The Sheikh’s Rescued Baby (Hasan Sheikhs Book 3) Page 9

  He needed to move. A new storm was brewing in his heart, and it threatened to spill out onto the dinner they were having. Nadim set down his wineglass with infinite care.

  “I’m happy for you.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I have to step out. I’m sorry—something I forgot on the schedule.”

  He had just enough time to see her eyebrows shoot up before he turned away.

  Aisha called after him, but Nadim kept going. This was heartbreak. He imagined getting on the plane and walking away from the two of them forever, and it hurt, as sharply as if he’d been stabbed. He had to get out from under it. The palace pressed in around him, suffocating him. Nadim’s eyes burned. He kept a smile on his face all the way out to the back entrance. If the security guard there was surprised to see him, he didn’t show it.

  “Can I help you, Sheikh Nadim?”

  “A car.” He cleared his throat. “Please. I’d like to go out.”

  The driver pulled up in a black SUV a few minutes later. Nadim climbed into the air-conditioned vehicle and let his head fall back against the seat. It was too hot in his skin and too hot outside. The news was burning him alive.

  “Where can I take you?”

  Nadim met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Take me somewhere I can get a drink. A place I can be more or less anonymous and relax.”

  The driver gave a nod. “Of course, Sheikh Nadim.”

  Twenty minutes later, the SUV deposited him on the sidewalk in front of a club that had been built into an old villa. The two-story building had been painted in pristine white, and music drifted from the upper windows. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. The driver had known what he was doing.

  “I’ll be around the corner whenever you’re ready to leave,” the man called from inside the SUV. Nadim gave him a grateful wave and went inside.

  He’d thought the club was perfect from the outside, and the interior proved it. The music was a modern take on traditional songs from Kendah, at a volume that was enough to cover people’s conversations. Businesspeople and more casually dressed patrons sat around low tables, talking. They matched his own mood—subdued and tired. The storm had done a number on all of them.

  There was only one person in the club who didn’t show any sign of strain, and he stood out like a loud red gash in the middle of the black and white decorating scheme. Only he wasn’t a gash. He was Jamad.

  Jamad held court at the largest table, which sat by itself on a raised platform along one wall. He laughed louder than anyone else, and longer. The man didn’t seem to have put in any work for the storm relief—his hands were clean, and he looked like he’d had a good night’s sleep every night of his life.

  Nadim took a corner seat, unable to look away. The other men around Jamad laughed at his jokes, but they didn’t look sincere. They were probably the kind of people who clung to a person as long as he had money and power and turned on him the moment he didn’t. One of them snapped his fingers to call a waiter over and, as Nadim watched, hassled him for not anticipating their needs.

  That was the choice, then.

  He could enter into a kind of half-marriage with Aisha, or he could let Jamad and whoever sucked up to him the most take over Kendah. He could let this man move into the palace and rule. Nadim didn’t need to know any more about Jamad than he already knew, and yet...wow. The man could not read the room around him. And in Nadim’s experience, he wouldn’t be able to read the country, either. It would be disastrous.

  Nadim stood up before he knew he was going to do it.

  “Who here has been working on flood recovery?” Heads turned. Good. His voice had carried across the music, and one by one, almost everyone in the club raised a hand. They looked at each other, smiling. A warm glow of pride settled over the group. They’d all pitched in, hadn’t they? All of them except the men at Jamad’s table. He turned to the bartender. “A round on me for everyone who raised their hands.” Nadim grinned. “And an order of hummus for my friend Jamad. I’ll take it over.”

  The bartender saluted him from behind the bar, and a minute later came out onto the floor to press a tray with pita and hummus into Nadim’s hands. Nadim plastered a big grin on his face and made his way over to Jamad’s table.

  The man scowled up at him from his seat, not saying anything as Nadim took an empty chair. He proffered the tray to Jamad, giving the rest of them a friendly wave.

  “I’m about to make my way home, Jamad. You didn’t get to finish your meal the other night, and I didn’t have the chance to give you my number for when you become sultan. I’ve seen how hard Aisha’s been working to get the country back on its feet.” Nadim sighed. “It’s a lot, being the sultan. Are you sure you want to take that on? She’s barely stopped since the storm appeared on the radar. You seem like the kind of guy who enjoys the fruits of his position more than the responsibility of it.”

  Jamad narrowed his eyes, the picture of suspicion. “I enjoy a lot of things.”

  “I can see it in your face.” Nadim leaned in. “I can tell you’re having second thoughts. You know, Aisha was telling me about something called...” He caught the eyes of each man around the table, giving the impression that he was about to spill a state secret. “There’s a thing called Rule by Proxy. Maybe you’re better off signing it away to her. Let Aisha have the responsibility and work, while you get the title. And the recognition.” He paused. “I could have the form prepared tonight. All you’d have to do is sign it.” Nadim stood up and patted Jamad on the shoulder. “I’m so glad we ran into each other. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Come to the palace tomorrow, and we’ll get it settled.” He held out his hand to shake.

  After a heart-stopping pause, Jamad took it.

  Outside, the driver of the SUV started the engine the moment he saw Nadim in the rearview mirror. He got out and jogged around to open the door, then slid back into his place behind the wheel. Nadim climbed in, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “Was it a suitable place?” The driver’s soft voice broke him out of his thoughts. “If it wasn’t appropriate, I have other ideas.”

  “It was perfect.”

  “You are satisfied, then?”

  “Yes.”

  And he was. Not completely happy. Not at ease, not at peace. But he’d found a reasonable solution to Aisha’s problem, and that was good enough for the moment.

  15

  The reports hit Aisha’s inbox one by one, and she flicked through them on her tablet, doing a quick review of each as she ate her breakfast. Her agenda perched on the side of the table. It had been full for a week. Soon, it would be time to get started on the endless list of things she needed to accomplish, but Aisha didn’t mind. That was the job, and she loved her job.

  What she didn’t love was that Nadim was still asleep, the door to his suite shut firmly.

  She took another bite of an English muffin and stewed. Technically, she had no right to be peeved at him for sleeping late. Yes, she did miss him, but what did that have to do with anything? One of her priorities had to be getting over him. The tour had been fun, and he’d been a wonderful help during the storm, but that didn’t mean she should get used to having him around.

  Any day now, he’d be telling her it was time to head back to Raihan. Construction crews had already finished up the airfield, to make it easier to get supplies into the country. When Nadim said his goodbyes, she’d have no excuse to keep him here.

  Aisha took the last tip of her coffee. Just as she set her mug down with a clink, the door to the dining room opened and Sanaa came in.

  “Oh, good. Sanaa, I wanted to check and see if—” Her words were brought up short by the appearance of another person in the room—Jamad.

  He hung close behind Sanaa, as if he were a little nervous that Karyme might appear and throw hummus into his face again. But once he’d given the room a thorough look, he came and took the seat across from Aisha. Her skin bristled, the coffee going sour in her stomach. Jamad was pos
sibly her least favorite person on the planet. And now he was interrupting a perfectly decent breakfast.

  Aisha inclined her head. “Good morning, cousin. What brings you to the palace?”

  “Your boyfriend.”

  A jolt of pain lanced through her, but Aisha only arched one eyebrow. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

  “The latest one. Nadim.” Jamad drummed his fingertips on the table, the motion too hard and loud. “I saw him when I was out last night. He bought me some refreshments and sat down to have a conversation with me.”

  “How surprising.” She pulled her laptop toward her like a shield.

  “He told me about Rule by Proxy.” The corner of Jamad’s mouth curved up in a smile that made her sick. “He told me how much you wanted me to sign the leadership of the country over to you. He asked me to come here. It sounded like an ideal arrangement—you do all the work, but I’m still the sultan.” Jamad leaned back, watching her. “What would you give me if I signed the form?”

  “I—” Speechless. She was speechless. What had Nadim been thinking? Anger crawled up the back of her neck and reddened her cheeks. Nadim had taken it upon himself to invite Jamad to the palace? To sit down with her? To treat her like this? Jamad watched her from across the table, his eyes on her making her stomach turn and twist into a knot of disgust and betrayal.

  “Here’s what I want.” Jamad screwed up his mouth. Was he thinking? Was he capable of thinking? If he was, he would never have come here, no matter what Nadim said. “I want to share the profits from the royal funds. You have a good mind for investments. It’ll probably triple in worth in your first year. I want half the net revenue. And in exchange, you can have my signature on the form. The country would be yours, in all but name.”

  “Get out.”

  Jamad put a hand on his chest as if she’d pushed him back. “What?”

  “Get out of here.” The words stung on their way out. Aisha had been angry many times in her life, but it had never been this apocalyptic. Her chest caved in, and heat roared at the base of her belly. She wanted guards. A hundred guards, to drag him out by the arms and throw him in the street in front of the palace. She’d do it herself, only the thought of touching Jamad made her skin crawl. “You’re not the sultan, and I’m working to make sure you’re never the sultan.”

  He gave her a desultory shrug. “Doesn’t seem like that’s going too well for you, Aisha. Why else would you have sent your little boyfriend to make a deal with me? My guess is, he’ll be heading back to his country by the end of the day, and you’ll be left high and dry.”

  She would not scream at him. She wouldn’t.

  “Get out, Jamad, before I have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “You can’t do that.” He chortled. “I’m a member of the royal family. I’m not trespassing in my own palace.”

  “It’s not yours yet. And it might take some time for my people to cross-reference the ancient laws while you sit in a jail cell.”

  “Fine.” He stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets. “But I’m only going because you’re being so unreasonable. It’s sad.” Jamad frowned. “Your boyfriend must know that you’ll never accept any proposal. It’s a little pathetic, that he tries to make deals on your behalf.”

  Aisha called for the guards, but the moment they entered the dining room, Jamad scuttled away. She could hear him introducing himself to the men as he walked out, loud and jovial. More than once she heard the word sultan.

  Her ears rang with fury, so loud and insistent that she didn’t hear Sanaa approaching. A soft hand on her elbow broke her out of her thoughts. Aisha looked up into Sanaa’s concerned face.

  “Get me Nadim.”

  Aisha stalked from the dining room to her office. She needed a smaller space. Something with a sturdier build than the dining room, with all its glass windows and airy views. She needed her well-built desk—a piece of furniture that could withstand her. Aisha leaned against it while she caught her breath.

  “Good morning.”

  Nadim’s voice, floating in from the doorway, almost shook her out of her anger. Almost. She wanted to hear more of it, and for a moment it nearly got past her defenses. But only for a moment, and then a surge of irritation and hurt overwhelmed her. Aisha moved to stand in front of her desk, head up, arms crossed.

  “All I wanted was someone who wouldn’t interfere.” Her jaw felt tight with tension and pain, but once she’d started talking, she couldn’t stop. “Someone who would let me make the decisions for my country. You’re not even a citizen, let alone a leader. You’re a man who came on one tour with me, and all along, you were careful to remind me you want no part of this. No marriage. No responsibility. Nothing.”

  “Aisha—” Nadim held his hands up, shaking his head.

  But she didn’t stop.

  “Why would you ever have thought that inviting Jamad to the palace was a good idea? You don’t have the right to butt into my affairs in the first place, but you went so far beyond that. Did you not stop to wonder if I’d considered that option already? Jamad would hold me and the whole country ransom in exchange for that signature.”

  Nadim dropped his hands. “Aisha, I’m sorry. I thought it was a chance to help.”

  Her throat went tight, and tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away. She would not cry in front of Nadim. Not over this. Not over anything, ever again, though her heart was breaking. Nadim had been her final hope for a reasonable husband. And now he’d proven that he couldn’t just stay out of it. He was just like all the rest of them. When it came down to it, they couldn’t put aside their thirst for power, no matter how much they claimed not to want it. A hopelessness engulfed her like the leading edge of the storm.

  “Get out of my country.” Her voice didn’t waver at all, thank God. Every part of her wanted to waver at the sight of him. At his crisp white shirt on built biceps. At his perfectly trimmed beard. At the dark eyes that sparked desire every time he looked at her. She wanted to waver, but she couldn’t. Stay, she thought wildly. Stay, and never leave.

  Nadim pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes searching hers. If he was looking for a sign that she was ready to back down, he wouldn’t find it. He’d gone too far. For a moment, he looked like he might argue—he parted his lips like he was going to speak, but then said nothing.

  He turned and went, his footsteps light on the floor. The sound faded quickly away.

  Aisha moved behind her desk, eyes swimming with tears. She tipped her head back to keep them from falling. Her anger ebbed, not strong enough to fight back her heartbreak. It welled up with a gasp. The silence of the office pressed in around her, no longer protecting her. Now it taunted her with his absence.

  She loved him. Needed him.

  And she could never, ever have him.

  16

  Nadim finished dressing and went out into the main room of his apartments in Raihan. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting the space with a buttery glow that should have made him feel...hopeful, if not great. The tour was over, he’d done his part in Kendah, and now he was free to go back to pursuing his dreams.

  Or at least narrowing down what his dreams were.

  He threw himself down onto a sofa facing the window. So far, he’d had no new ideas. He couldn’t stop thinking of old ideas. Old fights. Old arguments. His skin bristled at the memory of Aisha’s rage. Didn’t she realize he’d only been trying to help?

  Nadim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, blocking out the sun. Maybe he’d gotten overconfident. Maybe his parents had been right when they’d spent his entire childhood saying that nobody should expect much of him. Of course Aisha would have thought of a proxy arrangement with Jamad. If Jamad had had any sense of honor, it would have been the path of least resistance—she never would have had to search for a husband in the first place. But there was no dealing fairly with Jamad. The man was too greedy and self-obsessed.

  He p
icked up his phone from where he’d left it on the side table the night before. Nadim had been avoiding the device since he got back to Raihan. It was too easy to stumble across news out of Kendah, and he couldn’t bear it. If Aisha decided to host another batch of eligible bachelors, there would be photos and news items. The press would work overtime to catch her smiling up at some other man as if she could tolerate him. Maybe it was already happening. She was, after all, running out of time.

  He put the phone back down. There was only one thing worse than seeing Aisha photographed with another man, and that was seeing any new press photos of her with Karyme. His heart ached with missing them. He wanted to feel Karyme’s little hand in his beard and her head on his shoulder again so much that it left him alternately numb and prickling with the loss.

  A knock on the door announced his brothers, who didn’t wait for him to answer before barging into the room.

  “Not again,” said Yaseen, who was freshly back from a business trip to England. “You look like you’re getting ready to sit here all day, staring out the window and wasting your life.” He sat down on the sofa next to Nadim. Their older brother Zayid, who was crown prince of Raihan, took a seat in an armchair nearby.

  “I hate to say it, but he’s right.” Zayid squinted out the window. “Really, Nadim, this has to stop. There’s nothing out there. Just the city, and gazing hopelessly at the city isn’t doing you any good.”

  “I didn’t ask either of you to come here.” Maybe the sofa would swallow him up for good.

  “Why did you come home, anyway?” Yaseen punched him lightly on the arm, earning him a glare. “It’s clear your heart is back in Kendah with Aisha. It’s clear, by the way, because you’ve spent the last five days in your rooms, alone, doing nothing except watching the world go by.”

  Nadim shrugged. “I have to shake off my past.” The swell of longing was almost too much to continue, but Nadim forced himself onward. “I have to find my life path before I can ask a woman to join me on that path.”