services would unfortunately no longer be needed. “I know this is very short notice,” Amal said, looking genuinely saddened by the news. “We will be able to keep you on for two weeks from today and no longer. Of course I will be happy to provide excellent references for all of you; if I hear of anyone personally who can use someone on their staff, I will absolutely give them your names.”

  A few hours after they had arrived, Mia’s mother went home, begging exhaustion, and Mia found herself cuddled up in bed with Aziz. As she nursed the infant, Rami was only a few feet away, hard at work on consolidating and liquidating his father’s properties and businesses. She fell into a contented doze, happy that she was no longer worrying about whether or not she would stay with Rami—the last few days had brought everything into focus.

  THIRTEEN

  “He’s getting so big already,” Amal commented as Mia settled the baby on a soft mat to change his diaper. It was hard to believe that a month had passed since she had given birth. Mia smiled down at Aziz, and he gazed back. His eyes were shifting from the dark, almost black, blue, slowly becoming brown.

  “The pediatrician was really pleased with how he’s thriving. Ninety-fifth percentile for weight!” Mia’s smile broadened with more than a little pride. It was worth the deep ache in her breasts, the soreness in her nipples, to see him plump, happy and smiling.

  “Karima keeps saying she needs to find a husband, so she can have babies of her own,” Amal told her with a little grin.

  Mia secured Aziz’s linen diaper with safety pins and picked him up, murmuring in his ear. She was still surprised that Rami’s siblings seemed more than willing to assist with the baby laundry, along with the many other tasks that came along with caring for the infant.

  Mia smiled at the older woman, though in the back of her mind she thought it ironic that Amal would joke about Karima wanting to find a husband, since she had originally come out against Rami finding love and becoming engaged to a “commoner.” It didn’t seem to Mia as if a wedding was any closer to happening now that the baby had arrived, but she had to admit that her relationship with the man she loved was better than ever.

  Rami had committed fully to his vow to be an involved, caring and affectionate father. Whenever Aziz woke in the night, Rami woke up with Mia. He would always ask if he could
get her something to eat or drink, offering to go into the kitchen to get her whatever she liked. He wrapped blankets around her shoulders and legs so that she wouldn’t catch cold as she nursed the infant, and had taken the search for a good nipple cream more seriously than even Mia had. “I want to try and make up for all of the support I didn’t give you when you were pregnant,” he’d told her one evening when she had laughingly asked him why he was hovering. “I never want you to have to doubt me again, Mia. I never want our son to doubt me at all.”

  The words had warmed Mia’s heart, and there had been entire days when she had wondered to herself whether a person could be too happy. Rami’s family had all pitched in to buy things for the baby: a breast pump so that she could express milk for someone else to feed Aziz, a bassinet, more clothes than the tiny baby would ever possibly be able to use before he grew out of them, a sling in which she could carry him—all the things that seemed to only cost a little when bought individually but which added up.

  Mia had insisted on using the money that Rami had given her to buy some items, but she knew that the ability to take care of her was becoming a point of pride for her lover’s family. They may have fallen into bad times, but they still had the wherewithal and the desire to treat her like one of their own, and to shower their newborn relative with all the affection, love, and necessities he could possibly need.

  Mia took part in family activities as much as taking care of Aziz would allow; she helped Karima in the kitchen, pitched in to do laundry with Amal, and swept the floors if she had the time and energy to do so. It was strange to see the big, grand house stripped of its domestic staff, but everyone in the family seemed to want to make the best out of their situation, rather than complaining or becoming lazy as she’d worried they might.

  With his diaper changed and his belly full, Aziz began to drop off to sleep. Mia sighed contentedly, putting him down in the travel crib one of Rami’s brothers had bought for her. She used it all time around the house because it was so light and easy to carry around with her. “Do you want me to help you with the laundry today, Amal?” Mia glanced at the older woman, who hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

  They walked through the expansive house together, Mia carrying Aziz’s crib. “You don’t have to help me with every chore, you know,” Amal commented, though she said it with a smile.

  “I like to help, though,” Mia told her. “And besides, I’m used to doing chores around the house. Before Rami I’d never lived with any kind of housekeeper who could do chores for me.”

  “I just want to make sure that you’re not tiring yourself out too much,” Amal told her. “I know you take care of things at your mother’s house too.”

  Mia shrugged, blushing slightly. “Well, she has neighbors who can help her with the yard, but even though she’s getting better treatment now, her health is still not where it needs to be.”

  Mia followed Amal into the laundry room; it was a surprisingly grand space given its function—but then, it was part of a grand house. Mia was coming to understand that Rami’s parents hadn’t skimped on anything, not even decoration and design for their domestic staff areas. The washer and dryer were almost new, in perfect condition and huge. Folding tables hugged one wall, and the back part of the room was taken up by a huge drying rack. Attached to the laundry room was a small porch used to house line-dried items and tucked away where no one wandering around the grounds would see. It seemed incredibly opulent to Mia, but she didn’t question the logic of keeping all of the items and luxuries in their correct place.

  “Do you think she’d like to stay closer to you? You know we have rooms here.” Amal said.

  Mia smiled wanly; even though the family house was huge—and back when she had been desperate and considering leaving Rami, before Aziz’s birth, she had thought staying in her parents’ home would be a great idea—the idea of her mother and all of Rami’s family living under the same roof felt stifling. There would almost certainly be arguments and upsets.

  “That’s really kind of you, but I think she likes living in the house she bought with dad,” Mia explained. “They worked so hard to pay off the mortgage, you know? I think she’ll only ever vacate it if she’s on her deathbed.” Mia glanced at Aziz, saying a silent prayer in her mind that no one in the family would be in that situation anytime soon. She set the carrier crib down on one of the folding tables, where Aziz would be close at hand but away from the heat, perfumes and flying clothes of the main laundry area.

  Amal opened the dryer and Mia unloaded the laundry—mostly sheets and towels, with a few other linens thrown in. “If you don’t mind me asking, when did you and Rami’s father buy this house?”

  “About fifteen years ago,” Amal replied, snagging the first of the sheets from the top of the pile. Mia watched, as she began folding a towel herself, surprised that Amal could know anything about folding laundry. Amal shook the cloth out smooth and began folding it in quick, decisive gestures. “Rami was very young, and I had recently had Karima.” Amal paused, considering. “The business came here first, and the family after.” Mia put the folded towel aside and grabbed a pillowcase.

  “Rami must have been very young when you adopted him,” Mia said tentatively, shaking the pillowcase to get the few wrinkles out.

  “Yes he was,” Amal agreed, with a little smile. “He was three years old when we took him from the orphanage. His mother had died giving birth to him, and his father was nowhere to be found.” Amal put the folded sheet onto the table and picked up another. “He never really had a family before us.” Amal hesitated, looking down at the ground. “And then once he did…” she sighed and took a breath.

  “Why did you adopt, if you don’t mind me asking? You had all of Rami’s brothers and sisters after him…”

  “At the time,” Amal explained, her movements beginning to speed up, “the doctors were saying that I couldn’t have children. It was only later that we found out they were wrong. That was a shock, let me tell you.”

  Mia nodded. “It was similar with my parents, except my mother never conceived after they adopted me.”

  Amal smiled again, her dark eyes a little sad. “Well, after we adopted Rami, I stopped taking fertility treatments. We focused on loving our son and just tried to forget that I would never be able to conceive…” She shrugged. “And then, within a few short years I found out I was pregnant with Karima. The doctors didn’t know what to make of it.”

  “It’s funny,” Mia said, glancing over at Aziz and smiling. “Before I got pregnant, Rami and I had been trying for months. Not—not as lovers.” Mia blushed. “We got to know each other because he hired me to be his surrogate. We tried everything: artificial insemination, fertility treatments, and IVF, but none of it was successful. He wanted a child of his own so badly, and I was consumed with guilt thinking that I wouldn’t be able to give him one.”

  Amal’s expression was a mixture of near-disbelief and amusement. “That’s strange; Rami never said anything to me about wanting a child. His father didn’t think he would ever settle down.”

  Mia shrugged, feeling slightly guilty for betraying what Rami might have preferred to keep to himself. “He…” She took a breath, setting the folded pillowcase down and picking up a sheet. “He said that he wanted to have a child so he would be able to raise it differently.” Mia blushed a deeper red. “I know—I know you must have cared about Rami very much—but I think he often felt…”

  “Like we bought him things instead of giving him emotional nourishment?” Amal finished for her. “Yes,” she sighed, her face looking troubled. “I’m afraid that as much as I wanted a child, I found myself sort of…I guess you could say trapped, by expectations. It was expected that my son would be raised by nannies, and sent away to private school.” Amal looked at Aziz and smiled warmly at the sleeping infant. “I let myself get caught up in raising my children the so-called ‘right’ way.” Amal met Mia’s gaze, and Mia saw that the older woman had tears in her eyes. “I�
�m so pleased that you and Aziz are living with us. It’s given me a chance to try again, to experience all of the nurturing impulses I had to put aside as a wealthy mother.”

  “Oh Amal,” Mia said, letting the sheet in her hands fall to the folding table as she saw the other woman begin to cry in earnest. Acting on impulse, Mia closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Amal’s shoulders. “It’s okay—it really is, I know that Rami is so grateful for all the opportunities you’ve given him…”

  Amal shuddered and sobbed, and Mia felt guilty for raising a topic of conversation that could make Rami’s mother so upset. As she was attempting to soothe the older woman, telling her that it was all right, that she knew that Amal loved Rami, Mia heard the door to the laundry room open.

  She turned her head to see Rami standing in the doorway, his face bewildered. “What’s wrong, Ma?” He came into the room, quickly coming to Mia’s side. Amal pulled back from Mia’s shoulder, wiping at her face even as the tears continued to flow.