One Night with the Sheikh
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“I expected a more enthusiastic greeting, considering my recent absence,” he said as he breezed past her and entered without an invitation.
“My apologies,” she said as she faced him in the foyer. “I’m just surprised to see you.”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
She chose to withhold the truth and settled for a change in subject. “Are the resort’s renovations complete?”
“No, and that is why I am here now,” he said. “I will be returning to Yemen tonight, and I would respectfully request you supervise the workers from time to time in my stead.”
The request did not surprise her in the least. Shamil always seemed to have an ulterior motive when he bothered to call on her. He had protested the loudest over her divorce, and had chastised her at every turn—until he wanted something. “I have a medical practice that requires my attention, Shamil. I do not have time to oversee a project that you took on.”
“Need I remind you the resort is partially your responsibility?”
She could not believe his audacity. “Our father handed the keys to the resort to you, not me.”
“And he handed this house to you,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture over the area. “All because he is a generous and forgiving man. I would be remiss if I did not mention that he initially arranged for the hotel’s restoration. I am certain it would please him if he knew you were assisting me. He would not be pleased if he learned you refused to provide that assistance.”
Maysa was beyond trying to please her father, and immune to Shamil’s veiled threats. “I can only promise that I will stop by once a week, provided I find the time.”
“Twice a week, or perhaps three times, would be preferable.”
She would agree to most anything if it encouraged her sibling’s speedy departure. “I will try. Is that all you wish from me?”
“For the moment. I will notify the staff you will be periodically stopping by.”
“All right.”
When Maysa moved toward the door and yanked it open, she heard the sound of a car pulling into the portico.
“What is he doing here?” Shamil asked, both his tone and expression balanced on the brink of contempt.
She ventured a backward glance to see Rafiq emerging from the sedan with a heavily armed guard standing nearby. “First of all, he is the king, and he is allowed to go anywhere he pleases. Second, he is a friend, and at one time, your best friend.”
“He no longer holds that distinction.”
Maysa’s attempt to question her brother further was thwarted when Rafiq joined them at the doorstep.
Rafiq smiled at Maysa and briefly nodded at Shamil. “As-salam alaikum.”
“Wa alaikum as-salam,” Shamil replied in a voice that heralded indifference along with a touch of disdain. “Have you forgotten the way to the palace, Sayyed?”
“Not at all,” Rafiq replied. “I am here by invitation.”
Shamil sent Maysa a lethal look before returning his attention to Rafiq. “If you are here to discuss health care issues with my sister, it would be appropriate to do so in a less private setting.”
Concerned over her brother’s caustic demeanor, Maysa stepped aside to allow Rafiq entry. “The staff will show you to your quarters, Your Highness.”
“As you wish,” he said without offering Shamil even a passing glance.
She sensed her brother’s glare before she actually contacted it. She turned and gave him a glare of her own. “How dare you be so ill-mannered.”
“How dare you invite him into our father’s house.”
“Our father has always had close ties to the Mehdi family,” Maysa said. “He would not be opposed to having a member as a houseguest, particularly if that member happens to be the sovereign ruler of Bajul. A king who is in need of a respite, which is why he will be staying here for a time.”
“Our father would be opposed to you becoming the king’s mistress.”
Her fury simmered just below the surface of her feigned calm. “You have no right to speak to me this way, nor do you have any reason to hate Rafiq. Or do you still envy his marriage to Rima?”
He looked as if he might strike the wall, or worse, his sister. “Rima meant nothing to Rafiq,” he growled. “He did not deserve her.”
Clearly Shamil had not moved beyond the past, or his desire for a woman he could never have. But hadn’t she been guilty of the same with Rafiq? No. She had moved on, and would continue to do so. “How would you know what privately transpired between the king and queen, Shamil?”
“She deserved far more care and concern than Rafiq afforded her. She deserved the chance to live, and he stole that chance from her.”
“Rafiq had no hand in Rima’s death.”
“You would not agree if you had seen her that night.”
Maysa felt as if they might be hurling toward the truth of what had transpired that evening. What she herself had witnessed. “Perhaps I did see her after all.”
That seemed to momentarily douse Shamil’s wrath. “Where would you have seen her?”
“I drove to the resort earlier that evening and when I saw you embracing a woman on the veranda, I immediately left. Am I correct to assume that woman was Rima?” When he failed to respond, she added, “Shamil, was it Rima?”
His gaze faltered. “She was there for a brief time.”
“And how many times before that?”
“That is not your concern.”
Oh, but it was. “Were the two of you having an affair?”
“Enough!”
She’d obviously struck a nerve encased in the truth. “And Rafiq knew nothing about your liaison with his wife.”
“Rafiq knew nothing about Rima’s life because he chose not to know.” He sent her a steely look. “And he will never know. Is that understood?”
One more threat among many. “He has a right to know what happened in the minutes leading up to her death.”