“Refraction of light,” said the Sheikh matter-of-factly, trying to ignore the sensation he got from holding her bare arm, feeling her energy so close to him. Yes, already he could tell that things had changed for him. This would be more difficult than he thought. Perhaps impossible.
“Oh, so you’re a scientist now,” she said, teasing him with her big brown eyes as she bent down and cupped her hand, bringing some of the water to her lips and taking a sip. “Hmm. That’s good. Kind of a sweet, earthy taste.”
The Sheikh shook his head. “Ya Allah, you are bolder than I. You do understand that we filter the water before drinking it.”
Jan shrugged. “In the last twenty-four hours I’ve survived being drugged, kidnapped, and raped. I think I can handle botulism.”
Darius laughed and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into him and kissing her hard on the lips. He felt her glasses cut into his nose, and he backed away and pulled them off her, tossing them far into the oasis, a tiny splash signifying the end of them.
“I can’t believe you just did that!” she shouted, pulling away from him and beginning to wade deeper into the waters. “That’s the only pair I have, you asshole!”
The Sheikh watched her flounder around aimlessly, nowhere near where the glasses had gone under. Then he went after her and grabbed her just before she stepped off the hidden underwater ledge that would have plummeted her into deeper waters.
“Careful, my blind professor. These waters have their secrets,” he whispered as he yanked her back and led her back to safety. “Come. It is time to head back to the Royal Palace. We have much to discuss.”
Jan’s expression changed, and she nodded as she held onto him and stepped back onto the bank. One glance into his eyes, and then she squinted and shook her head as if in disbelief. Was it disbelief at him or herself? Perhaps both. In a way the Sheikh was in a state of disbelief himself: After all, he’d told her his plan, given her back her phone, passport, and credit cards, and said she could walk away and he would accept the consequences of what he’d done to her. But yet she was still here.
She was still here.
10
Why am I still here, she’d asked herself a thousand times when Darius had finished explaining what he’d been planning.
“Neither Ephraim nor I can back down, not after three years of public posturing. And the problem of Habeetha’s overpopulation is real and drastic. It might have been caused by Ephraim’s haste and short-sightedness, but now it is also my problem to deal with. On the other side of Habeetha is uninhabitable desert and then the salty ocean waters of the Gulf of Oman. When the capital city can no longer hold the population, they will look to the borders of Noramaar.”
“So open your borders to immigration,” Jan had said as she listened to him talk, already understanding that Darius was perhaps as proud and immovable as he accused Ephraim of being. “If the options are invasion or immigration, then it’s a no-brainer, right?”
The Sheikh had taken a breath, and Jan saw a cloud pass across his handsome face. “That would mean I am yielding to Ephraim’s threats, Jan. It would mean that anyone can come to my borders, puff out their chest and threaten war, and I will bow my head and compromise.” He’d shaken his head fiercely, his green eyes ablaze. “I know what you are thinking: that it is my stupid pride. But it is more than that. A king is a symbol to his people. You Americans have your flag and your troops, Hollywood and Wall Street, the Grand Canyon and the Rocky Mountains, Disneyland and Las Vegas. You have a vast source of achievements and culture from which your people draw pride and self-confidence. But my people have only their Sheikh. Only me, Jan. I do not bow to pressure. I will not bow to Ephraim and simply back down. It would lower me in the eyes of my people, while it would make Ephraim look stronger, more powerful. Perception matters in politics, Jan. If I simply yield and—”
“You could make him pay,” Jan had said. “Let him continue to pay the stipend to the folks who move from Habeetha to Noramaar. Then it’ll look like you’re doing them a favor.”
“A good idea, but then there is the issue of who decides which people actually move. Ephraim might want to ship the worst of his people—criminals and madmen perhaps! And it is my people who will need to adjust to the influx, live side by side with them! It is a complex, sensitive matter, with implications that will play out over generations. It is quite possible that even if I ignore my pride and open my borders now, in twenty years there will be war anyway! I know Ephraim. He has never been satisfied with his tiny kingdom. Every time he looks out across the Golden Oasis from his Royal Palace, he thinks of expansion, conquest, invasion. It is not personal. He and I do not hate each other. In fact I understand those dreams of conquest, because as a king I too have fantasies of ruling the world. But those days where kings ride out with armies to invade and plunder are long gone, and I have enough self-control to not let the fantasies lead me down the path of madness.”
“So what’s the solution then? Just fight it out?”
The Sheikh had given her a strange look. “In a way. But on a different battleground.”
“And what’s the battleground?” she’d asked, frowning at the way Darius was looking at her.
“Not what, but who,” the Sheikh had said, his gaze unwavering, that look of seriousness returning, but this time mixed with a hint of darkness that made her shiver.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you, Jan,” he’d said. “You are the battleground.”
And then she’d listened as the world began to spin away from any semblance of sense or sanity. She listened as the Sheikh told her that the only solution that made sense was a full integration of Noramaar and Habeetha. A merger. A union.
A marriage.
“We combine the kingdoms. Yes, there would be a million administrative details to take care of, but our councils and ministers would handle that if the decision were made,” the Sheikh had said as Jan listened with wide eyes and a throbbing head as the pieces slowly fitted together like a jigsaw. A jigsaw in which she was that last piece, the one that held it all together. “The problem is, the biggest decision is one that can never be agreed upon: Who would be supreme Sheikh of the new union?”
Jan had nodded absentmindedly as the plane began to descend towards the black runway that stretched through the golden desert like a racing stripe. She understood that although the pride and arrogance of two kings was certainly at play here, it was more than that. Perception indeed mattered. The self-image of a kingdom is indeed founded upon the perceived strength and power of its king.
Or its queen.
“It is the only way,” the Sheikh had said, his voice deep and low as he said it. “The only way Ephraim and I can ever combine our nations without losing face is if neither of us is supreme ruler of the new kingdom. We are both unmarried with no heirs or siblings. The idea is unprecedented, perhaps insane. But it could work. It could work well enough to save thousands of lives, create a stronger, bigger kingdom, preserve the peaceful sharing of the waters of the Golden Oasis for another hundred years.”
“What are you saying?” she’d whispered as the plane swooped in for landing, that funny feeling in her gut almost making her pass out. “Darius, are you asking me to . . . to . . . what are you saying?!”
“Marry us,” he whispered, his jaw set tight but his deep voice trembling at its core, his green eyes burning deadly serious, that hint of darkness still alive in them. “Marry us both, and become queen of the new land. One kingdom, one people, one union, one queen. And one marriage. Three ways.”
11
“There’s no way,” she’d said when they got into a silver Range Rover and headed from the Royal Airport directly for the banks of the Golden Oasis. “There’s no way you’re serious. This is part of some weird act of yours. Just like the kidnapping. There’s no way . . . I mean . . . God, I can’t even . . .”
&n
bsp; “You have questions, I presume,” he’d asked, regaining his composure and putting on a pair of Porsche Design sunglasses as the smooth Range Rover pulled off the pebbled highway and onto the open sand without missing a beat.
“Questions? Um, why, yes, I do have questions!” she’d replied through a jaw that was clenched so tight she could already feel the headache coming in. “Setting aside the issue of how ridiculous this scheme is, the biggest question is why me? Of all the people in the world, why me? You don’t know me. Ephraim doesn’t know me. I’m not Arab, not even Middle Eastern!” She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “Also, I’m not insane.”
The Sheikh had taken a breath and lowered his sunglasses as he glanced down at her. “Everything you said is true except the last bit.”
She laughed and shook her head, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and turning away from him, staring out at the sand dunes whipping by like golden waves. “I must be insane if I’m still here,” she muttered.
“Exactly, Jan. I could have had this conversation with you in Dubai, in a conference room or at a dinner table. But instead I barged in on you in the restroom, saying things that were alarming at best, terrifying at worst. Then I drugged and kidnapped you. And then I . . . I mean we . . . I mean, Jan, you understand why I chose to start all of this in the most extreme, extraordinary, dramatic way I could think of, yes? I had to break us out of the ordinary world, take us into a world of madness and chaos, where the ridiculous is real, the nonsensical is normal.” His voice softened, and it sent a tremble through her, making her think of that mad, chaotic, nonsensical encounter on the plane. “That is the world in which true attraction lives. True arousal. You know it. You felt it. And you reached for it, just like I did. True attraction, which is the only way this can work.”
She’d taken a breath and slowly turned back to him. She thought for a moment, remembering the wild attraction that had consumed her on the plane, remembering what she’d said to him when he’d offered to stop, remembering the way he’d gone so damned hard and lost control when she’d said it even as she got wetter and hotter than she’d thought possible. “Yes,” she said, trying her best to act like a cool-headed professor with a goddamn PhD. “I’ve studied the psychology of sexual attraction. And I do understand that attraction can’t be a negotiation. It’s not about logic and clear thought. It has to be felt. That’s the reason we use the word arousal. It has to be awakened. Brought out. Torn out if need be.” She blinked three times, not sure if she could look into his eyes. “You believe this would only work if the attraction is real. Real attraction.” She’d made herself look at him then, and it had sent a tingle down through the seam of her body, making her buttocks tighten, her thighs clench, the hairs on her neck bristle as the world began to spin again. “Real attraction between you and me.” Another breath as she allowed herself to think of what he was asking. “And real attraction between me and him. Sheikh Ephraim. A man I’ve never met. A man who you yourself said was the evil Sheikh in this story.”
Darius had put his sunglasses back on, and Jan could tell it was so she wouldn’t see the surprise in his eyes. Surprise, but also admiration. And something else. A look that told her so much. A look that said he already felt possessive over her, and that it wouldn’t be easy for him even if she did agree to proceed.
But how to even proceed? What was next?
She’d stayed quiet as the car pulled up and stopped beneath the shade of a cluster of majestic date-palms, just steps away from the serene waters of the Golden Oasis. And when she stepped out of the car and glanced over the massive oasis, Jan understood why he’d brought her directly here even as he laid out his proposition. There was an energy to these waters. A surreal, magical flow to the air around it. She felt it. It was old, palpable, real. There was something both disturbing and tranquil about this place, like this oasis was a fulcrum, a point of balance, something upon which great forces of mystery and wonder rested in harmony. But a harmony that was delicate, that could unleash something dark if disturbed. Jan wasn’t a particularly spiritual person, but something about this place was calling out to her. A feeling of being drawn here. Attracted. Awoken. Aroused?
So she’d stopped asking questions and just kicked off her shoes and stepped into the waters, feeling its energy enter her the moment she committed to walking in. She’d felt a strange familiarity when the Sheikh stepped in beside her, even though her common sense reminded her she’d known the man less than a day. Of course, none of the day’s events had been common by any stretch, and so she dismissed common sense and played in those shimmering waters, laughing like a child, giggling like a fool, splashing and stomping, wading and stumbling.
“Those are my only pair, you asshole!” she screamed when the Sheikh tossed her glasses away and kissed her like they were old lovers. But somehow she knew she wouldn’t be needing them again. Those were glasses made for Professor Janice Johansen, and they’d served their purpose by seeing her this far, by allowing her to see this far. Now it was time to change her perspective, to try and see things differently, to try and see everything differently. Her next set of glasses wouldn’t be black frames with plastic lenses. The next set would be glasses fit for a queen. Would they let her see even farther? Or would they blind her?
Suddenly she knew she’d already made the decision to move forward, that perhaps everything in her life had been preparing her for this. Preparing her for him. Preparing her for . . . them? Oh, God, how could she even consider this?!
“It has to be you, Jan,” the Sheikh said as he led her out of the oasis and towards the Range Rover, where two veiled attendants were waiting with gold-embroidered towels monogrammed with Arabic letters. “Because you understand that shared marriages are part of humankind’s history. You will be able to explain it to the world. Your entire career has been about explaining complicated things to an audience. You have the poise and confidence, the intelligence and the presence.”
“I don’t speak a word of Arabic,” she said weakly, protesting even though she could feel herself fill with a terrible excitement as she sat on the sideboard of the silver car and watched an attendant dab-dry her feet. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to find an Arab woman? There’s no shortage of articulate, educated Arab women these days, yeah?”
“What I am proposing would be shocking even to the Arab world, where shared marriages are only the other way around, with one man taking multiple wives. Bringing an Arab woman into this would make the entire thing about religion and tradition. This is beyond that. Bigger than that. It needs to go beyond just the Arab world, and you being American will add to the sensationalism, perhaps even become the centerpiece of the story,” said Darius, clearly having thought of this before. “The world will take notice. Every newspaper and television channel. Do you see, Jan? We will all be on the main stage of the world. If it succeeds, it will elevate the images of both Ephraim and myself in a world that is increasingly changing the old balances of power between men and women. It will allow Ephraim and I to perhaps resolve this conflict without either of us losing face, to compromise without compromising. It is the only way this will work. Perception is everything. If it succeeds, of course.”
“If it succeeds . . .” Jan said to herself when the Sheikh stood and walked a few paces away to take a phone call. She watched him as he spoke quietly in Arabic, and then she smiled at the dark-eyed veiled woman who’d graciously dried her feet and was holding Jan’s shoe out like this was a Cinderella story. “Oh, no, you don’t need to do that,” Jan said, reaching to take the shoe away and put it on herself.
“It is my privilege,” said the attendant quietly. She glanced into Jan’s eyes. “There is no dishonor or disgrace in serving another.”
Jan frowned as she held the eye contact, and the moment stayed with her even as the attendant quickly looked down, slipped the shoes onto Jan’s feet, and then backed away toward a black Land Cruiser that had accompanied the
Sheikh’s Range Rover. These are the people you’d be serving, it suddenly occurred to her. These men and women, their children, and generations to come. It would prevent a war, elevate the confidence and self-image of these people. Could you make it about them and not you?
Easier said than done, she reminded herself. You have an ego too. You are ambitious in your own way. Think of what happens if you go ahead with this. You’d be a sensation, like Darius said. A queen with two kings by her side? Magazine covers? Feature stories? Public opinion from all corners of the globe?
There would be those who’d call her a slut and a whore, but others who’d call her a role model, a shining example of how far women had come in the world. And even if the idea was a bust—which it probably would be—she’d learn something about the world of shared marriages, wouldn’t she? Worst case she’d get a double-divorce and a book deal.
Stop it, she told herself. Before you can even consider yourself capable of being a ruler, you need to handle your own ego. It may start off being about you, but eventually it would have to be about a greater good. And it would be a great good, wouldn’t it? You’re being given a chance to resolve a brewing conflict that could save thousands of lives! To prevent a war with marriage? Didn’t great women over the centuries do just that?
So as insane as it sounds, wouldn’t it be more insane not to consider walking down this path? What if I say no and six months later Habeetha and Noramaar go to war? What if Saudi Arabia decides to intervene? What if the U.S. decides to send troops?! What if in some twisted way, saying no would result in American soldiers getting killed yet again in some faraway desert?! Was it now her duty to walk down this path? To at least try?!
But even if I wanted to, could I actually do it? Two men? One of whom just kidnapped me? And I haven’t even met the other! Can I agree to consider sleeping with a man I haven’t even met yet?! What about marrying a man I haven’t even seen!? Who does that?!
Shared for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 10) Page 5
