Sold To The Sheikh: Fated Lovers (Book Two) - Sheikh Romance

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Sold To The Sheikh: Fated Lovers (Book Two) - Sheikh Romance Page 5

by Holly Rayner


  Rami’s anger deepened as he rifled through the piles of papers, desperate to find some earnings statement, some note that at least one of the debts was discharged. He shook his head, bitter at the mess his father had made out of his businesses. As he shuffled through documents in the top left drawer, Rami’s fingers brushed against a smooth sheet at the very bottom of the pile.

  He frowned; it felt out of place among the lighter, cheaper stock that most of the paperwork was printed on. Rami slipped the sheet free and looked at it; it was a picture of himself as a young child—maybe four or five years old—sitting on his father’s shoulders. He couldn’t remember when the picture could have been taken, and was taken aback to see himself and his father both looking so happy. Rami sank back into the desk chair, savoring the last sip of whiskey and looking intently at the picture. He found his anger beginning to dissolve.

  He was trying to protect the family; he didn’t want us finding out that there was something wrong. He must have been so desperate but was too proud to ask anyone for help. Rami shook his head. While he could understand the impulse to keep going and hope things turn around, the way his father had acted meant that he now had no idea how he and his siblings were going to live—or how he was going to take care of his mother. Oh God, the baby. How am I ever going to take care of a child without a job, without an inheritance, without any kind of security? What the hell am I going to tell Mia? Everyone was counting on him, the eldest son, to take care of everything, but Rami had no idea how he was going to break the news to his family that their wealth had just been an illusion.

  Rami sighed and looked at the bottle of whiskey. “Everyone’s counting on me,” he murmured. He remembered the confrontation he’d been having with Mia just before receiving the news of his father’s death. “I can’t fall back on old habits at a time like this. I need to get my head together; I need to be better.” Rami stood and carried the bottle towards the private bathroom attached to his father’s office. He unscrewed the lid and poured the rest of the bottle’s contents into the sink, listening to the gurgle and splash as the expensive amber liquid went down the drain.

  Rami looked at himself in the mirror, combed his fingers through his thick, dark hair, and sighed. “I have to tell them,” he told his reflection. “I have to tell them it was all a lie.” Rami shook his head, wondering how he could bring himself tell his family the truth about their situation, and in doing so crush the lives and dreams of so many people he loved.

  NINE

  Mia looked around as the car approached Rami’s family’s compound, trying to suppress the feeling of dread that welled up in her at the prospect of meeting his family. Well, the rest of his family, she reminded herself. I’ve already met his mom. She swallowed against the tight, dry feeling in her throat, wondering just how the older woman would react to her presence at such an emotional time.

  She had been tempted to make her excuses and tell Rami she wasn’t coming, but despite her ambivalent feelings about her and Rami’s future—if indeed there was one—she knew that he would need someone by his side for the funeral. The night before, he’d called to confirm that she would be flying out first class. “There’s going to be a car there to pick you up—I would get you myself, but I need to be with the family as much as possible.” Mia had agreed to everything; Rami sounded so tired, so defeated—she didn’t want to give him any more stress than he was already dealing with.

  The driver parked up and Mia’s heart started beating faster. She wished that Rami would appear; she didn’t want to have to deal with the awkwardness of meeting the rest of his family with no one but his mother—who already hated her—there to introduce her. Mia unbuckled her seat belt and took a deep breath, opening the back door and carefully swinging her legs through it first. Gathering as much momentum as she could muster, she pushed herself out of the seat, holding onto the doorway to support herself. Some days I can’t wait for this stupid pregnancy to be over, she thought with a flash of irritation. At almost eight months pregnant, she ached all over almost all of the time; Mia couldn’t imagine how much more uncomfortable the plane ride would have been if she’d been in coach and not first class.

  “Let me help you, ma’am,” the driver said, appearing at the door. Mia smiled politely, letting the man steady her. He had opened the trunk and as he reached in to retrieve Mia’s small suitcase, she took a look around. I can’t even imagine what it would be like growing up somewhere like this, she thought, shaking her head as she took in the lush landscaping, sprawling main house and smaller, but still luxurious, satellite buildings. She wasn’t even sure she knew what the other buildings on the immense property were used for.

  The driver insisted on carrying her luggage to the door, and Mia decided that it wasn’t worth the argument; she wanted nothing more than to get inside, meet Rami’s family, and hopefully find a place where she could curl up and have a nap. She had freshened up at the airport, but as she waddled her way to the door, Mia couldn’t help but feel like some kind of huge, ugly creature that had been hauled out of the ocean. At her last checkup, the obstetrician had told her she’d only gained about twenty-five pounds, but Mia felt as if she were carrying an extra fifty. Even the normally comfortable dress that was draped over her protruding abdomen seemed much less flattering than it had when she had put it on, simply because Mia knew she would soon be seeing Rami’s beautiful, stylish mother again.

  The driver knocked at the door and deposited the suitcase at Mia’s feet, tipping his hat to her before darting back to his car. “Thanks,” Mia said half-sarcastically; while she appreciated the help, it would have been nicer if he’d stayed until someone answered the door—even thought she knew that was far beyond the scope of his job. Mia pushed back her shoulders and lifted her head, deciding that if she was going to have to face Rami’s family alone, she would at least do it proudly.

  The door opened, and Mia blinked at the sight of a beautiful woman, around her own age, standing on the other side of it. The woman was maybe two inches shorter than Mia, with long, slightly curled black hair, wide-set hazel eyes, and full lips.

  “You must be Mia!” the woman said, smiling broadly.

  “Yes,” Mia said, startled at the warm greeting. “I—I’m sorry. I was hoping that Rami would be able to introduce me.” The woman reached out and wrapped her arms around Mia.

  “He’s just inside. I’m his sister, Karima.” The woman kissed Mia on both cheeks, then took her by the hand as she reached down to pick up her suitcase with the other. “You must be exhausted from the flight.”

  “I am,” Mia admitted. Karima led her into the house as someone in a uniform closed the front door behind them.

  “As the eldest daughter, it’s my job to greet anyone who comes in,” Karima explained. She looked Mia over and smiled again, her gaze lingering at the bulge that signaled Mia’s advanced pregnancy. “Are you hungry, Mia? Or thirsty? Let me take your shoes off for you. I can’t imagine you’re finding it easy bending down right now!” Mia blushed, embarrassed at the attention Karima was showing her; she had been prepared for a standoffish greeting, or even for Rami’s family to ignore her completely. Utterly confused, Mia sheepishly let Karima help her with her shoes before following the younger woman through a hallway.

  The room Mia stepped into was full of people who were mostly engaged in hushed conversations. It smelled of spices and cooking, of incense and candles. Mia swallowed down her lingering dread, glancing around, hoping to spot Rami amongst the members of his family.

  “Everyone, this is the mother of Rami’s child, his…” Karima glanced to the side and Mia’s blush deepened as she saw that the younger woman was looking to her mother, seemingly waiting for her to finish her sentence.

  “She is my fiancée,” Rami said, stepping from his mother’s side and walking over to the two of them. The room went silent, and Mia tried to remember to breathe normally. Rami took her hands in his and gave her a quick, reassuring smile.

  “It is good
to see you again,” Rami’s mother said, having followed Rami over.

  “And you as well,” Mia replied, her lips almost numb. “Though I am very sorry for the circumstances.” Rami’s mother nodded and kissed her briefly on each cheek. Up close, Mia could see that the older woman was wearing almost no makeup, her hair slicked back into a simple bun. She looked older than she had when Mia had first met her, less polished and sleek.

  Rami’s mother took a step back and Mia found herself being introduced to one person after another: aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers; Rami’s other sister, grandparents, great-aunts and so on. To her shock, no one mentioned anything about the circumstances of her pregnancy; the only comments she heard were that it was a wonderful thing that there would be cause for joy again so soon, that it was good to know that Rami was settling down, especially after what had happened. She nodded and smiled at each person she met, all the while trying to maintain her composure.

  The women of Rami’s family began to fuss over her, insisting that she should sit down and eat some of the food people had been bringing for days; that she should have something to drink—tea, flavored water or sherbet. Mia looked over at Rami in bewilderment, only to see that he was smiling at her. It was just a ghost of the charming expression she had fallen in love with months before, but enough to stir something inside of Mia. She interpreted it to mean that she should give into the desire of his relatives to fuss over and care for her.

  “How was the flight?” Rami took her hand in his, sitting down next to her as his family members finally began to resume their previous conversations.

  “It was a flight,” Mia said dryly. “It probably would have been much worse in coach.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Rami agreed. An expression that Mia couldn’t quite read flickered across his features, but it was gone so quickly that she thought she might have imagined it. “There’s a great, deep bath in our bedroom,” he told her, rubbing his thumb across her palm. “And the bed is heaven, so at least you’ll get a chance to rest a little before the funeral tomorrow.”

  “I think I managed to pick out an appropriate dress,” Mia told him lowly. “It’s black, and plain, and comes down to my mid-calf. Is that okay?” Rami leaned close and brushed his lips against her temple in a brief kiss. Mia realized with a start that for the first time in months, he didn’t smell of alcohol at all. She smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze.

  “It will be perfect, I’m sure.” Rami told her. “Do you want to rest now? This…” he gestured to the assembly of relatives and friends who were talking amongst themselves. “This will continue until late tonight. No one will be offended if you want to go to bed—you’re pregnant after all.” Mia considered it. She was there to support Rami—she didn’t want to retreat just because she was exhausted and aching. “Besides,” Rami added lowly. “You going to rest will give me an excuse to join you, at least for a little while. I want to make up for missing you, if you’re not too tired.” Mia bit her bottom lip, her cheeks warming with a blush.

  “We could see just how big and deep that bath tub is together,” she suggested, pitching her voice low. Rami squeezed her hand and released it. He got up and raised a hand to get the attention of the others in the room.

  “Mia is very tired, everyone. If no one minds, I will just show her to our room and make sure she is comfortably resting.” There were no objections—not even from Rami’s mother—and Mia let Rami pull her to her feet and lead her out of the room, one arm draped around her waist to support her.

  TEN

  Mia wasn’t sure if her stomach was bothering her because of her pregnancy or because of the fact that the funeral would be starting soon; she just knew that as she watched Rami move around the room, welcoming those friends and family members who hadn’t already been at the family compound, she had to struggle not to fidget, or dart into the ladies’ room.

  She had dressed carefully, smoothing her hair into a deceptively simple, chic-looking style before covering it with the black scarf she had bought on Rami’s suggestion. The dress she had bought was not exactly shapeless—it was definitely obvious that Mia was pregnant—but the neckline showed no cleavage, and she hoped that it managed to look both flattering and appropriately modest. Rami’s family was secular, but they still followed Arabic standards of dress and behavior. Mia had been relieved to find that Rami’s two sisters were dressed similarly to her, while his widowed mother was slightly more conservative, with a dark lace veil obscuring her face.

  The night before, Rami had told her that he would have to deliver the eulogy at the ceremony. “I have no idea what to say,” he had said, cradling her in his arms long after the family had either left for the evening or retired to their guest rooms. “I was his eldest son, but I don’t feel like I really knew him at all.”

  “From what you’ve told me about him, I suspect your father was a difficult man to know,” Mia had said, reaching up to comb her fingers lightly through Rami’s hair. “Maybe focus on what you know about his life? He was a good provider, wasn’t he? And I’m sure he must have loved your mom. I’m sure he loved you, too.”

  Rami had nodded. “I think he loved me more than I realized,” he had said, slowly. “Although he didn’t really trust anyone in the family enough to know anything about his work. He kept those two lives separate.” Mia had nodded.

  “Well, that’s something you could talk about,” she had suggested. “Anyway, long eulogies are terrible. Stick with what you do know about him, and focus on the positive stuff.”

  Rami had laughed. “You know, it’s funny. On the one hand, I am supposed to be succinct and direct, masculine, and in control. On the other hand, it’s almost expected that I’ll have dozens of things to say about him, to eulogize him. He was my father—I must do a good job of honoring him.” Rami had sighed.

  “You can do this, Rami,” Mia had told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I can tell you’re really working hard. You are acting like exactly the kind of man I’ve always known you can be. It makes me really happy to see it, even if I hate that losing your father seems to be what brought it on.”

  Rami had given her a crooked smile and a quick, loving kiss. “People are depending on me,” he had said. “I lost sight of that, with you and the baby, and I’m so sorry for what that did to us. When my father died, it wasn’t something I could put aside—even if I wanted to. And now, today, I have to step up. I have to do what’s right.”

  ***

  Mia started as the sound of applause cut through her thoughts. “If you will all please make your way into the chapel” the funeral director announced. He was sharply dressed—almost as sharply as Rami—and something about his manner relaxed the tension inside of Mia. He looked simple, honest, and homely; she doubted if she would ever be able to pick his face out of a lineup, but there was something about him that comforted her.

  Rami came to Mia’s side and led her into the chapel, holding her hand. He guided her to the row where the closest family members would be seated, and while there were many people Mia would have preferred to sit next to other than his mother, she understood why he steered her to that position. Rami sat at the end of the row, where he could get up at his part of the ceremony without disturbing anyone. Mia closed her eyes, breathing slowly; she felt a flicker, an almost-jolt deep in her hips. Braxton-Hicks contractions, nothing to worry about, she told herself. The tension passed after a moment, and Mia opened her eyes again, knowing that pregnant or not, she needed to be paying attention.

  The funeral director began speaking as soon as everyone was seated and quiet, addressing the family and friends. Although Mia knew that he probably said almost exactly the same words at almost every funeral he officiated, she found herself pulled into the lulling comfort of his remarks, nodding along with the points that the man made. “And now, I would like to invite our dear friend’s eldest son to say a few words about his father.” Mia gave Rami’s hand a squeeze and watched as he stood, quickly making his way to the lecte
rn.

  “Good morning everyone,” Rami said, looking over the room with the faintest of smiles on his lips. “It’s very comforting to see so many people present to honor my father. So many of his business associates, friends and family are here with us today, to pay their respects to a great man.” Mia glanced around furtively and saw the men and women around her nodding.

  Rami licked his lips and began to speak again. “When I realized that I would of course have to speak about my father, at first I felt afraid; how could I say enough to honor the man who raised me, who had been so many things to so many people?” He paused to take a breath. “I know that my father was, above all things, a man of strength. A man of pride.” An expression passed over Rami’s face, too quick for Mia to follow. “He believed in taking care of his family, in helping whenever he could. He was a staunch ally to his many associates, and a strong father to his children.”

  Mia felt her eyes beginning to sting, and to her surprise, Rami’s mother reached for her hand, squeezing it. As Rami continued, mentioning a few anecdotes from his childhood, Mia realized that she had never felt more proud of him. “As I was going through his effects in his office the other day, at the bottom of his files and drawers, I found this picture.”

 

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