The Sheikh's Irresistible Proposal (11 page)

EIGHTEEN

The morning sun warmed Sadiq’s face and he put a hand to his head to shield his eyes from the glare. He rolled over, searching for Hannah with his arms, but his hands found only the cool spot where she had been sleeping hours before. He sat up and looked around the room frantically, his eyes scanning the bedroom for any sign of her.

He jumped out of bed and flung open the doors to the sitting room, feeling the air rush out of his lungs as he looked to the door and saw her bags gone. Only then did he look at the clock on the wall and realize that her flight hadn’t left yet.

A wave of relief washed over him and he ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He checked out his messy hair in the mirror and tried his best to comb it into submission, his heart dancing in his chest as he did. He figured Hannah must have just gotten up early and was probably downstairs waiting for him. That’s when he saw the check sitting on the nightstand. He slumped onto the edge of the bed, picked up the note sitting on top of the check and read it.

He sat for a long time just staring at the paper, going over and over the short note. That was it? That was all she was going to say, that it had been a great experience? What kind of goodbye was that? What kind of thing was that to say after you spent six weeks getting to know someone, sharing intimate secrets, making love?

Sadiq crumpled the note and threw it back on the bed, anger rising in his chest. He glanced back at the door and knew that the bags and Hannah would not be waiting for him downstairs. To confirm it, he checked his cellphone sitting on the other nightstand; there were two messages from Naasir, one to say that he would be driving Hannah to the airport at her request, the second asking if there was anything Naasir could do for him.

He threw the phone on the bed and fell back into the covers, letting the sun heat his bare chest. How could he have been so stupid, he thought to himself. How could he have let his guard down like that? How could he have let himself believe that Hannah was different?

He got up to get a glass of water and the room started to spin. Sadiq made it as far as the sitting area and then fell into a chair, holding his head in his hands. She
was
different, he told himself. She had been kind, authentic, fun, full of life and curiosity. And she had left the money. She was different in so many ways, but still she had hurt him to the core.

He had felt like this before, when he refused to go through with a marriage his parents had arranged for him. It happened six years before, when Sadiq was 22. He was about to graduate Yale and was ready to embark on a life of his own, but his parents had arranged a marriage to a wealthy young girl from El-Shakanish, a girl that would be perfectly suited for Sadiq and would unite two powerful families.

Sadiq, however, had different ideas. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to settle down, so he did what any young man would do, he rebelled. Instead of moving back to El-Shakanish, Sadiq moved from New Haven, Connecticut to an apartment in New York City and started working as a financier for his family’s holdings in the United States, much to his parents’ discontent.

All of these thoughts ran through Sadiq’s mind as he debated whether or not to call Hannah. He was hurting, but tried to put himself in her shoes. Maybe she was hurt, too. Maybe she too was confused by what happened between them. Maybe she was scared of letting him down. Sadiq felt a glimmer of hope and knew that if he talked to her, he might be able to convince her to come back. He got up and walked over to his phone and began to dial when he was interrupted with an unexpected call.

Sadiq looked at the number and balked. His father hadn’t called him in over three years, ever since they had realized Sadiq was serious about not going through with the marriage. His mother had tried to avoid Sadiq, but only in front of his father. When she could, she would sneak away and come to visit him. Now his father was calling him directly and he didn’t know why.

“Hello?” Sadiq said slowly, unsure of what to expect.

“Sadiq? Is that you?”

His jaw tightened as he heard his father’s voice through the phone. “Yes, it’s me. What is it, father?” He cut straight to the chase, assuming that if his father was calling, something bad must have happened.

“It’s your mother. Come to the island. Come right away.”

***

Sadiq went straight to the airport where another jet from the royal fleet was waiting to take him to his parents’ island home. He arrived at the palace to find his mother, Amira, ill in bed and his father, Mehdi, at her bedside. After the initial awkward tension, Sadiq’s father got up, hugged him, and left the room.

“Come here, my son,” Amira said.

“Mother,” Sadiq said, with tears in his eyes. “You’re going to be all right. I know you will.”

A few weeks before, Amira had been diagnosed with a serious heart condition and her health was precarious. She was under doctor’s care and had been instructed to stay in bed for several weeks. Sadiq was taken aback at how ashen her face looked. She was drawn and thin and her long dark hair hung limply on the pillow beneath her.

“Yes, I’ll be fine, my son.” She looked at Sadiq’s face. “But what about you?”

Sadiq sat down in the chair next to the bed. He looked to the door to make sure it was closed tightly before looking back at his mother.

“Did she go?” Amira asked.

Sadiq nodded. He had been in touch with his mother constantly over the past six weeks and knew he couldn’t hide anything from her. Even though his father would object to him bringing a American singer to El-Shakanish, his mother thought it was wonderful.

Each time she had spoken to him on the phone, Amira had sensed a difference in her son. He seemed lighter, freer, and happier than she had ever seen him. She had sensed that Hannah was having a dramatically positive effect on Sadiq, but she also knew that her son was very guarded and she had been worried that that might cause problems for the two of them.

Now, seeing the sadness in his eyes, she knew he had been hurt. “Oh my dear son. I’m so sorry,” she said, stroking his thick hair.

“It’s not her fault, Mother. It’s mine. I was an idiot. I was insensitive. I was…”

“Shh, now. Listen to me.” Amira tilted her son’s face up and looked him straight in the eye. “We are not a family of weaklings. We have survived famines, drought and war. We do not give up. Do you hear me?”

Sadiq nodded.

“Do you love this girl?”

Sadiq didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know, Mother. I’ve never loved anyone before; I don’t know what it feels like.”

His mother clapped her hands above her head and laughed. “Ha! Then you are in love. If it’s something you’ve never felt before and you’re feeling it now—it must be love!”

A smile crept over Sadiq’s face and he felt his heart lighten.

“Now,” Amira continued, “if you love this girl, you must go after her. Don’t give up, remember?”

Sadiq nodded and pulled his mother’s hands up to his mouth, kissing them. He smiled and let out a long sigh, wondering if she was right. They sat together for a while as Sadiq filled his mother in on the tour and how he was thinking of starting his own record company before he eventually came to inherit the throne. Before long, his mother became tired, and Sadiq left her alone to rest.

He spent the next few hours wandering around his parents’ estate, thinking about what he should do. When it was time to return to the jet, his father asked if he could escort him in the car. The two men sat in the back of the limo talking about Sadiq’s mother, her health and a few family business affairs. Finally, Mehdi turned to him with a solemn expression.

“Sadiq,” he said in a quiet but firm voice. “You are my son. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but that doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”

Sadiq watched as his father, normally so cool and in control, cleared his throat and picked at his fingernails.

“I know, Father,” he said, watching the tension fall from Mehdi’s face. “I love you, too. It’s just that I’m a grown man now, and I have my own ideas, my own plans, my own dreams. I want to do things that are different from what you want for me. That doesn’t make them wrong. It doesn’t make them unacceptable. It just means they’re different.”

“Yes, I think I’m starting to learn that,” his father said softly.

“Father, all I’ve ever wanted is to be happy. And right now, all I want is for you to accept me for who I am, no matter what that means.”

Mehdi looked at him and blinked. Sadiq had never seen his father afraid, but for an instant, he thought he saw a hint of something flash behind his eyes.

“I will do whatever it takes to make you happy,” his father said. “Because I’m scared that if I don’t, I might lose you again.”

The words pierced Sadiq’s heart. He was hearing the words he had longed to hear his entire life.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Sadiq threw his arms around his father and hugged him tightly. When the two men separated, both of their faces were wet with tears.

“So, tell me about this jazz singer,” Mehdi said with a grin.

Sadiq looked at his father in surprise. Then the two men smiled, and spoke in unison. “Mother.”

***

When he returned to the palace on the mainland, Sadiq found he had a renewed sense of purpose. He was overjoyed that his relationship with his father had been restored, but he was also more worried than ever about his mother’s health. He spent the next few days staying on top of his father’s affairs so that he could spend more time with his wife until she was fully recovered. He also contacted all of the clubs that Hannah had performed at to personally thank them for allowing her to put on her shows.

The days rolled into weeks and Sadiq was still unsure what to do about Hannah. He kept himself busy with work, his parents and looking into opportunities to further establish himself in the music business. When his days ended, he would go up to his room alone and listen to the recordings he had made of all of Hannah’s performances, wondering where she was and what she was doing, and if she was thinking about him, too.

NINETEEN

Hannah’s first few weeks back in Brooklyn were far from easy. The catering company had taken on several new people and couldn’t offer her any more than a couple of shifts a week—nowhere near enough to pay her bills. She started looking for singing gigs, but found things were worse than when she’d first arrived in New York. The jobs had been few and far between then; now that she’d been fired from her only singing job in the city, she was having no luck at all.

In addition to her time with Sadiq having done a number on her emotionally, singing almost every night for six weeks had taken its toll on Hannah’s body. The day she had got home from El-Shakanish, she had fallen into bed and slept for almost sixteen hours. When she finally awoke and began looking for work, she did so with dark circles under her eyes and a rasping voice. She had come down with a terrible cold and found herself searching the want ads over a hot cup of chicken noodle soup and a box of tissues. She laughed ruefully at the irony of it all; even if she had managed to find a singing job, she wouldn’t have been able to perform. It was just as well, really, because every time she thought of singing it made her think about Sadiq, and she figured that being in a club would only bring that memory home even more.

Hannah had been back in the city for about a week when Chloe returned from her trip and asked her friend to fill her in on everything that had happened in the time she’d been away. Hannah spoke for what seemed like hours about the fascinating history of El-Shakanish and the kindness of its people, going into vivid detail describing the ruins, temples and other places Sadiq had taken her, and talking at length about the palace, the grounds and the staff she had met.

“And,” Chloe said when Hannah was done.

“And what?” Hannah answered through a tissue.

“And what about the Sheikh? You seem to have left out any details about him.” Chloe eyed her friend suspiciously.

Hannah sat back against the sofa and rubbed her red nose. “Oh, him.”

“Yeah, him,” Chloe said, ribbing her friend. She had not heard one thing about him the entire six weeks and now, after listening to Hannah go on about her trip for so long, she was dying to know everything about her time with the international playboy.

“C’mon, Hannah, tell me all the dirty little details,” she said, laughing.

A flush ran up Hannah’s body and she felt her face heat up. The words ‘dirty little secret’ reminded her of how Sadiq thought of her. She grabbed another tissue and started to dab at her nose, and then moved up to her eyes to wipe away the tears that had started to form.

Chloe noticed and scooted in close to her friend. “Han, what is it? Did I say something to upset you?”

Hannah just shook her head, but Chloe realized what had happened.

“It was him, wasn’t it? Did he do something? Did he hurt you? You tell me where he is, Han, and I swear to you, I’ll go beat the snot out of him. Don’t let this delicate frame fool you,” she said, pointing to her curvy figure. “I was raised on the street and know how to use these guns.” She lifted her arms up and flexed her biceps.

Hannah laughed in spite of herself. She reached her hand out and gently lowered Chloe’s arm. “No, he didn’t hurt me. I mean, not intentionally, I don’t think.”

“I want to know all about it, everything. But first, let me get some wine.”

“You might want to get a lot,” said Hannah. “It might take a while.”

Chloe went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle and a glass and returned to the living room. She poured a glass then sat back and listened as Hannah told her everything that had happened between her and Sadiq from the moment she got into the limo in Brooklyn, right up until she said goodbye to Naasir at the airport.

Chloe sat quietly, wishing she could do something that would take away Hannah’s pain. She wanted to see her friend happy; after everything she had been through with Harvey, she deserved to be treated with dignity and respect.

She slid in next to Hannah and put her arm around her. “Listen, honey, all I know is that you tried. You took a chance on yourself, on him, on your future, which is a heck of a lot than most people are willing to do. Maybe it just didn’t work out the way you wanted it to.”

Hannah sunk into Chloe’s arm and sobbed softly.

“But,” Chloe continued, “That doesn’t mean you give up. It just means that you try again, with another club, another gig, another tour. Heck, maybe even another sheikh!” She could feel Hannah laugh against her arm. “And next time,” Chloe added, “you keep the money at the end of it.”

The two friends sat up talking, crying and laughing into the night.