Her Seductive Enemy, page 14
“I would advise you to watch your tongue, anisdi.” Tarif’s tone was savage. Her words cut him deep. They were too damn close to how his own mother had used to compare him to his other cousins, and in her ranting, her own son would always come up lacking.
Why can you not be as brave as Altair?
Why can you not be as smart as Malik?
Why can you not be as skilled as Rayyan?
Why can you not be as dignified as Khalil?
The sheer rage in the sheikh’s eyes was terrifying. Anisah knew to speak another word would be a big mistake, but she just couldn't stop herself. He told her he wanted to make her smile, and she had believed him. She had believed him despite everything, the way she had so desperately tried to believe in her father despite everything – and it was that she could never forgive the sheikh for.
“Does it hurt to hear the truth, Your Highness?” She had seen in his eyes that he had despised the way she had compared him to the other Al-Atassi sheikhs, and it was this she focused on. “Did you really think just because I was attracted to you, I’d think you were on the same footing as the others?” It was a lie, but she was mindless with pain now, and hurting him had become her lifeline.
“I am warning you one last time.” Tarif’s fists clenched. “Compare me to my brothers again—-”
“And what?” Anisah spat. “You’ll do something that will just prove what I thought all along—-”
“Get out!” The sheikh lunged to his feet in a fit of fury. “You may be a great fuck, but that’s all you still are. Someone to fuck—-”
Anisah’s hand connected with his cheek in a vicious slap, its force enough for the sheikh’s cheek to snap to the other side. When he looked back, he saw her rushing out of the room – but he did not stop her.
Chapter Sixteen
Hyacinth paced outside the throne room while doing her best to resist the urge to place her ear to the doors and listen in. Sheikh Tarif had been closeted inside of it with the king for over an hour now, and once in a while she would end up jumping at the sound of the king raising his voice. It was rare for any of the Al-Atassi sheikhs to be at odds with each other, but in this case, it had been inevitable.
Sheikh Tarif’s photos had been all over the news the entire week, with paparazzi gleefully documenting his every date. He had been seen with a different woman each night – a regular occurrence in his life, admittedly, but this time it was different since just last week he had also claimed Hyacinth’s sister as his fiancée.
Kyria and Queen Harper had told her that the other Al-Atassi sheikhs were extremely displeased with how Tarif was acting, but none of them had felt the right to interfere because it was a personal matter. This morning changed that, though.
In a closed-door meeting with other ambassadors, a deeply religious foreign dignitary had taken exception to Tarif’s presence. The other man had refused to do business with the sheikh because of his flagrant act of infidelity towards his intended. The old Tarif could have easily talked and charmed his way out of the predicament, and no doubt everyone had expected the sheikh to do so.
But instead the sheikh had responded aggressively towards the allegation and displayed none of the tact and panache he used to. By the time the king was called to intervene, the dignitary had been threatening to cut his nation’s ties with Ramil. Rayyan had been left to smooth everyone’s ruffled feathers, and as for Tarif –
The massive double doors of the throne room finally opened, and Hyacinth held her breath as she watched Sheikh Tarif emerge. The icy, hard expression on his handsome face was somewhat daunting, and Hyacinth had to remind herself her purpose for seeking the sheikh out.
All her life, Anisah had been there for her. It was her turn now to help her older sister out.
Tension gripped the sheikh’s powerful form the moment he saw the young woman approaching him. Forcing himself to go still, he gave her a brief nod, saying curtly, “Lady Hyacinth.”
“Sheikh Tarif, good evening.” Hyacinth belatedly remembered to bow in greeting. “M-May I have a moment of your time?”
Tarif remembered the last time they had met – it was at the bookstore at Al Sahna, and by the time he had arrived, Hyacinth had already worked herself up to a fine temper, and she had alternated between taking him to task for hurting her sister and demanding he take responsibility for Anisah.
I don’t know what you did, sheikh, but whatever it is you did – you must pay for it! My sister is happy acting like a robot, but ever since she got home she has been acting too human, and it is not right!
She is the best sister one can have! And sure, she may be quite the cheapskate, but not with people she loves! She sacrificed everything for me!
Yes, I know my older sister can be terribly haughty and proud, but when we were young, her pride was all she had. She hadn’t wanted other people to find out that our father beat her constantly because she was afraid what it would do to me if I learned the truth about him.
It’s true she can act like a fanatic when it comes to serving the kingdom, but you don’t know what she had to go through when she was young. There were people who believed that an 11-year-old Anisah was old enough to actually connive with my father, and they thought this was reason enough to mistreat my sister.
Initially, he had only decided to hear her out for a bit simply because he knew Rayyan would be on his case if the other sheikh believed Tarif had disrespected his woman. He would listen to her but not believe a word she said. That had been the plan, but by the time she had finished, he realized that if Hyacinth had sought him out in hopes of putting in a good word for her sister, then she couldn’t have botched the job any better than she had.
Anisah was a robot, a fanatic, and a cheapskate. Anisah was this and that.
She hadn’t even seemed aware she had been insulting and complimenting her sister in the same sentence, and it was that, more than anything else, which had convinced the sheikh to believe in Hyacinth and – later on – give up on Anisah.
Hyacinth’s words had made him think he knew the real Anisah, enough to make him think he did not deserve her. Now – he didn’t even seem to know himself anymore.
“If you’re here to defend your sister and convince me to give her another chance—-”
It was rare for Hyacinth to lose her temper in public, but the sheikh’s words incensed her so that she found herself snapping, “It is you who should beg my sister for another chance!” Drawing herself up, she continued tightly, “My sister doesn’t know I heard her on the phone earlier. She was speaking with a member of the press, and she has agreed to meet with the journalist tomorrow on the condition that the resulting write-up will exonerate you and ensure that you regain public favor.”
Stepping away, Hyacinth said bitterly, “I still don’t know what happened between the two of you, Your Highness. My sister refuses to speak of you in any way. But what I do know is the kind of person my sister is, and if I could do things over again, I would never have called you that night.”
****
At close to six in the evening, the staff kitchen was noisy and crowded, with palace employees happily indulging in chitchat while they prepared dinner. For tonight, Anisah was slated to do the dishwashing, and so she had reluctantly set aside her abaya so she could put on an apron over a large old shirt and jeans. The sight of her in Western clothes had everyone snickering, but she only rolled her eyes to this.
“Do none of you get tired making a big deal out of this,” Anisah muttered crossly as she took her place before the sink.
“Won’t you ever get tired of treating our robes like they’re made of spun gold?” Edna, one of the palace’s station cooks, retorted.
“I just don’t like it when I dirty my robe unnecessarily,” she protested.
“Ha! I don’t believe ‘don’t like’ is an accurate term.” Mila, the chambermaid standing next to Anisah, snorted as she pulled a drawer open and took out a chopping board. “The last time you ended up with a stain on your abaya, you totally freaked out.”
Anisah made a face when everyone nodded profusely, as if reminiscing about some kind of shared nightmare. “So I value our national garment,” she said with stiff dignity. “Is that so horrible?”
“Yes,” a data encoder in Sheikh Rayyan’s finance department affirmed with a grin. “Horribly funny, that is!”
The whole kitchen laughed, but even as she pretended to turn her back on them with a huff, Anisah was more relieved than anything else by their continued teasing. It was their way of letting her know that she was still one of them, in spite of the fact that the sheikh had just last week declared her as his fiancée, only to start womanizing—-
Don’t go there, Anisah.
She quickly reached for her gloves and started cleaning the dishes with singlehanded focus. This was how she had survived the entire week, working on each task one at a time and like her life depended on it. Working so hard prevented her mind from dwelling where it wasn’t supposed to go, her body from feeling what it’s supposed to feel—-
Tory.
Oh no. Anisah scrubbed the bottom of the pan with greater force. This was a first, she thought uneasily, and this was bad.
Tory.
She was now hearing things she was not supposed to hear, literally—-
The chambermaid chopping vegetables beside her stopped. “Umm, Anisah?”
Lowering the pan to the sink, she turned to the other woman reluctantly. “Yes?”
“I think...the sheikh wishes to, umm, talk to you?”
Anisah jerked.
“Tory.”
She looked at Mila. “Did you also hear that?” The other woman nodded, and Anisah slowly peeled off her gloves. The sheikh...was truly here? The gloves slipped off her suddenly nerveless fingers. They fell to the kitchen’s sparkling-clean floor soundlessly, but she flinched all the same, the sight no different from a detonating bomb as it forced her to confront the truth.
I can’t talk to him.
As soon as the words formed in her already-hazy mind, she made a run for it. Or at least she gave it her best shot. She was fast, but the sheikh was faster, and cries of shock rose inside the vast kitchen when the sheikh lunged for her.
His arm shot out, his fingers curling around her arm, and Anisah cried out, “No!” His touch burned, painfully so. It hurt her because it still felt good...when it was not supposed to.
She looked away as soon as he had spun her around to face him, but even so Tarif managed to catch sight of her bright, tear-stained eyes.
Smiles are a luxury to her, and so are her tears.
And since he himself knew how Anisah, the woman who took pride in having only ten pieces of clothing in her wardrobe, felt about luxury –
“I’m sorry.” He felt her stiffen, but still she didn’t look at him, and he did not blame her for it. “I’m sorry, Tory.” He spoke quietly but clearly; he wanted everyone to hear and see him eat humble pie. It was what she deserved – and more.
Chapter Seventeen
“Hyacinth didn’t know what she was talking about when she called you a fanatic.”
They were in the privacy of his office, both of them seated on the couch, albeit on opposite ends, and his first words were completely unexpected. That Hyacinth had the temerity to contact or even confront the sheikh no longer surprised Anisah. Her younger sister was quite the fighter when it came to protecting the ones she loved.
But that bit about the fanatic?
“I’m proud to be committed to our kingdom,” Anisah said without meeting the sheikh’s gaze. And while the cheeky, talkative brat probably hadn’t meant her words to be a compliment, she would take it as so.
The sheikh’s lips twitched at Anisah’s words. “I should’ve known you’d be happy to hear that.” He paused. “However – I’m sorry to disappoint you that you don’t actually qualify.”
“If that is a dig about my loyalty to the crown—-”
“You may have your moments,” the sheikh cut her off smoothly, “but real fanaticism?”
“And your point is, Your Highness?” She glared at the center table, which unfortunately was not as satisfactory as glaring at the sheikh.
“My mother was one.”
Anisah started. What...did he say?
But the sheikh had already started talking again.
A scandalous divorce that involved having her husband leave her for an older and less attractive woman, an all-consuming need for validation, a psychological incapacity to care – these were just a few of the various factors that had eventually turned his mother Tamara into a fanatic.
Because her gender prevented her from fulfilling her dreams of leading the kingdom, Tamara had then set her sights on her only son on becoming her older brother Khalid’s successor. For her, Khalil couldn’t have been the rightful heir because of his illegitimacy. Tarif, however, was not only legitimate but was also the only full-blooded Al-Atassi among his cousins.
Because of his mother’s obsessive ambition, most of Tarif’s childhood memories were of Tamara screaming at him constantly, pushing him to be more and better than the other Al-Atassi children. In public engagements, she would pretend to laugh things off when someone remarked how beautiful he was. But as soon as they arrived home, she would throw a fit and threaten to claw his face so that people would finally realize there was more to him than his good looks.
All this the sheikh had uttered in a dispassionate tone, and it was this above all else which had squeezed her heart. She had found herself turning to him, and her heart crying out even more at the total absence of expression on his face – the beautiful face that his own mother should have cherished but had despised instead.
Had no one tried to stop her?
No one knew it was happening. I only made myself speak of it when she was dead, and only because by then I was old enough to understand that the truth would help prevent the same thing from happening.
He then told Anisah of how he had been torn between rebelling and desperately seeking for his mother’s approval. Tamara had liked to teach him about heroism, and in these so-called lessons, she would force him to do things. Lie. Cheat. Steal. He had even lost his virginity at his mother’s command; he had been thirteen then, and his mother had known heard about a powerful sheikh’s wife who liked her lovers quite...young.
Anisah was pale by the time the sheikh finished. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t—-”
“It wasn’t the last time I had to fuck for the kingdom.”
And now she felt sick.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds—-”
“La, alshaykh.” No, sheikh. Anisah’s voice shook. “I’m sure it’s much worse.”
“Worse, huh?” His lips twisted. “The worst part would be when I was seventeen. My mother told me I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be of help to the kingdom. All I had to do was accept an open-ended apprenticeship under a sheikh who, at that time, had been one of the most powerful in our region.”
“Did s-she want you to learn how to kill under that sheikh?” It was the worst thing she could think of.
“Nothing so messy or complicated, anisdi. That was not Tamara’s style.” And seeing the confusion in her eyes, Tarif spelled out calmly, “She wanted me to do what I do best, but this time with a man. She wanted me to become the sheikh’s lover, and thus ensure the alliance between our kingdoms.”
Her heart splintered into pieces, and a soundless gasp escaped her parted lips.
“That was the last time we spoke. She died two months later.”
She tried to recall what she had read about the death of the sheikh’s mother. It had happened in another kingdom, then ruled by a sheikh who had been deposed a decade later because of a sex scandal.
Her eyes flew up to the sheikh in stunned horror.
“Nem, anisdi. He had her killed. He didn’t like how she had reneged on her promise.”
“Did your uncle – King Khalid – know?”
“He chose to let it go for diplomatic reasons.”
“And you?”
“He is no longer the ruler of his sheikhdom, is he?”
She blinked furiously to hold her tears back. “Oh, Tarif.”
Tarif’s fists clenched. “I thought I’d never hear you call me that again—-” Anisah threw herself in his arms before he had even finished speaking, and he breathed hard just before hauling her to him as closely as he could.
“The ring I gave you was from my grandmother.”
She started to cry.
“I knew I should have explained things clearly that night, but it had been years since I last let myself think of Tamara and even now...” He forced himself to pull back so he could look into her eyes. “Does it not sicken you—-”
“How can you even think that?” she choked out. “It’s only made me so much prouder.”
“Proud enough to forgive me?” His voice was taut, and his hands shook as he clasped her face between his hands. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. I know it’s no fucking excuse, but something in me snapped when you compared me to my brothers—-”
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said tremulously. “I didn’t mean a word of it. Y-You know that, right?” Reaching for the pair of strong hands that were holding her face, she brought them down to press her lips to his knuckles, saying brokenly, “If I had known I’d hurt you that way, I would never have said that. Never.”
Violet eyes lifted to his. “Forgive me.”
Haunted dark eyes stared back at her. “Forgive me.”
And then the sheikh started to pull away.
Anisah bit her lip as he left her on the couch. She knew she was being foolish, but she couldn’t help feeling terrified as she watched the sheikh walk away. What now? Oh dear heavens, what would she do if this was how it ended? What if—-
A broken sob escaped her when the sheikh returned to her side, but instead of taking a seat, he bent down on one knee.
“A second chance, anisdi?” The sheikh opened the box. “But this time, I am asking you for real. Will you marry me?”
