Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  But the brief shudder that runs through shows how much she’s struggling to accept my gift. Fuck, this is difficult. I’m starting to realise just how fragile she is and knowing what to do for the best is like walking on egg shells. I try to make it clear to her, “Zoe, what you do is your choice!” I throw a glance at Sean; he gives me a look of approval. Just at that moment, the pilot informs us that we should prepare for landing.

  As she sits and searches for the seat belt, she remembers her manners. “Thank you, Kadar. That sounds sensible. I’ll accept the clothes as an advance. But I will be paying you back. And I won’t wear anything I don’t feel comfortable in.” She holds my gaze for a second, as if to impress on me this is her decision, and then her attention is taken up with the sights out of the window, now eager to get the first view of her new home.

  As the plane flies lower and my country comes into sight below us, my heart begins to swell with pride. We circle round the moderate sized city of Al Qar’ah, the capital of Amahad snuggled against the coastline, and then move a little further inland towards the airport where the runway looks like it leads off into the hot desert. The sands shimmer beneath us as we descend. It’s early afternoon, and will be hot when we land. The wheels engage with an audible clunk, then, as we touch down in my native land, I feel as though I can breathe properly for the first time since I left. Despite all the problems, this is my home.

  As warrants the return of the ruler, soldiers of the Royal Guard gather in formation as the steps are brought to the plane, and diplomatically I don’t rush to disembark, allowing the delay while they get themselves sorted on the ground. A limousine flying the national flag is waiting to take us away from the main terminal, and outriders on motorcycles have assembled to escort the royal car through the city to the palace. Two black SUVs wait on the sidelines, trying to appear inconspicuous but in reality containing the elite of our security forces. It’s a stark reminder of my sometimes fragile grasp on Amahad that I need to take such precautions, even on my home territory.

  When I receive the signal all’s ready, we descend the stairs. I hear a small gulp beside me, and looking down into her pretty face I see Zoe’s eyes are wide. She hesitates, pausing to let me go in front to be first out of the door with the words, “You really are the monarch, aren’t you?”

  I smile at her and take her hand, so she’s forced to walk beside me. “Welcome to my country, Zoe. I hope you’ll be able to make a new start here. A new life.”

  And I do; I sincerely hope that she will be happy here, and maybe on occasion, our paths might cross. But I won’t be seeking her out deliberately. This ends for me, now, or will the minute I hand her over to Cara. Much as I know I’ll regret saying goodbye to my broken flower; it will be a final parting. It was part of my reasoning why I decided that Sean could accompany her to my country; he can help her get settled as well as provide her with protection. And if forcing them together means anything starts between them, well, I’ll have to bury that jealousy deep inside me.

  I am the emir. I have to do my duty. And my obligations to my country mean I’ll soon be marrying a woman selected from those with the right pedigree. I cannot, and must not, explore this strange attraction to Zoe Baker any further.

  Chapter 16

  Zoe

  A new life? That’s what I wanted. So why do I feel so out of depth and lost? I should be over the moon excited. When we’d left the plane the air was so hot and dry it brought home I’m on another continent, and now, sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of the royal car as we drive through the streets of Amahad’s capital city, taking in the scenery as we skirt round an intriguing looking souk and head up a main highway towards the palace, I can’t help but wonder whether I’m doing the right thing. I’m over three thousand miles away from Ethan; he doesn’t know where I am, so I should be feeling safe here.

  But for some reason, sitting between the model-gorgeous bodyguard on one side and the stern, but handsome Sheikh on the other, I feel small and overawed, and I have to remind myself to take air into my lungs. Both men have pledged my safety, but am I safe from them? And why do I feel my stomach rolling when I’m near to Kadar? Is it just that the power he has that overwhelms me? The reception at the airport, the outriders now surrounding the car; demonstrating that with all his wealth, even Ethan could never compete with him. Ethan’s status was bought with money. Kadar had been born to it.

  I’m still mulling things over when we enter the gates of the palace compound and drive along the long, perfectly straight driveway towards the palace itself. I notice houses dotted around the walls, all with views out into the impeccably maintained gardens but I don’t have long to take in all my surroundings as, only minutes later, we pull up to the main entrance.

  Even before I’m out of the car, I see a perfectly poised and unquestionably pregnant woman coming towards us and have no doubt this is Sheikha Cara, the woman who I clicked with so quickly during that long phone call, the person who is responsible for bringing me here today. She comes forward quickly as though impatient to greet me, her hand outstretched in welcome, a beaming smile on her face. The sun reflects off a gorgeous choker she’s wearing round her neck; it’s made of white and yellow gold and dotted with diamonds which sparkle in the light.

  “Zoe, I’m so glad you’re here at last! I can’t wait to get to show you the harem and start discussing your plans for it!” She immediately puts me on the right footing; I’m here to work. For some reason, that grounds me.

  “Thank you, Your Excellency. I’m ready to see it as soon as you want to take me.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake call me Cara! We weren’t formal on the phone, were we?” I notice she throws a look at Kadar, nodding to him in greeting, but asking a silent question with her eyes.

  “I think Zoe needs to get settled before you put her to work, Cara.”

  Turning back to me the Sheikha smiles, the expression allowing her natural beauty to shine through, “I decided to put you in one of the houses in the compound rather than a suite in the main palace as I thought you’d like your own place. Sean can stay there with you while he’s here.”

  I glance at my bodyguard, who tells the both of us, “That will suit me fine. I’ll be here until you’ve settled in, Zoe, and we’ve monitored what St John-Davies is up to. I’ll check out the security and make sure you’ll be safe.”

  Kadar gives a short laugh, “The system better be to your approval, Sean. Grade A installed it!” He grows serious as he turns to me, “I hope you will be very happy here, Miss Baker. Now my sister-in-law will make sure you have everything you need. You’ll be working directly with her, and anything you want or need she’ll be able to get for you. Goodbye, Miss Baker.”

  I don’t miss that he’s swopped to the formal use of my title and last name as I take the hand he holds out, our fingers touching briefly before he quickly pulls away. With a quick bow of his head, directed at both myself and his brother’s wife, he strides towards the palace entrance, his robes billowing out behind him in the hot air. Immediately he is surrounded by a dozen or so men, questions being thrown at him from all directions. I hear his rapid-fire answers, seeming to address diverse topics all at once, some queries he answers in English, some in Arabic, some with German, and then with what I believe might be Japanese. Realising I’m seeing the emir in action, I watch until he disappears from sight.

  His goodbye sounded final.

  And so it has to be. In this land where he is the ruler and where everyone seems to want to have a piece of him; there’s no place for even a friendship with a lowly employee. Part of me feels almost liberated at the loss of his dominant presence, but that relief is admittedly tinged with regret. I hardly know the man, but I’m going to miss him.

  Cara must have been watching me. When I turn back, slightly embarrassed I’d spent so long watching her brother-in-law, she quickly hides her grin, transforming it into an easy smile. Gently she touches my arm, “Come, Zoe. I’ll show you where you’re stay
ing.”

  I follow as she leads me away and around the side of the palace, Sean behind us carrying the luggage. He has his bag slung over his shoulder, and wheeling along the designer pull-along suitcase containing the additional clothes I seem to have ended up with. A palace guard has appeared and I’m embarrassed to see he’s carrying the cheap and out of place looking rucksack I’d bought a lifetime ago from Primark. I’m still not comfortable about the outfits Kadar provided for me, his actions a little too close to what Ethan would have done. But I park those thoughts, for now, too interested in seeing my new home.

  The palace is so huge it’s a good ten minutes’ walk through the extensive grounds before we come to a functional structure of a house backing onto the outer wall, one of a number of identical abodes I’d noticed on the way in. It’s a basic square box, but as Cara opens the door, I can see comfortable looking rooms furnished in a western style and stairs leading up to the upper floor. It’s cosy and surprisingly homely, with a range of authentic pots and ornaments dotted around taking away what could otherwise be a cold, empty feel. Examining what will be my new home, I agree it’s far less daunting than having to stay in the grand palace. Throwing a glance over my shoulder I see Sean checking out the alarm system, and the quick nod and look of satisfaction appearing on his face presumably means he thinks it’s adequate.

  “There’s a fully stocked fridge and larder here.” I follow Cara into the kitchen that, while not large, seems complete with all the necessary equipment, “You can either cook for yourselves, go into the city where there are some great restaurants or, of course, you’re welcome to come eat in the palace if you want.”

  “This is fantastic!” I tell her with a grin; already starting to feel at home.

  “Oh, and a car will be delivered for your use.”

  I grasp her hand, “I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity, and everything you’ve provided for me. It’s brilliant, far more than I expected.”

  “It’s going to be lovely to have another English woman around the palace.” She holds my hand a little longer than necessary, “I hope we can become friends. I’m sorry I can’t stay and help you settle in, but there’s a state dinner tonight which I’ve got to attend.” When her face screws up, I take it it’s not particularly one she’s looking forward to.

  During our encounter Sean has stayed in the background, taking everything in, but not contributing to the conversation. Now he steps up, “That’s alright, Cara. We’ve got this covered from here.”

  Cara nods but throws him a strange look that I can’t decipher before going out of the door.

  As soon as she’s gone, I feel his presence behind me, Sean’s hands gently stroking my arms. I pull away, still uncomfortable with a man’s touch, however innocent. I turn to face him, wanting to get things on a practical basis, “Hungry?” His intense eyes drink me in for a moment, and then he steps away, nodding in agreement.

  The kitchen has been stocked with familiar items, probably shipped in from England. I’m glad as I’m able to pull together a quick meal. Eventually I’d like to find out more about the indigenous food of Amahad but for now, the recognisable packages and English instructions are comforting. One unexpected find is wine and beer in the fridge, I thought these items wouldn’t be available in a predominantly Muslim country, but am grateful as we’re able to enjoy the alcohol with our dinner. Night falls quickly in the desert, and it’s not long before my mouth opens in a wide yawn after the eventful day. I’m not surprised I’m tired as I’d had a drink with the meal on the plane and now I’ve indulged in yet another couple of glasses of wine.

  Upstairs there are two bedrooms, and I’ve already claimed the one with an en-suite, leaving Sean the smaller room and the separate bathroom. I put my new and old clothes away, slip into my nightie I brought from home, and slide under the sheets. As I lie awake, strange sounds from outside reach me; voices and the occasional shout in the exotic language foreign to me, but native to Amahad, and the calling of night birds I can’t identify. The wine, the journey, and the excitement of the day have my eyes quickly closing, and soon I fall asleep.

  Twelve months ago

  Lost in my book, absorbed in the plot, I was rapt with the sexual tension between hero and heroine who reach levels of arousal and fulfilment that I couldn’t believe to be true, and surely could only have come from the author’s vivid imagination. If only that sort of pleasure existed in real life.

  Reading was my only recreation, my one escape from the reality of my lonely existence. I had no friends, or none I could contact; I wasn’t allowed to go out to see them, or even to call them on the phone. I lived solely to serve this man who held me captive.

  Caught up in the plot, I forgot the time, becoming engrossed as the characters reached the scene’s, as well as their own, climax. Then I glanced up at the clock. Shit! Ethan would be home in ten minutes. I had to get a move on!

  He liked me dressed for dinner, full makeup—the works. I threw down my book and raced to my wardrobe, selecting one of his favorite dresses. Stepping quickly out of my jeans and tearing off my top, I slipped the dress over my head. Next, I grabbed a pair of stockings out of the drawer and pulled them on, ripping my fingernail through one, causing a long and very visible ladder. Damn! I get out another pair, this time taking more care attaching them to the suspender belt he preferred me to wear. Dressed, I rushed to the bathroom and tried to put on my makeup as best I could with a shaking hand, ending up stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara wand. My eye watering, I rubbed it, my whole eye became blackened. With shaking hands, I cleaned it off and applied it again. Foundation, face powder and lipstick. Done. Putting a brush through my hair, I realised I’d no time to put it up, so I pushed it behind my ears. With a last quick glance in the mirror, I raced downstairs.

  To find Ethan standing in the hall, waiting for me, tapping his watch.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasped out my apology, “I didn’t notice the time.”

  “You have a clock in your room?”

  I could only nod, my whole body trembling with fear.

  “Can you tell the time?” Ethan asked with a sneer.

  Again I nodded, frozen to the spot as he stepped closer.

  “So why are you late? Why do you come down to dinner looking like a slut? Look at you! A child playing with makeup for the first time could do a better job than you!”

  There’s nothing I could say, no excuse I could offer that would have been accepted, so I stayed dumb. His hand came up, and I tensed. As I looked into his cold eyes, I saw a flash of anger. He formed a fist, and I knew what was coming, but there was no way of evading it. I couldn’t run; that would only have made it worse, enraging him further if he had to catch me. I waited, he did nothing. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Why didn’t he just get it over with?

  When his fist made contact with my stomach, I doubled over in pain. He hit me again, this time, taking advantage of my bent position and finding a kidney. I fell to the floor, and he kicked my ribs.

  At last, he stepped back, “Stupid bitch! Now get to the dining room or dinner will be cold.”

  I knew I had to pull myself up and move to the table as quickly as I could. If his dinner was ruined, he’d start on me all over again. Gingerly I got to my feet; my whole body feeling like it was on fire. Tears of pain ran down my cheeks, but I made no sound, no protest. I stumbled into the dining room and took my seat. On the sideboard were bowls of vegetables and a plate of roast meat.

  He sat at the other end of the table and bellowed out, “Now serve me, bitch.”

  Closing my eyes briefly I took a breath, not too deeply as it would hurt my bruised, or quite possibly broken, ribs. Again I pulled myself up, the exertion causing pain to course through me. I filled his plate, asking his vegetable choice politely, and then delivered his meal to him.

  “Now your own.”

  I’d lost any appetite I might have had, but if I didn’t make the attempt to eat I’d anger him fur
ther and prompt a lecture about wasting food cooked so lovingly by Mrs Benton, probably accompanied by more pain. So I put some items on my plate, feeling his eyes on me, knowing my painful exertions were bringing him pleasure. Tentatively I put my loaded fork to my mouth and tried to chew, but the ache in my stomach made me retch. With an effort I swallowed it down, and took another mouthful of meat, all the time aware his gaze was burning into me.

  He nodded in satisfaction. “Good girl!” he said condescendingly, as I forced another piece of meat down.

  Present day

  The next thing I know is someone waking me, saying my name loudly right by my ear. I scream and move to the far side of the bed, my heart beating fast in terror; how could he have found me? And where am I? I flail my hand, but I don’t locate the light that’s usually by the side of my bed. Luckily before I can get into a full blown panic a lamp is switched on—it was the other side of the bed—and I see it’s Sean standing beside me, not Ethan. My hand on my chest, I try to slow my rapidly beating heart.

  “Shush, Zoe, you were having a nightmare,” his voice is soft and calming. I’m grateful he keeps his distance and makes no move to offer physical comfort.

  I close my eyes, hoping to prevent the tears of shame falling down my cheeks, embarrassed I’d disturbed him. I have nightmares all too often. Ida used to wake me, calm me, and make me hot chocolate to help me sleep again.

  “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to stay with you?”

  Shaking my head, I decline his offer, too embarrassed by the night terrors which make me feel so weak, wondering whether I’ll ever be free of them. After all these months Ethan still has power over me. He comes to me in my sleep, and I can even feel the pain he inflicts. It’s as if my memory insists on replaying everything back to me. “No, thank you,” I tell him, wiping the tears from my eyes, “I’ll be alright now; I’d rather be alone. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”