The Sheikh’s Instant Family (The Safar Sheikhs 2)

As Vanessa woke up that morning, the first thing she spotted was Amad’s grinning face and the dimple in his left cheek.

“Morning, babe.” He ran his knuckles over her hairline. “Did you sleep well?”

She yawned, stretching out into the big, comfy bed. It was larger than a king, which was ironic since Amad was only a prince. “Amazingly well.” She paused, feeling a strange turn in her stomach. “But I think the nausea is back.”

Amad stroked her arm, which sent goose bumps prickling over her skin. She snuggled closer to him where he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve got breakfast on the way, if you can handle it. If not, it’s no big

deal.”

“I’ll try,” she said, offering a smile. “This pregnancy nausea is no joke. I got lucky it didn’t start until now.”

“When you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take you on a tour of the palace. Calla wants to meet you and show you around too.”

“I would love that.”

A soft knock interrupted their conversation, and a palace employee entered a moment later with a large tray. She spread out the goods—a plate of scrambled eggs, tea, a glass of orange juice, and whole wheat toast—before taking her leave.

Vanessa sat up and eyed the spread. Based on the tightening of her stomach, only the orange juice seemed feasible. She pointed at it, and Amad brought the glass over from the table. She took a tentative sip, grimaced, and set the glass down.

“I think I’m good on breakfast for now,” she said, curling back into the bed.

Amad pressed a kiss to her forehead and then eased into one of the overstuffed arm chairs near the large windows overlooking the sprawling eastern lawn of the property. “I’ll check my email until you’re ready.”

Vanessa sighed, snuggling into the pillows and sheets, watching Amad as he brought out his phone. A happy grin crossed her face as she watched him frown at his phone, running an index finger back and forth over his bottom lip. After several minutes, she giggled.

“What’s so funny over there?” Amad asked without looking her way.

“Just admiring your serious face,” she said, pushing to sitting. Nausea wracked her, but she could power through. She paused at the edge of the bed. “It’s giving me the strength to get up.”

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

Vanessa sighed, shuffling over to her luggage which still lay cracked open on the floor. She pawed through the contents before deciding on a simple sundress. After using the restroom and very carefully brushing her teeth so as to not vomit, she was ready.

“Hopefully you feel better by lunch,” Amad said as he took her hand, guiding her out of the bedroom. “These meals are not to be missed.”

“If not lunch, then dinner, for sure,” she said, clutching at her belly. “The morning sickness can’t ruin everything, right?”

Amad pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. At least there were things to distract her from the unpleasant sensations of morning sickness. Like the incredible palace that Amad called home and all the dark-skinned people rushing around in traditional kaftans and the brilliant sunlight that broke through the vining trellises to create dappled patterns on the inlaid stone paths through the gardens. Everywhere she looked, there was something new and interesting and incredible.

Jasmine shrubs lined the paths, and for some reason it was one of the few smells that didn’t throw her into a nauseous fit. Amad spoke softly as he pointed out things of interest—the design of the garden and how its renovation had been a gift to his mother. The mosaic tiles lining the path in some places, which were old parts of a previous temple in the city center.

And the tents.

There was practically a tent city in the backyard, huge, sturdy canvas tents erected that made her feel like she’d stepped onto the set of a movie. Amad led her into the first one, and inside was a whole different bustling world of activity.

Amad waved at people on occasion as he led them deeper into the tents. Rooms had been partitioned off, Amad explained, but the tent structure was an homage to their roots. To the way their tribal nation once lived. Now, the tents were the center of business activity and decision making. Even Calla had her own studio in here, where she worked on her designs.

“How does it work with kids and education?” Vanessa asked, her eyes on a small cluster of kids playing with what looked like a spinning top.

Amad faltered. “Well, you’d have to ask the women.”

Vanessa almost snorted but she realized he was being serious. “Why the women?”

“I don’t know how things are done now. I only know how I grew up. But the women will know. Kids are their territory, after all.”

Vanessa smirked, wanting to jab him for the comment but getting distracted as Amad swept his arm toward a little alcove nestled in the corner of the tents. “Here’s Calla’s studio.”