The Sheikh's Secret

by Knight, Kylie

  “Clara, I need to tell you something, ok? I need to tell you something and I really need you to hear me.”

  “Ok,” she said quietly, some of that false confidence beginning to fade, “what’s up?”

  “I need to go away for a while, to clear my head. I’m going to leave some time this week, as soon as I figure out where I want to go.”

  “Ok!” she said brightly, like this was much better than what she had expected to hear, “I’ll go with you. It’ll be a long overdue vacay.”

  “No. No, Clara. I need to get away, and a big part of what I need to get away from is you.”

  Chapter Six

  “Yes, father, I know. I am aware.”

  “Are you?” his father responded in a chilly voice the severity of which somehow managed to translate loud and clear despite having to travel over thousands of miles, “Are you sure? Because if I were to give my very humble opinion, you sound distracted. And distraction does not go well with success. The two are not what you would call the ideal travelling companions.”

  Darvesh shut his eyes, took in a long, deep breath, and counted down from twenty. Under normal circumstances in which Darvesh could feel his temper rising he would do this trick and count down from ten, but his father was a special case. Staying patient and not acting out like he was still a sixteen year old boy full of piss and hormones required a monumental amount of control on his part but it was worth it; more than that, it was necessary. He was an adult now. He was running all of his family’s interests in the United States, shouldering greater and greater responsibilities what felt like every day. And business was going well. Business was going very well and there was zero reason for his father to be concerned. But that was how things went between the two of them. That was how it had been between the two of them going as far back as Darvesh could remember. He supposed that was how it was between most fathers and sons, even without the added stress of copious amounts of money and multiple industries to run. So, all things considered, taking a full twenty seconds to breath wasn’t too much to ask. It was actually him doing pretty well, and his father also, for not interrupting the process (if he was even aware of the fact that his son was using meditation tactics to keep from losing his cool with him). The unspoken truce couldn’t last forever, however, and almost immediately after the twenty seconds were up his father spoke again.

  “Darvesh? Darvesh, are you still there? I’m talking to you.”

  “Yes, father,” he said quietly, feeling worn out just from this talking, “I’m here. I hear you.”

  “See? What did I say? Distracted. You’re distracted. You don’t even listen to our conversation, you’re so distracted, don’t even answer you’re so distracted.”

  “No, no father, I’m not distracted. Just thinking. The two aren’t the same thing, last time I checked.”

  “And all of this over a girl? Yes? Is that right? All of this over an American girl. We warned you. We warned you when you went over there not to get your head turned. I have to say, I really believed that you were out of the woods with it. You’ve been there for years and never shown the slightest bit of interest in any woman. I don’t fool myself to think that it’s because you haven’t been around any. You work in clubs, for god’s sake. Where all of the girls flock for the parties and the money. But this one. This one got to you, eh? I don’t understand it. Maybe it’s better that you come home. Maybe you’ve been over there for too long.”

  “No,” he said with a surprisingly calm voice, “I don’t think that will be necessary. I understand you. I see what you’re saying. It won’t be a problem. I’m not distracted.”

  “Good, Darvesh. Good. That is exactly what I was hoping to hear. Now. I’ve got many things to attend to, but your mother is here. She would like to speak with you. If you’ve got the time, that is.”

  Darvesh could hear the condescension in the older man’s voice and knew that the idea of a grown man having a conversation with his mother, just to catch up and shoot the shit, was entirely unappealing to his father. His father was of the opinion (and it was an opinion that Darvesh knew many men in his generation shared) that after a boy surpassed the age of twelve or so he should be beyond the desire for conversation with mother. It was baby stuff, stuff men should have grown out of. Darvesh, however, was of the opinion that a man’s mother was always his mother and if she asked to speak to him it was the least he could do to oblige. A generational difference, perhaps.

  “I’ve got the time. You can put her on.”

  “Alright,” he said with disdain, “if you’re sure. We’ll speak again.”

  And that was all. We’ll speak again, as if that was something that needed to be specified between a father and son. But maybe it was. Maybe with some fathers and some sons, it just was. Darvesh could hear him speaking somewhat curtly to his mother, could hear that he was leaving on business and would be back in a few weeks time, and then there was the sound of the phone changing hands and the soft sound of his mother breathing before her voice came across the line.

  “Son. Son, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  She paused for a moment, Darvesh assumed to wait to make sure that her husband was really out of earshot, and then began to speak again.

  “Son? Are you alright?”

  “I’m alright. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For asking.”

  “Of course! What else are mothers for?”

  “Oh, all sorts of things, I’m guessing. Lots of different kinds of things.”

  “So then tell me, Darvesh. Tell me what’s happened. It’s about a girl?”

  “It is. Oldest story in the book, right? Always about a girl.”

  “And you love this girl.”

  “I do,” Darvesh sighed, realizing that it was the first time he had gotten the chance to say it out loud and feeling his heart break a little bit with the knowledge, “I really do love her and I’m not all that sure that it matters anymore.”

  “Of course it does,” she said in the soothing voice that only a mother seemed to know, “a thing like love? That always matters. You would be surprised the things a person can come back from. When there is love involved.”

  “But I never got to tell her. I didn’t tell her that I love her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Her sister happened. She found an article about me, must have really been looking for some kind of news to bring to Ada. The article mentioned Mariam. And our boy.”

  “I see. And you hadn’t gotten around to mentioning either of them to this Ada quite yet. Is that about it?”

  “Yes,” he sighed, shaking his head in self-disgust nobody was around to actually see, “that’s about it.”

  “Well if there was ever a lesson in the importance of honesty, this would be it.”

  “Come on, now? We’re doing this now?”

  “You’re right, you’re right, but I had to say something, didn’t I? Your mother and all that.”

  “I know. But what do I do? Father would be completely disgusted to hear me say a thing like that, would say it wasn’t befitting of a sheikh, but then again, he’s not a woman, is he? So perhaps he wouldn’t be the best choice for advice on this subject. How about you? As a woman, what advice would you give me?”

  “Go to her. If you don’t know where she is you figure out where she is and then you go to her. You don’t leave until you make her understand what it was with Mariam. If you have to, you bring her here.”

  “What, bring her home? I don’t think she’s going to want to do that, seeing as she won’t even return my calls.”

  “You find a way. If you can get her here, let her see the way things really are, you’ll win her back. That’s the way you do it. You keep fighting for it until you get what you want.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this? I’m surprised.”

  “Are you? Maybe you’re underestimating your mother, then.”

  “I’m not trying to. I guess I just expe
cted you to try and convince me to find a girl that would be more ‘suitable.’”

  “Someday I might tell you the things I have seen in my life. Someday I might tell you of my own heartbreaks, the things I’ve kept secreted away. Most women have those things, you know. Let’s just say that mine have made me more sympathetic to the plights of the young and in love than some others might be. Your brothers have their ‘proper’ wives. I want you to be happy. All I ask is that you keep this conversation just between the two of us, alright? Keep from rocking the boat, I suppose you could say.”

  “Of course,” Darvesh laughed, loving his mother all the more for making him feel cheerful for the first time since that awful scene had played out with Ada, “we’ll just add it to your batch of secrets. What do you say?”

  “I say yes to that. Is there anything else I can do for you my son?”

  “No. You’ve been a great help to me. And mother?”

  “Yes?”

  “I suppose it would be best to prepare the guest chambers. Just in case.”

  “One step ahead of you, Darvesh. Remember, your mother wasn’t born yesterday.”

  Darvesh laughed and hung up the phone. He stood, made his way to the nearest mirror in his expansive loft full of lush, lavish things that mattered very little to him, and smoothed his hair down. He needed to make sure that he looked presentable, that he was in no way unkempt. He had a visit to pay and he needed it to go his way in order to move forward with his decidedly unformed plan.

  “It’ll have to do” he mumbled to himself before grabbing his keys and striding purposefully out of the door.

  “Please, Clara, surely you can see reason on this matter.”

  “Reason? What are you talking about? How did you even get back to my office, anyway?”

  “I talked to your receptionist. I talked to her, told her who I needed to see, and she led me back here. Lovely girl, I must say. Wonderful choice in terms of who is going to make the first impression for your company.”

  “Oh really?”

  She picked up a pad of paper, clicked her pen angrily (he hadn’t even realized that a pen could be clicked angrily before watching her) and jotted something down. He raised one eyebrow but didn’t speak, waited for her to look up. Finally she did, a look of poorly concealed rage on her otherwise beautiful face.

  “What, this? I’m just making a note. About the receptionist. To fire her. What, did you think I would keep her on after a show of insubordination like this?”

  Darvesh nodded his head, trying to show respect for the show of power Clara was trying to display. What she didn’t realize was that the first thing he was going to do on his way out was give that receptionist his card so that if she really did get fired she would still have a job. Telling Clara that wouldn’t be any help of course. If anything it would only hurt his chances of what he had come here for, which he wanted very badly to just get quickly and be on his way.

  “Alright, so you’re here, thanks to the stupid fucking receptionist. You mind telling me why? What are you doing here, Darvy? Why are you here?”

  “Darvesh, if you please. My name is Darvesh.”

  “Honestly, I couldn’t care less what your name is. Doesn’t have anything to do with why you’re here, does it? So maybe you should just explain that part and then get out of here.”

  “I just need you to tell me where she is, alright? That’s all, Clara. I know you aren’t all that fond of me. I won’t lie to you and say that I’m your biggest fan, either. I just need to know where she is. I need to talk to her. To explain.”

  “To explain what?” she scoffed, standing and stretching her tall, lean frame out so long it looked like her hands might actually touch the ceiling, “Exactly what kind of asshole you are? I don’t think she cares. I know I wouldn’t. But while you’re here, what do you think of this dress? Is it too much? For the daytime, I mean. Something tells me you’ve had a lot of experience with women, certainly enough to know a thing or two about what they wear.”

  Now Darvesh could feel anger of his own starting to hammer in his temples and he fought for a moment to keep it under control. Yes, there was anger, that and a feeling of mild nausea sitting in the pit of his stomach. Even now, when he was so clearly involved with her sister (god, he hoped he could still say they were involved; please let them still be involved), she was trying to make him desire her. That suggestive little sway of her hips, the bottom lip clasped coyly between her teeth, the eyes that met his and then turned down with a shyness that could not have been anything but fake. Even now she wanted him to want him. That was what it had been about then. Not some attempt on the part of one sister to protect another. Jealousy; pure, simple, one of the oldest motives in the book when it came to bad behavior. He knew then that Clara wasn’t going to tell him anything. Whether she realized it or not, she enjoyed this situation too much to do anything to change it. She was only talking to him because part of her was waiting for that gleam in his eyes that told her that she had won. Girls like this, girls like Clara, they didn’t ever seem to know any better. They didn’t know what to do if they weren’t making a man fall in love with them.

  “Hello? Darvey? You aren’t going all crazy on me now, are we?”

  “No, Clara, nothing like that. And the dress is fine. It’s quite lovely, really, but you’re right; it’s probably best left for evening wear.”

  “I thought so. Thanks for the input, Darvey. Never hurts to get different perspectives, you know?”

  “No, I’m sure it doesn’t. I believe I’ll be going now. Thank you for your time.”

  “Seriously? Just like that? Well that’s too bad. Honestly, I thought you would try a little bit harder than this. You must not miss her all that much, after all.”

  There was that rage again, pounding in his temples, but he closed his eyes and did his breathing trick and when he opened his eyes again he felt calm. He was done here. He didn’t need anything from this place. It had only been his desperation that had made him think it was a good idea to see Clara in the first place. She was never going to be an ally and it had been silly of him to think otherwise. And so it wasn’t worth getting angry about in the end. There was no real reason. She was only being who she was, after all. And how could he be really angry at her for that?

  “Think that if you like. One way or the other, it’s time for me to leave.”

  For the first time since his arriving at her office Clara looked truly surprised and, for a moment, it looked like she was going to say something, to tell him not to go. He must have read the room wrong, though, or else in the end she couldn’t actually think of anything to say because in the end she kept her mouth shut and he walked out of her office without saying another word. He held a business card in between his fingers, one of the ones with his personal number written on the back, and slipped it to the poor receptionist on his way out of the large glass double doors. He was already standing in front of the elevators and thinking of his next move when he heard the voice calling him from the office he had just (thankfully) walked out of.

  “Wait! Darvesh, please, wait for just a minute.”

  He turned, surprised to hear his name being called in this particular building (or being called correctly, at least), and saw that it was a girl whose name he remembered as Penelope hurrying towards him. He had only met her a few times, he and Ada both had crazy schedules and it was difficult enough carving out time for just the two of them let alone the two of them and friends, but he did know her to be both friend and assistant to Ada. That made her a woman he was very grateful to be talking to. Surprised, he was definitely surprised as well to have one of Ada’s friends looking to talk to him at all, but grateful and hopeful as well.

  “Yes, hello. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m sorry, for using your first name and all. I know I don’t really know you, and maybe it’s too familiar of me to use your first name, it’s just that it sort of feels like I know you. What with Ada and all.”

  �
��Yes. Ada.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, see. Ada. I think I might know something that you’d like to know.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Can I get you anything else at the moment miss? Another daiquiri perhaps? This one would be complementary, completely on the house.”

  “On no! You wouldn’t have to do that. Not at all!”

  “You’re right, we wouldn’t, but you’ve been so lovely with the staff since beginning your stay with us and we would very much enjoy showing our appreciation for it. It’s not all of the time that our guests are as kind as you have been. We’re all here to accommodate you and yet here you are, doing that very same thing for us.”

  Ada could feel a hot blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks. She still wasn’t always the best at accepting compliments. She honestly never had been. It wasn’t a lack of confidence. She hadn’t ever had a problem with that. It was more that she didn’t love having that level of attention paid to her. It seemed superfluous, like the things people most often complimented her on were things that shouldn’t matter all that much. And, if she was being honest with herself (and she might as well be at this point; now that she was here in a foreign place all on her own), there was another layer to her aversion to compliments at this point. When she had been with Darvesh she had slowly become used to being complimented. He was the kind of man who liked to tell a woman what he thought about her, how he felt about her, and no amount of protestation on her part could put a stop to it. He had simply lavished compliments on her, every day, every time one popped into his head, and it had gotten to the point where she didn’t hate it anymore. Truthfully, she kind of liked it. It was nice to feel so completely appreciated. And it didn’t all feel like bullshit when he did it either, the way that it so often had with people in the past. He had a way of complimenting her that made it feel like he meant it and he had never kept it restricted to just things related to her physical attributes. He had seemed enamoured with her mind as well, with her abilities and the way she had navigated the world. But then again he had also seemed like an open book to her and in the end that had turned out not to be true. She had really believed that they were (ugh, she wanted to die just thinking about it now) as close to made for each other as people could be and it couldn’t have been further to the truth. People who were made for each other didn’t keep secrets, and even if they sometimes did, they didn’t keep secrets of the magnitude of the one Darvesh had kept from her. No, the man she had thought he was had been a lie and that made everything that had occurred between them questionable. Because if he would lie about the most serious things, the things that all combined made up the man that he was, how naive would she have had to have been to believe that the things he said to her were true? Too naive, that’s how. She was much too smart, too world aware and too overall weary to believe that she could be the one exception in a man whose instinct was to lie. That could easily have meant that all of those sweet, thoughtful compliments Darvish had given her were flat out lies as well. Those words that had meant everything to her had abruptly become hollow and she was left with less faith in a person’s compliments than she had had before.