Jeremy had been right. He’d warned her that Amar would use her and after he’d gotten what he wanted, he would discard her and be onto the next woman. And that’s exactly what he’d done. As soon as the thrill and chase were over and he’d taken her to bed, he’d hightailed it out before sunrise. He’d actually had the nerve to use a family emergency as an excuse when just a couple of days ago he’d shared that he was estranged from his family in Nasir. Does he honestly expect me to believe he would rush out in the wee hours of the morning to go back home? He must have thought she just fell off the turnip truck.
After she’d showered, Rylee wrapped a fluffy towel around her bosom. She wiped the mirror that had fogged from the heat and stared at her reflection. She’d been played the fool and now she was forced to look at herself, a woman bamboozled. It was not a pretty picture.
Rylee used the feminine toiletries and combs and brushes in a drawer under the sink that Sharif had so graciously thought of. She was dressed in under ten minutes and eager to get out of Amar’s love shack. She wondered if he’d used his technique on other women.
When she walked back into the living room, Sharif stood up. “I take it everything was satisfactory?” he asked softly.
Rylee stared back at him. She could sense he was afraid to say anything that might set her off. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t his fault that Amar had discarded her as if she were the gum on the bottom of his shoe. “Yes, Sharif. Everything is fine. I’m ready to go. I assume you’re here to give me a ride back to the hotel?”
He nodded.
“Well, then let’s go.” Rylee headed toward the door.
“What about your dress?” Sharif asked, looking at last night’s garment that he’d folded and was lying on the chair.
“I don’t want it.”
“But Amar bought it specifically for you.”
“I don’t care,” Rylee said, opening the door. “Leave it for the next girl.” She walked down the path and toward the limousine that was waiting to take them back to the hotel. At least she could thank Amar for his good taste as he’d made sure she would ride back in style.
The drive back to the hotel was fraught with silence. Sharif worked on his iPad while Rylee stared blankly out of the window. All she wanted to do was get back to Tucson where everything and everyone made sense. She didn’t want to think about Amar Bishop ever again.
“How is he?” Amar asked once he’d landed on Nasir soil in the United Arab Emirates. Thankfully, the private jet had a shower, and he’d been able to change into clean clothes.
Tariq was waiting for him at the airport and gave him a long hug on the tarmac.
Tariq was a younger version of Amar. He had similar facial features, except his were more Arabian. He had straight jet-black hair, trimmed short. He had broad shoulders and a slim, athletic build, but they both had inherited their father’s stature.
“He was airlifted to Dubai early this morning to ensure he got the best treatment possible.”
“And?”
“He’s holding his own,” Tariq said as he walked him toward the town car that waited for them. “How was your flight?” he asked, getting into the vehicle.
“Long,” Amar replied, following behind him. The day-long flight to Dubai was less than enjoyable. Amar had been anxious from the moment they’d taken off because he’d left Rylee without a word. His intention had been to call her from the plane, but neither his phone nor the jet phone had international cell phone coverage, so Amar had been unable to call Rylee and explain further. He could only hope that she wouldn’t be too upset with the abrupt way he had departed.
“Something on your mind?” Tariq asked.
“You mean other than Father?”
“I would.”
Amar shook his head. “Nothing I wish to discuss. Do you know what brought on the heart attack?”
Tariq shrugged and turned to look out the window, not answering him.
“What is it, brother?” Amar asked, keenly aware that Tariq was avoiding looking at him.
“The attack occurred right after you and Father argued.”
The explanation was like a gut punch to Amar. “Are you sure?”
“His assistant said that he was visibly upset after the call, was pacing his study and wringing his hands. What were you discussing that could have caused him such anxiety?”
Amar thought back to the upsetting conversation he’d shared with his father yesterday. He remembered the accusations he’d made, the words he’d said. Words he might not ever get to take back. “We said a lot of things, Tariq. We quarreled. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Well, you might as well know that Khalid is furious. He blames you for Father’s attack.”
“What’s new? He blames me for everything wrong in his life. You would think it would be the reverse, considering he’s next in line to be King.”
“Not this again.”
“I’m not beating a dead horse, Tariq. I’m just stating the facts. This just gives Khalid another reason to hate me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Like hell he doesn’t. He’s tolerated me with Father around because he had to. With Father laid up, he won’t have to put on any pretenses.”
Tariq eyed him warily. “I hate when you talk like this. We’re brothers.”
“You and I, yes.” Amar reached over with one arm to pull Tariq into a one-armed hug. “And we always will be. But Khalid and I will never be on the same page.”
Amar’s comment couldn’t have hit the nail on the head better, because as soon as they made it to the hospital in Dubai, Khalid was waiting outside their father’s room alongside Saffron, the Queen, and Freya, Khalid’s wife. Both women were dressed conservatively. As soon as Khalid saw Amar, he laid into him.
“So, the prodigal son has returned,” Khalid snarled. “Did you come to finish the job since your little hissy fit with Father didn’t do the trick?”
“Back off, Khalid,” Amar said, glaring down at him. He was a few inches taller than Khalid, which probably bothered his younger brother to no end. Amar had always felt like his brother had a Napoleon complex since he was just shy of six feet.
“Why? What are you going to do?” Khalid replied. “Yell and scream at me until I keel over.”
“Khalid!” his mother reprimanded him.
“That’s a low blow,” Tariq said, jumping in between the two men. He pushed at Amar’s chest to stop a fight.
“Why are you taking up for him, Tariq, when he’s the reason our father is in the hospital?”
“We don’t know that, Khalid,” Tariq answered.
“Don’t we?” Khalid said. “Farouk said he heard Father arguing with him.” He pointed to Amar. “Didn’t he, Mother?” He looked to his mother, and she nodded in affirmation.
“Even if they were arguing,” Tariq responded, “it’s not Amar’s fault if Father has some heart problems.”
Khalid rolled his eyes. “That’s right. Always take his side, Tariq.” He walked away from them in a huff.
“God, why must he be like that?” Tariq ran his fingers through his dark hair.
“He doesn’t know any other way to be,” Amar replied, watching Khalid as he stormed off. He returned his gaze to Tariq. “I would like to see him.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Saffron, holding a handkerchief. Amar suspected she’d never liked him much and had only tolerated his presence as a child. This was only another reason for her to dislike him. “Khalid may be wrong with his accusations, but I don’t want to take a chance that your father could become agitated.”
“By seeing me?” Amar asked. “I was his son before you became his wife.”
“That’s enough,” Tariq warned, giving Amar a dirty look. He would not let Amar disrespect his mother.
“I’m sorry,
” Amar apologized. He was a little testy from everyone’s insistence that he was at fault for the Sheikh’s heart attack.
“Listen,” Tariq said, pulling Amar by the arm to the side, “why don’t you go in for a few minutes and see him.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, Tariq,” his mother responded.
“He needs to do this, Mother. Please step aside.”
She stepped out of Amar’s path and allowed him to enter his father’s hospital room. The room was not only sterile but silent, save for the beeping of the machines monitoring his father’s condition.
Slowly, Amar walked over to the bed where his father lay very still. Amar was used to the King coming from a place of strength, but looking down at him, he looked frail, nothing like the man he was used to, and it unnerved Amar. He moved closer and then took a seat at his father’s bedside.
What could he say to him? Khalid had been right. They’d argued as they always do. For as long as he could remember, they’d been like oil and water. They didn’t mix. The only thing they’d loved was horses, and Amar thought it would have been a tentative link between them, but he felt his father had turned it into business rather than something a father and son could share.
Yet, despite the animosity between them, Amar loved the old man. Lord knows, he wasn’t an easy man to love, but he was the only father he had.
Tears threatened, but Amar blinked them back. He would never allow anyone to see them. They would consider it a sign of weakness, especially his father.
His father’s eyes tentatively opened, and he blinked, trying to bring the world into focus. He slowly turned his head, and when he saw Amar, a surprised smile formed. “Amar, is that you, son? Or am I hallucinating?”
“No, it’s me,” Amar replied. He realized he hadn’t been to Nasir, let alone Dubai, for nearly five years since he and his father had had one of their epic battles.
“I really must be dying if you’re here.” His father attempted to laugh, but the laughing caused a wheezing fit, prompting several monitors to go off.
Minutes later, a nurse rushed into the room, followed by Saffron and Tariq on her heels.
“What happened?” Tariq asked, looking alarmed.
“Nothing,” Amar said, standing up. “I was just sitting here, and Father woke up.”
“Thank God.” Saffron rushed to her husband’s side, pushing Amar away so she could get closer and hold the Sheikh’s hand.
“Enough, Saffron. I’m okay.”
“I’m so happy,” she cried, touching his cheek.
“Me too, Father.” Tariq beamed.
Seconds later, Khalid rushed into the room with Freya. “What’s going on? Is Father okay?” he asked, looking at everyone. When his eyes rested on Amar, he hissed. “What’s he doing in here?”
Amar glared. “I’m here to check on my father, same as you.”
“He woke up while Amar was here,” the Queen added, looking up from her husband’s side.
“Is that so?” Khalid replied. “So, it took Amar coming for Dad to wake up. Wow!”
Amar ignored the dig even though Khalid’s anger came off him in droves; but he didn’t say anything else to upset their father. He would never understand his brother’s irrational jealousy toward him. Khalid had everything laid at his feet, and he was still unhappy.
“Now that he’s awake, I’m going to page the doctor,” the nurse said after she’d finished taking his vitals and wrote them on his chart. Several minutes later, she exited, leaving the family in the room alone.
“I’m so happy you’re conscious, Father,” Khalid said, moving toward him.
“You mean you weren’t getting ready for your coronation based on my impending demise?” he joked.
Khalid was visibly offended and stepped back from the bed. His face was a stone-cold mask. “Of course not.”
His father patted the bed beside him. “Khalid, it’s okay. It was a joke. Don’t take everything so literal. You need to loosen up.”
“Oh.” Khalid sighed in relief.
“Where’s Amar?” his father asked, lifting his head slightly to look at the family, who’d gathered around his bed. His eyes laid hold of Amar, who was leaning back against the wall at the far side of the hospital room.
“I’m here.”
“For how long?” his father whispered.
Several pairs of eyes turned to Amar, eager to know the answer to that question as well. He could only guess Khalid wanted him on the first plane out, with steam.
“Until you’re out of the woods.”
“But no more?” his father surmised.
Amar didn’t say anything. They both knew the answer to that question. Nasir was not his home. He’d never felt welcome and had always been an outsider, not just because the color of his skin was different from his brothers, but because he would never be one of them. He’d made his peace with that a long time ago.“Excuse me,” Amar said, nodding to his father before leaving the room.
He walked to the nurse’s station. “How can I make an international call?”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have that capability. Only local calls, sir.”
“Thank you.” Amar turned away, defeated. He hadn’t been able to make contact with Rylee in twenty-four hours. He didn’t know if Sharif had explained everything to her and if she understood why he had to leave her so suddenly. He just prayed that she would forgive him.
Chapter 9
Rylee was quiet on the way from the airport back to Golden Oaks Ranch. Noah had come to pick her up, and she’d been silent ever since. She was sure he was wondering what had happened, but she wasn’t in the talking mood. She didn’t want to have to explain why she’d stayed on after Jeremy and Camryn had returned to Tucson. How could she admit that she’d allowed a rich playboy to talk her out of her panties?
She felt like such a fool for thinking there was something more between them than intense physical attraction. Amar clearly had his fill of her and was moving on. She still couldn’t believe that he’d crept out of bed in the middle of the night and then had sent his assistant to deal with the fallout. What a coward!
“Rylee!” Noah called her name.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“We’re home,” Noah said quietly as he exited his pickup truck.
Rylee glanced up and saw her two-story family home. She sighed in relief and a bit of regret. It was good to be home with familiar surroundings, but she couldn’t help but feel a little wistful of what might have been. “Sorry, Noah,” she said, opening the passenger door and jumping out. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Of course,” Noah replied, looking over the cab at her. “You know, I’d do anything for you, sis.”
His words brought a smile to Rylee’s face. “I know.” Family — that was one thing she was sure of and could count on. “Are Mama and Daddy inside?”
Noah shook his head as he walked to the rear of the truck and removed her suitcase and overnight bag. “Naw, they’re out for a ride.”
Rylee nodded. Better she have some quiet time to herself to come up with a plausible story before she was twenty-questioned over the evening meal.
They walked in silence up the front steps of the house and into the foyer. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. It was funny that she’d been gone barely a week, but it seemed like she’d lived a lifetime in the few days she’d spent with Amar.
“Are you okay?” Noah asked. “You’ve been quiet since I picked you up and—”
“If you don’t mind,” Rylee interrupted, “I don’t want to talk about it, Noah.” She reached for her suitcase to head for the stairs, but he shook his head.
“I’ve got this.” He snatched up her luggage and walked up the stairs, leaving Rylee to follow behind him. When they reached the second floor, he took her things to the east side of the hou
se, her wing and private escape.
Once he’d set down her luggage in her bedroom, Noah turned to her. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”
“Thank you,” she said, touching his shoulder. “That means a lot.”
Noah started for the door, but then turned back around. “Chynna will be back tomorrow, if you want to talk to someone other than your big brother.”
Rylee smiled and nodded. When he left, she fell backward on the bed in relief.
Later that evening, as dinner approached with her family, Rylee’s trepidation increased. She hadn’t left her room and had stared at the ceiling for most of the afternoon, beating herself up over her bad judgment. She’d even ignored Camryn’s call in favor of moping, but her time had run out.
It was five thirty PM, and considering she’d been gone for nearly a week, her parents would be expecting her to join the family for dinner. She had no choice but to go downstairs and put on a happy face, even though she seethed inside.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Rylee went downstairs. Her parents were sitting in the living room as were Noah and Caleb. Rylee rolled her eyes. What the heck is Caleb doing home? He was usually off gallivanting somewhere with a woman. She’d hoped to avoid him as he loved to needle her.
“Well, look who finally decided to come home,” Caleb said, reminding her that they’d all said the very same thing about him last year when he’d disappeared for a couple of weeks and returned on the ranch’s thirty-fifth anniversary party. He’d come back in just enough time to blow Chynna’s ruse, exposing her as a pop singer hiding from the press by posing as her then-little-known twin sister, Kenya James.
“I haven’t been gone that long,” Rylee said as she came forward and leaned down to give her mother a kiss and her father a quick hug.
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