by Holly Rayner
“A refreshment, miss?” the woman asked in a hushed voice.
Sarah eyed the tray with longing in her eyes. Her mouth was parched from sweating and rushing through the morning. She likely hadn’t had a drink since the day before. She glanced up to see Ahmad watching her, and she shook her head, glaring at him.
“No, thank you.”
The woman nodded her head respectfully and bowed out of the room on bare feet, making a silent exit. Ahmad crossed his arms.
“You can’t tell me you’re going on a hunger strike just because I may have been a little forceful in bringing you to my palace for food.”
“A little?” Sarah balked, crossing her own arms back at him.
They stood like that, across the room from one another, having a staring contest for quite some time. Sarah refused to budge. She wasn’t in the wrong; he was, and he darn well deserved to know it. Finally, Ahmad’s arms dropped and he walked toward her.
His gait was confident and assured, like he had never once had to doubt that he was in charge. Sarah realized that was likely the case, being king and all. When he reached her, he stopped close enough for her to breathe in the masculine scent of him. It was intoxicating, and she had to give herself a mental shake to keep herself from focusing on how good he smelled.
“Sarah, I have behaved quite terribly this afternoon, and for that I am sorry. Will you please do me the honor of a lunch so that I can make it up to you?”
“Will you let me go home after?”
Ahmad’s lips twitched in that annoying way he had, irking her beyond anything she’d ever experienced before.
“Probably,” he said, turning around and exiting the room before she could even accept his apology.
Sarah realized that if she didn’t follow, she’d likely end up lost and with no chance of getting home anyway. Convincing the Sheikh was the only chance she had, so she had to go with it.
She followed behind, hoping against hope that she would find a way out of this mess sooner rather than later.
TEN
Ahmad led her down several glittering corridors before they stepped into a vast, open chamber that was quite clearly a dining hall. There was a terrace with white gossamer curtains floating along a breeze at the edge of the room, and next to it stood an expensive-looking table that was loaded with dishes of all kinds of food.
Ahmad made his way to the table and nearly took a seat before he seemed to remember his manners and pulled out a chair for her instead. Sarah crossed her arms and glared at him for a moment, and he stared back at her with an open and expectant expression. Finally, losing the standoff, Sarah huffed and took the offered seat, seething at the small look of self-satisfaction she caught on Ahmad’s face as he pushed her chair in and sat across from her.
“I think you’ll enjoy our cuisine here very much. It is quite flavorful.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve already had the best there is,” Sarah snapped, eyeing the food with suspicion.
Ahmad lifted one arched eyebrow, haughty as ever.
“Have you? And you think whatever food you’ve tasted can beat what’s offered at the Sheikh’s table?”
“I don’t doubt it for a second.”
“Well then, allow me to disprove you. Please, fill your plate, and let’s see how this meal compares. I daresay, if the food you had before was better, I will have to get the name of the chef so that he may grace my own table with his creations.”
With that, Ahmad proceeded to fill his plate with various helpings of spiced chicken and fish, steamed and flavored vegetables, and a flatbread dusted with a smattering of herbs. In spite of herself, Sarah had developed a bit of an appetite, having not eaten since the day before, and she could only hold out for so long before she sighed and followed suit.
When she took her first bite, she closed her eyes and repressed a moan of delight. Ahmad hadn’t been wrong. While the food at the restaurant Fariq had taken her to had been exceptional, this was pure heaven.
“I will hold my silence, seeing your reaction, but I think it is safe to say that you might want to expand your opinion on the cuisine of my country before making such a definitive opinion.”
“Do you have to be such a snob?” Sarah said, taking a sip of cold, sweet wine.
“A snob! I have been called many things, but a snob is not one of them.”
“I find that hard to believe given your status.”
“Many sheikhs are known for their humility and dignity. I think it’s only fair to tell you that I have worked among my people, and I know them well. I have taken great steps to alleviate poverty in this country, and I am quite proud of that. I am also proud of our culture, our food, and our art. If that makes me a snob, I’d love to hear your definition of someone who pretends otherwise. In fact, perhaps it is you who is the snob.”
“Me?” Sarah demanded, setting down her fork. “You can’t be serious.”
“And yet here you are telling me my food isn’t up to your standards. Is that not the definition of the word right there?”
Sarah blinked at him, completely unsure of what to say next. He had bested her in a war of words and morals, and the truth was, he wasn’t wrong. Still, he wasn’t fully in the right either.
“Forgive me for not wanting to cater to the feelings of the man holding me hostage.”
Ahmad’s lips twitched again, and she wanted to slap that handsome dimple off his stupid face. The sooner she got out of there, the better.
“Hostage? That’s an interesting term. By all means, you are my guest. You are free to leave at any time.”
“Great. It was nice knowing you,” Sarah said, rising from her seat.
Out of nowhere, the two guards stepped forward into the doorway, making their presence known. Sarah glared at them and then back at Ahmad.
“You were saying?” she said, gesturing toward the human barricade he had created for her.
Ahmad shrugged, completely unaffected. When he did so, to her great annoyance, Sarah noticed the muscles shift beneath his expensive shirt. His physique was surely model-worthy beneath those clothes. The thought of him standing in the nude startled her, and she shook her head. Why would her brain do such a thing to her at such a time?
“You are free to go whenever you wish. All you have to do is give me the letter from Ali, and then your freedom will be secured. It’s really not that difficult. I have no idea why you’re choosing to be so reticent.”
Sarah sat back down, realizing she wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
“And I’ve told you that I’ll give it to you as soon as you tell me why you want it. That’s not very difficult either, is it?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’m not going to do anything that might put Ali in danger, and based on our interaction so far, you appear to be a very dangerous man.”
The look on Ahmad’s face was hard to read. He was clearly annoyed, but there was a trace of admiration in his eyes, and Sarah found it curious that she would find that there.
“Ali is in no danger from me,” he said, his tone softened. “You can trust in that.”
“Can I?” Sarah countered. “I have absolutely no reason to trust you. None.”
Ahmad considered her words, his lips pursing slightly in thought. It made Sarah realize that she was staring at his mouth, and she dipped her head to look down at her gold-encrusted plate instead. She heard him sigh.
“You are right. I must have your word, though, that you would do anything to protect Ali, no matter what.”
Sarah looked back up at him. Their eyes collided, and he searched her gaze for lies while she did the same to him. She thought about Ali’s letter, tucked safely in her purse. Why hadn’t they taken it from her? Why had they let her keep the one article that most likely contained what Ahmad was looking for?
Could it be that he really was waiting for her to give that information rather than forcing it from her? It did speak a little to his character that her person had
generally remained untouched, notwithstanding the rough way she had been tossed into his limo earlier. She held his gaze, considering all of this information and thinking about Ali, wherever he was. She nodded.
“Anything.”
Ahmad’s dark eyes were searching as he continued to stare at her. Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm beneath his gaze, but she didn’t dare back down. After several more agonizing moments, Ahmad relented, his eyes darting down to the table as he pulled the napkin from his lap and set it on his plate.
“Well then. There is something I would like to show you, if you are willing?”
It was an invitation, and a genuine one. Sarah placed her own napkin on the table and stood, stepping toward the doors. It was a silent acceptance that the Sheikh acknowledged with a nod before the two of them fell into step on the way toward the inner palace. Ahmad nodded to his two guards. They stepped aside but made no move to follow them as Ahmad led her down another series of hallways.
“How do you not get lost in here?” she asked.
“You grow up here. That way you have a whole childhood to memorize every hallway, every secret passage.”
Sarah laughed.
“You do not have secret passages.”
“Don’t I?” Ahmad replied.
Sarah gazed up at him, realizing then just how tall he was. He glanced down at her with a sly grin, and her heart fluttered a little.
Stop it, she thought. Just because the man was handsome didn’t mean he was good. Pretty much all his behavior had proven that it was far more likely that he wasn’t, even if he did seem to want to protect Ali rather than harm him. He stopped at a door, and Sarah had to dig her heels into the ground to keep from tripping forward.
After Ahmad opened the door, he stepped inside, clearing his throat. Sarah gazed around in wonder. This was clearly his bedroom. There was an enormous four-poster bed surrounded by ornate side tables and a sitting area that housed a fully stocked wet bar and a small fridge.
“This is my room,” he said, and Sarah thought he sounded a little embarrassed.
It was clear that Ahmad wasn’t the kind of person who had women in his room often, which was curious given that he was rich, handsome, and a sheikh. Sarah found that the more she learned about Ahmad, the more of a puzzle he became. Part of her wanted to piece that puzzle together. The other part wanted to get back home and move on with her life.
A large bookcase along his sitting area wall housed several volumes, and Ahmad walked in that direction, glancing through the volumes as though searching for a title.
“What are you—” Before Sarah could finish, he pulled a book back and the bookcase released itself from the wall like a spring-trapped door.
Ahmad glanced down at her with a grin.
“You were saying about no secret passages?”
Sarah was speechless as he pulled open the door and reached behind it, flicking a switch that lit a long, dark corridor made of sandstone. He stepped in and began making his way down the narrow hallway, and Sarah watched for a beat before taking a deep breath and following him.
In the silence of the hallway, Sarah heard nothing but their collective breathing as Ahmad made his way down the hall. Eventually they reached a steep stone staircase.
“Down we go,” he said, taking several steps before he realized she wasn’t following.
When he looked up, she stared down at him with her arms crossed.
“I’m not going down there,” she said, her feet planted firmly.
“Don’t you trust me?” Ahmad asked, his eyes open and honest, like a child’s.
“No.”
Ahmad laughed then, and Sarah nearly screamed in frustration. The man had no feathers to ruffle, and he seemed to think that everything she did to defy him was funny. It was beyond maddening.
Once he realized she really had no intention of moving, his laughter died down.
“Fair enough. I’ve given you no reason to, but I can give you a reason to trust me now. All you have to do is follow me down these steps, and then I can provide you some of the answers you’re looking for.”
“Or you can just tell me what you think I need to know up here, not far beneath the earth where no one can hear me scream.”
“You think I’m going to attack you?”
Ahmad sounded so wounded at this that Sarah felt a pang of guilt before she steeled her resolve. She owed this man nothing, and he owed her everything.
“I don’t know anything about you, and now you’re guiding me down some scary stairwell because you refuse to tell me why you’ve kidnapped me in the first place. Why should I follow you down there?”
“Because I’m a visual person, and I think you’ll trust me more if you see what I’ve got down here.”
Sarah felt a pang of worry. Was Ali down there? Was he a prisoner? Was he some kind of national secret or something like that? Worse, could he be dead? Was this a tomb?
As possibilities raced through Sarah’s head, she realized that the only way she would get her answer was if she followed Ahmad down those steps.
“Fine, but I am not afraid to scream,” she said, taking a few steps to join him.
“You won’t have to. I promise.”
Ahmad lifted a hand as though to reassure her, but he clearly thought better than to touch her, as instead he turned back toward the descending staircase, stepping carefully as they made their way deep into the earth.
“What is this place anyway?” Sarah asked, unable to stand the silence any longer.
“You’ll see. We’re almost there.”
Sarah saw a dim light beneath them, signaling the end of the stairs. When they got there, her eyes took a moment to adjust from the dark stairwell to the stone room they found themselves in.
In the center of the room was a small tomb elevated on a stone platform. Sarah choked back a sob.
“It’s just as I feared. Ali is dead. What is he doing down here? What did you do to him?”
Ahmad reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, holding it out to Sarah. She glanced at it and then went back to staring at the child-sized coffin, her heart pounding. With shaking fingers, she took the paper from Ahmad and opened it. Looking down, she saw the photograph of the letter she had sent to the papers.
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.
“That tomb does not belong to Ali,” Ahmad said, his tone hushed. “It couldn’t possibly.”
Sarah stared up into his eyes, waiting for her answer. A niggling voice in the back of her head told her what his next words would be, and it was right.
“That tomb isn’t for Ali, because I am Ali. That tomb is the resting place of the rightful heir to the Al Jayah throne, Sheikh Ahmad bin-Yousuf al-Jayah. He has been dead for nearly twenty years.”
ELEVEN
Sarah stared at Ali with a mixture of disbelief and relief. The man she was looking at, the haughty Sheikh who had driven her mad with his high-handedness and secretive ways, was the exact person she had been looking for this whole time.
“Why all the secrecy?” she asked, holding the piece of paper tightly between her fingers.
A wave of dizziness washed over her as the effect of being in a dank, dark crypt with little oxygen took its toll. She bent slightly, placing her hand on the tiny tomb to support herself. Noticing this, Ali was at her side in an instant.
“Let’s get you some fresh air. The underground world doesn’t seem to agree with you.”
“Not to mention finding out that you’re Ali,” she said, little black dots swimming across her vision.
“Yes, well, let’s keep that bit to ourselves as we head back up, shall we?”
Absently, Sarah pondered why Ali was being so secretive about his identity even within the palace walls. But when he took her hand, she forgot about everything but the undeniable spark that shot up through her arm and straight to her heart. He gently led her back up the stairs, holding tightly to her hand to ensure she wouldn’t fall if
she did indeed faint. Perhaps, beneath the false exterior, he was the Ali she had imagined in her dreams.
When they reached his bedroom, Sarah took a deep breath, her thoughts swimming as her head began to clear. Ali led her toward his private veranda, and together they walked down another spiraling staircase until they reached an enclosed garden area, which was full of beautiful flowers.
“I imagine you might have some questions for me,” Ali said, glancing down shyly at Sarah.
