Sheikh's Scandal(22)

Calling Yusuf, he instructed his personal bodyguard to bring him fresh clothing.

“Your parents both called yesterday.”

“You handled it with tact and aplomb as usual, I am sure, Yusuf.” The man was Sayed’s personal bodyguard, not assistant, but he handled things too sensitive for Duwad or Abdullah-Hasiba.

Yusuf was the only person who had known where Sayed had ended up the night before. In fact, the bodyguard had suggested it.

“I did.”

“Good.”

Aaliyah groaned, moving beside him.

“You are not alone, Emir?” Yusuf asked.

“No.”

“Do you need me to take care of it?”

The idea of his old friend handling Aaliyah as he had others of Sayed’s bed partners in the past was not acceptable. “No.”

“She needs to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

“She won’t say anything, Yusuf. She’s not that type of woman.” Sayed knew how hopelessly naive he sounded and he hadn’t been that innocently trusting since his brother’s assassination all those years ago.

Still, he was certain he was right.

“Keep her there until I arrive,” Yusuf instructed.

“Did you forget who is emir here?”

Aaliyah’s head came up from under the sheet at that and she stared at him with wide eyes.

“I never forget my duty to you, O’ Emir.” Sarcasm dripped from Yusuf’s tone.

“It is not your duty I’m questioning.” Just the other man’s willingness to follow a direct order.

Not something either of them had high expectations of after all their years of friendship.

“Think with your big head here, Sayed,” Yusuf almost pleaded. “If she is not there when I arrive, I will be forced to turn the matter over to Omar.”

Sayed didn’t bother to remind Yusuf that no name had been mentioned. Even if his bodyguard hadn’t been keenly aware of Sayed’s preoccupation with Aaliyah Amari, discovering the identity of the woman Sayed had spent the night with would not provide much of a challenge for the security team.


Sayed felt his own groan coming on.

“Is that what you want?” Yusuf asked when Sayed didn’t reply to his statement.

No way would Sayed sic his father’s fixer on Aaliyah. “That is not acceptable.”

“As you say.”

Which was not agreement. Not coming from the man who had grown up alongside Sayed and was almost as close as a brother.

Sayed had been trained to lead a country and Yusuf had been trained to protect the royal house of Zeena Sahra. They shared a common goal that had solidified the bond between them from childhood.

“I will see you shortly.”

“As you wish, Emir.”

Grinding his teeth at the additional sarcasm lacing his friend’s tone, Sayed hung up the phone.

He turned to face Aaliyah. She’d scooted to the other side of the king-size bed and was sitting against the headboard, her long, dark hair in just-woken-up disarray, the sheet pulled up over her nudity.

The way it outlined her delectable curves, he did not think the cotton provided the barrier she thought it did.

There was no point putting off what he would rather avoid altogether. “My bodyguard insists you sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

Aaliyah nodded and then winced. Pressing the hand not holding the sheet in a death grip against the side of her head, she let her eyelids slide shut.

“You do not mind?”

“No,” Aaliyah said in a whisper. “Would you mind not yelling, though?”

“You’ve got a hangover?”

Her eyes snapped open, fire sparking in their narrowed green depths. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

He laughed, when he was sure nothing could have made him do so today. Not when he faced one of the biggest political crises of his life.





CHAPTER SEVEN


AALIYAH’S FROWN TURNED into a full-on glare.

And Sayed’s laughter increased, lightness pushing away a layer of his stress. “You are a breath of fresh air.”

“Why? No one else frowns at you?”

“It is pretty rare.” He stood up, unashamed of his nudity. “Come. You can have the first shower. It will help.”

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “I’ll wait until you leave.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He started going through the drawers and cabinets in the room. “Are there any pain relievers in the suite?”

“Your fian...the princess requested we stock ibuprofen. It is in the bathroom cabinet.”

“She’s not a princess,” Sayed remarked as he went in search of the pain reliever. “Her father is a very influential sheikh, but he is not a king. And now she is merely a Mrs. Palace Aid.”

Which would not afford her any of the prestige or benefits life as his wife would have done.

“You’re a little bitter there.”

Coming back out of the bathroom with two pills and a glass of water, he shrugged. “She chose her life, now she will live it.”

And he did not think the pampered daughter of a powerful sheikh would enjoy her newly humbled circumstances as much as Tahira clearly believed she would.