Robel spoke. A lot. So much, in fact, that she filled three full pages with her notes. He waxed nostalgic about quiet Christmases with low lighting and candlelight ceremonies; ones that involved much storytelling around fires. Other Christmases tended to and organized exclusively by his mother, which had been some of his favorite memories. And others still where the highlight had been serene yet stoic parades that sounded more boring than memorable.
But the man was a staunch traditionalist. A fact she couldn’t keep from dwelling on while trying to discreetly absorb his handsome features.
She shouldn’t even notice how sexy he was. The way he dragged his teeth over his full bottom lip as he thought back on Christmases long gone. The dark stubble dotting his jawline. The steely edge to his gaze that had her rooted to her chair, hanging on his every word.
No, she shouldn’t notice a single thing about him. Because a traditional man like him would never want someone like her, the least traditional of them all.
Her ears pricked as she thought she sensed rustling from the other room. She cleared her throat, setting her notebook down. “Will you give me a minute?”
Robel obliged, and she scurried to the room adjacent to hers. She stepped carefully into the dark room, listening for anything amiss. All clear. She imagined noises far too often from the baby’s room. Nessa was only eight months old, but those early months had taught Sondra to be on her toes at all times.
Sondra returned quickly to her seat, grabbing for her notebook once more. She wanted to continue as though nothing had happened. Because now didn’t seem the time to drop the bomb: not only was she a non-traditionalist in her work, she was also a non-traditionalist in her life.
She was a single mom who wasn’t even a mother. Or rather, a mother thrust into the position by accident. By fate. By a totally fucking horrible accident that stole Sondra’s sister’s and brother-in-law’s lives and robbed their baby of her parents.
She knew better than to expect that the heir of Maatkare would want to get involved in something like that.
Sondra rifled through pages to find her previous spot. “Okay. So, tell me more about the weird things your mom would insert occasionally.”
“Yes. Each year there was something different. One year, I remember she included an Advent calendar. A different year, there was Hawaiian Christmas music playing during the evening one night; which, from what I understand, people love in your country.”
Sondra laughed. “Sure. I guess we do. Or some of us, at least.” She paused, tapping the pen against her lips. Robel’s childhood memories of Christmas were about as somber as they came. But maybe she could still find a way to merge the fresh with the expected.
“What about this?” Sondra flipped to a new page, started writing out new ideas. “We can do a fashion show of Christmases around the world. That would be fun for your sisters. They could even help me with picking out the models and the outfits. But it would be a great way to show the different traditions of the world and all the different ways people celebrate. And highly educational, too.”
Robel arched a brow. Entirely unimpressed. Her stomach pitched downward.
“Aren’t you trying too hard?”
She flattened her lips. “It’s my job to try hard.”
“What I mean is…” Robel’s jaw ticked as he studied something beyond her. “The important thing is the faith. That is what’s at the heart of the holidays.”
“I get that. But look. You need to know something about how I work.” She flipped through her pages, searching out some notes she’d made earlier in the week. The notes that spawned the proposal packet she’d handed into him that morning. “See this? These are all ideas. I write down, I bat things around, I talk to people, we refine the ideas, certain things get approved, others get nixed.”
“But a fashion show? Everyone will get caught up in the clothes. The guest list. The media coverage.”
“Like the majority of these dinners at the palace don’t have the same end?”
Robel didn’t laugh, or even smirk.
“Listen, if you don’t like the idea, fine. But don’t discard it altogether. Let’s see what we can take from that to move forward.” She paused, sensing him soften. He ran his thumb back and forth over his other thumb, like a metronome keeping rhythm. “The best ideas often come from collaboration. So that’s what we should do.”
Robel sat back in the chair, almost like he was defeated. His gaze darted along invisible points on the floor. “I like the idea about showcasing various religious traditions.”
Score. She fought a pleased smile and instead busied herself with scrawling exclamation points next to her pageant notes. “It’ll be a good way to blend the Maatkaran with the faith, which extends of course beyond this country.”
Robel grunted, like maybe he didn’t want to admit how right she was.
“What did you think about the living nativity scene?” she asked slowly. That was her pride and joy. There was no way she was leaving this country without availing herself of the camels and rich theater traditions to produce her very own live nativity scene.
Robel sniffed. “I rather liked that one.” He attempted to move his leg, wincing slightly.
Sondra leaned forward, helping him move the big ankle cast. An idea sprang to life, sparking hot and bright. “Good. Because I’ll need your help for that one.”
It wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t need help with any of this. With research and her own ingenuity, she could event plan the hell out of this palace. But the only way forward was with Robel at her side. And if she could get him to soften up, all the better.
“I agree.” Something like mischief flashed over his face. “You’ll need all the help you can get when it comes time to haggle the price of the camel rental.”
Sondra grinned. It felt like something had cracked between the two of them. Perhaps the glacial ice that had been coating Robel’s personality.
“You don’t think I can do it?” Sondra cocked her best sexy grin. Maybe this could be fun after all. Maybe Robel had a flirty side buried underneath the stern exterior. “I bet I could get a better price than you.”
Robel hefted with a laugh. “Maybe. And if so, only because you’re pretty.”
Sondra cast her eyes back down at the notebook. So he thought she was pretty. “I’ll use my assets to my advantage then.”
Silence stretched between them, somewhere between mischievous and tense. Finally, Robel spoke. “Well, you’ll need my company then. However slow and disabled it might be.”
“Definitely.” Something tightened in her chest, and she fought a smile again. Now she was doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook. “Seems like it’ll be helpful to have a Yared sheikh at my side.”
This time, she swore a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But she didn’t revel in it long. Robel slid his foot off the coffee table a moment later and pushed to standing. Meeting adjourned. She closed her notebook, grabbing his crutches for him.
“I should be off,” he said quietly, receiving the crutches from her. When his gaze met hers, she swore there was sizzle and spark there. And that confirmed it: this had been flirting. “See you tomorrow?”
Sondra nodded, following him to the door. She sent him a smile, wishing for more time with him but unsure how to get it. What had originally come off as a sexy but unbreakable exterior now shone with cracks betraying something soft and interesting underneath. “See you tomorrow, Robel.”
4
Robel tossed and turned as much as the stupid cast would allow. He drifted off into dreamless sleep only to be awakened by a jolt of lavender. As though Sondra had entered his room. When he opened an eye to peer around the dark bedroom, she wasn’t there.
Of course she wasn’t. It was just his subconscious playing tricks on him. The clock glared “5:00” from his nightstand. Pre-ankle fracture, he’d normally be getting up around this time to get in some laps in the palace pool or take a slow jog somewhere. In the old days,
he and his brothers had exercised daily together. But then Noel turned into a competitive runner, and Yonas’s preference switched to cycling.
He missed those days. Robel draped his arm over his eyes. He missed a lot of things about the past. But this year, most of all, he missed his mother.
And maybe that’s what his crusade against the event planner was really about. If they couldn’t have Christmas with mother, then they’d have the most perfect, traditional Christmas in her place. One for the history books. One that would light up his mother’s face from Switzerland as she received all the photos and articles showcasing their hard work.
Robel tried to drift back to sleep, but all he could manage was a strange dreamworld limbo where thoughts mingled with fantasies. He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by before he found himself thinking of Sondra’s laugh. The way she always looked out for him, worried about him. Her no-nonsense approach to work, something he shared equally. Soon he was undressing Sondra in his mind. Exploring all those soft, womanly curves beneath the thin fabric of the shirts she wore. Her skin would smell like lavender. Breasts big enough to fill each palm and then some.
He jolted fully awake, his cock hard and hungry. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, trapping his erection against the mattress. He couldn’t think about Sondra like that. Or rather, he could, but only in here, the privacy of his own bedroom. Last night, something had shifted between them. Because he’d let it shift.
He’d lowered his steel fortress for a fraction of a second and the conversation immediately turned to her assets. Of course. The one thing he needed to not think about while in her presence. Robel sighed, lifting his head to check the clock. Almost eight. As good a time as any to start the day.
His went through his morning routine intolerably slowly, entire body stiff and foreign, as though everything else had fractured alongside his ankle. Four more weeks of this. Miserable. He grabbed at his crutches angrily, hobbling toward his closet.
He woke up most mornings feeling like this. Disgruntled. Pissed. But now, on top of all that, there was the hot simmer of attraction.
He knew exactly how to take the edge off too. What would help him feel the best. But jacking off to Sondra’s image seemed wrong somehow. And starting an affair was totally out of the question.
It wasn’t his style to lust after palace employees, much less seasonal ones who would be gone by the middle of January.
Robel grumbled as he dressed in a dark brown tunic and linen pants and grumbled as he made his way toward the breakfast nook. The grumbling stopped when he spotted Sondra in the corner of the nook, looking out the window, an infant hoisted on her hip.
Like before, all his frustration dissipated once he caught sight of that shiny blonde bob and the glorious curve of her hip. Today she was wearing tapered khaki pants with a smart but slouchy purple sweater. Robel paused, his gaze washing over the scene. Morning light bathed her in white and gold as she swayed, humming softly.
The twins entered behind him a moment later. They screeched at the sight of Sondra, bypassing Robel entirely.
“She’s up! She’s up!” Sesuna danced in a circle around Sondra and the child. The baby in her arms clapped, reaching for Sesuna.
Sondra smiled brightly at the twins, that adorable gap showing between her front teeth. Then her gaze swept up to find Robel. Warmth shivered through him.
“Good morning.” Robel maneuvered brusquely to the table, setting his crutches aside as he eased into the chair at the head of the table. She hadn’t mentioned having a child. If there was a child, there was surely a father back home. He’d been silly to even think of Sondra that way. It would end now.
“Morning.” Sondra used the baby’s hand to wave at him and entertained the girls for a few moments by dipping the baby close to them and then back away again. Robel reached for the morning paper, trying to ignore the giggles and shrieks. He opened it up, blocking his view entirely of Sondra, the baby, and his sisters.
He tried to read the day’s headlines but couldn’t focus. All he could hear was Sondra’s low murmur and throaty laugh as his twin sisters bopped around, playing with the baby. He nearly jumped when the palace employee arrived with his typical breakfast: flat bread surrounded by nuts, cheese, and homemade jam, and a pot of steaming black tea.
He folded the newspaper up, resolving not to watch Sondra or his sisters. The girls sat down at the table a moment later. Sesuna reached onto his plate and snagged a piece of his flatbread.
“No touching,” he admonished in Arabic. He smacked her wrist lightly but let her have it anyway. Sondra came up to the edge of the table. He glanced her way.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.
“Yes. We’re just hanging around, postponing the start of the work day.” Sondra snuggled the side of the baby’s face. Wispy blonde hairs sprang up from the top of the baby’s head. “Robel, I’d like you to meet Nessa.”
“Hello, Nessa,” Robel said flatly, nodding toward the child, who had twisted away from Sondra, reaching for Winta. “Very nice.”
Sondra snorted, swaying back and forth while Nessa gurgled. “Yes. She is nice.
Robel stifled the questions swirling inside him, focusing instead on his breakfast. Sesuna and Winta chattered in their own invented language interspersed with Arabic while Sondra moved back toward the window. Finally, Robel couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer.
“And where is Nessa’s father? Surely he can’t be thrilled to be so far away from his daughter.”
Sondra looked back over her shoulder at him, warning written in her gaze. She glanced toward the twins, then back at Robel. “We’ll have to talk about that later.”
Robel wiped at his mouth with his napkin then pushed to standing. Gathering his crutches, he resolved to not care anymore. There was drama behind that look. And that was the last thing he needed in life. “No need. Just making light conversation. Have a good morning.”
He excused himself from the nook as fast as he could. Sondra was a non-option, and he needed to get that through his head. She was beautiful. That was enough.
Steps sounded down the hallway behind him a moment later.
“Robel!” It was Sondra. “Hang on a second.”
He paused, turning, gritting his teeth as her glorious breasts bounced under the soft material of her sweater. Nessa giggled as Sondra jogged toward him.
“I forgot to tell you. Tonight is the first event, the letter-writing event at the orphanage. Will you be coming?”
He paused, his gaze washing over her. He wanted to do anything that meant being in her presence more. It would just mean he’d have to curtail the fantasies. Easier said than done. “Certainly. What time?”
“Seven. I already arranged the light dinner fare from that restaurant you recommended earlier this week.”
Robel nodded, putting his weight on his good foot. “Will your daughter be coming?”
“Oh, uh…” Sondra glanced down at Nessa, then back up at Robel. In a quieter voice, almost like a confession, she said, “Nessa isn’t my daughter.”
Relief flooded him, but he wasn’t sure why. Somehow, this eradicated a potential husband somewhere in the world. But that was silly—she could have a husband without a baby. But whose baby was it? He was more curious than he wanted to admit. Just as he was about to say something, Nessa started grunting.
“Oh, Lord.” Sondra laughed, hoisting the baby higher. “That’s my warning. She’s ready for a diaper change.”
“Let me assist you,” Robel blurted before he could tame his tongue.
Sondra lifted a brow. “Seriously?”
Robel allowed a smile to sneak through. “Of course. I know what I’m doing. I helped raise my sisters, after all.”
Sondra looked pleased, maybe even a little disbelieving. The type of look he wanted to inspire more often. “Well then. Let’s see just how good you are.”
5
There was nothing sexier than a man who knew what to do with a baby.
And while Robel didn’t exactly have the warmest introduction to Nessa, he sure knew how to get her to warm up to him.
“Are you ready?” Robel asked in a cooing voice. His accent in baby speak was adorable on a whole different level. “Are you ready for a diaper change?”
Nessa shrieked and giggled on the changing table. Robel lifted her bum, peeling away the wet diaper. He expertly wrapped and tossed it in the pail without ever breaking Nessa’s gaze.
“So you do know your way around a changing table,” Sondra mused, crossing her arms. “Very nice.”
“That’s what happens when your baby sisters are almost twenty years younger than you,” he mused. “They could have been my daughters.”
“Yes.” Sondra’s chest tightened. She did want children—but for now, Nessa was more than enough. Nessa was hers. “Nessa could be my daughter. She’s my niece, though.”
“Where are her parents?” Robel asked, slipping a clean diaper under Nessa without batting an eye.
“They passed away earlier this year.” Sondra cleared her throat, feeling the familiar tightness in her limbs take over. It had happened only six months ago. And what hurt Sondra more than anything was that Nessa would never have her own memories of her beautiful parents. “A car crash. Nessa was just a couple months old.”
Robel’s brow furrowed, and he paused, looking down at Nessa with softer eyes. “What a tragedy.”
“It was.” Sondra blew out a breath she’d been holding without realizing. Some days, the loss still didn’t seem real. Especially being so far away, part of her held out hope that when she went back to the US early next year, her sister and brother-in-law would be waiting for them as though nothing had happened. Like this was just a fun adventure for Nessa.
“And you offered to raise her?”
“There really wasn’t any other option. My parents are getting too old. My brother-in-law only had his father left, who is in a nursing home. It was me or…the system.” Sondra shivered, just thinking about it. “How could I say no to my niece? I love her as though she’s my own. She is my daughter now, as far as I’m concerned.”
Christmas with the Yared Sheikhs: The Complete Series Page 23
