by Erin Snihur
“Funny,” Tariq croons coolly, “I was just about to say the same thing about you, father.”
Freezing at Tariq’s words, Abbas finally pours two glasses full of an amber liquid and picks up both. Holding them both out in a friendly gesture, Abbas sighs when Tariq refuses to move any closer or accept the glass.
“I was hoping we could forget the past and simply move on,” Abbas grumbles and sets Tariq’s glass on the table by the high back lounger that Tariq stands behind, “You’ve gotten what you wanted. Alia did not marry as I had wanted and instead has found herself a more suitable match. One I actually approve of, as is my right.”
Nerves tensing as his fingers clench around the lounger’s edge, Tariq snarls, “What match?”
As if Tariq hadn’t even asked a question, Abbas continues rambling as he occasionally takes a swig of his drink, “I suppose I have you to thank for that. Sending her to that private boarding school in England was very clever. When she mentioned the connection, she had made I knew we had to capitalize on it. How could Hattan possibly take the lead over all of the Arabian countries without this match? Alia is happy, which is what you want, and my coffers are happy, which is what I want. We both win.” With that, Abbas raises his glass in a mock cheer.
In a burst of anger and energy, Tariq slams the chair in his hands out of the way, startling Abbas who drops his glass and it shatters on the floor. Stopping in front of his father's grand desk, Tariq slams his hands on the table, inwardly grateful for the look of fear that passes over his father's face. Coward.
“What. Match.” Tariq hisses each word more venomous than the last and that seems to shake away Abbas’ fear, for his eyes gleam as though he is a cat who has caught a mouse.
“Why, the boy I sent to Elish to bring Alia home. Richard, something or other. He graduated with Alia and happens to be the nephew of some royal advisor to Russia’s President. If this does not secure Hattan’s place at the highest regime then I don’t know what will,” Abbas exclaims greedily. His obvious excitement over the way these connections will solidify him in the world, angers Tariq even more than the thought of Alia unknowingly involved in the scheme.
As his father sits once more in his leather backed chair that squeaks and groans with his weight, Tariq sneers, “Alia is only eighteen. She is too young.”
Scoffing, Abbas smugly grins back with his yellow teeth, “How could you get in the way of young love? Besides, as I understand it, Alia isn’t the only one we should be celebrating? I understand you’ve returned to Hattan with news of your own.”
Clenching his fists, Tariq glares down at his father, wondering at the angle of his questioning, “Yes. I am engaged.”
Clapping his hands together, Abbas waggles his eyebrows, “I never thought it possible. I hoped that if you spent time away from Hattan and with those friends of yours from the other Arabian coastal countries, you would meet someone of your pedigree. Who is she? A princess? An advisor’s daughter? Perhaps a royal from England?”
Inwardly, Tariq was screaming at the man. He wished he could send Sophie far, far away from this man and his greedy clutches. Finally, Tariq sighed, trying to rein in his anger.
“She is no one,” Tariq murmurs.
At the bewildered look in his father’s eyes, Tariq turns and stalks out of the room. Wanting nothing more than to turn back around and punch the man in his face, Tariq’s ears perk up at the sound of feminine laughter echoing from the private chambers in the east side of the palace. Stalking in their direction, Tariq froze at the sight that warmed his heart and diffused his anger.
His Sophie was in what Tariq assumed to be Teresa’s chambers and was bouncing little Xavier in her arms while she patted his back in a soothing gesture. The three women didn’t even seem to notice his presence as they commented on Sophie’s technique.
“He’s such a stubborn baby. I can barely get him to burp as well as you have, Sophie. Perhaps Amoz and I should hire you just for after feeding times,” Teresa teasingly mocked from her seat on a couch while she folded a few baby clothes in her lap.
“I’ve had experience,” Sophie murmurs and meanders closer to Teresa where she finally hands over little Xavier who gives a little screech when he’s finally in his mother's arms.
“He’s probably still hungry,” Teresa sighs. “I swear, he drains me dry every chance he gets.”
“Like father, like son,” Tariq finally interrupts, gaining the three women’s attention. Sophie stares at Tariq expectantly, but he ignores her. He needs to focus on his sister tonight. Like he did three years ago when he made the decision to commit treason against the Crown of Hattan.
“Alia, we need to talk,” Tariq coolly croons as he steps up next to his sister who sits beside Teresa and offers her his hand. Inwardly, Tariq knew they needed to do more than talk. They needed an intervention.
13
Sophie watched in confusion as Tariq escorted his sister onto the balcony of Teresa’s room. As the young mother went into the antechamber of her rooms to feed the stubborn young prince, Sophie gazed around the empty room. She doubted Karos had any idea she’d managed to find herself in Hattan’s palace. How exactly was she to get in touch with his man? If the man Karos intended for her to deliver the USB to was in fact Tariq’s father, the Sheik of Hattan, why wait until the Sheik’s celebration?
Wanting to explore the palace and get her bearings, Sophie scampered out of Teresa’s rooms and began wandering the opulent halls. Paintings hung on the walls depicting scenes of beautiful cities and palaces. Before she knew it, Sophie had come to stop before a row of portraits. The royal family and their ancestors hung on these white walls. Staring at the final painting, Sophie recalled the way she’d cut into a painting just like it three years ago in Tariq’s hotel suite. Before he’d changed her life forever.
Blue eyes clashing with Tariq’s familiar grey eyes so well painted into the portrait, Sophie reached up, upon instinct to touch his younger self’s face. Before she could, a bone chilling voice broke the silence behind her.
“Even a commoner should know you must never touch a royal portrait.”
Spinning around, Sophie came face to face with the Sheik of Hattan. Tariq’s father and the man in the painting. He’d definitely aged since the portrait had been taken. His face was fat and weathered and his stomach had grown, probably from consuming too much while his people starved on the streets.
Keeping her head held high, Sophie nodded to the Sheik, “Forgive me, your Highness. It won’t happen again.”
Snorting, Sheik Abbas sneered down at her. While he was fat and ugly, his height intimidated Sophie in a way that Tariq once had when they first met.
“I should think not. Especially since you’ll be leaving soon enough,” Sheik Abbas growls, spit flying as he speaks.
“Leaving?” Sophie asks, her mind whirling.
Snapping his fingers, the Sheik grinned maliciously as three guards appeared, “For prison, my dear. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize a thief when I saw one?”
Eyes wide, Sophie moves to run back down the hallway she came, but a guard appears and blocks her path. Grabbing her by the arms, the guard sneers down at her as he yells in Arabic for her to cease moving. Yeah, right.
Thrusting her knee upward, Sophie grins in satisfaction when the guard releases her to clutch his aching groin and drop to his knees.
“Don’t just stand there, you fools, arrest her!” Sheik Abbas snarls loudly as the guards at his back pounce on her. Shrieking in frustration as both men take one arm each, Sophie ceases struggling and glares at the smug Sheik before her. The Sheik in turn grabs her left hand and plucks her engagement ring off her finger.
“You won’t be needing that. Until we meet again, Ms. Marks,” Sheik Abbas croons cruelly as the guards drag Sophie down the hall.
Breath catching in her throat, Sophie tenses over his words. How had he known her real name?
“You want to marry Richard?” Tariq sputtered in disbelief as he stared
down at his sister who sat before him with her chin set up stubbornly.
“Yes! I thought of all people, you’d understand! I saw the way you looked at Sophie, you must know what this kind of love feels like!” Alia spouts in protest.
Shaking his head in denial, Tariq growls, “No. Sophie and I are nothing like you and Richard. You’re just a child, Alia. You’re too young. Can’t you see father is just using you in an attempt to better his financial standing?”
Like a teenager arguing with her parent, Alia snorts and waves her hand dismissively, “Richard and I have been friends since I started in the boarding school and because of your strict no dating rule we had to keep our relationship secret. Father seems to be the only one who actively wants me to be happy!”
Mouth open in disbelief, Tariq couldn’t think of anything to say and this only infuriated Alia more. She stood and with her pointer finger jabbed him in the chest, “I’m not a child anymore, Tariq. I know you like to think of me as the baby sister who needs you to protect her, but this is different. Can’t you trust me?”
Sighing, Tariq runs his hands through his hair, knowing that he’ll never make her see reason. Finally, he nods as he puts his hands on her shoulders, “It’s not you I don’t trust, Alia, it’s him. Our father. I won’t let him use you again.”
Smiling in understanding, Alia leaps into his arms in a tight hug, “He’s changed, brother. For the better.”
Inwardly, Tariq knew that wasn’t the case. Alia was just too naive to their father’s tricks. Pulling out of her hug, Tariq fingered the fabric of her hijab, “When can I meet this Richard, then?”
Grinning with delight and with her eyes gleaming at the love she felt for this boy, Alia took Tariq’s hand and pulled him out of the gardens and back inside the palace.
“I promise you that you will love Richard. Actually, when I first met Sophie I nearly asked if they were related. He and Sophie have the same eyes, I think,” Alia rambled on as she dragged him through the halls of the palace until they stopped before the palaces expansive library.
Sitting at a round desk filled to the brim with books was a young man, no older than Alia. He flipped through the many pages of a dusty old tomb. Alia, smiling with her eyes filled with love as she dashed into the room, surprised the dark haired boy.
Watching them whisper to one another, Tariq’s hands clenched as he gazes around the room. Perhaps he could disappear and be with Sophie for a few moments of uninterrupted alone time. Inwardly, Tariq knew he had to see this through. For Alia.
“Richard, I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Crown Prince Tariq Abadi. He’s just arrived this afternoon with his fiancée,” Alia began.
As Alia led her intended over to Tariq, the boy’s hand outstretched and Tariq stared at him, for the first time in the eye. The same blue eyes that Tariq had come to love because of another. Sophie’s eyes. There was no doubt about it. Tariq had seen the picture Sophie carried with her at all times. Fate had dealt him a cruel hand. Hand closing over Richard’s hand to shake, Tariq strained to smile, only drawing his sister’s concerned gaze.
“It’s a privilege to meet you, sir,” Richard stammered, clearly nervous. “Alia has told me so much about you.”
Alia smiles up at him and then turns back to Tariq. “Tariq just told me this afternoon about his engagement. Isn’t that marvelous?”
Richard gazes up at Tariq in surprise, “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Richard. Why don’t you tell me about your marriage plans?” Tariq inquires and is inwardly giddy when the boy has the audacity to appear sheepish as he runs his hands through his curly, dark hair.
“I don’t think we have anything planned. It’s all so sudden,” Richard murmurs. “I haven’t even told my parents yet. But my Uncle arrived last night. He should be here for the festivities tonight.”
Alia smiles up at Richard, completely lovestruck. Tariq shakes his head at the sight. He’d thought his sister would have the sense to see this for what it was. A trap their father lured her into.
“Perhaps you and Sophie would care to join us for a little pre-dinner snack tonight before Father’s celebration begins?” Alia suggests.
Nodding, Tariq agrees and storms out, intent on finding Sophie so he can figure out what the hell is going on. Did she know Richard was here? Did she know what his father had planned? Had this all been a clever trick?
Tariq followed his memories to the room he’d called his own since he was a child. Not much had changed since he’d moved out during his teenage years, preferring to live permanently at the boarding school. This was the room Tariq had specifically instructed the servants to put he and Sophie up in. Now, he regretted it. He would much rather be at their hotel suite. That one night had instilled in him enough memories to make it through his father’s celebratory night. But only if Tariq had Sophie by his side.
Entering the chamber, Tariq searched the bathroom, the closet and even the private gardens that surrounded the chambers outside. Sophie was nowhere to be found.
Sophie, where are you?
A twinkle caught Tariq’s eye as he entered the bedchamber and instantly froze. Sophie’s ring. The engagement ring he’d put on her finger on the plane was laying atop a piece of paper on his pillow. Picking up the ring and paper, Tariq’s stomach soured at the sight of his name written in that feminine scrawl that he recalled studying after discovering who his little thief really was.
Opening the folded piece of paper, Tariq read, with dreaded suspense building all around him.
My dearest Tariq,
I am not who you think I am. Everything I have done has been because I wanted to cause pain to those who have wronged those beneath them. You were my last assignment. I know I have made the right choice.
Yours, Sophie Marks
Tariq stared at the letter in his hands and didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. It was all wrong. Something was very wrong. Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, Tariq dialed the one number that he knew had the power to find Sophie and bring her back to him. Even destroying his father’s schemes in the meantime.
Don’t worry, Sophie, I’m coming for you.
14
Sophie shivered. The only thing covering her body was a thin, long sleeved dress she wore that covered her from her neck to her ankles. The iron shackles around her ankle that kept her cowering in the corner of her cell didn’t help. Her legs were impossible to move. So chilled and frozen in place, Sophie huddled for warmth as her hands rubbed up and down her arms. There had been no interrogation. In fact, the men who had escorted her to Hattan’s jail had barely said a few words to her. They simply ushered her through the backdoors of the jail. Though, the leering while she stripped into the thin muslin dress didn’t help.
Sophie had called them a few choice words in Russian for that. To which, they only stared at her in disgust, calling her a whore and threw her into her jail cell, shackling her ankle on a taut chain which was cemented into the wall.
This is it, Sophie, you’ve really done it now.
That depressing thought wasn’t the only thing she thought of as the cell grew colder as the sun descended behind the clouds and the hour grew dim. Sophie thought of Tariq. If his father really did think her the thief who stole the family jewels three years ago, then Tariq could be in danger. What if he told his father the truth? Then Tariq would be the one shivering in a cell. And Sophie would be extradited to one of his friends’ countries to await trial for murder and treason.
The only thing Sophie was grateful for was the fact that the guards and other prisoners seemed to have left her alone. The clanging sound of doors being opened stilled Sophie’s breath as she closes her eyes and prays this visitor isn’t coming for her. Her hopes are dashed however and in walks the devil himself.
Karos Colchik, the Russian Snake. Her mentor and the man who used her to further his cruel and evil agenda. He walks down the hallway with not a care in the world, dressed in an expensive dark suit. Watching
the man carefully as he came to stop before her cell, Sophie kept her face calm. Though inside she was in turmoil, Sophie wanted to reach through the bars and throttle the man.
Sophie didn’t say anything. She wanted him to be the one to make the first move. Instead, all he did was stare at her. As though he was a disappointed parent gazing at an unruly child. Fists forming, Sophie felt her face morph into an angry glare.
Clucking his tongue, Karos shakes his head as he leans against the bars of the cell by his forearms, “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”
Voice dry and raspy from dehydration, Sophie solemnly replies, “I’m sure you know exactly what’s happened, Karos. Were you not the one to orchestrate my imprisonment?”
Feigning shock for only a moment before a cool grin forms over his face and he walks around the cell walls until he stops and kneels down against the cell wall closest to where Sophie is sitting. Drumming his fingers over the iron bars, Karos hums for a moment before speaking.
“I merely offered you a choice, dear Sophie,” Karos murmurs. “It is not my fault if you fail in your pursuits.”
Sophie wanted to rip the man’s smug face clean off, but her rage dissipated as her thoughts turned to Tariq, “What are you planning?”
Shrugging slightly, Karos grinned maliciously, “Have you met the princess?”
Blood boiling at the thought of Karos hurting that sweet innocent girl like he had her, Sophie reacts. Jumping at the bars and catching Karos off guard enough to grasp his tie and pulled him taut against the bars of the cell.
“If you touch her…”
Eyes filled with dark mischief, Karos whistles low, “Don’t tell me, sweet girl that you have fallen for her charm as you fell for her brother?”
Preferring to glare in silence, Sophie tightened her hold on Karos’ tie and pulled him tighter against the bars, choking him slightly.
