by Marian Tee
Why was the sheikh grinning?
A frown worked its way on her forehead as she slowly looked down, following his line of sight, and that was when she realized he had been staring at her naked breasts all this time.
Oh, curse this life!
The sheikh captured her left hand as she hastily bent down to retrieve the covers, and Anisah ended up struggling to wrap the sheet around her body single-handedly. “Please let go---” Her voice faltered when the sheikh tightened his grip while holding the ring over her captured hand.
Tarif’s broad shoulders rocked with silent laughter as Anisah started struggling against his hold like he had turned into a serial killer. “Cease your struggles---”
“No!”
“You know you won’t win---”
“Nooooooo!”
But it was as the sheikh had said, and Anisah cringed when the sheikh finally managed to slide the ring down her finger, and to top things off, the darn thing even proved to be an infernally perfect fit.
Oh, may Allah save her, but how did it come to this?
The sheikh’s lips pressed together as he watched Anisah stare at the ring like it was a ghost wrapped around her finger. He knew he should be offended, but if anything, this only made him want her more. “What do you think of it, anisdi?” he asked huskily.
But his beautiful harpy only glared at him in stubborn silence.
“Very well then…” Grabbing her hand, he started sucking her fingers one by one and was rewarded by the sound of her whimpers. “If you don’t answer me…” His mouth moved down, and he licked a line against her soft palm. “This is how I’ll punish you.” The sheikh’s glittering eyes captured hers as she shuddered helplessly in his hold. “Do you understand?”
Anisah thought about saying no, but then his mouth started to move threateningly closer to her still tingling palm, and she snarled, “Yes.”
“Is it really that bad to have my ring on your finger?”
“Yes,” she burst out feelingly, but the sheikh only chuckled. She looked down at the sheikh’s ring, and her mood grew more morose. How did things get so complicated? She hadn’t even been able to fully adjust to the fact that she was the sheikh’s lover yet, and now she was his fake fiancée?
“It is growing on you now, nem?”
Her cheeks flushed at the sheikh’s wickedly teasing tone, but because she didn’t want to answer him in a straightforward mansion, she prevaricated instead, asking stiltedly, “Is this your mother’s, Your Highness?”
Tarif’s lip curled at the thought of having to give Anisah something that belonged to a woman like his mother, and his voice ended up sharper than intended. “Of course not.” Unpleasant memories started crowding his mind, and a mask of cold disgust fell over the sheikh’s handsome face. “I’d never give you something like – ”
Too late Tarif noticed Anisah’s stricken look, and he broke off when he realized how his words could be so disastrously misconstrued.
Fuck.
“You misunderstood, Tory.”
Anisah didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was whirling, and she almost wished she had the power to rewind time. If she did, she would have chosen to be less stubborn and proud. If she did, she would have forced herself to ignore the improperness of it all and just let the sheikh place his ring on her finger.
If only.
But now it was too late, and as his words echoed endlessly in her mind, hurt and confusion distorted reality, and when she looked at him it was not herself – Anisah – she saw reflected in the sheikh’s eyes. Instead, she saw Sidqi Kahveci’s daughter, and she was being judged all over again.
“Tory---”
“No!” She recoiled from his reach, her body now shuddering as memories lashed her mind. What was once beautiful and special now felt obscene and vile – oh, how could she have given herself to him so easily?
“I am not lying, anisdi,” Tarif said forcefully. “It is truly not what you think.”
Such pretty words, she thought sickly, only now she knew they were just that. Pretty words did not a good man make, and as she lifted her gaze to his, she vowed not to let herself be fooled by the sheikh again. “Say whatever you want, Your Highness,” she said flatly. “It no longer matters---”
“I am not lying, dammit!”
“Then tell me - what else could you have meant?” she demanded bitterly. “Tell me then! What else could it be?”
Shame threatened to swallow him up as Tarif thought of the things he had meant – and the sick, deplorable things he had long buried at the back of his mind in hopes that he would never remember them again.
“D-Do you see?” The sheikh’s silence was like a slap to her face, and she felt something in her threaten to crack. “You were lying.”
A muscle ticked at the sheikh’s jaw at the devastated look on Anisah’s face. Ah God, he wished he could tell her the truth -
But he could not. Not even for Anisah.
“Should it not be enough for you that I say it is not so?”
That was all he was going to say? Did he think she was that big a fool to let things go simply on his say so? The cracks inside of her were bigger now, and as she struggled to keep herself together, anger came to Anisah’s rescue, and she heard herself say, “Maybe it would be if I thought you were as honorable as your cousins---”
“I would advise you to watch your tongue, anisdi.” Tarif’s tone was savage. Her words cut him deep. They were too damn close to how his own mother had used to compare him to his other cousins, and in her ranting, her own son would always come up lacking.
Why can you not be as brave as Altair?
Why can you not be as smart as Malik?
Why can you not be as skilled as Rayyan?
Why can you not be as dignified as Khalil?
The sheer rage in the sheikh’s eyes was terrifying. Anisah knew to speak another word would be a big mistake, but she just couldn't stop herself. He told her he wanted to make her smile, and she had believed him. She had believed him despite everything, the way she had so desperately tried to believe in her father despite everything – and it was that she could never forgive the sheikh for.
“Does it hurt to hear the truth, Your Highness?” She had seen in his eyes that he had despised the way she had compared him to the other Al-Atassi sheikhs, and it was this she focused on. “Did you really think just because I was attracted to you, I’d think you were on the same footing as the others?” It was a lie, but she was mindless with pain now, and hurting him had become her lifeline.
“I am warning you one last time.” Tarif’s fists clenched. “Compare me to my brothers again---”
“And what?” Anisah spat. “You’ll do something that will just prove what I thought all along---”
“Get out!” The sheikh lunged to his feet in a fit of fury. “You may be a great fuck, but that’s all you still are. Someone to fuck---”
Anisah’s hand connected with his cheek in a vicious slap, its force enough for the sheikh’s cheek to snap to the other side. When he looked back, he saw her rushing out of the room – but he did not stop her.
Chapter Sixteen
Hyacinth paced outside the throne room while doing her best to resist the urge to place her ear to the doors and listen in. Sheikh Tarif had been closeted inside of it with the king for over an hour now, and once in a while she would end up jumping at the sound of the king raising his voice. It was rare for any of the Al-Atassi sheikhs to be at odds with each other, but in this case, it had been inevitable.
Sheikh Tarif’s photos had been all over the news the entire week, with paparazzi gleefully documenting his every date. He had been seen with a different woman each night – a regular occurrence in his life, admittedly, but this time it was different since just last week he had also claimed Hyacinth’s sister as his fiancée.
Kyria and Queen Harper had told her that the other Al-Atassi sheikhs were extremely displeased with how Tarif was acting, but none of them had felt the
right to interfere because it was a personal matter. This morning changed that, though.
In a closed-door meeting with other ambassadors, a deeply religious foreign dignitary had taken exception to Tarif’s presence. The other man had refused to do business with the sheikh because of his flagrant act of infidelity towards his intended. The old Tarif could have easily talked and charmed his way out of the predicament, and no doubt everyone had expected the sheikh to do so.
But instead the sheikh had responded aggressively towards the allegation and displayed none of the tact and panache he used to. By the time the king was called to intervene, the dignitary had been threatening to cut his nation’s ties with Ramil. Rayyan had been left to smooth everyone’s ruffled feathers, and as for Tarif –
The massive double doors of the throne room finally opened, and Hyacinth held her breath as she watched Sheikh Tarif emerge. The icy, hard expression on his handsome face was somewhat daunting, and Hyacinth had to remind herself her purpose for seeking the sheikh out.
All her life, Anisah had been there for her. It was her turn now to help her older sister out.
Tension gripped the sheikh’s powerful form the moment he saw the young woman approaching him. Forcing himself to go still, he gave her a brief nod, saying curtly, “Lady Hyacinth.”
“Sheikh Tarif, good evening.” Hyacinth belatedly remembered to bow in greeting. “M-May I have a moment of your time?”
Tarif remembered the last time they had met – it was at the bookstore at Al Sahna, and by the time he had arrived, Hyacinth had already worked herself up to a fine temper, and she had alternated between taking him to task for hurting her sister and demanding he take responsibility for Anisah.
I don’t know what you did, sheikh, but whatever it is you did – you must pay for it! My sister is happy acting like a robot, but ever since she got home she has been acting too human, and it is not right!
She is the best sister one can have! And sure, she may be quite the cheapskate, but not with people she loves! She sacrificed everything for me!
Yes, I know my older sister can be terribly haughty and proud, but when we were young, her pride was all she had. She hadn’t wanted other people to find out that our father beat her constantly because she was afraid what it would do to me if I learned the truth about him.
It’s true she can act like a fanatic when it comes to serving the kingdom, but you don’t know what she had to go through when she was young. There were people who believed that an 11-year-old Anisah was old enough to actually connive with my father, and they thought this was reason enough to mistreat my sister.
Initially, he had only decided to hear her out for a bit simply because he knew Rayyan would be on his case if the other sheikh believed Tarif had disrespected his woman. He would listen to her but not believe a word she said. That had been the plan, but by the time she had finished, he realized that if Hyacinth had sought him out in hopes of putting in a good word for her sister, then she couldn’t have botched the job any better than she had.
Anisah was a robot, a fanatic, and a cheapskate. Anisah was this and that.
She hadn’t even seemed aware she had been insulting and complimenting her sister in the same sentence, and it was that, more than anything else, which had convinced the sheikh to believe in Hyacinth and – later on – give up on Anisah.
Hyacinth’s words had made him think he knew the real Anisah, enough to make him think he did not deserve her. Now – he didn’t even seem to know himself anymore.
“If you’re here to defend your sister and convince me to give her another chance---”
It was rare for Hyacinth to lose her temper in public, but the sheikh’s words incensed her so that she found herself snapping, “It is you who should beg my sister for another chance!” Drawing herself up, she continued tightly, “My sister doesn’t know I heard her on the phone earlier. She was speaking with a member of the press, and she has agreed to meet with the journalist tomorrow on the condition that the resulting write-up will exonerate you and ensure that you regain public favor.”
Stepping away, Hyacinth said bitterly, “I still don’t know what happened between the two of you, Your Highness. My sister refuses to speak of you in any way. But what I do know is the kind of person my sister is, and if I could do things over again, I would never have called you that night.”
****
At close to six in the evening, the staff kitchen was noisy and crowded, with palace employees happily indulging in chitchat while they prepared dinner. For tonight, Anisah was slated to do the dishwashing, and so she had reluctantly set aside her abaya so she could put on an apron over a large old shirt and jeans. The sight of her in Western clothes had everyone snickering, but she only rolled her eyes to this.
“Do none of you get tired making a big deal out of this,” Anisah muttered crossly as she took her place before the sink.
“Won’t you ever get tired of treating our robes like they’re made of spun gold?” Edna, one of the palace’s station cooks, retorted.
“I just don’t like it when I dirty my robe unnecessarily,” she protested.
“Ha! I don’t believe ‘don’t like’ is an accurate term.” Mila, the chambermaid standing next to Anisah, snorted as she pulled a drawer open and took out a chopping board. “The last time you ended up with a stain on your abaya, you totally freaked out.”
Anisah made a face when everyone nodded profusely, as if reminiscing about some kind of shared nightmare. “So I value our national garment,” she said with stiff dignity. “Is that so horrible?”
“Yes,” a data encoder in Sheikh Rayyan’s finance department affirmed with a grin. “Horribly funny, that is!”
The whole kitchen laughed, but even as she pretended to turn her back on them with a huff, Anisah was more relieved than anything else by their continued teasing. It was their way of letting her know that she was still one of them, in spite of the fact that the sheikh had just last week declared her as his fiancée, only to start womanizing---
Don’t go there, Anisah.
She quickly reached for her gloves and started cleaning the dishes with singlehanded focus. This was how she had survived the entire week, working on each task one at a time and like her life depended on it. Working so hard prevented her mind from dwelling where it wasn’t supposed to go, her body from feeling what it’s supposed to feel---
Tory.
Oh no. Anisah scrubbed the bottom of the pan with greater force. This was a first, she thought uneasily, and this was bad.
Tory.
She was now hearing things she was not supposed to hear, literally---
The chambermaid chopping vegetables beside her stopped. “Umm, Anisah?”
Lowering the pan to the sink, she turned to the other woman reluctantly. “Yes?”
“I think…the sheikh wishes to, umm, talk to you?”
Anisah jerked.
“Tory.”
She looked at Mila. “Did you also hear that?” The other woman nodded, and Anisah slowly peeled off her gloves. The sheikh…was truly here? The gloves slipped off her suddenly nerveless fingers. They fell to the kitchen’s sparkling-clean floor soundlessly, but she flinched all the same, the sight no different from a detonating bomb as it forced her to confront the truth.
I can’t talk to him.
As soon as the words formed in her already-hazy mind, she made a run for it. Or at least she gave it her best shot. She was fast, but the sheikh was faster, and cries of shock rose inside the vast kitchen when the sheikh lunged for her.
His arm shot out, his fingers curling around her arm, and Anisah cried out, “No!” His touch burned, painfully so. It hurt her because it still felt good…when it was not supposed to.
She looked away as soon as he had spun her around to face him, but even so Tarif managed to catch sight of her bright, tear-stained eyes.
Smiles are a luxury to her, and so are her tears.
And since he himself knew how Anisah, the woman who took
pride in having only ten pieces of clothing in her wardrobe, felt about luxury –
“I’m sorry.” He felt her stiffen, but still she didn’t look at him, and he did not blame her for it. “I’m sorry, Tory.” He spoke quietly but clearly; he wanted everyone to hear and see him eat humble pie. It was what she deserved – and more.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hyacinth didn’t know what she was talking about when she called you a fanatic.”
They were in the privacy of his office, both of them seated on the couch, albeit on opposite ends, and his first words were completely unexpected. That Hyacinth had the temerity to contact or even confront the sheikh no longer surprised Anisah. Her younger sister was quite the fighter when it came to protecting the ones she loved.
But that bit about the fanatic?
“I’m proud to be committed to our kingdom,” Anisah said without meeting the sheikh’s gaze. And while the cheeky, talkative brat probably hadn’t meant her words to be a compliment, she would take it as so.
The sheikh’s lips twitched at Anisah’s words. “I should’ve known you’d be happy to hear that.” He paused. “However – I’m sorry to disappoint you that you don’t actually qualify.”
“If that is a dig about my loyalty to the crown---”
“You may have your moments,” the sheikh cut her off smoothly, “but real fanaticism?”
“And your point is, Your Highness?” She glared at the center table, which unfortunately was not as satisfactory as glaring at the sheikh.
“My mother was one.”
Anisah started. What…did he say?
But the sheikh had already started talking again.
A scandalous divorce that involved having her husband leave her for an older and less attractive woman, an all-consuming need for validation, a psychological incapacity to care – these were just a few of the various factors that had eventually turned his mother Tamara into a fanatic.
