Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  ****

  It’s mid-morning when Cara visits the harem, proudly waving a document in her hand. It’s in Arabic, so she interprets it for me. Kadar has already made good on his promise, and as emir has rescinded his rights to the harem. Although it means we can now engage workman to get going on the renovations, part of me is sad that Kadar no longer has his special place that he can truly call his own. Some of the magic already seems to have gone. Instead, it’s replaced by his sister-in-law’s enthusiasm. Cara’s so upbeat and passionate about how the work can now proceed, that I soon get caught up with deciding where we’re going to start first.

  An hour or so later we’ve worked out a plan of action, and she leaves me alone. As I walk around with renewed purpose, noting what preparation needs to be done and making detailed notes for contractors to follow, I take a moment to enjoy the peace that will all too soon be shattered with the sounds of drills and hammering.

  Writing up the specifications takes me the rest of the day. Asif brings me food so I can continue uninterrupted, and I warn him I’ll be staying late this evening, wanting to get what I’ve started finished. Although I offer to find my own way back to my accommodation, no longer seeing the necessity for a full-time guard, Asif tells me he’ll return later on and wait outside. I don’t see the need, as Kadar has said, Ethan hasn’t a clue where I am, and isn’t going to find out. But the thought they’re taking no chances with my safety is a comforting one.

  I’m not planning on staying in the harem tonight, but the hours and minutes seem to go by so fast, and I’ve still not completed everything I wanted to do. Now we’ve got the go ahead I’m almost as impatient as Cara to contact contractors and start getting quotes. So I’m just wrapping up the final spec when the golden doors to the harem open. I glance up, expecting Asif be checking to see whether I’m ready to go, but instead find myself staring into the face of the emir.

  “Kadar!” I’m genuinely pleased to see him.

  “You’re still hard at work, then?”

  I wave my tablet at him, “Just finishing up. Once I’ve tidied my notes up Cara, and I will be able to begin the process to award contracts.”

  His eyes narrow, “You work too hard.”

  I laugh, “Work? Is that what this is? I’m enjoying myself too much, Kadar, to call it that.”

  Shaking his head, he comes across to me, “I wish I had your enthusiasm for everything I do.”

  “Hard day?” I feel sorry for him.

  He studies me for a moment then, seeming to come to a decision, removes his headdress and lightly takes my arm, leading me across to the bed, the only place where we can sit in comfort. As if it’s now become our custom, I sit on it and scoot up until I’m leaning against the headboard, then he does the same, placing himself beside me. When he reaches his arm over my shoulder, I have no qualms sitting forwards so he can place it behind me. I lean back against him, allowing myself to enjoy the comfort.

  “I envy you, the work you’re doing here. You’ll be able to see it coming together, just as you planned.”

  “Huh!” I laugh, “I do hope it all goes to plan.”

  He gives a brief smile, then runs his hand over his face. “I have a strategy for Amahad, I want to modernise, to make sure all the population has access to good schools and medical facilities, but with so many obstacles in my way, it’s hard to see how I’ll be able to make it all come together.”

  “You see the pool, over there?” I point outside the cubicle and wait for his nod. “I envision a beautiful mosaic, but I don’t have the skills to do it myself. I have to rely on the artisans we’re employing to translate my vision into reality.”

  “You’re saying that to achieve my ends I have to rely on other people?”

  “I don’t know enough to advise you, Kadar, but you can’t do everything yourself.”

  “You’re right, Zoe, but it’s hard to delegate, to release control. But I’m trying. I’m taking the first steps.”

  For the next half hour, he tells me of his idea to put in place an elected government, almost bouncing ideas off of me about how it’s going to work. I relax against him, proud he’s sharing his hopes and dreams with me. Zoe Baker, advisor to the emir, who would ever have thought it?

  Time’s getting on, so soon he picks up his headdress, and takes his leave. I do likewise, finding the ever patient Asif waiting for me outside the golden doors. But I feel lighter than I have done for months as I make my way back to the little house I’m really starting to think of as home.

  For the next couple of days, I’m run off my feet, showing potential contractors around and, with Asif’s interpretation skills, explaining the work involved. It’s hard and frustrating work. Some of the technical terms are beyond even Asif’s quite large vocabulary, and miming is often required for me to explain the standards I wish them to follow. But at last, they seem satisfied and leave, ready to prepare their quotes. I’m hopeful work can begin within the next month.

  With little more to do at the moment in the interior of the harem, I at last turn my thoughts to the garden. And that’s where I am when Kadar finds me this evening, sitting on the edge of the broken fountain, lost in a daydream and enjoying the cooler air after the heat of the day, he approaches so quietly he startles me, and I almost fall off my perch.

  Reaching out his strong hand, he steadies me, “Careful.” His grin makes him look younger.

  “Sorry, I was miles away.” Standing up, I brush the dust from my clothes.

  “No, sit. I just needed a break. It’s pleasant out here.” As he speaks, he looks around him, “You’ve got your work cut out for you here, too.”

  “It will soon come together. I’ll be able to get my hands dirty; it’s work I enjoy.”

  He pulls my left hand towards him and pushes up my sleeve. As he exposes my twisted wrist, I try to move it away. He doesn’t let go, and instead, his fingers gently caress the scars. “Can you work like this?”

  This time, I wrench it out of his grasp, “I assure you I’m perfectly able to do my job.” I snap at him, my weakness not something I want to be reminded of.

  A quick shake of his head shows I’ve misunderstood him, “I’m not criticising you, Zoe, I’m concerned. I’d like to get a doctor to look at it for you.”

  “No, Kadar, you’ve done too much for me already. If I go through an operation, it might put me out of action for a while. I can cope, for now. Maybe it’s something I’ll look into later.”

  His eyes meet mine with a searching gaze, “I hate that you have that reminder of him.”

  I huff, “I’ve enough other mementos without that.”

  Another pointed look reminds me he saw them that first night in the harem. I relent, “I’ll think about the offer, Kadar, just not right now.”

  Thankfully he leaves the subject alone, and we sit in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the birdsong as the colourful creatures flit around, preparing to settle for the night. The air is tinged with the perfume of the cultivated gardens just beyond the harem walls, making me impatient to start the planting here.

  Before long, I pluck up the courage to ask something I’ve been wondering about. “Kadar, your bride, how will she be chosen for you? Have you any say in the matter?”

  A quick glance, his eyebrows raised, shows me he didn’t expect the question. For a moment I wonder whether he’s going to answer, then, with a sigh and the now customary removal of his headdress which seems to signify he’s the man, and not the emir, he starts to speak. As he tells me about the ball that’s been arranged, that his advisors are compiling a list of likely candidates from whom he’ll be expected to choose his mate for life, I find myself full of compassion for the man who’s prepared to give up his happiness for the sake of his country. And I can’t help a little voice inside me that wonders what I’d have to do to get myself on that list. Then I shake myself. For fuck’s sake, Zoe, there’s no chance in hell of that, you haven’t the right qualifications. If you weren’t good enoug
h for Ethan, you’re a million miles away from being good enough for the emir.

  And in any event, lined up with a bevy of beauties, I wouldn’t have a chance of being the one of his choice.

  Chapter 19

  Kadar

  Darkness falls around us. I can’t imagine what Zoe is thinking, but she’s gone very quiet. Although I’m glad I explained about the ball, got it out there in the open and made clear where my duty lies, I’m sure that as a Western woman she finds it hard to understand. I only hope it doesn’t change things between us as I’d miss being able to come and spend time with her.

  I’ve always known my marriage would have to be the right one for my country, even when I’d expected to have a wider choice. So I’ve avoided getting involved with a woman for that reason; not wanting to raise expectations which couldn’t be fulfilled, instead having brief liaisons in the BDSM clubs I frequent abroad. So to be able to sit and talk, to confide in someone, is a luxury for me. I’m drawn to Zoe, drawn to come and seek her out in this place I still, for the moment at least, am able to think of as mine. I enjoy just being with her, even in the moments when we just sit in silence, appreciating the peace of the harem, able to let my guard down around her. I find myself relishing every moment I can steal to be with her.

  I can’t deny my physical attraction to her, that it’s the fullness in my loins which makes me come to the harem, as well as the desire to talk. But conversation will have to suffice, even while it’s slowing killing me. I can’t pretend we can ever be anything other than friends, however intense my desire I wish it could be more.

  I’m attracted to her body, but I’m also charmed by everything about her. I’ve told her my secrets; now it’s time for her to share those she keeps hidden.

  Turning to face her I take her hand in mine, and gently squeeze it, “Zoe, I want to know what happened. Talk to me. Tell me how it started and how you got caught in St John-Davies’ clutches. How did you meet him?”

  She gives me a sharp look, and briefly I’m left wondering whether she’s going to say anything at all. I won’t push if she doesn’t want to tell me, but I believe it will be beneficial for her to share, rather than to keep everything bottled up inside. I have my doubts she’s ever told anyone the full story.

  As I watch, a tear appears at the corner of her eye, and she almost angrily brushes it away. Then, once she starts, it all comes tumbling out.

  “I was working for him, restoring a garden. He asked me out. Oh, he was the perfect gentleman. Handsome, sexy and wealthy. What more could a girl ask for?” she shudders disparagingly. “I was so stupid. I was swept off my feet—thought I’d found the love of my life. Especially when he asked me to move in with him. Now,” she pauses to wipe away another tear, and shudders, “Now I believe it was the thought of the man and what he could offer me more than the man himself. I think I was in love with the idea, not with him. So what does that make me? Fatuous at the very least. Greedy? A fortune seeker?” She glances at me then pointedly looks down towards her dainty feet, “I didn’t feel like that at the time; I convinced myself I liked him, thought I’d be able to love him. He didn’t want to jump straight into bed with me, he said he wanted me for me, not my body. I thought that was sweet.”

  “That alone should have told you he was an idiot!” I don’t know what made me interrupt her, but looking at the woman sitting beside me I can’t believe how anyone could keep their hands off of her, seeing I was having such great difficulty myself.

  She throws me a quick, timid smile, acknowledging the implied compliment, but I can see I’ve embarrassed her. “When at last we, er… were intimate it wasn’t spectacular which I put it down to my inexperience.” Another squint towards me as though to make sure I’m not offended by this level of detail, and then shrugs, “To be honest, it was much on a par with my previous encounters, so I didn’t think anything was particularly wrong when the earth didn’t move. But as time went on I realised the intimacy was for him, not me. And he soon started taking me when and where he wanted, whether I was ready or not.”

  I hadn’t missed the point about her inexperience, but what was more important was his cruelty as I realise she’s admitting he’d raped her, repeatedly. I see red and snarl, “Why didn’t you leave?”

  Instead of answering she looks out into the blackness now surrounding the gardens. I know there’s nothing she can make out in the dark. Instead, she seems to be turning in on herself. Gentling my voice, stroking my fingers over the hand I’m still holding, I instruct her, “Talk to me.”

  With a sad little shake of her head, she continues, “I’ve never told anyone the whole story, Kadar. It makes me look like a first class idiot. I didn’t even go into details with my best friend, Sophie.”

  “You are certainly not an idiot!” I’m unable to keep the bite of anger out of my voice. “Zoe, it might help to get it all off your chest. Let me share your burden. I promise nothing you can say to me with make me judgemental or change my view of you.”

  Whether it’s the time of night, the magic of the harem, or my promise, but after a few seconds to gather her thoughts, she resumes her story. As I listened to her tell me how he started to destroy her self-respect and slowly began to control her life, I cursed quietly, remembering the clothes I’d bought her and her protest on the plane.

  “Zoe, that’s not what I wanted to do.”

  She puts her hand on mine; I relish the fact she’s made contact, “Yes, you did, Kadar. You chose what you wanted me to wear.”

  I have to fix her misassumption, “I chose what I thought you’d like to wear, habiti. There would have been a very different selection if I’d only given you what I would like to see you in.” I turn and wink at her. Me, fucking winking? The effect this woman has on me! “I asked a personal shopper to select appropriate clothing for the climate—I’m afraid I get very little time to go women’s shopping.”

  I hear a little giggle, fuck, it’s a beautiful sound, and I suspect she’s picturing me walking around a department store choosing her lingerie. Shit! I shouldn’t have thought of that; I turn a little to my side, so she doesn’t see the physical evidence of the effect she’s causing.

  As she resumes her sorry tale I have to make great effort not to show my ever increasing anger as she proceeds to explain how he isolated her from her friends leaving her no one to turn to for support.”

  Her hand still touching mine, I slowly turn my palm so I can curl my fingers around hers. “What about your parents? Zo? Family?”

  Her eyes open wide and she recoils away. “Don’t call me Zo! That’s what he called me!” She shudders in disgust, and I file that vital bit of information away, not wanting to upset her again.

  But a weird feeling inside of me makes me want to come up with a name for her that is mine, and only mine, “Okay,” I wait a second before adding, “Zee.”

  I’m the emir; I hold the fate of my nation in my hand, but I sit here, holding my breath as I wait for her reaction. When she turns to me with a small smile and a quick nod of her head, I feel like I’ve won the jackpot.

  “I never knew my father; my parents didn’t marry.” She breathes in sharply, and pauses, throwing a quick glance my way to gauge my reaction. I remained impassive, whatever her background it’s only served to make her the woman she is today. “Ethan hated that I was a bastard, and concocted a story for me to tell if anyone ever asked about my background.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “Well, yes,” she draws in a deep breath, “She’s on husband number six now. She got a taste for matrimony when she didn’t like being a single mum. We haven’t been very close for years.”

  Again I clasp her hand tighter for a moment to show my support.

  “Once I’d left home and got settled she went to live in the south of France—she enjoyed the heat and scenery, said it gave her inspiration for her artwork. So she wasn’t nearby when things went bad. Ethan disapproved of her because of her number of marriages and dissuaded m
e from contacting her. We didn’t have the mother and daughter relationship where we text or ring all the time in any event, but eventually he stopped me having any communication with her at all. The one time I disobeyed, I learned not to do it again the hard way.”

  “Habiti…”

  “I can’t believe how stupid I was!”

  Seeing her anger directed in on herself, I have to put her right, “He was a con man and very good at it. You were his victim, and he played you. There’s no need for you to feel guilty.” At least the hatred that’s burning inside me for the man who hurt her is causing my arousal to fade. “When did he start abusing you?”

  She huffs a laugh, but there’s no mirth in it. “Looking back, it began from day one. I tried to change my behaviour to what I thought he was looking for, but whatever I did was never good enough. I was always an outsider with his friends and the way he lived his life; we had nothing in common. As I couldn’t conform, he made me feel ignorant.”

  I feel her growing tense, her fingernails digging into my hand. I don’t complain, not wanting to interrupt her.

  “The first time he was violent it was because I dared to contradict him. He was so much more worldly than me; I used just to agree with whatever he said. We were dressing to go out; he said something; I disputed it. I got a fist in my stomach. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to think. He ignored it, and I went along to the dinner with him as arranged just because I didn’t know what else to do. It was a couple of weeks before he did anything else.

  “When it got really bad, I did try to escape. I hadn’t made any plans, just knew I had to get away. I waited until he’d left for work, and then I got in my car and drove. I went to see Sophie, and she greeted me like, well, a long lost friend.” She smiles slightly at the memory, and then unbidden tears start to fall down her cheeks as she explained in gory detail just exactly what that fucking man had done to punish Zee from trying to escape. He’d put her friend in a wheelchair.