Slave to the Sheikh: (8 page)

              “I—I don’t understand.”

              “As is our custom, an honor union
can only be invoked by the man under contract.”  His lips quirked into a rueful grin.  “Yes, Sharjah is progressive in many ways, but there remain some traditions that are antiquated, I know.  That’s what I meant when I said technically, Sabeen can’t actually break the contract.  And this is why it is no longer considered appropriate to enter into betrothal contracts.  They are almost unheard of today.  My point however, is this—if Amir has produced an heir, then under the traditions of our old laws, he may take the mother of his heir as his first wife, meaning Sabeen would have to settle for the title of second wife—”

              “I thought such practices were banned years ago.”

              “They were, but as I said, their parents established that contract twenty some years ago.  Times have changed but the laws governing the old ways still exist for these old traditions.  Do not worry, Sabeen won’t be marrying him now.  This is what I meant by concessions being made.  Amir knew Sabeen would be too proud to accept the title of second wife, she’s also far too modern, but the contract still must be honored.” His eyes darkened then, forcing me to draw in a sharp breath.  I knew that look, had seen it upon Amir’s face many times before. 
Possession. 
Something dark and dangerous swirled in those shadowed depths.  I hadn’t realized or even considered it before, but the two cousins shared more than just their chiseled good looks and deep baritone voices.

              “You took Amir’s place.”  It wasn’t a question because I already knew.  I was no fan of Sabeen, but the expression on Khalil’s face filled me with pity for her and compassion for him. 
He loved her.
And from what little I’d gleaned in my brief time in her company, Sabeen had no idea.  My heart actually ached for him.  He’d had to sit back and watch as the woman he loved, ignored him while she humiliated herself, openly chasing after and throwing herself at a man who didn’t want her. That the man was as close to him as his own brother, must have tortured him.  All these years, he’d been forced to bury his feelings, pretend they didn’t exist.  Somehow I knew he’d never told a soul, not even Amir, of his desire for Sabeen, because he knew he could never have her.

              Under normal circumstances, I would have chirped out something very encouraging like ‘all’s well that ends well’, but I already knew when it came to my fate and my role in this whole ‘strategy’ nothing would be well.  In some sadistic way, I took a perverse bit of pleasure in knowing that Sabeen wasn’t going to walk away unscathed either.

              As if awakened by Amir’s touch, the submissive within me recognized that rough edge of dominance in another.  I also sensed in Khalil that his brand of dominance was darker, rougher, his need to possess driven by baser instincts; which he’d carefully masked by his seemingly carefree, frivolous nature.

              I shuddered at the intensity of his gaze, because within his eyes I saw her fate.  He would punish Sabeen until he broke her, until her needs became so entwined with his that pleasing him would become more important than anything else, until she woke up one day and it would take but one command and her body would comply without hesitation, that’s when she would realize that her body no longer belonged to her, it was
his
, and not just her body, but all of her, even her soul would submit and she would wonder how she’d ever existed before she’d become his absolute possession.

              He nodded.  “Yes, I agreed to honor the contract,” he said eventually.  “Sabeen truly had no choice in the matter unless she was prepared to suffer the humiliation of existing in a loveless marriage as Amir’s second wife.”

              Khalil did well in hiding it, but I’d still glimpsed the brief flash of anguish across his face.  Ooooh, when I got my hands on that little bitch.  I’d spent almost three months with the man, long enough to witness the absurdity of such behavior, but I’d seen it with my own eyes. Women actually
fought
like street cats for his affection and attention, so to hear that Sabeen, in all her ungracious ungratefulness, had thrown his offer
back
into his face made me want to pummel her.  Apparently she’d finally come to her senses and accepted his offer to take Amir’s place, but not before she’d done some damage. Whatever pity I’d felt for her before, was long gone.  She needed to be taught several lessons in humility, and I knew Khalil was just the man to do it.

              “You have yet to ask of your fate,” Khalil remarked with a small grin, as if reading my thoughts. 

              I chuckled.  “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.”  And just like that, the easy moment between us quickly passed.  He grew serious again, and the room seemed to chill several degrees.

“An honor union,
allows a man, at least in theory, to marry the woman he desires and father her children.  He got you pregnant, so he will marry you.  In turn, he has also seen that the betrothal contract is honored by finding his betrothed an acceptable match.  When he and Sabeen go before their parents, you and I shall stand beside our intended and agree to fulfill our obligations in this.  All parties should agree and everyone walks away satisfied with the outcome.  The only problem is that you are a foreigner.”

“And that’s a problem, why?”

              “Because under
misfar al-sharaf,
you have no rights.”

              “But you just said it allows a man to marry the woman he knocked up.”

              “I said in
theory.
What I say next, just know that I am not saying it to hurt you, but I need you to fully understand your predicament.”

              I nodded when I realized he was waiting on my permission to finish.

              “Amir can
only
get out of his betrothal contract if a woman, who is not his intended, is pregnant.  There is no other way, he had to get
someone
pregnant.  Had he chosen a woman of Sharjah, he would still have to marry her, but she would be afforded the customary rights and protections that come with marriage, but instead he chose you.  Because you are foreign-born, under
misfar al-sharaf,
your marriage to him is at his discretion.  The second I marry Sabeen, the contract terms will be fulfilled and he is free to do whatever he pleases regarding you.  If he wishes to discard you and marry another he is free to do so.  He only has to acknowledge your child, no matter the gender, but if your child is not a boy, then he is not obligated to claim your child as his heir, or give your baby his name, which means your daughter would not be entitled to anything upon his death. In truth, once he is completely free of his contract, he can do whatever he wishes with you and your child.  If you have a boy, and he claims him as his heir, but no longer desires your presence he can send you home, and you would be powerless to return without his permission.”  He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, I could actually hear the remorse in his voice.  “I am truly sorry, Daniella, but my cousin used you to get out of his contract.  I would never have believed him capable of this but…”

              His voice trailed off because I’d begun to cry.  The pain I’d felt when I’d discovered Amir was engaged, paled in comparison to this gut wrenching agony.  I was vaguely aware of Khalil’s arms encircling me when my soft cries turned to outright sobs.

              Amir had warned me of my impending fate.  Had he not told me I was to be his slave? And so I’d been, all the while believing that I’d pierced his hardened heart, that at some point he would return my love.

              Bitterness welled up inside of me.  He’d set out to get me pregnant to break some stupid contract.  It was unfathomable and twisted in so many ways.  He needed the wife and child, but only for a short while, and then he could just send us both packing because I had no rights under this
honor
union.  I knew all about these shitty customs that were mostly obsolete, and how they punished and oppressed women, especially foreign women.  I’d been stupid enough to get knocked up by a native-born man of principle and so I didn’t deserve to have any rights, power, or freedom? Truthfully, I’d always known I was at his mercy, and in so many ways, given that he was the regent of Sharjah, but naively I believed he respected me enough to never violate my trust and faith in him. I cried even harder then.  I didn’t care about me so much.  A gaping wound would forever remain in the place my heart had once been, but I would survive Amir’s betrayal.  What I would never survive was the loss of my baby.  If Amir woke up one day and decided he’d had enough, I would be forced to leave, and
without
my child, if that’s what he wished.

              That realization was like ice water to my face.  My tears abruptly stopped, even though the feelings of betrayal still remained, but instead of feeling sorry for myself, I used every ounce of pain and anguish I felt to propel myself into action.

              “You have to help me get out of here,
now
.”

              Khalil look puzzled at first, but when comprehension dawned on him he shook his head.  “Amir will be furious.  He’s not expected to return from Cairo until tomorrow.  If he finds you gone—”

              “I don’t care.” I narrowed my eyes at him.  “I have no intention of giving that monster the opportunity to take my baby away.  So you can either help me or I
will
find another way. “

              He pursed his lips and frowned.  I could tell a war waged within him.  If he helped me and Amir found out, he would never forgive him, but if I took my chances with black market smugglers to get out of Sharjah and something terrible happened to me, not only would Amir never forgive him, Khalil would never forgive himself.

              “I told you what I did so that you would be armed with knowledge, so that you would have leverage.  Not so that you could run away.  The woman I know is strong, courageous—”

              “The woman you know also has someone else to think about besides herself—”

              “You love him, and yet you can so easily give up and walk away.” 

I knew what he was up to, but I refused to allow Khalil to goad me.  I was refused to allow the disappointment in his eyes to shake my resolve. 

I regarded him coolly, with a sure confidence that belied my tenuous predicament. “It’s not love, Khalil, not if the person doesn’t love you back.”

CHAPTER NINE

4 months later

Amir stared at the glass in his hand as if transfixed by the potent amber liquid that at one time had served to numb his pain, but each day it’s affect upon his senses lessened.  One day he knew it would do nothing but cloud his mind and thoughts, but it would no longer have the power to dull his pain. That notion led him to tighten his grip around the glass.  Nothing on this earth could dull his pain, save one person, and she’d lied to him, betrayed him, and then she’d abandoned him as soon as he’d turned his back.

The bitch.

The glass gave way to the pressure of his forceful grip.  It was only his lightening quick reflexes that kept his hand from being sliced open by the shards of glass that crumbed to the titled floor.

One of the employees suddenly appeared out of the shadows to clean up the mess, as he inquired if Amir needed medical attention.  When he received no response, the young man disappeared back into the swirling mist of cigar smoke that filled the gaming room where a few patrons still gambled away their fortunes, while well paid exotic escorts fawned and flattered them.

A gentlemen’s club was no place for the ruler of Sharjah to idle his days and nights, not even if it was a private, exclusive establishment for the billionaire oil tycoons and wealthy Westerners who were eager to indulge in the luxury and decadence of Dubai. 

With a bitter smile, he corrected himself,
former
ruler of Sharjah, but no matter, Amir knew it was only a matter of time before the rumors made their way back to his country and the powers that be discovered where he’d disappeared to for the past three months.

A cavalry would be dispatched to retrieve him then, and they would try to reason with him to resume his rightful position as the regent of Sharjah, but he would refuse.  It wasn’t fair to his people or even himself to return.  He wasn’t fit to lead, not with his mind always consumed with thoughts of
the bitch
, for he could not bear to even think her name, the pain was too raw. 

When he’d returned from Cairo, and discovered her gone, he’d sent his best spies and investigators searching for her, first within Sharjah, and then within neighboring countries.  When they’d turned up nothing, he’d sent Khalil, along with more of his men, first to Georgetown University where she was a professor, and then he’d had them scour the entire Eastern Seaboard of the fucking United States. 
Nothing. 

No traces, not one sign of her anywhere.  She’d taken a leave of absence from her job.  She’d rented out her home. And no one was talking.  Not her family, not her colleagues, it was as if she’d vanished.  The only solace that kept him halfway sane was the knowledge that she was definitely alive and apparently well, because when Khalil returned, he’d given Amir an envelope that had come directly from Daniella’s mother.  The envelope had been sealed and addressed to him, and to this day he wished he’d never opened it, but at the time he’d been so desperate for something, just one word, just a hint of how she was doing.  A simple handwritten note, such a feeble connection to her, but he’d grasped it in his hand as desperately as a drowning man gasping for air.

Every single word was forever imprinted in his memory.  It was a scathing character assault, a vitriolic denial of everything they’d shared.  He’d wanted to rip the letter to shreds, but it had still carried her unique scent, when nothing else of hers that remained in her abandoned villa did.  It was a sultry combination of blooming roses and warm, rich vanilla.  In one breath, fresh and sweet, while in the next, sultry and intoxicating—just like her. 

After receiving her letter, he’d stopped searching for her.  Somehow she’d learned how betrothal contracts were broken among Sharjah’s nobility. 
Misfar al-Sharaf
.  After telling him she was not pregnant, in no uncertain terms she also told him she had no intention of remaining in Sharjah because she would not be used in such a way. In a few paragraphs scribbled out in her bold handwriting, she made it quite clear that she hated him, and that she never wanted to see him ever again. 

He was not a man to give up so easily, but once his anger had waned, he was forced to accept the truth, she didn’t love him.  And no matter what he did, she never would.  He could search the ends of the earth, and even if he found her, it wouldn’t matter.  He couldn’t force her to love him if she didn’t.  He had a life that most envied, but for all the fancy education and abundance of riches, he could not have the one thing he would give it all up for—the love of the one, and only woman, he’d ever given his heart to.

Once he’d accepted his fate, the spiral had begun.  He’d abdicated his rulership at once, mostly because in the month long search for
her
, he could barely make it to any of his meetings, he’d cancelled all of his scheduled trips, and the budgets and reports Fatimah put on his desk had begun to pile up and over onto the floor.   

Once he’d given up his position as regent, the only thing left for him to do was to end the farce that was his betrothal.  Sheikh Abdul al-Mujaher, Sabeen’s father, his
own godfather.  Amir had believed him a man of the old ways, but soon discovered his assumption had been very wrong.  Left widowed by his beloved Ethiopian wife after just ten years of marriage, Abdul had found himself raising three very beautiful, precocious, headstrong daughters.  Admittedly, he’d spoiled them, which was probably why when Amir met with him to end the betrothal contract, Abdul didn’t wage a blood feud or some other antiquated custom meant to avenge the perceived slight to his honor.  It was obvious in his eyes, the deep love he held for his daughter when he spoke.  Sabeen’s father wanted her to find happiness above all else, and had long ago realized she would never be happy with a man who did not love her. 

Abdul had truly surprised him when Amir had stood before him and told him he could not marry his daughter because he loved another woman.  Not only had Abdul accepted Amir’s reasoning for absolving the betrothal contract, he’d praised his honesty, saying he considered it far more honorable for a man to admit the truth and accept his fate, then to enter into a marriage for no other reason than the fear of losing face and power. Abdul had known how much Amir had risked by doing what he’d done. Not only his rulership, but his honor, that of his family’s name, and his family’s pride.  The older Sheikh had even gone so far as to admit he’d long wished to nullify the contract, but had seen no way to do so without deeply offending Amir’s father, and longtime friend. Both men had known the traditional nullification of the contract could only be executed if Amir entered into a
misfar al-sharaf,
which Amir had always rejected.  He would never use a woman as an escape clause, and despite how much she irritated him, he would never resort to humiliating Sabeen in such a manner. 

As such, there was no precedent for their actions. Both Abdul and Amir knew the other noble families would balk if they just shook hands and walked away, claiming the al-Azizs’ thought themselves above the law as the ruling family of Sharjah.  If not handled properly it could turn ugly with power challenges from the other families. 

Khalil had presented him with an alternative, to which Sabeen had surprisingly seemed amenable, which left Amir suspicious.  Sabeen was not known for being amenable to anything, but he hadn’t dwelled on her odd behavior long.  She was now Khalil’s problem.  

After sharing with Abdul his plan, the older man had carefully considered Amir’s proposal, before he offered a reply, “If Sabeen and Khalil are both in agreement, as well as yourself and your parents, then I do not object and I doubt any of the other families shall protest, as long as you understand that they must be properly appeased, of course.”

Oh, of course Amir knew
exactly
what Abdul meant by proper appeasement.  Gifts would flow like rivers from the al-Aziz family to practically everyone in Sharjah.  First, to Sabeen’s father because Amir needed to give the appearance that he was begging the al-Mujaher’s for their forgiveness, and then to the remaining noble families, also for the same reason, to beg their pardon, so that he did not appear as if he was above the law.  In the end, everyone would get what they wanted, and all parties would walk away happy.

That was all parties except for
him
. 

Once the matter of his betrothal had been settled, Amir had considered his affairs in order, and had promptly disappeared.  Sabeen and Khalil’s wedding had taken place a month later, and with Amir still in the wind and given his very noticeable absence from his cousin’s wedding, the gossip rags had reported he’d been suffering from the bitter heartbreak of lost love and betrayal—that his cousin would steal his bride. 

Well at least they’d gotten half of it right.

He looked down at his hand, wanting another drink only to remember what had happened to the last.  He could already hear his mother’s reprimand—proper men of Sharjah didn’t consume alcohol.  Amir let out a wry chuckle, full of deprecation, proper men of Sharjah didn’t do a lot of the things he’d done. 

It was approaching dawn, or so he guessed since there were no windows in the room, but the place was starting to empty so he figured daybreak was close.               He stumbled to his feet, deciding against ordering another drink.  He would just drown himself in one of the many bottles awaiting him back in his suite, and hopefully pass out for the rest of the day. If he was lucky he would awaken from a dreamless sleep, but it was more than likely that he would once again dream of
her,
only to awaken to the reality that her curves were not still pressed against him in sleep after he’d spent the night losing himself over and over again inside her tight, wet cunt.

He entered his room with a furious curse, not even bothering to flip the light on as he stalked toward the bar.  He hated that he still wanted her, and that she still managed to consume his every fucking thought. 

Amir was so distracted that it took him five strides before he drew up short.  His light was now on when he knew he’d turned it off before he’d left. 

He spun around, another curse slicing through the air as his anger bubbled over.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well good-morning, brother.  I would say it’s nice to see you too, but you look like shit and death—”

“And you smell even worse.”

“It could be the room, Nasir.” Khalil said to his brother, as he lifted his nose to the sky and actually sniffed the air. “It reeked before he even walked in.”

Amir glared at his two cousins, Nasir and Khalil, and his younger brother, Malik.

He narrowed his eyes when his brother started to chuckle.

“Fuck you.”

He looked at Khalil then.  His cousin now grinned, but even his notorious dimpled grin could not disguise the strain lines framing his mouth, nor the tension that furrowed his brow, and especially not the weathered look in his eyes.  He recognized the face of a man who was reaching the end of his rope, and Amir highly doubted searching for
him
was to blame. 
Sabeen. 
His expression softened at the thought of what that woman was probably putting him through, and for a moment he actually felt sorry for him.  Until he remembered Khalil—although unintentionally—had still had a hand in his misery. 

A week before Amir had left, Khalil had admitted everything, even as he admitted that he realized he’d been wrong, and asked for his forgiveness.  Eventually, he’d forgiven his cousin, who thought he’d only been doing what was right, but not before his fists had also made their point about butting into his private life.

“What are you smiling about? You look worse than dog shit too.  I take it married life isn’t treating you so well.”

Khalil’s eyes flashed dangerously.  “I’ll let that slide cause I know you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough,” he muttered under his breath.  “But please, don’t do me any favors, Khalil. Your favors have a way of fucking up my life—“

“Stop this, brother.  We’re here to help—”

“Well then you can leave, because I didn’t ask for your help.”  His eyes sharpened on Malik, as his lips twisted into a mocking grin.  “But I already know, none of you are here to help me, especially not you dear
brother,
second eldest son
. 
Running a country must really be cutting into your social life right about now.  Hard work, isn’t it, and I know you don’t have the head for politics.”  Amir reached for the bottle of whiskey he’d been looking forward to downing before he’d been ambushed.  He opened it and took a quick swig, ignoring the matching frowns of the three men before him.  “Cause all of us know that when you’re not flying or in the field, the only head you ever think with is the one you can’t seem to keep in your pants. 

“Hey.” He shouted, as if he had a brilliant thought; and still holding the bottle of liquor in his hand, he hoisted it into the air, causing brown liquid to slosh all over his knuckles and onto the floor.  “If
you
had been the ruling sheikh, you would have invoked
misfar al-sharaf
many times over.” He chuckled.  “Babies everywhere, no betrothal would have been a problem for you.”  He laughed harder, pleased with himself for making what he considered such a brilliant deduction. 

Malik cut his eyes at him.  A pilot and intelligence officer in the military, it was no secret that he had no interest or desire to be stuck in one place or on the ground for that matter. Same was true when it came to women—he never stayed with or
in
one for very long.  He wouldn’t apologize for appreciating and indulging in the opposite sex, and it was because of his cavalier ways, that the last thing he would allow his brother to accuse him of was being reckless. 
Protection
was as sacred to him as religion was to others.  Amir obviously couldn’t say the same or else they wouldn’t be standing there now.