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

And Amad didn’t know where to turn first.

16

Amad was back in the gym, punching away at the heavy punching bag, when Fatim showed up.

It was clear from his stance and formal attire that he wasn’t about to participate in round two of boxing for the day. They never did their intense workouts twice in the same day. But sometimes, exceptions had to be made. Like when he was frustrated enough to kick the whole damn palace down.

“Amad,” Fatim finally said when Amad didn’t stop punching.

“I’m busy,” Amad shouted as he assaulted the punching bag.

Fatim crossed his arms, leaning against the wall by the door. He watched him for a few more moments, the continued observation irritating Amad even more. He kept his stance firm—thwack, thwack, thwack.

“It’s almost six,” Fatim finally said. “I’ve organized a special dinner just for us men.”

Amad faltered as curiosity spiked. “Who? The tribal leaders?”

“No. Us brothers. Nasser just arrived.”

Amad crumpled at the news, a whoosh of air escaping him. Of course. His youngest brother was scheduled to arrive today, returning from his travels abroad to secure donations for the tribal education initiatives, and he’d forgotten all about it in his fervor. “He’s here already?”

“Yes, he’s settling in. Let’s go eat. Get showered and meet us in the dining room. I’ve already let the others know we’ll be unavailable for a few hours.”

Fatim’s words were oddly calming. “The others” could only be their wives. It was a welcome doorway to continue ignoring Vanessa, at least. Until he could figure out what he wanted to say and how to begin moving forward through this mess.

Because at this point, he didn’t know up from down. He was so angry about her deception that he couldn’t even think straight, but her threat to leave had struck like an arrow to the chest. He knew one thing, through all the confusion: he didn’t want Vanessa to go.

But he didn’t want things to continue as they were, either.

Amad used a guest bedroom’s shower, just to make sure he didn’t cross paths with Vanessa, and hurried off to meet his brothers in the dining room. When Nasser spotted him, he laughed haughtily.

“There’s the resident troublemaker!”

Amad slowed, narrowing his eyes. He came to his brother’s side, squeezing his shoulder before easing into the chair beside him. “I don’t know why you would say that.”

Fatim looked between the two of them from the other side of the table, amusement shining in his eyes.

“For one, I’m not the one making headlines!” Nasser cackled, squeezing the back of Amad’s neck, a gesture that Amad had detested his entire life. Amad swatted at him, landing a hard slap against his hand.

“Knock it off. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fatim has filled me in on the drama,” Nasser said. Palace employees filtered out of the kitchen, bringing large stoneware bowls of food. The scent of chicken and cumin filled the dining room, making Amad’s belly rumble.

“There’s no drama,” Amad said, sniffing. “Just a little issue that will be resolved shortly.”

“Little issue,” Fatim murmured.

“What?” Amad shot back at him. “How would you classify it?”

Fatim hefted with a laugh as he spooned some rice onto his plate. “I’d call it a shock.”

“You’re being generous,” Nasser said.

Amad unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap, working his jaw back and forth. “And since when do you have room to comment?”

“Excuse me.” Nasser held up his palms in submission.

“I don’t know what’s so shocking.”