by Erin Snihur
When Imad didn’t continue, Malik’s curiosity grew, “And the other granddaughter?”
Imad paused, his face squinting in confusion. “I’m sorry, your Highness. Not much is known about her. A known wallflower, I believe. I know she attended Oxford in England and has been living there since graduating from high school. I do not believe she is married.”
Malik nodded and held the letter from Hamda out to Imad. “Have the car ready and a note sent to Mr. Ameen that I will be there for the meeting.”
“Of course, your Highness,” Imad murmured and departed without a sound.
Finishing his breakfast, Malik ran a hand over his tightening chest. Would he see Samara again? Did she even want to see him?
The answers to which, Malik was unsure if he would ever know. It had been only one night and once his business was concluded here, he would return to Batra, alone.
Samara was thankful she’d been able to sneak into her bedroom the next morning without her grandfather noticing. Although waking up to find Malik gone had made her heart twinge, it was probably for the best. It would have been awkward for them both after waking up from a night of passion and having to make small talk with someone they didn’t even know.
Samara didn’t know what had possessed her to proposition Malik. She just knew that for one night she wanted to be free, if it was only for one night. Now, today she felt herself walking on air as she entered the dining area to brunch. Her grandfather sat at the head of the table munching on his breakfast as he read from his paper.
“Good morning, Papa,” Samara murmured, hoping he couldn’t see her face flame. She wondered if he knew what she’d been up to the night before. She doubted it. Today, she would approach him about the job offer she’d received in England. It was with a good marketing firm and for an entry level job the pay was good. She already had an apartment in mind and she knew she could do this. Why was she so nervous? Why did she constantly seek her grandfather’s approval? Sheena never did. She just did as she pleased, no matter what others thought.
Steeling her resolve, Samara smiled as her grandfather set his paper aside and leaned back in his chair to sip his tea.
“The Sheik of Aman is getting married to a Canadian. A Canadian for heaven’s sake,” her grandfather grumbled as he glared about the empty table.
“Why is that so bad, father? I heard on the news this morning that it is a love match. Their story is all over social media,” Samara murmured and sighed. “It is very romantic.”
Her grandfather snorts and sets his cup aside. “Romance does not mean anything when it comes to a marriage, young lady. You need more than romance and love to make such a marriage work.”
Scoffing at him, Samara takes a piece of fruit off her plate and bites into it. She would miss her grandfather’s good food when she returned to England. She was a bit of a foodie and so, any chance she got, she enjoyed making and learning new recipes, as long as she got to taste test everything.
“Why does it matter, Papa?” Samara asked and then paused, worry filling her. “You’re not worried about Sheena, are you? Have she and Charles…”
Samara’s words trailed off at her grandfather’s protesting and sighed in relief as he grumbled, “Your sister’s marriage is just fine, I suppose. Although I think she could have done better.”
Samara rolled her eyes, her grandfather had been saying the same thing since Sheena had told them she was marrying Charles. The man was notorious around England as being a stellar businessman and a bit of a playboy. They’d been shocked, since Sheena’s lifestyle had been so similar, but married life seemed to have treated her alright from what Samara had seen of her sister. Even living in the same country while Samara had attended Oxford, Sheena didn’t stay in England for long.
Taking the silence to clear her throat and gain her grandfather’s attention, Samara smiled reassuringly at the older man. “I have some news.”
Her grandfather’s eyes lit up. “You have met a respectable man?”
Inwardly wincing, Samara shook her head slowly. “No, Papa. I’ve been given a job offer by a marketing firm in England.”
Silence.
Samara cringes and jumps back from the table as her grandfather pushes his chair back and begins yelling in a mixture of Arabic and English. He speaks so fast, Samara is only able to make out some words, mostly about how she is a “foolish child”.
Standing as her grandfather stands, Samara holds up her hand in a show of peace. “Papa, please calm down. This can’t be good for your blood pressure.”
Her grandfather scoffs loudly. “Why should you care about my health, Samara, you’re only going to abandon me for some foolish job in England anyway!”
Throwing down her napkin, Samara’s voice began to rise, “I am not abandoning you, Papa! You have a condo in London. You can visit me whenever you like and I have my trust fund to fall back on so I can visit you here as well. And it isn’t a foolish job, Papa, it’s an incredibly generous offer and exactly where I want to start my career.”
Her grandfather scoffed and rubbed a hand over his white beard. “Your career, Samara? Your only thought of your future should be about finding a husband and giving me great-grandchildren. At least your sister ended that modeling phase, came to her senses and married that English oof. You are my good girl, Samara, don’t you know your duty to our family?”
Samara’s eyes pricked with tears at her grandfather’s words. Throughout her life, she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. She’d already lost her parents. She hadn’t wanted to lose anyone else. Clenching her fists, she realized quickly that her grandfather couldn’t be the one to decide her life for her. She needed to tell him. Even if it meant upsetting him.
“Papa, I am not Sheena. I don’t need or want a husband. I haven’t met any man that I would even consider marrying! I’m only twenty-two for heaven’s sake,” Samara said, exasperated.
Other than perhaps Malik, Samara thought fondly, but inwardly shook herself. She couldn’t think about her fantasy at a time like this. Their connection was just physical.
Her grandfather’s eyes squinted as he glared down at her, arms crossed, “What about that man you disappeared with last night, Samara? You are telling me that you spend the night with a man, shaming not only yourself but our family, and you feel nothing?”
Hand reaching up to cover her mouth, Samara stared at her grandfather in shock. How had he known? How…Samara’s throat constricted. She was going to be sick, she was sure of it.
“Papa,” Samara started and had to suck in a fresh breath before continuing. “What are you talking about?”
Her grandfather rolled his eyes. “Do not think me stupid, Samara. This is my home. I know everything that goes on in it. Did you think no one saw you escape for your little tryst in the beach cabin? How could you embarrass me this way?”
“Papa, I don’t know what to say, but I am sorry you found out. It was just a one time thing, I swear. This doesn’t change anything, though,” Samara pleaded, wishing the conversation was done and forgotten.
Papa shakes his head and levels her with a glare, Samara knew all too well. It meant he wouldn’t be budged.
“It changes everything, Samara. You will not be taking any job. You will be getting married to that man,” her grandfather grumbled as he turned from her and called for a maid to come into the dining room.
Confused as hell, Samara yelled at her grandfather who continued to mumble to himself. She couldn't understand him, but he said something about plans, which only made Samara more frustrated.
“What man, Papa?” Samara finally yelled, gaining her grandfather’s attention.
His wild eyes landed on her and his smile grew, oddly disturbing that made Samara’s stomach fill with dread. “To the Sheik of Batra, of course. Your one night stand.”
6
Samara wasn’t sure how the maid her grandfather had called had escorted her to her rooms. She felt like a zombie. Completely detached from everything. Even as s
he sat overlooking the grounds of her grandfather’s home in her picture window, she wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing.
After escorting her to the room, Samara had briefly heard the maid leave and the lock on the outside of the door shift into place. Her grandfather had ordered her to be locked away. Probably as some sort of punishment.
Her grandfather wanted her to marry the Sheik of Batra? And he had called Malik the same man? Could it be? Was Malik the famed Sheik of Batra? She had to know.
Standing, Samara grabbed her cellphone off her bed and began a search for any photos of the notorious Sheik. His photo was easy to find. There were hundreds of photos with none other than her Malik and hundreds of beautiful women. In each photo, Samara began to think the women grew more beautiful and her heart shrunk and ached with each one.
This couldn’t be the same Malik that had held her so tenderly the night before and who had kissed her with such passion that she had felt it in her very soul. As she stared at his photo, her mind came to realize that it was him, with his signature crooked smirk and bright blue eyes.
Throwing her phone back onto her bed, Samara’s eyes welled up with tears. Had any of it been true? Had he only been adding her as a notch on his bedpost? Did he feel anything for her at all?
The sound of car doors slamming distracted Samara briefly and she ran to the window, thankful her bedroom partially faced the front of the house. A long limousine with tinted windows had pulled up. A few security guards exited, followed by a short, thin middle-aged man and a much taller man that Samara knew in an instant was Malik. She’d recognize him anywhere.
Groaning, Samara, covered her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach. He was here. And things could only get worse.
Malik nodded in greeting to the butler as he opened the door to Hamda’s estate. Had it only been a few hours since he had been on this very property? Clearing his mind, Malik followed the butler, along with Imad, who dutifully walked a few steps behind Malik. He’d often told his friend and advisor to walk at his side, but the man who stood by all traditions, had denied this request.
As the butler stopped before Hamda’s study and knocked once, Malik scanned the hallway for any sight of Samara. He saw nothing and no one, much to his disappointment. Wasn’t she living here? Surely she would know her grandfather had called on him?
Unclenching his fists, Malik nodded at the butler as he opened the door for Malik to enter, but stopped Imad when he attempted to follow Malik.
“I’m sorry sir, only his Majesty may enter,” the butler crooned in his thick accent.
Imad’s eyebrow rose as he and Malik stared at one another before Malik nodded to Imad, “It’s alright, Imad. This will not take long.”
To the butler, Malik met the man’s gaze with a glare he’d perfected over the years, “Ensure my friend is comfortable.”
Taking the doorknob in his hands, Malik closed the door to the study behind himself and entered the large room. Bookcases abounded everywhere with musty old books. A fireplace crackled with life and Hamda stood, leaning against the fireplace mantle, deep in thought as he stroked his white beard.
Malik waited for Hamda to speak. It was not like him to be kept waiting like this. Something serious must be on the older man’s mind. As Malik entered the study further, he approached Hamda’s desk. Papers were strewn about haphazardly. Estate planning documents and deeds to his vast holdings could be seen in different piles. Staring up at the old man, Malik’s eyes squinted in understanding.
The old man was planning for his death. He must wish to be rid of his oil companies more quickly than Malik could have predicted. Striding over to the fireplace, Malik stood a few feet away from the older man and cleared his throat, gaining the man’s dazed and confused attention.
“Oh! Your Highness, I do apologize!” Hamda said through his muffled accent and was about to bow before Malik held up his hands to stop him.
“Please, Hamda, we are doing business this day, call me Malik,” he murmured, relieved when the man’s eyes lit up.
Scurrying around the room, Hamda brought forth a few tumblers of whiskey and raised them in a toast, “To our bright future.”
Clinking their glasses together, Malik took a sip and the seat before the fire Hamda offered him. He’d just been settling in his seat, before Hamda’s words sent shockwaves through his whole body.
“I know about you and my granddaughter, Samara, Malik,” Hamda’s gravelly voice said, his face serious, but not furious.
Taking another gulp of whiskey, Malik stared across at Hamda, his face not giving away anything, “What do you mean, Hamda?”
Hamda shrugged his shoulders and simply said, “The beach cabin.”
Malik’s mind was racing, How had he known? What did this have to do with business?
Clenching his hand tightly around his glass, Malik ground his teeth and glared at the older man. “I don’t see what this has to do with the sale of your companies, Hamda.”
“So you didn’t spend the night with my granddaughter? Not only shaming my princess, but me as well,” Hamda grunted in confusion.
Shaking his head, Malik clenched the arm of his chair tightly, trying to reign in his anger. “We did spend the night, but it was more of a one night…thing. Nothing more.”
Hamda stroked his beard thoughtfully. “This is very serious. You have defiled my granddaughter in the worst way. She is useless to me now.”
Feeling sick, Malik clenched his hands tighter, rage pooling out of his pores. “I don’t see how, Hamda. Samara is a bright and educated young woman. She told me of her position in England. You should be proud.”
“No one will take her now,” Hamda crooned and Malik’s eyes squinted as he took in Hamda’s words.
“What do you mean?” Malik asked, though he hated himself for asking in the first place.
“I had hoped Samara would meet a respectable man in England, but nothing. Now that she has come home, I had hoped to secure her a marriage with a sizable dowry,” Hamda’s voice trailed off and instantly Malik understood.
The companies. Hamda intended for Samara to be saddled with the new owner of the companies.
Malik set his glass down and clenched his fists tightly to keep from lashing out. The old man was clearly trying to manipulate him. Batra needed those companies and oil interests.
A voice hissed in the back of Malik’s mind, What is the problem exactly? You wed Samara and, once you have the companies, you divorce her!
Letting out a harsh breath, Malik glared at Hamda. “I do not take manipulation well, Hamda.”
Hamda stared at Malik, his eyes filled with knowing. “She is a beautiful woman and will be the perfect wife.”
“We shall see,” Malik said and paused before standing. “Have the papers drawn up for the companies. The wedding can be scheduled for a few weeks from now.”
Seeming shocked, the old man struggled to rise, “So soon?”
Glaring at Hamda, Malik towered over the man, wanting nothing more than to punch him until the old man felt the hatred he truly felt for him. “The wedding will be held in two weeks in Batra. Prepare your granddaughter. Her dreams of becoming a princess are coming true.”
Ignoring Hamda’s words of excitement, Malik strode out of the room, nearly stumbling into Imad who stood listening at the door. The older man straightened and smoothed his face, though Malik knew he had most likely heard everything that had transpired.
“Have the plane ready. We leave for Batra tonight,” Malik growled as they exited the estate, ignoring Hamda’s butler who attempted to escort them out.
Feeling eyes on him, Malik stopped before entering the limo and turned slightly to stare back at the estate. It was her. His betrothed. Clenching his fists, he watched as she stood on her balcony, her long hair whipping in the wind. She looked as though she’d been crying. Probably weeping for joy at the catch she had made.
Turning away from her, Malik entered the limousine, barking a harsh order for the vehicle t
o move. How could he have become so foolish over one woman?
Never again. His new wife will learn from her mistakes.
7
Samara wasn’t sure what she had been expecting from Malik as she watched him exit her grandfather's estate and begin barking orders to his attendant and guards alike. He saw her. She knew that was for certain. Though, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, the weight of his gaze caused her to lose her breath.
After he and his limousine drove off, Samara only briefly heard someone at her door knock before her grandfather entered and found her sitting on her balcony, watching the now empty driveway.
“I have the most wonderful news, my Samara!” her grandfather called excitedly to her.
Gazing up at her grandfather, Samara shuddered at what he must have to say, “What is it, Papa?”
“You and the Sheik shall be married! I have agreed and you are to be wed in two weeks in Batra. What a gift from the heavens,” her grandfather crooned excitedly.
He continued to talk about wedding plans, who to invite and who not to invite as Samara stared at him in shock, her mouth gaping open. Her mind swam with the news.
Malik wanted to marry her? But it was just a one night thing!
“Papa?” Samara called out to her grandfather as he began yelling for a maid to come in and begin packing Samara’s things. She had to call his name a few times before he finally stopped yelling at the servants and met her gaze.
