ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (6 page)

Jameela was beaming by this, and in that instant she saw Selena in the background, making faces and pointing her finger at Al-Hafeez. Then she wagged at her knowingly, and slipped her hands behind her as Al-Hafeez turned to see what had captured Jameela’s attention. Selena waved then and hurried off.

“Now is a great time,” Jameela smiled and stood. She saw the woman again when she was leaving and she gave her the thumbs up sign.

“So, I made reservations at one of the best places I like to eat,” he told her.

“And where would that be? Five-star restaurant along the coast?” she asked as she tried to think of somewhere expensive he might like.

“No,” he said and laughed. “Home.”

Jameela froze after he spoke. “Wait, we are going to the palace?” she asked him.

“That would be where I live,” he agreed. “There is no place I prefer eating than home.”

He had this childlike deference about him when he spoke of home that melted Jameela, and distracted her from her present anxiety. “I had you completely wrong,” she told him.

“Is that so?” he asked her. “Can’t say I blame you; we each started out on bad footing. When I first came to the office I was instantly taken by you, but under the circumstances, and after that snowball you tossed at me, I reacted.”

“You reacted?” she asked and laughed. “That’s quite a reaction.” She suddenly grew quiet and her eyes focused on the scenery as they came closer to his home. “I have to be honest with you about something. There was a reason behind my being so cold to you from the start.” She sighed and looked over at curious eyes. “Remember when I told you my grandfather had a gambling problem? He had an estate along the coast, just a few miles from here. I used to love going there in the summertime.” A wave of nostalgia hit her and she smiled as she reflected, until she saw his face and was once again riveted to the present. She cleared her throat and continued. “He made a habit of going to the gentlemen’s clubs and gambling houses. He wagered more than he had one night, and when he couldn’t pay, the man he lost to asked for the deed to the house. That man was your grandfather. I figured I’d let you pay for him robbing me of my inheritance.”

“Why did you change your mind?” he asked, a shocked expression on his face as he tried to absorb what she was saying.

“When I went to the precinct and saw the victim’s brother,” she told him. “I guess something within me wouldn’t let a man be punished for a crime he didn’t commit,” she told him.

“Life has a funny way of getting back at us,” he told her. “What are the odds we meet like this?”

“What indeed?” she asked. She sat up straight then when she saw them approaching the huge bronze gate, and she looked over nervously at him.

“Don’t worry,” he told her as the gates opened and he drove along the all too familiar path that circled the fountain at the main entrance. “They will love you.”

“Why am I here again?” Jameela asked nervously, suddenly intimidated by the elegance and glamour of the palace. She had never had more than a passing glance, and she was surprised there weren’t guards posted everywhere like the Buckingham Palace.

“For lunch,” he reminded her and took her hand as they met at the front of the car. “And no, we don’t care much for an array of guards; Father prefers the palace looking like home still,” he said as if he was able to read her mind. “No, I can’t read minds either,” he leaned over and teased. “It just seems to be the first thing everyone notices. I would know, I’ve witnessed enough tours.”

“And now I get my own personal guide,” she said and walked off next to him.

“That you do,” he replied and stroked her hand that was now draped through his. For the remainder of the afternoon Jameela enjoyed the Ramadan hospitality. She met the kitchen and wait staff, was served a delightful lunch, and later received a tour of the palace. She was surprised to find that beneath the grandeur of the place, there was a sincere feeling of homeliness. She had always thought it would feel like a crypt—cold and devoid of human interaction. She was served the opposite, and the longer she remained there, the more she felt ashamed of her earlier perceptions.

As soon as they got back in the car later that afternoon, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in for a vicious kiss. She had wanted to feel him on her ever since she had seen him earlier at the office, but after seeing him in his domicile, whatever she thought she was feeling for Al-Hafeez, she had been wrong. In a matter of weeks, she had moved from loathing the man, to feelings of indifference that had quickly transformed into something she was not quite ready to define.

He responded to her by pulling her into him as his hands probed her thin frame, and he crushed her against him. Then he pulled back, and raked her hair behind her ear. “What do you suppose we should do after I am freed of all charges?”

“You assume they will find nothing else,” she replied.

“There is nothing else to find,” he told her. “I didn’t kill the man; neither did I authorize anyone to.”

“Still, something may come up and you may need my expertise for a little while longer,” she teased.

“But I do need your expertise for a little while longer,” he answered, then dipped his head so that he nuzzled her neck. “I just don’t think any judge would mind.”

Jameela laughed at his insinuation, and squealed as the seat fell back. “There are some who might try,” she giggled as he tickled her with his tongue.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he whispered against her neck.

“Maybe we should leave,” she suggested, suddenly uneasy that they were still parked in his courtyard and may be spotted. That was not the impression she wanted to convey after her first visit.

“I have an idea,” he said as he adjusted her seat and then turned the key into the ignition. “I think your client is going to need you for the rest of the evening, so you won’t be able to get back to the office.”

Jameela looked over at him. “It would be wrong to deny my client the services he requires,” she said and bit her lips.

“Very,” he replied and sank his foot on the accelerator.

The desire that burned within them overpowered everything at present, and they spent the afternoon, locked away in Jameela’s apartment, exploring the curves and turns of their bodies. Never had she experienced such pleasure before, and she marveled at how easily he knocked her over the edge. Night found them locked in each other’s arms, lost in dreamless sleep. Such was their state of contentment.

Jameela awakened the next morning to an empty bed, a note from Al-Hafeez that he had to leave early and didn’t want to wake her, and a frantic telephone message from Ahmad, that her client had been attacked earlier that morning.

Jameela sat there frozen as she tried to comprehend everything she had just read and heard. Surely it must be another client, for Al-Hafeez was just there with her. Ahmad must have been mistaken. Then, as if reacting to an electrical charge, she bolted out of bed and picked up her phone. She dialed Ahmad’s number and paced the floor while raking her hands through her hair. The phone only rang twice, but it seemed it had been ringing for too long. She snapped as soon as she picked up.

“What client?’ she asked nervously.

“The police found the Sheik earlier this morning slumped over the wheel of his car. He had been attacked and beaten,” the man told her.

“Oh my God!” Jameela exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hand as the felt hot tears stinging her eyes. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

“He is at the Memorial hospital, but they are only allowing family members in,” he told her.

“I need to go there,” she said as if the last few words the man had just told her had not registered into her brain.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Only family,” he repeated.

“I don’t care. He is my client, and he is hurt. I am going over there,” she almost shouted.

“Okay,” he told her. “I’m surprised at your sudden concern for him.” She knew her actions might betray her, but she didn’t have the time to think about that now. She needed to go to him.

“There is a lot about me that would,” she told him.

“Well let me know if you hear anything. It would be a damn shame if this snowballed into something worse,” he sighed.

“Something worse? Isn’t this bad enough?” Jameela asked.

“It is alleged the beating was in retaliation of Manseh’s death. The man has developed some rotten luck of late; first the gambling problem, then the murder charges, and now a beating.”

“Indeed,” Jameela replied, and she too sighed. “Listen, I’ve got to go,” she said and hurried the man off the phone. Her head was spinning and she sat down quickly to gather her bearings. She closed her eyes to quell the rising tide within her. When she did, her mind was instantly filled with memories of the short time they had spent together. She began to feel the anxiety increase, and she started hyperventilating. She was shaking as she splashed water on her face; her measly attempt at getting it together. She somehow managed to. Her nerves took over in her Volvo, and her anger clouded her vision as she sped to the hospital.

She ejected from the car as soon as it screeched to a stop and bounded the steps that led to the reception area. The woman behind the desk stared alarmingly at her as she practically crashed into the faux wooden partition.

“Sheikh Al-Hafeez Ramadan,” she said breathlessly. “Which room is he in?”

“Are you family?” the woman asked.

“No, but I am his lawyer,” she replied confidently, as if that would be enough.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’ve been given strict instructions not to allow anyone but family inside,” she said and then relaxed into her chair with a face as cold as stone. There was no changing her mind, but Jameela was determined to try.

“Come on,” she said and slammed her hand on the counter. “I have a vested interest in the well-being of my client, and if you don’t allow me to see him…”

“You will what? Sue me?” the woman asked and smirked at Jameela.

“It’s okay, she can go in,” Jameela heard someone say behind her. When she turned she was face to face with the elder Ramadan.

“Sir, what happened?” Jameela rushed over to the man and asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he came home last night. Maybe got mixed up with those thugs again,” he said sadly and in defeat.

Jameela was awash with embarrassment, but she couldn’t deny he was with her and allow his father to think he had had a relapse. Even while he was in the middle of a scandal the family wanted to keep under wraps. “No, he wasn’t on the streets,” she said and looked away, rubbing her arms uncomfortably. “He was with me.”

The old man raised his brows, but there was nothing disapproving in his eyes. It was far more acceptable to him that he had been in bed with his lawyer than another bookie. “Oh?” he asked, and then smiled. “You were at the house yesterday, right?”

“That’s right Sir,” she replied. Then she folded her arms and skipped ahead to escape an uncomfortable conversation. “I was told he was attacked?” she asked.

“That’s what they said. He is resting now; just banged up a bit,” he said and wiped his hand down his face. “To think of all the times I have told my son about the dangers of business with men such as those. My father was a gambler too, and it seemed he inherited it from him. Only he had better luck than Al-Hafeez.”

Jameela’s sucked in a deep breath after the man reminded her of her own grandfather’s poor luck; the same kind Al-Hafeez had inherited. “I think he has learned his lesson.”

“You think?” he asked and looked at her hopefully.

“Yes,” she replied. “There was something about the way he said it that was sincere. It’s just a pity that it had to take all of this,” she said and looked down the corridor she supposed he was resting at the moment. “May I see him?”

“Oh, sure,” he replied. “If I know my son he will want to see you too.”

He led Jameela down the corridor, and she could barely hear the echoing of their heels on the tiles over the drumming of her heart. He was in a private wing of the building, and when she finally opened his door, he was sitting up in bed, and obviously in pain. He was half covered in white bandages, and one eye was completely hidden. The elder Ramadan moved back and nodded at her, acknowledging the privacy they probably needed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he told her and smiled, and then coughed as the pressure hit his lungs.

“I don’t know about that; it looks pretty bad from here,” she said and closed the door as she moved closer to him.

“Just a scratch,” he joked, but she found nothing funny about the machines beeping in the room or the other hazel eye she could not see.

“Why did you leave so early? None of this would have happened if you hadn’t,” she said and sat on the chair next to the bed.

He leaned over and seemed to be making a conscious effort to. “I think they would have gotten to me one way or another. I’m not even mad,” he said and fell back with a thud on the bed. “Maybe this is penance.”

She was about to respond when she felt her hip vibrating. She jumped, much to his amusement and then reached for her phone. It was a number she did not recognize. “Hold that thought,” she told him and stood. “This is Jameela Harding,” she whispered into the headset.

“Miss Harding,” the voice said on the other side of the line. “This is Mr. Malinga.”

“Oh,” she said as she looked back suspiciously at him. “I wasn’t expecting your call.” Al-Hafeez’s curiosity was peaked when he saw the expression on her face.

“There has been some new development. I take it you have been told of the incident with your client. We have reason to believe my client was responsible for the attack. He has escaped our custody, but we are searching for him at the moment. In light of that, there has been a full pardon of the charges brought against Sheikh Al-Hafeez.”

“That’s good news,” she told the man and sighed with relief. “Thank you for calling.”

“Who was that?” he asked as soon as she had hung up.

“That was Mr. Malinga. As it turns out, all charges have been dropped. They know Manseh’s brother attacked you, and they are now searching for him. So, when you leave this hospital room, I will no longer be your lawyer.”