The Sheikh’s Second Chance Lover

by Rayner, Holly

  “It’s my family’s private label. I can take you on a tour of the vineyard later, if you’d like, and show you how it’s made.”

  Brooke blushed. “All that time I was serving you cheap stuff from the grocery store!”

  “Mmm, no, I liked it,” he said, nuzzling her ear. “I’d never had any cheap stuff from the grocery store. You broadened my horizons, Brooke. It was good for me.”

  “Oh, really? A cultural awakening?” She smiled despite herself. “And I suppose I also supplemented your fashion sense when I helped you buy those work jeans from the department store?”

  “Yes, and you helped me develop a better understanding of interior design when you picked out the furniture for my apartment that we had to build ourselves.”

  “It’s a good thing you met me, really, or else you’d probably be completely uncultured.”

  Ali smiled, and Brooke felt the curve of his lips against her cheekbone. She leaned into it for just a moment, and then he pulled back, pointing. “There. You can see the desert now.”

  She looked out the window and gasped. It was like looking at the ocean, if the ocean had somehow stood still. It was vast, stretching on for miles and miles with absolutely nothing to disturb it or break it up at all, and the wind had blown it into what resembled little waves, peaking in rows. It was a breathtaking sight, and she actually shrank back into Ali’s arms, overwhelmed by the hugeness of it. It felt as if she would be swept away and lost if she stepped out of the car and into the sand.

  Ali tightened his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s so big.”

  “It’s about ninety miles in this direction until we reach the coast.”

  “Ninety miles?” She couldn’t believe it. “It’s just…like this, for ninety miles?”

  “Not exactly. It gets rockier as you get closer to water, and then there’s some weeds and a lake.”

  “What about in that direction?” She pointed away from the coast.

  “Two hundred miles to the next city.”

  “If you got lost out there…”

  “Don’t do that,” Ali said seriously. “If you’re driving in the desert, you always need to take a phone with you. Have a way to contact someone in case your car breaks down or something goes wrong. Because walking back to civilization might not be an option.”

  The Oasis—a gleaming building that rivaled even the palace in stature—came into view ahead of them, and Ali instructed his driver to do a lap around the hotel.

  “Have you ever stayed here?” Brooke asked, gazing through the window at the cabanas and Olympic-sized swimming pool.

  “When I was younger,” Ali replied. “My uncle Rakim owns this hotel. We can’t stay here while it’s open to the public, because of security risks, but sometimes he would close it down so my family and I could have a little vacation.”

  Brooke realized something that had been troubling her. “How come it was safe for you to live in my apartment building? I mean, even under an alias, that’s not a very secure place.”

  “Well, there were a couple of things that helped,” Ali said. “My security staff was living in the apartment below us, and they had cameras in my place to make sure nobody was ever in there who shouldn’t be.”

  “Wait. So they were watching us?”

  “Not in the bedroom,” Ali said quickly.

  “You should still tell a woman when she’s being filmed, Ali,” Brooke said, mock-sternly.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He hung his head but grinned up at her.

  “So, okay, they were watching us. What else?”

  “They left a decoy in New York, pretending to be me,” Ali said. “I wasn’t told about that at the time—they rightly assumed that I’d object. But there was a member of the security staff living in my old New York apartment, so anyone who came looking for me would see that my life was still being lived.”

  “That explains why you didn’t bring much with you,” Brooke realized. “They needed it for your doppelgänger.”

  Ali nodded. “I thought it was just because I left so fast, but that makes sense. Because they did send some of my things along after me, but not many.”

  “Would your security person have also continued running your business in your absence?” Brooke asked. “That couldn’t have worked, could it? Someone would have noticed if somebody other than you was doing that.”

  Ali looked uncomfortable. “Okay, I lied about one other thing besides my identity.”

  “You were never a businessman.” Obviously he hadn’t been. Why hadn’t she realized? “Did you have a job at all?”

  “Not really. I did philanthropy work.”

  “You volunteered?”

  “I attended charity fundraisers. Does that count?”

  Brooke frowned. “I spent six months building houses for the homeless in Haiti.”

  “Okay, that sounds harder.”

  “You think?”

  “But look, in my defense, I really did raise a lot of money for a lot of worthy causes. The fact that I enjoyed myself while I was doing it doesn’t mean those organizations benefitted any less.”

  Brooke nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”

  The driver pulled out of his orbit around the hotel and directed the car back toward town. Brooke was somewhat disappointed—she would have liked to stay and explore the luxury resort—but maybe they would be able to come back another time. There was so much that she wanted to see and do while she was here, and she was starting to wonder if she’d be able to fit it all in.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time they got back into town. Ali had the driver drop them off on a stretch of what looked like very upscale shops. The signs were all written in Arabic, so Brooke couldn’t read them, but she got the idea anyway. Clothes, clothes, cookware, clothes, shoes, home furnishings. It was strange to see these things that would have looked at home in the nicest parts of Manhattan here, in the middle of the desert. It was strange to think that if Brooke had gotten back in the car and driven ten miles from this point, she would have been surrounded by endless sand.

  She and Ali ducked into the shoe store. She could tell by their design that the shoes sold here were nicer than anything she owned. She tried to subtly check the price tag, but it, too, was in Arabic.

  Ali hadn’t missed her motion. “Did you want those?”

  “No,” she said quickly, replacing them on the shelf. She was sure Ali could afford them, but she wasn’t ready to accept expensive gifts yet. “Is this where your family shops?”

  Ali looked uncomfortable “Merchants usually bring racks to the house for us to shop from. Or the royal tailors design things for us. We come out to the stores from time to time, but that’s more for the experience of shopping than out of necessity. And, of course, we have to be guarded.”

  “But you’re not guarded now,” Brooke pointed out.

  Ali looked surprised. “Of course we are. You haven’t seen the guards?”

  Brooke jumped, spooked at the idea that she’d been so invisibly followed. “No.”

  “They followed behind us when we drove away from the palace,” Ali explained. “They’re in the store now. We’re not really supposed to notice them, but I did catch a glimpse of a uniform a while ago.”

  “Wow,” Brooke said.

  They left the shoe store and crossed into home furnishings. “What about things like this?” Brooke asked. “You can’t possibly have merchants bringing you a whole array of sofas to choose from.”

  “Most of the furniture in the palace is generations old,” Ali said. “It’s all heirloom stuff. We don’t really redecorate.” He hugged her around the waist. “That’s why it was so much fun to redo the apartment. I never get to do anything like that here.”

  “That was silly,” Brooke protested. “You must have felt the whole time like it didn’t matter what we did to that place since you’d just be leaving soon anyway.”

  Ali caught her gaze, held it, and shook h
is head. “By then I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, definitely not soon.”

  “But you wanted to go back to New York…”

  “I wanted to see what would happen with you,” Ali corrected. “I love you, Brooke.”

  He had said so before, and she had wanted to say it back. But it was so hard to trust. Everything inside Brooke was telling her that Ali was genuine, that his warmth was real. But her brain wouldn’t stop raising objections. Better safe than sorry, right? she thought. You don’t want to get hurt again, do you? If he left you once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?

  Could she believe that he hadn’t wanted to leave Jasperville at all? That if his father hadn’t been attacked and the threat on his life had been resolved, he would have stayed with her instead of going back to New York? And what then? Would they still be going on picnics and pretending to each other that there was such a person as Blaine Mustafi and that there wasn’t anything weird about his origin story? Would she ever have questioned him about the gaps in his personal history? Would he ever have told her the truth?

  It was impossible to know, and without knowing, it was impossible to be completely secure with him now.

  So she was just going to have to make a decision. She could choose to take a chance on him, without any guarantee at all that he wouldn’t hurt her again. She could gamble her heart. Of course, any relationship was a gamble—Brooke knew that—but this was riskier than most. The stakes had already proven themselves to be high. She knew how badly hurt she would be if he let her down. She had already felt it.

  Was the prize worth the risk?

  Ali interrupted her thoughts. “Speaking of redecorating…you owe me a statue, you know.”

  This was such a non sequitur that Brooke actually laughed out loud, despite the seriousness of what she had been pondering. “I what?”

  “You owe me a statue. I want to put it in my rooms at the palace, and you never gave it to me.”

  “You never paid me for it!”

  He grinned. “Maybe instead of paying you in cash, I could buy you those shoes you were looking at?”

  “Oh, sure, I’ll pay my electric bill this month in shoes,” she laughed, but she was already moving toward the door. The success of her sculpting over the past several months meant that money wasn’t currently an issue, and she didn’t really need the fee Ali owed her to cover any bills. And those had been some very cute shoes.

  She was going to take a chance on him. She wasn’t sure when she’d made the choice, but it hadn’t been today. She had made up her mind a long time ago, and now there was nothing for it but to see this through and hope it led somewhere good. As Ali took her hand and led her out into the bustling street, it was easy to put her faith in him. She was making the right decision. She felt sure of it.

  20

  Brooke

  Brooke and Ali stood at the top of the waterfall, looking out over the ocean. From up here, the crashing waves seemed as far away as the stars in the sky. Brooke felt suspended somewhere in between two heavens, floating with Ali, who had his arms wrapped around her waist and was planting soft kisses along her jawline.

  She twisted in his arms and kissed him full on the mouth, feeling him smile as she did so. The rest of their day together had been increasingly magical. After they’d finished shopping, they had driven out to a cabin by a beautiful lake. “One of my family’s safe houses,” Ali had explained, leading her on a tour through the many rooms. “It’s as well protected as the palace is.”

  “Are we on camera again?” Brooke had asked.

  “I’m on camera most of the time,” he’d admitted.

  Brooke had squirmed a little upon hearing that. Would being with Ali mean totally abandoning a private life? He was worth it—he was worth almost any sacrifice—but that was a hard thing to give up.

  They’d left the lake and driven farther, out to the coast, which boasted white sand beaches and the clearest blue water Brooke had ever seen. Now, as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the stars took full dominance above them, Brooke leaned into the firm warmth of Ali’s body and the rest of the world seemed to melt away. What did it matter that he was a prince and she was a girl from Vermont? Here, it was just the two of them and the passion rising between them.

  Ali broke the kiss but kept his face close, distractingly so. “We should get back to the castle,” he said. “We could get there in time to meet my parents for dinner.”

  Brooke couldn’t focus. His breath on her cheek was intoxicating. “What?”

  “Dinner. We have time to make it back…you could meet my family.”

  She took a step back. “Meet your family?”

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “I’m just struggling with the transition. We were kissing a minute ago.”

  “We can do more of that,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. “And we can do even more, later tonight.”

  “Mmm…” Instantly, he’d distracted her, but she fought to focus. “Are my things at the palace yet?”

  Now it was Ali’s turn to struggle with the turn of the conversation. “What?”

  “If I’m going to meet your parents, I want to put on something nice,” Brooke said, gesturing to her sweaty T-shirt and jean shorts.

  “But they’re going to love you,” Ali said. “It won’t matter what you wear.”

  “Ali. I’m being invited to my first dinner at a royal palace. I would like to put on a dress.”

  He laughed. “All right, all right, I’ll call and check on your things from the road. If they haven’t been delivered yet, we can drop you off at the hotel to get ready. I’ll go home and let my parents know you’ll be joining us and then send the car back, and you can bring them over with you when you come.”

  “I’m not going to show up to meet your parents for the first time with my suitcases in hand!”

  Ali threw up his hands. “All right! We’ll send one car for you and another for the bags.”

  “Thank you.” Brooke leaned over and kissed his cheek, quietly wondering what on earth was appropriate attire for a dinner with royalty.

  * * *

  Brooke was determined to wear her new shoes to the palace that night, but matching them was harder than she’d anticipated. She had a purple-and-gold dress back home that would have been perfect, but of course she hadn’t packed it. She finally settled for a black cocktail dress, but she was concerned it wasn’t fancy enough for the occasion. Meeting your new boyfriend’s parents for the first time was stressful enough, but when they were the rulers of a country, that created a whole new set of problems.

  Reasoning that she didn’t exactly pack anything fancier and that she was just going to have to wear it, she spent a solid half hour fidgeting with her hair, adding and removing decorative clips to try and dress up her look. Then she strapped on her new shoes, slung a purse over her shoulder, and headed down to the lobby to await Ali’s driver.

  Tonight had to go well, she thought fretfully. What if Ali’s parents didn’t like her? Would she ask to have her things brought back to the hotel, or would she stay in their house anyway? Ali seemed confident that there wouldn’t be a problem, but then, Ali always seemed confident. What if they were making a mistake, betting on his family liking her?

  And if the Sheikh and his wife didn’t approve, what would happen then? Would Ali and Brooke be forced to end their relationship? Could that happen? I’m sorry, she imagined Ali saying. My father says I can’t be involved with someone so far below my station.

  It didn’t sound like something Ali would say, but she knew he’d discovered a new passion for and dedication to the responsibilities of his position. What if his family tried to make him choose between his place in the line of succession and Brooke? Could she possibly ask him to choose her? And would he ever do it?

  She was so caught up in her own anxiety that she almost didn’t notice the uniformed
valet as he entered the lobby. He approached her and bowed. “Miss Brooke?”

  “Oh,” she said, startled. “You’re from the palace?” The man wore the same uniform as the valet who had served them tea earlier and the driver who had taken them to the shore. Brooke was mildly surprised. She’d thought the original driver would be coming back for her. Wasn’t that what Ali had said? Maybe he’d meant that man would be coming back for Brooke’s suitcases.

  The valet nodded. “I’m to escort you there now.”

  Brooke nodded and followed the man out to a black limousine. Another surprise. This wasn’t the same car, nor even the same type of car, that she and Ali had traveled in earlier. Perhaps he had wanted to give her a treat, and that was why he had sent the limo? It did look nice.

  The valet held the door for her, and Brooke climbed in the back. The door was closed. She heard voices outside the car—who was talking? Hadn’t there just been the one man?—and then he got into the driver’s seat.

  But the car didn’t pull away.

  What was going on?

  She was just leaning forward to tap on the partition to ask if they were waiting for something when the other back door of the car opened. A hefty man slid in beside Brooke. She opened her mouth—whether to cry out or simply ask who he was, she was never quite sure—but before she could utter a sound, he had whipped out a cloth bag, forced it over her head, and secured it around her neck.

  Now Brooke did scream, but the man beside her just laughed. She felt a rumble of motion, the engine roaring to life, and the car jerked forward and sped away, Brooke’s heart racing along with it.

  21

  Brooke

  She tried to keep track of the miles by counting the seconds and minutes, but gave up almost immediately. They had turned too many times. She was no longer sure which way the car was going, and she wasn’t at all confident in the pace of her counting thanks to the racing of her heart and the erratic rate of her breathing.