“He—the leadership in Al-Madiza thinks that I want the land for military advantage. Against both countries. They’ve taken it as a sign of escalating tension.”
“You could—”
“No.” Issam held up a hand. “No more suggestions.”
They reached the double doors to the ballroom, and two palace staff members opened them. Light streamed out of the doors—light and music and laughter—and Mackenzie wanted to turn right back around and leave.
“Ready?” Issam asked, but his voice was clouded with frustration.
“Yes.”
She took his arm, and they walked into the party, smiles plastered on their faces. Mackenzie felt a million miles away from him. If only he’d talk it through with her. Together, they could come up with a better solution. She’d apologize to her brother-in-law again, if that was what it took.
But there was no time. Issam was swept away from her within a minute, and Mackenzie found herself hanging back, trying to keep her expression neutral.
“Why the sad face?” came a voice from near her elbow.
She had to laugh. “Adira, I thought I was doing better than that.”
“You look miserable.” Her future sister-in-law studied her. “Yes. Miserable.”
“I just got here. How do you know I’m not just…in a transitional expression?”
Adira nodded toward Issam. “Because you’ve got a laser focus on my brother. Is it something he did? Or something you did?”
Mackenzie sighed. “Nothing like that. Really.” She still felt protective of Issam, even during this ridiculous fight, which only irritated her more. “He’s been…distant lately.”
“That’s to be expected,” Adira said matter-of-factly. “The negotiations aren’t going well. Not for Al-Dashalid, anyway.”
“The negotiations have gone that far?”
“Of course.” Adira scanned the crowd, probably looking for gossip. “The draft treaty that went out earlier in the week was supposed to be the next step. I assume it didn’t land the way he wanted it to.”
“No,” said Mackenzie, frustration catching in her throat.
“Little sister,” Issam said, coming back to where Mackenzie stood with Adira. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“You two aren’t.”
Issam blinked at Mackenzie. “We aren’t?”
“Tell him, Mackenzie.”
She gaped at Adira. “What?”
“Tell him what you’re sulking about. We hadn’t gotten there yet, Issam, but now that you’re here, let’s have it.”
Mackenzie tried to calm her thoughts. “Fine. I—” She took a deep breath. “I think we’re overlooking a tactic that could result in a win for everyone.”
Issam crossed his arms over his chest. “And what’s that?”
“Separate the shelter from the no-man’s land. Turn it into an international place of refuge.” Mackenzie had spent hours poring over this dispute, and that was the one solution that came up again and again.
Issam laughed, a sharp little sound. “Oh? Is it that simple?”
“It’s not simple, but it’s the right thing to do. For everyone. If you separate the shelter from the land, then you and Al-Madiza can both occupy the remaining space. You’ll both have the same advantage against Caldad, but you won’t be throwing those women and children to the wolves. Al-Dashalid would retain control over the fort for that purpose.” She met his gaze. “That’s what I would do. And I think it’s the right strategy.”
Issam shook his head, wearing a smirk that made Mackenzie’s blood boil. “That’s not possible.”
“It must be possible. The shelter must exist,” Mackenzie insisted. “It needs to be outside the bounds of all three countries so that the women there can’t be punished by any nation’s discriminatory laws.”
“That’s a wonderful vision,” retorted Issam, “but as I’ve said, that can’t happen. The fort needs to remain the property of Al-Dashalid.”
“It’s not technically Al-Dashalid’s property now—”
“It will be once my ground forces get there.”
“You sent military personnel to the fort?” Mackenzie was appalled. “Have you even given the women and children there any warning? Have you—” The anger finally broke loose in her chest. “What’s wrong with you, Issam?”
Adira put both her hands up and stepped quietly away from the couple.
Mackenzie barreled on. “I have spent days on this, weeks on this, and I have all the strategies and tactics you could ever dream of. I just need some access, and I can solve this problem for you. Why won’t you let me?”
“It’s beyond you now,” Issam said, eyes burning with fury. “I have two other countries edging toward war. And all because I spent too much time considering this shelter.”
“No. You’re not blaming me for this.”
“I could.” He stared her down. “You’ve single-handedly created enough animosity between Al-Dashalid and Al-Madiza that it’s no surprise the treaty was dead on arrival.”
“If you’d listened to me before you wrote the treaty, it might not have been dismissed out of hand.” She edged closer. “Okay.” Solutions. Find a way through. “We could take a step back from the negotiating table and—”
“Mackenzie,” Issam said, and his voice was almost gentle. “This isn’t what you should be focused on. I have this handled. You focus on wedding planning.” Gentle or not, she could tell by his tone that his decision was final.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m deadly serious. Work on your own projects. Let me work on mine.”
She was being dismissed out of hand, just like the treaty.
It hurt.
It hurt more than she had expected.
It hurt so much that Mackenzie took a step back. “You know what?” Her throat tightened. There was no way. She was not going to plan a wedding while he planned for war. And she wasn’t going to sit idly by while the shelter was destroyed.
“Mackenzie?” His voice broke into her thoughts. She looked Issam in the eye.
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving the party?” He narrowed his eyes.
“No. Leaving you.”
Mackenzie did walk out then, feeling his eyes on her every step of the way.
By the next morning, she had gathered her things into her rolling suitcase and climbed into a taxi in front of the palace.
17
He didn’t think she would take it this far.
Issam stared out the window at the view of the city below, his heart beating hard. The latest message to come in hadn’t made him feel calmer.
The florist? She was staying with the florist?
It wasn’t just a problem for him personally, though it did make him personally enraged. It was a problem for all the people who worked for him, too. Mackenzie running off to stay with Sahr in the city meant that he had to stretch his security forces even thinner to send another unit to cover both the women.
He’d even had to hire additional staff because, in light of her leaving, it had hit him full force that the family as a whole was too vulnerable. He’d doubled protective details and sent new restrictions to everyone in the family. They couldn’t go anywhere in the city without two hours’ notice, to begin with. Everywhere they went needed to be locked down before they ever set foot outside the palace. No more open football practices and games for Inan.
“Sheikh Issam?” Bahir’s tone was gentle, almost as if he were afraid Issam might explode if he spoke too loudly.
“If it’s another one of their complaints, I don’t want to hear it.”
The beat of silence told Issam the truth. Yes, his family was still complaining. Yes, they were sending him messages through Bahir. But his second-in-command was too smart to go down that road.
“No,” he said. “Not a complaint.”
“Then what is it?” Issam turned away from the window and watched Bahir. The man stood easily in the middle of the room, s
crolling through his tablet.
“A couple of updates on the new hires.”
Bahir took him briskly through the interview process—a hundred had applied, they’d narrowed the field to fifty, and the second round was progressing—and updated him on some tweaks to the schedule for the next day. Then he got to the end of his list.
“Is that all?”
Bahir cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing.”
Issam narrowed his eyes. “Out with it.”
“You have another meeting on your list.”
“For when?”
“Right now.”
“With who?”
As if on cue, there was a knock on Issam’s door. Bahir went immediately to answer it.
“I didn’t approve another meeting—” Issam started to say, but the door was already open, and in breezed his sister, Adira. She wore red, one of her favorite colors, and her entrance was a breath of fresh air.
Issam wasn’t in the mood for fresh air.
“Not now, Adira,” he snapped. “Apparently I’ve been scheduled for another meeting.”
She gave him a cheeky smile. “Wouldn’t you know it? The meeting is with me.”
He raised his eyebrows at Bahir, who shrugged.
“Yes,” Adira cut in. “He scheduled a meeting with me without your permission. It had to be done, Issam. Do you want any tea?”
She didn’t wait for Issam to answer, only gave Bahir a nod that sent him practically fleeing for the hallway. Adira closed the door behind him and came into Issam’s rooms, over to the little sitting area by the window. She let herself fall gracefully into one of the wing chairs there and beckoned for Issam to sit.
“Not a chance.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have things to do. And this is an ambush.”
“This is an intervention,” she said with a smile that made him want to roll his eyes and smile back in equal measure. “Sit down.”
“I must—”
“You must sit down,” his younger sister said, an edge to her voice. “There’s nothing on your schedule for at least ninety minutes. Bahir made sure of it. And I want to talk to you.”
She was probably right, and Issam didn’t have it in him to argue. He sat on a loveseat across from her.
Adira studied him, her dark eyes serious. “What’s going on with you?”
“Same as always.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “Managing the security of the nation as well as the individual security of—”
“Yes,” Adira said absently. “All of our individual security. It’s getting to be a bit much, Issam.”
“What do you mean?”
“The extra details. The…restrictions on our schedules.”
“They’re for your own good.”
“That may be.” Adira leaned forward. “But I don’t understand why that’s your focus.”
“Do you not understand that we’re on the very brink of war?”
“Of course I do.” She waved a hand in the air. “But this should be a secondary concern to you.”
“Secondary to what?”
“Begging Mackenzie for forgiveness.”
“Oh, please—”
“It’s true, and you know it.”
“I’ve been bending over backward to ensure that everyone—” Issam’s voice rose until Adira interrupted him again.
“You’ve locked us up!” Adira shouted. She took a moment to compose herself. “What did we ever do to deserve being locked down like this? You’ve made us prisoners in the name of safety.”
It was too much. The hurt and anger rose, choking him, and something inside of him snapped. He leaped up from the sofa. “You don’t understand the half of it.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“The position you’ve put me in.” Issam paced toward the windows, fists clenched, jaw tight. “It’s up to me to keep everyone safe. And the best way to do that is to keep everyone together. Why are you all so ungrateful?”
Adira followed him. “No one is ungrateful,” she insisted. “But the tighter your hold, the more we want to escape. We’re jealous.”
“Who could you possibly have to be jealous of? You live in the finest palace in the Middle East.”
Adira laughed, and the sound scratched at his heart. “Mackenzie.”
“Mackenzie.” Her name tasted bitter on his lips.
“We all liked you better when you were around Mackenzie. You were more relaxed. You were more…levelheaded.”
“I’ve always been levelheaded.”
“You’ve always been zealous about your job. I’ll agree to that.”
“Yes, and it’s because—”
“You were calm with her. Or…when you were with her near us.” Issam turned to face her and found Adira’s eyes twinkling. “I don’t know what the two of you got up to at night, but in the daytime—”
“Don’t.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “When I was with her, nobody was going to war. Now there could be an invasion any moment. And that would be the worst thing to happen to any of us.”
Adira scoffed. “Hardly.”
He gaped at her. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “The worst thing to happen to anyone is a life without love. A life without happiness.” Adira took another step toward him. “Issam, I’m worried about the war. Of course I am. But I have all the confidence in the world in your abilities. I know you’ll work with the military to make sure we come out on top.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I want happiness for you. And you won’t have that if you let her go.”
Issam stared at his sister.
“Admit it. You’ve been missing her every moment. It eats at you. That’s why you’ve tightened security to a ridiculous degree and made everyone else miserable.”
“I did it for everyone’s safety,” he grumbled.
“Well, we were perfectly safe before, under your watch. And we will be again without all your—and I say this with love, Issam—ludicrous restrictions. You need to let us live our lives.”
He took another breath and swallowed his pain. “I might consider…relaxing some of them. But I need to see this through.”
“Fine,” said Adira. “But I’d rather you not spend all your energy on us. I think we both know what you should focus on now.”
He looked at the floor, but all he could see was Mackenzie’s face. She had fought to be heard, and he hadn’t listened. And now she was the only one he couldn’t keep safe.
All the security in the world wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t by his side.
It was a punch to the gut.
That would be the worst thing—to lose her for good. As long as she was still in the city, Issam could be angry at her. He could fume by his window and pretend that she’d walk in the door any moment. But if she left for good, or worse, if her death sentence was carried out? He’d never forgive himself. And no matter how good a job he did, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
“See? I told you.”
Issam raised his head. Adira grinned at him, satisfied. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “I can see it on your face—I’ve made a difference. Another successful intervention.” She stepped forward and patted him kindly on the arm. “If you need help coming up with a plan to get her back, I’m all ears.”
“Oh, get out,” he said.
She went to the door, still grinning. “Stay in touch, Issam.”
18
Mackenzie itched to get out of Al-Dashalid. The city seemed to close in around her, and she wanted the ocean. She wanted a boat out in the middle of the ocean, full steam ahead for the middle of nowhere. A cruise ship, even. Anything to get out of this place.
But no matter how much she wanted out, she couldn’t bring herself to book a ticket.
Sahr’s apartment was luxurious. It was a penthouse
space in the center of the city, filled with light from floor-to-ceiling windows. It had understated decorations, and Sahr used them to showcase minimalist floral arrangements. Every inch of it was polished and new, and Mackenzie loved it.
Still, it was too close to the other buildings. And she was still bound to stay here. For honor’s sake. And for the women and children in the shelter. She’d spent too much time and energy on it to give it up now.
And beyond that, she’d lost Issam.
Of course, she took some of the blame. She could have been more charming. She could have left less of a mess back in Al-Madiza. But no one could expect her to be perfect. Nobody was, least of all Mackenzie.
It didn’t make her heart ache any less.
He hadn’t followed her out of the palace. He hadn’t made one single attempt to see her. Despite this, she’d been uneasy since she came to Sahr’s apartment that night—almost as if she were being watched.
Another afternoon went by with Mackenzie perched on Sahr’s leather sofa with her laptop. She was going to solve this problem, even if her back ached as much as her heart did. And that prickling sensation never went away. She rubbed at the back of her neck, checking the latest batch of emails.
Sahr’s place had been her obvious destination from the moment she stepped out of the palace, and Mackenzie had been right. There was a silver lining to the wedding planning, and it was the direct connection to the NGO Sahr had introduced her to. They were excited to have her on board, unlike Issam had been. She was a good lawyer with great connections, and they wanted to move fast. It gave her a thrill of pride to be recognized as an asset, especially with the threat of war looming over them.
It had the effect of reminding her that Issam hadn’t seen her the same way. No. Instead, he’d seen her as a threat, and Mackenzie still smarted from the way she’d been dismissed.
The latest email from the leader of the NGO, a man named Peter Collins, was hopeful. She sat up straight on the sofa and was in the middle of reading it when Sahr came in from work. She was perhaps the busiest woman that Mackenzie had ever met, aside from her mother, and worked full days meeting with clients for all kinds of high-class events. She was in demand.
The Sheikh’s Fierce Fiancée: Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Book Three Page 9
