by Holly Rayner
With that, he turned the boat away from the pier and hammered the throttle down, pointing the boat into the tossing seas. As the boat surged forward, Tiffany found solace on a chair in the back. She clung to a life preserver, watching as the land gradually shrank into the distance.
Suddenly, they were nearly a half-mile away from shore, the two of them, alone together. She shivered, her mind thinking only the worst possible thoughts. What if they capsized? What if she was forced to save the Sheikh, for the future of the country? What if she drowned?
Before long, the Sheikh maneuvered the boat out to a small, rocky ridge, with a dark sea cave in the red brown rock. He stalled the boat, and then turned towards Tiffany with a wide grin on his face. His hair was windswept and wild; his dark curls tangled across his forehead. He pointed toward her bag, saying, “Come along. Change. It won’t be long, now.”
“What won’t be long?” Tiffany asked. She reached for a towel and drew it over her body, wishing for privacy.
“They’re coming,” the Sheikh said, sounding wistful. “It’s nearly sundown.”
There was nowhere to change, so, with a furrowed brow, Tiffany practiced that old locker room trick, bringing her underwear down over her legs and stitching up the swimsuit in its place. She brought her dress up over her shoulders, then aligned the top of her swimsuit over her breasts, careful to do it all in a fluid motion, without allowing the Sheikh to see anything. Meanwhile, he undressed brazenly, allowing her to see his chiseled abdomen, and his gleaming, broad shoulders. As he changed, she caught sight of a small portion of his upper buttocks, which was firm and muscled, much like the rest of him. She felt her cheeks grow red with panic and a sudden wave of lust. What was she doing out there?
“I see them now,” the Sheikh said, standing poised at the top of the boat and pointing toward the rock. “Do you see their noses, poking out of the water?”
Tiffany stepped up to join him, feeling naked and wild, and her body so bare next to his. Sure enough, near the rocks, she saw seven or eight dolphins in the water, playing, their foreheads shining. She gasped, not having seen a dolphin in years, not since her father had taken her out on a similar boat ride.
“Oh, I love them,” she whispered, her breath catching.
“Do you want to swim with them?” the Sheikh said, his eyes flashing with excitement.
“Really?” Tiffany breathed. “Is it safe?”
“Of course it’s safe!” the Sheikh laughed. “You really do follow all the rules, don’t you?”
Tiffany shrugged, feeling suddenly sheepish. As the Sheikh pointed out toward the dolphins, she forced herself forward, rushing into the waves around the boat. The water was a shock, washing over her and tossing her beneath the waves. But with a firm motion, she was soon lashing about above the water, blinking up at him.
“That was fast!” he cried, laughing. “I didn’t think you had it in you!”
“Now all I have to do is wait for you, slow poke!” Tiffany called back. “The dolphins are swimming toward me, look!”
Sure enough, they were. Their noses were pointed like arrows toward her, their eyes bright, almost like those of dogs running across a field. Tiffany kicked her legs wildly, feeling her heart hammer with excitement.
After dropping anchor, the Sheikh leapt into the water alongside her. He swam toward her, kicking and sputtering, staring into her eyes. “You didn’t tell me it was freezing cold!” he said.
“Come on, be brave!” Tiffany said, smiling.
Without hesitation, the dolphins arrived, bucking up alongside them. They were playful, like children. Reaching upward, the Sheikh drew a large bucket of fish from the boat, and then began to toss them into the dolphin’s mouths, making them leap skyward with each toss. When he tried to pass a fish off to Tiffany, she screeched, shaking her head.
“No way am I touching that!” she said, suddenly frightened of the slimy scales. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself!” the Sheikh said, tossing another, then another. The dolphins responded in kind, chirping into the air around them. Their cries echoed against the sea cave walls, against the rocky ridges. It was one of the most beautiful scenes in the entire world, Tiffany was sure of it.
They swam until they were exhausted, and then hustled back up the ladder and into the boat, where they collapsed on the deck. They allowed the last rays of sun to dry them off, before it began to creep into the water in a dramatic, red, pink and orange sunset. They didn’t have many words for one another, and instead allowed the silence to grow comfortable, and calm. Far out, on the horizon, a cruise ship eased past like an ancient sea monster.
With the last of light casting a ghostly shine across the water, an unexpected gust of wind blew across the bow, tossing their towels into the water, along with a piece of the Sheikh’s suit. The Sheikh bolted up, trying and failing to nab the piece before it floated far into the dark water. “Shoot!” he said. He prepared to dive into the waves, tossing his arms back, but Tiffany gripped his bicep.
“No. It’s too dark. I won’t know if you’re safe,” she whispered.
The Sheikh shrugged slightly. “I’m a strong swimmer—” he said, hesitating.
“I know that,” Tiffany breathed. “But accidents happen at night on the water. And I don’t want one of them to happen now.”
The Sheikh nodded somberly, seeming to understand. He cranked the anchor back into the boat, and then started the engine, driving them back toward shore. They were shaking, chilly after being unable to dry off completely. As he pulled the boat up to the dock, Tiffany leaned toward his ear, whispering, “You know, you can take a hot shower at my place after this. I have plenty of towels. And you won’t have to go all the way back to the palace.”
The Sheikh’s eyes flashed. “Are you sure about that?” he asked.
Tiffany felt her stomach knot. What did he think she was offering? She began to stutter, trying to take several steps back. She certainly didn’t plan on bringing him “home,” in the traditional sense, did she? This was just a shower, nothing more.
“I mean, I have plans after this,” Tiffany lied. “But you’re welcome to get ready at my place before then.”
After tying up the boat, the Sheikh and Tiffany headed down the boardwalk, back toward the road and Tiffany’s apartment block. Tiffany’s cheeks grew red with apprehension, and she was grateful to the darkness around them that masked her discomfort. The Sheikh’s ego seemed to have depleted, especially as he was half-naked, walking down the road. With each passing moment, she began to think that maybe—just maybe—the Sheikh wasn’t such a bad guy, after all.
Maybe the Sheikh she thought she had known was really an act. Didn’t people create “characters” all the time, just to protect themselves? Was the Sheikh really a deep, passionate person beneath the shell he’d created to keep himself safe from harm?
“Why do you hang out with those people?” Tiffany finally asked him. “The people at the restaurant. Those arrogant men. And those empty-headed women…”
The Sheikh chuckled. “You really think they’re so empty-headed?”
“No,” Tiffany sighed. “I don’t. But I think they pretend to be empty-headed, because they think people like you appreciate that.”
“Ah, I see. A multi-layered con,” the Sheikh chuckled. “I’m sure you’re right, in more ways than I could even know. But to answer your question, I hang out with those people because—well—sometimes being with people like that is less demanding. When you’re famous, everyone is watching your every move. And if you’re alongside pretty, uncomplicated people…”
He trailed off, leaving Tiffany to fill in the blanks. “You just live the way people expect you to,” she sighed. “But why not surprise them?”
“Maybe it’s laziness,” the Sheikh continued. “Maybe it’s just me trying to rebel against my father’s wishes for my future. I know that eventually, the country will be mine to rule. And that will be a reality check. I’ll no longer be able to find joy in
late nights of partying. I’ll no longer find life in pretty, empty-headed women. I’ll have to be serious, forever. And I suppose I’m fighting that as long as I can.”
“So. It’s not really you,” she whispered, finally understanding.
“It’s a version of me,” he said, sighing. “But I know it’s not the best version I can give to the world. And I certainly know it’s not the one that you want to see.”
Tiffany blinked up at him. “Which version am I seeing now?”
“Maybe the realest one of all,” he answered.
Tiffany’s heart felt warm. Without a moment’s hesitation, she led him inside her apartment, locking the door behind him and watching his eyes as he gazed about the room. She’d never had a man to the apartment before. It was her space, and her space alone. And for some reason, against all odds, Sheikh Kazra was privy to it.
Nothing in the world made sense any more.
“Nice place,” he said, his voice deep and firm. She couldn’t read it. Was it a lie, a joke? Certainly, her apartment was nothing compared to his penthouse suite (about which she’d read in a tabloid the year before).
“It’s home,” she shrugged. Pointing toward the far corner, she added, “And the shower’s back there. I can grab you a towel…”
But instead, the Sheikh slipped his shoes off and entered her kitchen, still wearing his swimsuit. He gripped the bottle of wine that sat on the far corner of the counter, raising his eyebrows. “Do you think we could warm up a different way?”
“Ha,” Tiffany laughed, shifting slightly. Wearing only her bathing suit, she suddenly felt horribly naked. “The glasses are in the far cabinet. I’m going to put on something a little less…”
“Don’t do it on my account,” the Sheikh said, chuckling. After a long pause, he continued, “But of course. Grab me something to wear, if you have it.”
“Sure.”
Tiffany bolted to her dresser, trying to tell herself to calm down. Her fingers shook as she pawed through her bottom drawer, bringing out the largest pair of sweats she owned, along with a large T-shirt. She grabbed herself a V-neck shirt and a pair of shorts, donning them quickly and hanging her bathing suit up in the shower. She shivered slightly, glancing at her hair, which was curly with sea salt. Where was this going? What was she even thinking, letting him into her space?
When she arrived back in the kitchen, the Sheikh had poured them two glasses of deep, red wine. He gestured, looking pleased with himself. Tiffany passed him the sweatpants and T-shirt, pressing her lips together with sudden anxiety. “This should get you home, at least…” she said.
The Sheikh disappeared for a moment. When he joined her in the kitchen once more, he looked rugged and bright, wearing the white T-shirt, which showed his muscled chest. The sweats had been tied tight against his abdomen. He waited, peering into her eyes. The tension was growing.
They clinked their glasses before gliding into the living room, sipping the wine. Tiffany gestured towards the couch, but watched in surprise as the Sheikh sat on the floor with her, leaning against the window and gazing out at the street below. After a long, seemingly inescapable pause, he whispered, “In a strange way, I feel like I’m hiding out with you. There’s no way the paparazzi could find me here. No way they’d ever suspect.”
“You don’t think they’d find you at a nobody’s house, outside of the city?” Tiffany joked. “That’s surprising.”
“You’re not a nobody,” the Sheikh said. “You’re the daughter of the U.S. Ambassador. That’s not nothing.”
So he did know who she was. “You’ve done your research,” she said, giving him a sad smile.
“I found out everything I could about you on the internet, which, incidentally, wasn’t much,” he said, laughing. “Just that you went to Brown. That you moved here after you graduated. Curious, really, why you chose to go here, instead of remaining in the States. Don’t you miss your mother?”
“No, we’re not close,” Tiffany said, finding herself laughing sadly. For a long moment, she allowed silence to fall between them. Suddenly, her heart felt stabbed with the memory of the Sheikh’s mother, the Sheikha of Al Barait, who had passed away just two years previously.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate and love her,” Tiffany continued, trying to clear up the mess she’d made. “It’s just that we don’t see eye to eye. She left my father for her new husband years ago. And I missed my dad so much…”
“I get it,” the Sheikh said, his voice soft. “Not all mothers are like my mine. But damn, it’s been two years and I still miss her, every single stupid day.” He laughed slightly, bowing his head. “It was a traumatic time. Going to the hospital every day. Trying to lift her spirits when she really didn’t have a reason to smile. As it got near the end, they had her on so much medication that she could barely open her eyes. I remained at her side. Reading to her. Holding her hand…” He trailed off, bringing his chin to his chest. “Sorry for going into this. I promise I don’t throw this story onto just anyone.”
Did this mean Tiffany wasn’t ‘just anyone’? Embarrassed, yet feeling her heart beat with excitement, she slipped her hand over his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “It’s all right,” she breathed. “You can say whatever you want to, here. This is a safe space.”
“It feels that way,” he laughed. “And you can’t possibly understand how important that is. Especially for someone like me, who hasn’t felt safe in over two years.”
“When my mother left,” Tiffany said softly, “I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel like I was standing on solid ground again. But now that I’ve lived here a few years, I can’t imagine another life for myself. Truth be told, I’m glad she left. If only so I could come here and build something else for myself.”
The Sheikh suddenly reached for her hand, lifted it, and kissed it. Caught off-guard, Tiffany’s lips parted with sudden excitement and emotion. Closing her eyes, she felt his lips kiss down her hand, toward her arm, inhaling the scent of her. Shivering, she allowed herself to fall into his arms. She shuddered slightly, almost feeling as if she’d begin to cry. She hadn’t told anyone the truth of herself in years. And revealing it was almost like getting naked in front of him. It was almost like giving herself over to him, wholly and sexually.
It was almost better than that.
After a long moment of silence, the Sheikh looked down and noticed they were out of wine. Without pause, he lifted the glasses and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Tiffany in the living room alone. She heard the gurgle of the wine as it poured into the glass. Then, nothing. Wondering if something was wrong, she stood up and walked, taking tentative steps toward the kitchen. When she appeared in the doorway, she stared across at him, at his burning eyes, turned toward her.
And then, without pause, he burst across the room and kissed her. His soft mouth met hers, and his strong arms drew her close. She felt passion growing in her stomach. She fell into his kiss, yearning for more.
Kazra lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom, slipping her across the comforter. He stared down at her small frame, his lips parted, his eyes like those of a wild animal. After a moment, he whispered, “Are you sure about this?”
But Tiffany couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more.
They made love after that, falling into one another. They continued deep into the night, inhaling one another’s smells and crying out together. Far, far away, the paparazzi were searching for the Sheikh, looking in all of his usual Friday night haunts. Far away, Zarina was calling Tiffany’s dead cellphone, curious about how her evening with the Sheikh had gone. The night hummed along without them. They no longer needed it. They had one another.
Afterwards, sweaty and exhausted, they collapsed in one another’s arms, lost in the haze of their passion. They fell asleep, tucked close together, listening to the waves as they crashed against the pier. It had been the most romantic night of Tiffany’s life. The world had seemed to open itself up to her, revealing true emotio
n. And she no longer wanted to resist it.
Chapter Five
Tiffany hadn’t dreamed in years. But that night, wrapped in the loving embrace of the Sheikh, she fell into gorgeous dreams. Dreams of her and Kazra, basking in the sunshine, and diving into the glowing sea. Dreams of a future together, walking hand-in-hand and choosing furniture. Dreams in which her father and the current Sheikh spent long nights speaking together over a glass or two of whiskey, discussing Al Barait’s issues and the ways in which her father could assist.
She knew, in the back of her mind, that she was getting ahead of herself. But she couldn’t help it. After the emotions of the previous night—after having a connection with someone for the first time in years—she wanted to clamber into life with him. It was all she could do not to wake up and tell him, immediately.
But when she awoke, she realized, with a sudden jolt, that her bed was empty. She glanced around her, listening hard. Perhaps he was in the shower?
She waited, her heart pounding, trying to search out the sound of the water running. But after nearly five minutes of silence, she stretched her feet to the ground. Rubbing her eyes, she held out hope that he was just down the road, grabbing them coffee. That he was perched on the balcony, speaking on the phone. That he hadn’t just left without saying goodbye.
Finally, she reached for her T-shirt and drew it over her head. She took tentative steps towards the kitchen, glancing around her as she went, noting that he’d folded the sweatpants and T-shirt she’d given him and placed them on the couch.
Now, the only hope she clung to was that he’d left a note.
Feeling anxious, almost crazy, she shuffled through the papers on her countertop, fighting for a reality that wasn’t there. Finally giving in to reality, she slammed her fist on the countertop, her eyes bright and angry. How could he have put her through such a wonderful night, just to leave her so early in the morning? How could he have sent her flowers, chocolates—a singer, for God’s sake—just to leave her in the morning after he’d gotten what he wanted? With a deep sigh she fell to the ground, crossing her legs in front of her. She’d been abandoned, just as she’d been afraid of. And instead of allowing tears to fall, she felt her anger rise.
