The Sheikh's Scandal Read online

  “No one dances anymore, and I miss it. Luca, will you get the bartender to put on some music?”

  Luca nodded obligingly as he headed toward the bar and had a few words with the man behind it. The man nodded after a moment and left the room, returning shortly with a small sound system and a smartphone.

  “You can play whatever you’d like using this, Your Highness. The sound should resonate well in this chamber.”

  “Thank you,” Ali said, taking the speaker and setting it on a side table.

  He scrolled through the music, asking for requests, and Anna asked him to play a song from Switzerland that Sarah didn’t recognize. When he pressed play, the room filled with music so clear the instruments could have been playing in that very room. It was a slow song, of course, and Sarah tried not to groan at the hopeful look on Anna’s face as she stared at them, taking her husband’s hand and leading him away in their own private dance.

  Sarah looked up at Ali, who gave an imperceptible shrug as he held out his hand for her to take.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  Sarah gazed at his hand for a moment before reaching hers out to lace their fingers together once more. Her body brushed lightly against his as they faced one another, and she took a breath.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered.

  He leaned in to hear her better, his cheek pressing gently against hers. Her senses reeled with awareness of that.

  “Do what?” he whispered back, his breath tickling her ear.

  She could smell him again, that delicious, masculine, clean scent of him that filled her senses and made her dizzy with longing. Longing for what, she didn’t honestly know. She had known affection, and connection, and even love, but what she felt when Ali held her close was something more that she didn’t want to explore. The man was a stranger, and if she were honest, he was a cad, lying to everyone he met. Could she engage in such a life?

  “I don’t like lying,” she said, her voice a little louder than a whisper as she glanced at the healthy distance between them and the other couple.

  “Neither do I,” he said, and she looked up at him.

  “Then why not tell them the truth?”

  Ali twirled her out before spinning her back in and dipping her low. Sarah kept her gaze on his, waiting for an answer. When he saw that she hadn’t been distracted by his movements, he sighed.

  “It’s complicated. Now can we please just try to enjoy ourselves? It’s like a murder mystery party, you know? Get into your character, and we can have fun with it.”

  “Except that you made my character into a romantic interest for you, which I am absolutely not.”

  “No indeed,” Ali said, spinning her around once again.

  Sarah’s head was swimming as he pulled her close once again, whispering in her ear.

  “But you’re doing a fabulous job of pretending.”

  They danced the rest of the song in silence, Sarah not trusting her own voice as her body reacted to Ali in ways she didn’t understand, and didn’t want to. Her eyes were feeling heavy, her jet lag still prevalent as she stifled a yawn. Ali noticed, and he stopped the music, bringing the group back together.

  “I’m afraid my date for the evening is quite tired from the excitement of the day. I think it’s about time we retire.”

  Anna smiled, grasping Sarah’s hand affectionately.

  “It was such a pleasure to meet you, Sarah. In Switzerland, our parties don’t usually start until much later, so I think we’ll stay here for a while longer, if it’s all right with you, Ahmad.”

  Ali grinned, his smile gracious and welcoming. Sarah could see in that moment why he made such a successful leader. The man was a diplomat through and though.

  “You are welcome to have the palace to yourselves for however long you’d like. I simply beg you not to play any drums or tubas should you stumble upon them.”

  His grin was sly as he bid them good night, placing a gentle hand along Sarah’s lower back in a proprietary gesture as they walked away.

  “Is that really necessary?” Sarah asked, stepping ahead of his hand to avoid his touch.

  “Just until we get out of view,” Ali said, stepping forward and placing his hand back where it had been.

  “I didn’t sign up for this,” Sarah said, relieved when they stepped out of sight and Ali dropped his hand.

  “What? Delicious dinners in palaces with foreign dignitaries? I’m trying to find sympathy for you, but I’m afraid you’re making it rather difficult.”

  “I mean this charade you’re living! What happened to that boy by the river who just wanted a friend?”

  Ali frowned.

  “He grew up.”

  They walked on in stony silence as Ali led the way back to her room. When they got there, Sarah opened the door, prepared to turn her back on him without another word.

  “Sarah, wait,” he said, and she hesitated, slowly turning back to face him.

  “You are right. I would like to show you a better time, and I’m sorry that we have to fib a bit while I do it. This is not very different from many other monarchs, you know. We often have to hide who we are for a chance at a normal life.”

  Sarah crossed her arms.

  “All right, clearly that direction isn’t working. How about action? Let me show you a good time tomorrow. Can I do that? We might have to disguise ourselves a bit, but I would like to show you around Al Jayah. It is a beautiful country, after all.”

  Sarah thought for a moment, considering a full day with the maddening, gorgeous man in front of her. Finally, she relented.

  “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You know they say couples should never go to bed angry,” he joked.

  “Good night, Ali,” she said, happy to use his real name once again.

  He glanced around the hallway to see if anyone had heard. Once he saw no one there, he nodded to her solemnly.

  “Good night. Until tomorrow.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  FOURTEEN

  Sarah slept fitfully, her dreams swimming with images of Ali as a young boy and then as a handsome sheikh, his brown eyes boring into her as she tried to escape him or kiss him or some variation of the two. It was all so confusing that when she awoke, she buried her head into her pillow and groaned.

  For the millionth time, she wondered what she was doing there. She had found her answer. She should go home and move on with her life. But there was something about Ali that made her hesitate about leaving, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to face the reason for exactly why that was.

  A gentle knock sounded at her door, and she called out for the person to come in. Her favorite serving girl entered and approached the bed with a silver tray sporting a glass of cucumber water.

  “Good morning, miss. His Highness is wondering when you can be ready for a day of sightseeing.”

  Sarah sat up, accepting the glass gratefully and glancing around the room.

  “Say in thirty minutes? I just need to hop in the shower.”

  The girl nodded.

  “Very good, miss. I will inform him and be back to guide you then.”

  With a nod, she disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, and Sarah was grateful for the distraction of getting ready to keep her from thinking of other things…or people. When she finished cleaning herself up, she dug around in her suitcase for a flowy blouse and jeans. As she was sliding her feet into a pair of comfortable shoes, there was another knock at the door, and Sarah left the room and followed the girl, trying for the first time to pay attention to her surroundings. After a while, she gave up again. It was simply too complex to figure out.

  The girl led her down a series of hallways that looked unfamiliar, though Sarah had no idea how they could be—everything generally looked the same: glittery and expensive. Finally, she opened a door that led to an enormous garage. A man was standing with his back to her, and Sarah instantly recognized him as Ali. When he turned, Sarah laughe
d.

  He was sporting a false beard. It had to be false, because he had been clean shaven the day before, but it looked perfectly real. He grinned at her.

  “You like it?”

  “I’m not sure I’ve formed an opinion on it yet. What’s the occasion? I hope you haven’t decided to try a new look on my account.”

  He approached her slowly, his steps measured, until he faced her directly. His eyes were filled with earnestness as he took her hands in his, and her stomach fluttered, as it always did when he touched her.

  “I’ve treated you poorly, Sarah. You came here searching for me with good intentions in your heart, and I have done nothing but show you a terrible version of myself. Today I would like to change that. I’m wearing this so that I can be Ali today. No lying. No games. Just Sarah and Ali, two friends who were always meant to meet. Would that be satisfactory?”

  Sarah gazed up into his eyes, trying not to think about how good it felt to hold his hands. She nodded.

  “I would like that very much.”

  “Good,” he said, and he stepped back, releasing her grip as he headed toward a series of cars.

  They passed by several expensive variations—Ferraris, Corvettes, cars Sarah couldn’t even recognize—before they finally stopped in front of a small two-door sedan.

  “Your chariot for the day, my lady,” Ali said, and Sarah laughed.

  “Interesting choice for a sheikh.”

  “Ah, but today I am just Ali, and Ali loves being able to drive incognito. This car was one of my first, and I drove it often when I wanted to just be free every once in a while.”

  “Fair enough,” Sarah said, smiling as he opened the door for her. She slid in and buckled her seat belt.

  Ali sat in the driver’s seat and turned over the engine before pulling out of the massive garage. It was the first time Sarah had been out and about since being escorted to the palace, and she took a deep breath of warm air as she rolled the window down and let the wind dance through her fingertips.

  “Where are we going first?” she asked.

  “We’ll start in the capitol and go from there. There’s some great historical buildings here, and I figured you might want to know a little more about Al Jayah while you’re here.”

  “I would. Maybe someday I can send you more tourists. You know, boost the economy.”

  Ali laughed, his hair getting ruffled in the breeze as they drove down a stretch of highway and back into the city. As Sarah watched him from the passenger seat, she found she rather liked the relaxed and carefree Ali much more than the stuffy and authoritative Ahmad. Was this who he really was beneath it all?

  They spoke about nothing in particular as the car wound its way between buildings. They found a parking spot outside a large, stately structure.

  “This is our history museum. I think it’s got the best collection of Al Jayah history and cultural ephemera. Would you like to take a look?”

  “I would,” Sarah said, happy to go anywhere with Ali.

  They stepped out of the car and headed inside, Ali nodding to the information desk attendant as they strolled right in.

  “Don’t we have to pay anything?” Sarah asked.

  Ali shook his head.

  “One of my first steps as ruler was to make all museums free to the public, funded with money that originally went to updating palace furnishings. I thought that was a better way to spend the funds. I took another portion of that allotment and invested it into schools in our rural areas so that those children might have better opportunities.”

  “Did you have a school in your village?” Sarah asked.

  “We had a teacher there, but she was very selective about who she chose as pupils, and village politics got involved. People would shower her with gifts they couldn’t afford just for the chance to educate their children. I was lucky my mother was at least literate, otherwise I would have been quite without an education at all.”

  “That’s terrible!” Sarah said.

  “It was, yes. It’s one of many reasons I’m grateful for the path my life has taken. Without knowing that road and without my royal parents’ adoption, I wouldn’t have been placed in a position to solve the problem.”

  They walked on until they reached the first exhibit, which outlined the creation of Al Jayah as a nation state and the emergence of the sheikhdom.

  “Looks like those initial wars were pretty bloody,” Sarah said, eyeing the painted images along the walls that depicted battles with plenty of gore.

  “It was a long-fought battle. Many sacrifices were made. You might have noticed that part of our customs involve a cool exterior to those we do not personally know. I think a lot of that stems from this time, when outsiders cost us our families and our livelihoods for so long before our independence was won.”

  “You really think it traces back that far?”

  “I do,” Ali said with a nod.

  He stared thoughtfully at one of the images, which depicted the first sheikh leading a large army into the final battle for Al Jayah.

  “Sometimes when I was younger, I would try to forget my previous life and pretend that I really was the rightful heir to the throne, that this man was my real grandfather by blood.”

  “What stopped you from fully believing?”

  Ali sighed, glancing down at Sarah before looking back at the picture.

  “My mother. I should say my royal mother. She insisted that I remember where I came from, because she knew that would be my greatest strength as a ruler.”

  “Are you ever afraid that your uncle is going to try to usurp the throne? That perhaps he will find you out?”

  “There is no need to fear that,” Ali said, moving on from the image and continuing their stroll through the museum. “He died when I was a teenager. Some believe he was poisoned by his wife. He was rumored to be a terrible abuser, though no one ever saw any proof of it.”

  “That’s terrible! But what about you then? With the brother out of the way, no longer a threat—that was your only reason for taking up the throne.”

  Ali nodded.

  “Yes. Fortunately for me, my royal parents had grown fond of me by that point and saw no reason not to continue my education and subsequent rise to the throne. I was raised by them as Ahmad would have been, with love and affection beyond any kind of reason. After all, I wasn’t their son. They had no motive to act as they did.”

  “You loved them very much,” Sarah said, her voice nearly a whisper.

  Ali’s face fell for an instant before he set his features back to neutral. He glanced away.

  “Yes, I did. They saved my life. I owe them everything. It is my royal father’s voice I hear whenever I am making a decision for the good of the country. It is my mother’s when I need to consider the lives I’m impacting beyond the economic consequences. They were good rulers, but I think I’ve been able to improve upon their reign based on my own experiences outside of those walls.”

  Sarah walked on in thoughtful silence, admiring the art on the walls and the sculptures all around them. Ali was so much more than she had thought originally. His reign, his ability to help others even though his life was a total farce, mattered to him. Her stomach squirmed at that thought, and she brushed it aside as more questions rose in her mind.

  “Your royal parents never tried to have more children?”

  “After me? No. They had talked about it for some time, but in the end they decided that having their own child and me would only incite more conflict, much like my father had had with his brother.”

  “That was rather selfless of them,” Sarah said, and Ali shrugged.

  “I suppose it was. Now, I think we’ve had enough family history for one morning. There is something big I want to show you, but it’s going to require some air travel.”

  Sarah lifted an eyebrow.

  “Air travel?” she asked, her voice skeptical.

  “Do you trust me?” Ali asked again.

  “Slightly more than I did y
esterday, yes,” she conceded, and she was rewarded with a wide, beaming smile.

  “Well, that’s certainly a start,” he said, his eyes lit up.

  Sarah couldn’t help but grin back at him.

  “Don’t get cocky. I can turn it off at a moment’s notice.”

  “Then I will do my best to continue to be myself, the better to show you that you are safe with me.”