Sheikh's Scandal(12)

“As emir I have many ruling responsibilities.” Which were supposed to increase tenfold when he became melech after his wedding to Tahira.

A wedding that wasn’t going to take place now, not after she’d eloped with a man a year her junior and significant levels beneath her in status.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’m not sure.” She looked at him like he was supposed to explain the conversation to her.

“You’re smashed.”

“And you want to be.”

“You’re guessing.”

“My brain may be fuzzy, but it’s still working.”

“Yes?”

“You guessed I wanted a private place to drink because you do, too.”

“That’s succinct reasoning for a woman who probably couldn’t walk a straight line.”

“I’d prefer not to try walking at all right now, thanks.” She waved a surprisingly elegant hand.

“I’ll get my own drink, then.”

She made a sound like a snort, putting a serious dent in any semblance to elegance. “You were expecting me to do it?”

“Naturally.” He failed to see why that should cause her so much amusement.


But his response was met with tipsy laughter. “You really have the entitlement thing down, don’t you?”

“Is it not your job to serve me?” He dropped ice in a glass and poured a shot’s worth of ouzo over it.

“You wanted to make this official?”

“What? No, of course not.” He found himself taking a seat beside her on the sofa rather than settling into one of the armchairs. “You will tell no one of this.”

She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. “What is it with rich, powerful men assuming I have to be told that? Believe it or not, I don’t need anyone knowing I was caught getting sloshed in a guest’s room.”

The mental eye roll was as palpable as if she’d done it with her glittery green gaze.

“Tahira won’t need it.” Not the room and not the liquor she’d ordered for her rooms. The words came out more pragmatic than bitter, surprising him.

Sayed might be undeniably enraged at Tahira’s lack of commitment to duty, her deceptions and her timing, but it was equally undeniable that he felt no emotional reaction to her elopement with another man.

“That worked out conveniently for both of us.”

That was drunken logic for you. “I would not be here if she had kept her promises,” he pointed out.

“She ran off with someone else, right?”

“The press already have the story?” he demanded.

Things were going to get ugly very quickly, but for the first time in his memory, Sayed could not make himself care right at that moment. He’d lost his brother and the rest of his own childhood to politics and the violence they spawned in angry men.

Sayed had spent the intervening years taking on every duty assigned him, dismissing his own hopes and dreams to take on the welfare of a nation. He’d put duty and honor above his own happiness time and again, doing his best to fill an older brother’s shoes he’d never been meant to walk in.

He was tired. Angry. Done. Not forever, but for tonight he wasn’t emir. He was a man, a newly freed man.

“I spent my entire life being what and who I was supposed to,” he offered, not sure why, but feeling the most shocking certainty that his confidences were safe with this woman.

Aaliyah drained the last bit of amber liquid from her glass. “Yes?”

“It was not as if I was attracted to Tahira. Marriage to a woman who seemed more like a little sister than a future wife did not appeal.”

“But you never tried to back out of it.”

“Naturally not.”

“And that makes you angry now that she’s taken off for the freedom of a life of obscurity.”

“Are you sure you’ve had three doubles? You’re very lucid in some moments.”

Aaliyah giggled and then hiccupped and then stared at him as if she couldn’t quite believe either sound had come from her mouth.

He found himself smiling when, ten minutes ago, he would have said that would be impossible. Even his fury was banking in favor of the constant burn of desire Aaliyah sparked in him.

She smiled tipsily. “You’re both better off.”

“That is a very naive view of the situation.”

“Maybe.” Aaliyah shrugged. “I was born to an amazing woman who gave up everything she knew of life to keep me, not a queen.”

“My mother is amazing,” he said, feeling strangely affronted.

“I know. I read about her. Melecha Durrah is both a gracious and kind queen. Everyone says so.”

“Not nice?” he teased.

“I would not know. I’ve never met her.”

“She is,” he assured. “More so than either her husband or son.”

“Nice can be overrated.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My mother was too nice. If she’d ever just let herself get angry at the people who hurt her, she would have had a better life.”

“Perhaps she enjoyed the peace of forgiveness.”

“Maybe.” Aaliyah stood, swaying in place. “I think I’ll have another.”