Under the Sheik's Protection

by C. J. Miller

  “I will be safe,” he said and kissed her forehead. “Order breakfast and relax. We’ll plan to have lunch together.”

  Sarah showered and then called for breakfast to be brought to the room. When it arrived, she pushed the cart onto the balcony. Lifting the sterling silver lids from the platters, she found a pink box tied with a white ribbon, stamped with the word LUX. It was one of the boutiques where she had window-shopped the day before.

  Saafir had gotten her a gift! She was so excited her hands were shaking when she took the box in her hands. The ribbon was soft and perfectly tied onto the crisp white box. It was too heavy to be jewelry and too small to be clothes, but perhaps something sentimental, a thoughtful trinket to remind her of her time in Qamsar.

  Pulling open the ribbon, she lifted the lid carefully. Plucking aside the delicate pink tissue paper, Sarah screamed and dropped the box. She stepped away, feeling sick and disgusted.

  Two guards rushed into the room. She pointed at the box. An explanation wasn’t necessary.

  The box was filled with severed snake heads and syringes spattered with blood.

  * * *

  “I want every surveillance tape reviewed. I want security measures tightened,” Saafir said, still clasping Sarah to him. He had been pulled from his meeting to address the breach. Since Saafir had been in a conference with his defense secretary, he’d brought him along to assess the situation and lend his expertise.

  Someone had gotten close enough to deliver Sarah a threat. The perpetrator had been inside Saafir’s private wing and could have done worse than leave a disgusting gift. Sarah’s food could have been poisoned.

  Sarah hadn’t said much. While his team promised to find out where the LUX box had come from and who had put it on her food cart, Saafir turned his full attention to Sarah.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling,” Saafir said.

  “It was a warning, wasn’t it? I’m the snake and the syringes must be something with my ex. Your countrymen know who I am and they don’t like it. They want me to leave.”

  An elaborate explanation. “It isn’t personal.”

  “Of course it’s not personal.”

  Saafir turned to the sound of his mother’s voice. Sarah was still pressed against his side and if his mother took offense to the display of intimacy, she said nothing. Saafir couldn’t let her go. The threat was still too raw.

  “Over the years, I’ve received death threats. I’ve received nasty letters and emails. Anonymity means people will be more vicious, more self-righteous and ruder than if they had to talk to you in person,” Iba said.

  Sarah looked between Saafir and his mother. Saafir introduced them.

  “It’s nice to meet you, but this is not how I planned it,” Sarah said.

  His mother reached out and took Sarah’s hand. Saafir released Sarah.

  “If it were up to Saafir, I wouldn’t meet you at all. Saafir has always been very private about his personal life.”

  “You know I can’t openly date Sarah,” Saafir said.

  His mother shot him an incredulous look. “You haven’t done a good job keeping it a secret. I’ve been on the phone with Alaina’s mother every day reassuring her that my son is committed to moving forward with the engagement. That’s hard for me to do when the media wants the world to know about you and Sarah.”

  Saafir’s mother surprised him with her frank honesty. Though she could be gentle and sensitive to others’ needs, his mother didn’t pretend to be unaware of what her sons were doing. She didn’t feign stupidity because she was an intelligent woman and stupidity didn’t suit her. “Was the box a gift from Rabah Wasam?”

  “I suspect it was,” Saafir said.

  Iba patted Sarah’s shoulder. “I will spend the day with Sarah. You handle your meetings.”

  Being with his mother may not be Sarah’s idea of how to spend her time in Qamsar. It was a step in their relationship they’d never planned to take. “Let me speak to Sarah for a moment.”

  Saafir led Sarah into the sitting room attached to his bedroom. “If you have other plans for the day, my mom will understand. I will tell her you are busy.”

  Sarah touched the side of his face. “Thank you for being concerned about me. But I’m fine. I’ll go with your mom. It will be nice to spend time with her.”

  “Will it make it harder for you?” Saafir asked.

  Sarah sighed. “No. I’ve known all along where this couldn’t lead.”

  Saafir knew the same. A nonexistent future. No chance of a life together. It wasn’t in the stars.

  * * *

  “How long have you been in love with my son?” Iba asked as soon as they were alone.

  Sarah smoothed her dress and looked out across the balcony, giving herself a few moments to think. It was an awkward question, given the culture and tradition of Qamsar and because it was obvious she had spent the night with Saafir since she had been in his private bedroom. “Saafir and I are not in love.”

  Their relationship was unconventional in Saafir’s country and explaining it in intimate details wasn’t necessary.

  “There’s something about the way you look at him and he looks at you that makes me wonder,” Iba said.

  Passion? Desire? Uncertainty? “Our relationship has progressed quickly.” From the moment they’d met, everything had been on an accelerated timeline. They wouldn’t have much time together and that knowledge hanging over their heads had spurred them to take chances, like traveling together to his country.

  “My son is obligated to marry a Qamsarian woman.”

  Why did everyone need to tell her that? They either thought she was dense or Saafir was lying to her. Neither was true. “I know,” Sarah said, trying to sound casual.

  “My son never wanted to be the emir. He never worked it into his life plan. I think he is disappointed to have the role.”

  Disappointed? Saafir seemed proud and honored. “He’s mentioned he feels honored to serve his countrymen.”

  Iba sighed. “That sounds like Saafir. He took up the responsibilities of the position, but he isn’t like my older son.”

  “Saafir is a good man,” Sarah said.

  “He has a soft heart and I don’t want him to get hurt.” Iba gave her a pointed look.

  Saafir get hurt? He was the one who would have an amazing life with a gorgeous woman waiting for him. What did Sarah have waiting for her?

  “My daughter Laila married an American. At first, I wasn’t sure if he was the right man for her. They have so many differences. But they are happy. I see how my son-in-law treats her and I could not have asked for a better man for my daughter.”

  Iba had spoken plainly earlier in the day. Now, Sarah felt like Iba was feeling her out. “I am wrong for Saafir. He knows it. I know it.”

  Iba inclined her head. “Wrong in what way?”

  Listing their incompatibilities was easy. “We’re from different cultures. We’re from different worlds. We want different things. I’ve been married before.”

  “And yet you are together,” Iba said.

  “It’s what works now.”

  “What do you want most from a relationship with a man?” Iba asked.

  “A family,” Sarah said. The automatic response was telling. She wanted something Saafir could never give her. Something she had hoped would come with her first marriage, and for a time, it had.

  “My son would like a family,” Iba said. “He has never indicated otherwise.”

  Sarah looked away. She thought Iba would appreciate knowing an American woman wasn’t fouling up her son’s plans for his future, but she seemed to be trying to talk Sarah into believing she and Saafir were compatible. “I would never be accepted here. Look at what the news is saying about me.”

  Iba nodded. “Vicious remarks tha
t sting. I’ve been there myself. After I had my daughter, I gained so much weight that I had to buy all new clothes. The tabloids wrote of my husband having an affair with any younger, thinner woman who came within ten feet of him. It hurt.”

  Sarah hadn’t known that about Saafir’s parents. “How did you handle it?”

  “I learned that the truth of our love was between my husband and me. No one could know what went on between us, and I wouldn’t let lies fester between us and cause unhappiness. I was confident in our love and when I reminded myself of that, I forgot the hateful words.”

  But Iba was Qamsarian. She had been the emir’s wife. She undoubtedly had the credentials and the social status and the breeding to be perfect for the emir. “Once Saafir marries a Qamsarian, I’ll be forgotten.” The short attention span of the media would turn to other more interesting matters, like the emir’s fiancée.

  Iba clucked her tongue. “Then you don’t know my son well. He doesn’t forget people he cares for.”

  Chapter 10

  Two days later, Saafir and Sarah boarded the emir’s private plane en route to America. Stateside Oil had been in negotiations with Frederick and they were willing to cede the issues most important to Saafir to see the trade agreement through.

  The men that Harris had sent to Qamsar had been working to find and disable the land mines. As yet, they had located and destroyed four, saving countless lives.

  When Saafir’s plane touched down in America, they took an armored car from the airport. Frederick was riding in the back with them, casting occasional disapproving looks at them as he read on his tablet.

  Saafir ignored the looks.

  He and Sarah had their issues. Saafir was worried about her. She had been quiet and distant the last two days. Had she hated being in Qamsar? She hadn’t said much about her day with his mother.

  He’d been working on a plan to make her feel better. “I feel responsible for what happened to your apartment after we met. I wanted to buy you a new place to live, far away from the city, surrounded by an iron gate with a security service and a guard monitoring the premises. But I knew you wouldn’t have accepted such a gift.”

  “You’re right about that,” Sarah said, nodding her head.

  “I think you’ll like what I decided to do instead,” he said.

  Sarah tensed. “You didn’t have to do anything. I have it under control.”

  Had he made a mistake in assuming she would want his help? He had money and resources at his disposal and he wanted to use them to help her. “With the changes to the trade agreement meetings and our trip to Qamsar, I’ve kept your plate full. I am grateful for everything you’ve done and I hope this is a sign of that gratitude.”

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” Saafir said.

  They pulled up to her apartment building. The car waited at the curb and Saafir led Sarah up the stairs to her apartment. He opened her front door, disabled the alarm and turned on the lights.

  He watched her face for a reaction. He may have overstepped his bounds. She might feel that he’d invaded her personal space.

  She turned, confusion on her face. “You cleaned my apartment. You fixed my things.” She bit her lower lip. “I had the insurance money. I would have taken care of this.”

  “I wanted to help you.”

  Sarah stabbed a hand through her hair. “This was nice of you.”

  Her words sounded garbled. “But?”

  “But it’s a lot to take in. Being in Qamsar was overwhelming. Being near you is intense. Your money and your power and your family...”

  She wandered into the room and Saafir waited, still unsure if she was upset or just astounded at how different her place looked.

  * * *

  Her apartment! Saafir had had it cleaned and her furniture repaired. Sarah picked up a photo frame on her kitchen counter of her, Molly and Krista. The picture had been repaired and the frame pieced back together.

  Sarah was swamped with emotion. It was a nice gesture, but it felt like an exorbitant gift and one she couldn’t repay.

  “It’s my fault your home was destroyed and I couldn’t live with that,” Saafir said from the doorway.

  Sarah walked through her place, taking it in, opening drawers and cabinets. Things were out of place, but she was home. “Does this mean we can sleep here tonight?” She was tired of living in hotels. She wanted to be in her home.

  Saafir glanced over his shoulder at his guards and then nodded. “Yes. They’ll keep watch.”

  Suddenly self-conscious about her place and an emir staying in it, Sarah amended her statement. “If you are more comfortable in a hotel, we can stay somewhere else.”

  Saafir looked around and Sarah followed his gaze. Was he seeing the cracks in the ceiling or the dinginess of the paint? Was he feeling cramped? His bedroom in Qamsar was the size of her entire living space in D.C.

  “I like this place. It looks like you,” he said. “Bold, creative and warm. We’ll stay here.”

  “Then let me give you the grand tour,” she said. She took his hand and walked backward to her bedroom. It was the one place where she felt on equal footing with him, the one place where they connected.

  Sarah refused to look too deeply into that thought. If she did, she knew she wouldn’t like what came of it.

  * * *

  A phone ringing in the middle of the night never delivered good news.

  Saafir’s hand went to the bedside table for his phone. “Hello.”

  “Your excellency, we have bad news.” One of Saafir’s guards.

  Saafir had learned to wake completely at a moment’s notice. “Tell me.”

  Sarah was sleeping at his side and she stirred. He set his hand on her to calm her.

  Was it Adham? His mother? His sister?

  “Frederick has been taken,” Jafar said.

  Anger and worry coursed through him. “Tell me everything you know,” Saafir said.

  After Jafar gave him the information, Saafir shook Sarah. “Sarah, I need you.”

  Sarah opened her eyes. “What’s the matter? What time is it?”

  “Frederick has been taken. He’s missing.”

  Sarah sat up. “How do you know?”

  “Jafar called. The guard assigned to watch Frederick was drugged. Someone took Frederick from his hotel room. A night houseman found the guard in the hallway.”

  “Do they know where he was taken? Do they know who took him?” Sarah asked.

  “Witnesses described a car in front of the hotel and the police are looking into it. The hotel had some security footage and it’s being reviewed for clues.”

  Sarah put her arms around him. “Saafir, I am so sorry. I know how much Frederick means to you.”

  “Frederick has no military training. He was raised in Ireland and his parents are wealthy businesspeople. He spent his entire life in school.” He wouldn’t fare well under torture or questioning.

  “You need to reach out to Wasam,” Sarah said. “If he’s not directly behind this, he knows who is.”

  “Why would Wasam help me?”

  “Because he doesn’t want to hurt Frederick. He wants to get to you,” Sarah said.

  “Why Frederick?” A cold wash of fear passed through him. “What if this is an attack on multiple fronts? What if Frederick wasn’t the only person taken?” He dialed Jafar. “Find my sister, my brother, Adham and my mother. Get in touch with every member of my family and my cabinet and the trade agreement. Find out if anyone else is missing. I want to know if everyone is safe.”

  Saafir disconnected the call and rang his mother. She answered on the first ring.

  “My son, are you okay?” Iba asked.

  “I’m fine. Frederick has been kidnapped. I need
ed to know you are safe.”

  “I am safe. Your guards haven’t left me for a minute. I can’t get a cup of tea without someone shadowing my movements.”

  Guilt assailed him. “I’m sorry, but it has to be this way. You need to be kept safe.”

  “Saafir, things are escalating. It was never this bad with your father.”

  Guilt turned to shame. Saafir couldn’t fill his father’s shoes. It was his job to keep the peace in his country and he was doing a poor job. He had politicians at each other’s throats and their followers taking actions and lashing out. “I’m sorry. I never thought I would be in this position.” The words sounded weak and it made Saafir loathe them.

  Saafir heard the click of his mother’s worry beads tapping together. She kept a set on her bedside table, and in times of trouble, she would hold them while she meditated and considered her options.

  “You could ask Mikhail for his opinion,” Iba said. “Our family needs to be strong now. We need to rally together and support each other.”

  “I might do that. He spent more time being groomed for this position. I will think on it. I want to call Laila and make sure she is safe.”

  “Harris wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” his mother said.

  His brother-in-law was a strong and capable man. Saafir trusted him with Laila’s life. He wouldn’t have approved the marriage otherwise. But he still needed to hear Laila’s voice.

  A few minutes later, Saafir was speaking to his sister. She sounded wide-awake despite the hour.

  “What are you doing up so late?” he asked.

  “Harris and I are working on something.”

  Worried he would have to hear about her sex life, he groaned. “I’ll pretend you’re doing home repairs.”

  Laila laughed. “Close. I don’t want to burden you with the details—”

  “If this is about your sex life, please don’t continue.”

  “You can’t see me, but I’m rolling my eyes. We’re assisting on a project for a friend’s consulting firm.”