Christmas with the Yared Sheikhs: The Complete Series

by North, Leslie

  “Saving the production,” she interjected.

  “But I cannot tolerate another disaster.” He reached for a pen, clicking the end mindlessly as he gathered his words. “My family’s reputation cannot tolerate a disaster like that.”

  Sondra sat up, face creased with anger. “Disaster? Robel, I saved that show.”

  “No. You ruined it. Cancelling it would have been saving it. Instead, you let it degenerate into a joke. A complete mockery of what it was supposed to be.”

  “Well, holy cow,” Sondra said, her cheeks flushing. She snatched the folders she’d set on his desk, bringing them into her lap. “I suppose the last decade of experience I have doesn’t mean much to you, let alone the other miracles I’ve pulled off here, but by anyone’s standards, the audience enjoyed that show. It was delightful. If you can’t pull your head out—”

  “You have been against me every step of the way,” Robel said through clenched teeth. “You weren’t on board with my joining the planning from the very beginning, but as we can see, what was needed here was more planning, not less.” He huffed. “I hesitate to imagine what the previous events would have been like without my interference.”

  Her eyes widened, and a bloated, incredulous silence hung between them. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Robel blinked at her, crossing his arms. “Not in the slightest.”

  “I am a skilled and professional event planner. I am able to react to surprises, chaos, and disasters. Events, much like life, are uncertain. Even though we have our routines, our ways of doing things, we have to be prepared—and open—to things changing on a whim. You can’t be a victim to your expectations, least of all in this profession.”

  “I’m no victim, I assure you.” Robel rifled through some papers, not even seeing what they were. He just needed something to do with his hands. “If there’s anyone equipped to deal with the changing nature of life, it’s the Crown Prince of Maatkare.”

  “You might think you’re so great because you inherited your position, inherited this family, but let me tell you something about hard work. I have been working my ass off for your family, and these events have been well-received and a total success. You, Robel, have been nothing but a handicap. Both literally and figuratively.” She gestured to his ankle behind the desk. “You can thank yourself all you want, but your father hired me for a reason, a reason that you have never once been able to understand.”

  “Well, going forward—” he began.

  “No. There is no going forward.” She popped to her feet, a sneer curling her lips. “I’ll do this job on my own. Like I should have from day one. And if there’s any issue, you can just fire me.”

  Sondra stormed out of the office, pulling the door shut behind her with a loud thud. Robel stared at the closed door for what seemed like an eternity, letting her words cycle through him on painful repeat.

  * * *

  Sondra couldn’t do shit the rest of the day. All she could do was replay Robel’s words and think of all the things she should have told him.

  She was proud of herself, at least. For sticking up for herself. Her work. Her career. But alongside the pride came the humiliation. She’d allowed herself to fall for this man. This man who had seemed so certain and proud. This man who had turned on her, out of nowhere.

  Robel didn’t come after her, nor did anyone from the palace arrive to politely escort her to the airport. So she wasn’t fired—yet. But she had a small handful of palace events to oversee, small things that would barely make her break a sweat.

  Being within shouting distance of Robel would be the hard part.

  She didn’t know if she wanted to keep yelling at him or just grab him by the shoulders and demand that he kiss her until all the confusion melted away. He was a hard ass. Stubborn. Set in his ways. But they’d shared something, and he relented slightly, and hadn’t there been something?

  Sondra didn’t want to classify herself as heartbroken, but it sure felt a hell of a lot like it.

  The last few days of events around the palace were quiet. She didn’t need to do much, and she kept away from Robel as much as possible. He didn’t come looking for her either—another sign he was a total, arrogant asshole. Mulish. Stick in the mud. The list in her head went on and on.

  So meanwhile, she spent more time with Nessa, planning her trip back to the States, trying to figure out what the next chapter of her life might look like. The palace would pay her handsomely, as long as Robel didn’t try to interfere with that, too.

  Despite her firm resolution to stay away from Robel, her mind wandered to him constantly. Wondering what he was doing. If he was still mad. Why he’d treated her so poorly. Whether or not he’d be open to having sex just one more time. Imagining the satisfaction of telling him he sucked. Imagining groveling for just one last kiss.

  Whenever she spotted Noel and Ana together in the palace, or more recently, Yonas and Maia, her heart wrenched strangely.

  She could have been part of the third, perfect couple. Robel and Sondra.

  Except their coupledom was far from perfect. No, it was fraught. Doomed. Totally over.

  It had never even started, really.

  So why did she feel like she was missing out on one of the biggest things to ever happen to her?

  16

  Robel relaxed into his large, overstuffed chair on January seventh.

  Finally. Christmas Day.

  He forced a smile as he looked around the large living area. Everyone in the family was here, except their mother of course, perched on couches or armchairs gathered around a crackling fire. It was early morning, per tradition, just after the daybreak church service. Fast had broken, so their breakfast that morning would be a light fish stew with a rice pudding.

  The traditional Magi gifts had already been dispersed among the family members. They were usually small, traditional things—sometimes only well-packaged dates, or bundles of lavender—but the twins looked extra gloomy as they pondered their pile of gifts.

  “Sesuna. Winta.” Robel tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Have you had a good Christmas this year?”

  The girls shrugged, looking away. He cleared his throat, signaling for the palace employee lurking in the corner to bring the next round of gifts.

  It wasn’t typical, and it certainly wasn’t traditional. But Sondra had helped him realize, earlier in the Christmas season, that the girls were wanting something more from Christmas this year. So he’d arranged for some Western-style gifts for them. The employee brought in a small stack of garishly-wrapped presents in loud reds and greens, stripes and bows galore.

  “Papa Noël heard what you wanted for Christmas,” Robel said, trying to sound happy, excited even. “He arranged for some very special gifts to be delivered. Straight from America.”

  The girls perked up slightly and tore into the wrapping paper.

  Sheikh Yared was mildly interested at best, a brief smile lightening his otherwise gloomy face. Yonas was buried in his phone, while Noel escaped into a book.

  Robel ran his thumb over his knuckles, anxiety settling in. Like it had every day since he’d pushed Sondra away. Like it might for every day after.

  He tried not to think about it. He had a strict no-Sondra rule now and took great pains to avoid her. Sesuna finally got to the gift at the center of her box: a multi-tiered makeup kit and organizer, with enough pre-loaded eye shadow colors to paint a clown.

  Winta gasped when she reached hers as well: a similar makeup case.

  Both girls sighed, but it downgraded quickly into suppressed tears.

  Robel sat up. “Hey now, girls. What’s wrong?”

  Yonas leapt to his feet, going over to his sisters. “Sesi, Winti, come now. What’s wrong?” He pulled them both into a hug, sending a dour look over his shoulder to Robel.

  “I thought they would like them,” Robel said, as though this might help.

  “This isn’t what I asked for,” Winta cried, crossing her arms.
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  “We just want Mother,” Sesuna whimpered into Yonas’s shoulder.

  The honest statement made Robel’s shoulders sag. Of course. That was all anybody wanted.

  “I thought you wanted makeup,” Robel stammered. “And…and makeup organizers. Don’t you like them?”

  Sesuna and Winta sniveled, while Yonas continued consoling them, sending occasional dirty looks over his shoulder.

  “And what’s wrong with you?” Robel said, jerking his chin toward Yonas.

  Noel snickered behind the book.

  “I think we’ve all had it with your shit,” Yonas blurted.

  Robel clenched his jaw, the same pangs of hopelessness and frustration as on the living nativity night coming back to him. It seemed nothing could go his way now. Not since the ankle fracture. Even less since the blowup with Sondra.

  “And what shit have I given you, may I ask?”

  “Well, we could be having a merry fucking Christmas, for starters,” Yonas said, “if you’d let our girlfriends join in!”

  Robel’s face dropped. His brothers had asked—repeatedly—for their American girlfriends to attend this sacred, private, family gathering. Tradition didn’t call for temporary girlfriends to join the mix.

  “Oh, would that really make this morning better?”

  “Yes,” Noel spoke up.

  Shiekh Yared heaved a heavy, doleful sigh. “You know, I really thought you and Sondra had something going.”

  Robel blinked in surprise at his father. “Excuse me?”

  “She seemed lovely.” His gaze drifted across the room, toward the tall, arched windows overlooking the gardens bathed in early morning sunlight. “You know, I chose them all for their skills. But I also had secret hopes that maybe, just maybe…” The wind went out of him, and he fell quiet.

  “Maybe what?” Robel demanded.

  Noel grinned, looking over the top of his book at their father. “Is this so, Father?”

  Yonas chuckled as he rubbed both the twin’s backs. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  The girls gasped, looking between their brothers and father.

  “Must have gotten that one wrong,” Sheikh Yared muttered. “Seemed like a sure thing, too.”

  “You actually want me to be with her?” Robel demanded. “She’s American.”

  Their father sent him a look that could only say duh. “I’m aware.”

  “But…” Robel began, “How could you think an American would be fit for the throne? Doesn’t she need to be Maatkaran?”

  Their father rubbed at the spot between his eyes, looking wearier than ever. “My boys, I am a bigger believer in love than in rules. I could not have lasted these thirty years as ruler without your mother at my side.” His hand fell to his side, dangling off the edge of the arm chair. “And I do not know how much longer I will make it without her. Finding that support, that love, is more important than where they’re from. It can only be this way.”

  The room fell quiet, broken only by the grudging murmurs of appreciation as Sesuna and Winta explored the makeup cases. And in the silence, Robel realized the throbbing truth of the matter.

  The absence of their mother had been the friction in everything. The unhappiness. The tension. The utter lack of flexibility and ease.

  Robel had been trying to make things progress as though their mother might return at any time. Keeping it up to her standards. Keeping it the same as always.

  But this year, nothing had been the same. In fact, it had been bigger and different in more ways than he could even properly describe.

  He pushed to his feet and walked, albeit slowly, toward the door, thanks to his much easier-to-use ankle brace. Noel glanced up at him but didn’t say a word.

  “Where are you off to?” Sheikh Yared asked.

  “Just a little task,” Robel said. “Something I’ve been putting off and absolutely must go finish right away.”

  * * *

  Sondra was lingering in bed when the knock came. At seven a.m., she instinctively knew who it must be, but feared finding out. Every inch of her body wished it was Robel, coming to climb into bed and melt away all the confusion and hurt with some soft kisses and caresses.

  But more likely, it was a palace employee, coming to tell her that it was time to leave.

  After all, Christmas in Maatkare had finally arrived. January seventh. Her services were no longer needed, and probably a helpful attendant was on the other side of the door, ready to usher her to the airport.

  She debated not getting out of bed. Just pretending she was asleep.

  The knock sounded again. She covered her face with the sheets. She could ride this out. Just stay hidden until they went way.

  Except Nessa began crying. Loudly.

  She rolled out of bed, heading for the crib in the adjoining room. She smiled down at her niece, picking her up. The girl immediately calmed, and Sondra straightened her back before heading to the door.

  She pulled it open.

  And her jaw dropped when she saw who was there.

  Robel’s jaw flexed as he watched her, those familiar dark eyes gobbling her up as if they hadn’t seen each other for years, not days. Her breath hitched.

  His dark, usually perfect hair was tousled and messy, as if he’d spent all night tugging at it, unable to sleep. Dark stubble dotted his jaw. And he was clearly still in his bedclothes: loose dark sweats and a T-shirt that said RAGDAR.

  “Aren’t you just the picture of Maatkaran pride?”

  A smile quirked his lips, but his gaze on her never wavered. One hand was behind his back. Hiding something. Either flowers or an eviction notice. She was scared to find out which.

  “May I come in?”

  “Not if you plan to kick me out.” She hoisted Nessa, hating how relieved she was to see him. Like his mere presence could completely absolve all the hurtful things he’d said. The way he’d treated her. She stepped aside anyway, allowing him enough room to pass. She could at least hear him out.

  “That’s not my plan, I assure you.” He stepped inside, his sandalwood scent reaching her. He wasn’t using crutches anymore. He looked almost entirely healed. She rolled her lips inward, steeling herself. She didn’t know what the game plan should be, but it probably didn’t involve taking this man straight to bed.

  “Well. Enlighten me. What is your plan?”

  Robel sighed, revealing what he’d hidden behind his back, looking more uncertain than she’d ever seen him. He unfolded a newspaper. She’d seen it before—it was the Ragdar Times. But she couldn’t read a bit of the all-Arabic newspaper.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I was wrong,” he finally said. “About the living nativity. About a lot of things.”

  A laugh escaped her. “You think?”

  His jaw worked back and forth, then he said, “I know I was wrong. And this paper proves it. Not that you needed to see to know. But the front-page article here is all about the wild success of the quirky living nativity scene that all of Maatkare is demanding become a part of the new cultural traditions.” He paused, his eyes shining. “That was all you. And your name is even in here. I made sure of it, when the journalist called to congratulate the palace.”

  She looked at the article, then back up at him. “Well, I bet your father is happy he chose to hire me. Not that you would have made the same excellent decision.”

  “I might not have. And I would have been all the worse because of it.” He wet his bottom lip, looking down at the article. “And now I need your help.”

  Some of the anger returned to her from the other day. But it didn’t sting as much as it once did. “Well, you’ll have to find it elsewhere. Because I already told you. I can’t work with you anymore.” She headed to the bed, setting Nessa down before sitting down herself.

  “I need a Christmas miracle. And I think you’re the only one who can organize it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. This sounded like a joke. Or at least an obvious attempt to make nice. “What do yo
u mean?”

  Robel tugged at his hair. “Well, my family has just had the worst Christmas in history. And I realized why. It wasn’t the event planning. It wasn’t the food. It wasn’t any of that. It’s just…my mother isn’t here. And we miss her. And we need to see her.” He looked up at her, that same heartbreaking honesty creasing his face. “Sondra, please help us see her.”

  She could barely speak. “Y-You want to go to Switzerland?”

  Robel nodded. “And I want you to come.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded again, a small smile tugging at his lips. “As well as the other girlfriends. Maia and Ana.”

  Heat spread through her. She shouldn’t focus on that part right now. What the other girlfriends meant when it came to her. “Okay. But…when?”

  “Now. Today.” Robel gnawed at the inside of his lip. “I haven’t told the family. I wanted to have a plan worked out first.”

  “A plan?” The very word sounded like a joke to her. But immediately her mind leapt into action. Stringing together the threads, trying to find the new, better image that awaited on the other side. “I’ll see what I can come up with. But I don’t work miracles, you know.”

  “No.” Robel came over to the bed, easing down beside her. He left a respectful distance between them but reached out and caught her by the wrist. “You do.”

  She looked at the caramel skin of his big hand. The one that had squeezed her into orgasm just the other day. Her mouth went dry, and she forced herself to look up at him.

  “Well, maybe sometimes,” she whispered. A moment pulsed between them. “Did you call me your girlfriend?”

  Something resembling shyness flitted across his face. He looked away briefly. “Yes. I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”

  “You expect me to be your girlfriend after…all that?” She didn’t need to repeat what had happened between them.

  “No.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles, his dark gaze sending a shiver through her. “But I do expect you to be my girlfriend after I make it up to you.”