by Erin Snihur
It wasn’t that Amelia even wanted to talk to Khalid. After their discussion a few nights ago, Amelia’s mind had sunk into a deep depression. She is too upset. Her mind races with questions. Playing with the bracelet Khalid had given her after their first few dates, Amelia smiles at the sight of it and her wedding ring. The same replica of the ring that her mother had worn before passing away. Khalid had gone to so much trouble to escape his first marriage and procure this ring. All for her. Because he loved her.
Gazing down at her stomach, Amelia sighs, “Your father is a very confusing man, little one. I pray he loves you.”
Not expecting an answer, Amelia jumps when a familiar deep voice breaks through the silence.
“How can I not love the child my wife carries?”
Gazing up at the tall figure standing behind her, Amelia slowly rises, her legs shaky. Her husband, Khalid, stands in front of her. His cool, green eyes, tired and heavy as he gazes down at her. His suit is rumpled. Probably from the travel he has been experiencing.
Biting her bottom lip, Amelia gazes at him through her eyelashes, “I didn’t know you had returned. Welcome home.”
Tilting his head, Khalid smiles, almost sadly and approaches her cautiously, “I wanted to surprise the mother of my child.”
Amelia’s stomach clenches. So, he had heard her murmurings. She prayed it was just a coincidence. She didn’t want to argue with him now.
“How did you find out?” Amelia hesitantly asks.
Smiling once more, Khalid approaches her more closely and reaches out a hand to caress her cheek briefly, “My mother. She knocked some sense into me.”
Blushing, Amelia leans into his touch, “She shouldn’t have interfered.”
“I’m happy she did. I fear if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have discovered the truth until it was too late, like Teresa and Amoz,” Khalid croons.
Tilting her head, Amelia stares up at Khalid in confusion, “I thought you didn’t want children yet?”
“I was wrong, ya amar,” Khalid began, “About everything. This child—my child, will be loved more strongly than any other child in the entire world.”
Kneeling before her, Khalid presses his hands to her stomach, feeling the slight and almost indiscernible bulge, “Hello, my son—”
Amelia giggles and interrupts, “It could be a girl.”
Scoffing, Khalid shoots her bump a dirty look, “Impossible. A prince grows here. I’m sure of it.”
Running her hands lovingly through Khalid’s hair, Amelia jumps in place when the clearing of a throat is heard behind them. Spinning in Khalid's arms as he moves to stand, Amelia’s eyes grow wide at the sight of the unruly and bearded man before her.
“Maarku?” Amelia whispers in disbelief.
Bowing slightly, Maarku steps into the light, his familiar greenish-brown eyes, so similar, yet dissimilar to Khalid’s, sparkle back at her. Maarku’s dark hair and unruly beard appears so out of character for the cool and put together businessman she remembers him being.
“Your Highness,” Maarku murmurs respectfully.
Staring from her estranged brother-in-law up at Khalid, who doesn’t seem to be surprised, Amelia mutters, “When did you get here?”
Question going unanswered, Khalid grumbles to Maarku, “You couldn’t have waited a few more minutes?”
Shrugging, Maarku appears innocent as he holds up his hands, “I didn’t want to be waiting all night while you two love birds finished your canoodling.”
Blushing at Maarku’s words, Amelia pulls away from Khalid as she moves closer to her brother-in-law, “Does this mean you and Khalid have made up?”
Nodding, Maarku shoots his brother a humorous glare, “We’ve reached an agreement of sorts.”
Over exaggerated clearing of the throat on Khalid’s part, draw’s Maarku’s eye and as they light up in understanding, the once estranged brother takes a step closer to Amelia.
“I wanted to apologize to you, Amelia, for my behavior to you when we first met. It was unforgivable,” Maarku murmurs and then eyes his brother, “And I’m not just saying this to get out of a beating.”
Smiling in understanding, Amelia pulls Maarku in for a hug, much to his surprise. Pulling back, Amelia cheekily grins and grabs his hand. She places it on her stomach, shocking the composed man.
“Your little niece or nephew is very happy to have their Uncle and future godfather back home,” Amelia murmurs, stunning both Maarku and Khalid.
Nice one, Amelia. Give your husband and his brother a heart attack, why don’t you!
“Ya amar, are you sure?” Khalid mutters behind her.
Grinning from ear to ear, Amelia nods and turns around to face Khalid, “Maarku is loyal to his family. I’ve seen it. He will make an excellent godfather. I want our child to be surrounded by family. Always.”
Squeaking in surprise when Khalid pulls her into his arms and silences her with a short kiss, Khalid murmurs against her lips, “Always.”
“By Allah, you two are going to be the death of me,” Maarku grumbles behind them.
Turning to cast a mischievous look on Maarku, while still remaining in Khalid’s arms, Amelia snaps back innocently, “Perhaps we should find Maarku someone to settle down with.”
Eyes wide, as if frightened by the thought of marriage and settling down, Maarku swears and throws his hands up in the air, “No! Not happening.”
Giggling, Amelia and Khalid follow Maarku as they enter the palace, eager to reunite the Majeed family once more. At the sight of Mareen jumping into Maarku’s arms upon their entrance into the family dining area, Amelia immediately pulls Khalid to a stop.
“I almost forgot one thing,” Amelia murmurs.
Groaning, Khalid stares down at her, “Don’t tell me. Twins?”
Laughing, Amelia shakes her head and points to Mareen, “You need to ensure Santa brings Mareen a new pony.”
Pulling her tight against his chest, Khalid growls seductively into Amelia’s ear, “Fine, as long as Santa ensures my pregnant wife is naked and in my bed this night and every other night. Forever.”
Humming in delight, Amelia reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses Khalid, “Forever.”
Batra
Sheik Malik and Samara
6
Seven days until Christmas
Sheik Malik Al-Mokhtar of Batra stares down at the photographs of Hamda Ameen, his wife's grandfather. Hamda had been seen in multiple northern countries and most recently, Hattan. He’d quickly fled the country and was now hidden away somewhere. Most likely nursing his failings for finding support against Malik. Since the discovery of Hamda’s attempts at trying to use the marriage of his granddaughter to his financial advantage, Malik had sent men to watch over the older man. Reading the latest report, Malik sighs. Nothing new had surfaced. Perhaps now would be a good time to inform his wife that he’d been spying on Hamda?
His wife, Sheikha Samara Al-Mokhtar, had made it clear in the past that she wanted nothing to do with her grandfather. She simply wanted to continue their marriage as if the man who had raised her from childhood didn’t exist.
Turning to his uncle, Artis, who sits on the other side of the desk, flipping through correspondence, Malik murmurs, “Have we received Tariq’s invitation yet?”
Nodding, Artis leans over the desk and hands Malik a gold envelope, “Late, as usual. Typical of a Hattan Sheik.”
Smirking, Malik opens the gold envelope and reads the card, “I guess we’ll be celebrating in Hattan for Tariq’s first Christmas as a Sheik.”
“I will be taking your cousins to the country for some relaxation,” Artis pauses, “Are you sure it is wise to go to Hattan since Hamda is missing?”
“I don’t really know. His finances have all but dried up. He might not even have two cents to his name at the moment, but it could be likely that he’ll try to plead with Samara or her sister for money,” Malik murmurs, not even realizing the possibility until now. Hamda is a greedy man. Now that Malik has all
but ruined him in the business world, no doubt he will seek revenge.
“Which reminds me, Samara mentioned her sister would be arriving today. She requested a car to pick her sister up and Samara wants to meet Sheena at the airport. I wanted to confirm her plans with you before I sent out a security detail,” Artis mentions as he sets aside piles of correspondence in order of urgency on Malik’s desk.
Inwardly cringing, Malik meets Artis’ gaze and sighs when the older man seems to sense his frustration.
“She didn’t tell me this. I wonder why the sudden appearance. We were supposed to meet Sheena and Charles in London after the new year,” Malik sighs and shakes his head, “I wonder what the scandal queen of England has in store for us now.”
Chuckling, Artis shrugs his shoulders, “I could care less. Soon, my family and I will be relaxing in the country.”
“Samara doesn’t need any more scandal attached to her family name,” Malik growls as he recalls the way her sister and grandfather seem to have scandal’s waiting for them around every corner.
Nodding in understanding, Artis stands, “Then shall I send Samara with an armed guard or shall I tell her all we can do is send a car for Sheena?”
Sighing, Malik nods towards the report on Hamda, “Perhaps she should go, at least it will get her out of the palace while I handle the Hamda issue.”
Chuckling once more, Artis waves his hand in a mocking salute, “Such a good husband and Sheik you have become, nephew.”
All thanks to Samara.
Sheikha Samara Al-Mokhtar smiles and waves to a group of paparazzi and the growing crowd of locals that swarm Batra’s capital airport. Feeling her guard, Marcus, press his hand to her back as he leads her through the opening of the crowd was enough to send a familiar jolt through her. After almost a year of being married to a Sheik, Samara still became startled by the amount of security and paparazzi that followed her every movement.
Smiling at the locals who wave at her from behind the barrier, Samara ducks inside the airport and follows Marcus and the rest of his team. As they usher her towards the arrivals section of the airport, a few travelers stop and stare, while others paid her respect by bowing.
Inwardly cringing at the attention, Samara turns to Marcus and mumbles, “Perhaps we should have the car brought around back. I don’t think Sheena is in the mood to be seen by the mob outside.”
Nodding silently, Marcus signals to a few guards to head back to the car. As she stops before Sheena’s gate, Samara thinks back to the frantic phone call she received from Sheena only a few days ago. Her sister is normally so calm and living life on a high of materialistic happiness. But that phone call scared Samara almost as much as the first few days after their parent’s death. Watching as the airport employees open the doors to the gate and travelers begin exiting the plane, Samara bites her lip as she searches for her sister in the crowd.
“Sammy?” A small, frightened voice speaks up a few feet away. Samara and Marcus both turn at the sound. Samara is astonished at the owner of the small voice. Standing before her is a tiny woman wearing robes and a hijab that covers her dark hair and large, dark sunglasses that give her the appearance of a fly.
Sheena.
Instead of the strong, confident woman that always wore heels, makeup done to perfection and an attractive outfit that usually shows off her model-like figure. Clutched to her stomach is a medium size duffel bag and Samara is certain her hands tremble as her sister holds it tightly.
“Sheena?” Samara asks, still not sure that the small, frightened woman before her is truly her older sister. The wild child that the British paparazzi labeled “The Scandal Queen”.
Biting her bottom lip as it trembles, Sheena slowly removes her sunglasses a tad bit, only to reveal her eyes. One is red and swollen shut. The other is leaking tears and both have purplish bags under them. There is no mistaking the same hazel eyes that she and Samara inherited from their mother. Gasping in shock, Samara rushes forward and envelopes her sister into her arms.
“Oh, Sheena! What happened?”
Sunglasses firmly back in place, Sheena shakes her head and whimpers, “Not here.”
Still holding her sister firmly in her arms, Samara shoots Marcus a look, “We need to get out of here. Discreetly.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Marcus agrees, shooting Sheena a wary look and motions in the other direction then the one they came in by. “This way.”
Pressing a hand to his ear piece, Marcus mutters into his headset, “The jewel is on the move.”
Rolling her eyes at Marcus’ code word for her, Samara urges Sheena to follow and she whispers under her breath, so others won’t hear, “Do you need a hospital?”
Shaking her head, Sheena winces, “Just rest.”
Nodding in understanding, Samara’s heart aches as her thoughts turn to Malik, who awaits them at home. This morning, she had wanted to surprise him with her sister’s visit, but Sheena had pleaded with her not to tell anyone of her arrival. The only person she’d told was Malik’s uncle, Artis and the man had promised to keep things quiet.
Please don’t be upset, Malik.
7
Seven days until Christmas...
Samara is thankful Marcus was able to get them out of the airport and back to the palace without incident. No doubt the paparazzi would be wondering who or what she’d come to the airport to pick up. For right now, they can keep on guessing.
“Are you sure you won’t have the palace doctor take a look at your eye? You may have a concussion!” Samara croons as she pulls Sheena in the direction of the special chambers, she had the servants prepare for her sisters’ arrival.
“Maybe later. I’m very tired,” Sheena whispers back in a defeated voice.
Pulling her sister to a stop. Amelia shoots Marcus, who continues to follow them through the palace, a look that means for him to back off. Once he is far enough away, Samara turns to her sister and squeezes Sheena’s hands.
“Who did this to you, Sheena?”
Turning her still covered eyes down on their entwined hands, Sheena shakes her head, “I—I can’t, Samara. Not now.”
Furious over someone laying a hand on her sister, Samara coolly mutters, “I’ll kill Charles! Forget divorce, I’ll have his manly bits cut off and shoved down his throat. Then I’ll find a pack of—!”
As if believing Samara’s outrage, Sheena jumps up and interrupts her with a cry of shame, “No! Please Samara, don’t do anything. A divorce is the only answer for this. Please!”
Gazing down at her once strong and willful sister, who in the past, stood up to their grandfather and escaped his clutches, Samara didn’t know who was standing before her. A small shell of a woman that had once been her sister.
A shrieking voice down the hallway has both sisters turning as a flash of color appears before them. Dressed as a fairytale princess, Malik’s youngest cousin, Leelah, jumps into Samara’s arms as Sheena backs away towards Marcus.
“Leelah! You shouldn’t jump on the Sheikha! It isn’t lady-like!” Leelah’s maid who runs swiftly behind the girl, calls out.
Waving the maid off, Samara forces a happy smile on her face for her cousin-in-law, “It’s alright. Leelah, why aren’t you with your tutors?”
Shrugging, Leelah glances behind her at Sheena before turning back to Samara with a funny look, “I was bored. Have you seen Ayo?”
Recalling the fondness, the young girl had for Malik’s dog, Samara pats her on the head, “He’s probably in our chambers. Why don’t you go look? He’s probably lonely.”
Shrieking again in glee, the young girl races off, her maid running off behind her as she calls after the young princess to slow down. Chuckling under her breath, Samara turns and raises her brow at the way Sheena cowers close to Marcus. Her normally amusing guard seems more furious at the present situation than anything else.
“Are you sure you want to stay here? Our palace may be large, but Malik’s cousins are everywhere and they are rascals,” S
amara smiles reassuringly at Sheena. Taking her sisters hand again, Samara leads her towards her sister’s chambers.
“You’ll be able to meet them all later if you’re feeling up to it?” Samara asks as they continue on their walk.
“Perhaps, but I don’t want them to see my eye. Maybe not until the swelling has gone down,” Sheena mutters.
“Of course!” Samara answers, feeling stupid for not realizing it more. With the sunglasses Sheena is wearing, you can’t even make out her injured eye.
As they arrive to Sheena’s designated chambers, Samara turns to Marcus as her sister enters first, greeted by the awaiting maid. Shooting her guard, a cautious look, Samara hisses, “Have Dr. Fargo brought to these rooms and be discreet!”
Nodding, Marcus bows slightly and marches off. Shutting the doors of the chambers behind her, Samara smiles softly as her sister hands her only bag to the maid, who scurries off to unpack for Sheena.
As Sheena scans the large chambers and even walks closer to the outdoor gardens, her sister murmurs, “These rooms are too much, Sammy.”
Waving her sister off, Samara smiles, “Nonsense. Malik and I are happy to have you here and want you to be comfortable. We want you to stay as long as you like.”
Let’s hope Malik doesn’t mind.
Entering his and Samara’s chambers, Malik scans the empty room. Hearing playful shrieking coming from their private gardens, he throws his suit jacket off and marches outdoors. Grinning from ear to ear at the sight of his youngest cousin, Leelah, chasing after his dog, Ayo, Maarku pauses to watch. The dog holds a stick in his mouth as Leelah tries to grab for it. Leelah’s maid watches protectively from the steps that lead down to the garden. Stepping up next to the maid, Malik ignores the gasp of shock at his presence as the woman bows low.
“Your Highness! I am so sorry, Leelah—,” the maid begins, but Malik holds up his hand for silence.
Watching his young cousin in amusement, Malik murmurs, “It is alright. Leelah may play with Ayo whenever she wishes.”
