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

“Um, gambling all the tribe’s financial security?” Nasser asked, the duh tone grating on him.

Fatim’s lips went thin, and that’s when Amad realized he was restraining himself. The normal attitude was a front. Amad’s sour mood returned, every ounce of relief he’d acquired through the punching bag dissolving.

“This is how things get done,” Amad said through gritted teeth. “Or does no one remember the fact that I’m the head of finances for this tribe?”

“Maybe that’s how things used to get done,” Fatim said, the seriousness coming through clearly in his voice. “But you and I, we’re in a new phase of our lives, and a new phase of the tribe’s development.” He paused heavily, the only sound between them the clinking of the spoon as Nasser served himself from the dish of tabbouleh. “You should have told me you sold the tech stocks.”

Amad drew a deep breath, feeling completely untethered now. “Didn’t think it mattered much. Risky moves are par for the course in any business. Remember, I went to Harvard. I do know what I’m doing.”

“But what if the fashion line had fallen through?” Fatim asked.

A deathly silence flooded the table. The question had haunted Amad nearly every day. It was the sort of thing he tried not to thi

nk about. Like ignoring it might make it become a non-issue.

“It’s the cost of doing business,” Amad said a few moments later, trying to keep his voice even. “There’s no reward without risk. And in this case, we needed a big reward…which required a bigger risk.”

“You should have told me,” Fatim said again.

“Noted,” Amad said. “From now on, I guess I’ll come to you to have every last business decision approved before I act. Is that what you’d prefer?”

Fatim’s face remained expressionless. Amad plunged ahead.

“While we’re at it, let’s make Vanessa the Chief of Operations. Calla can pretty easily take over the role as king, too, huh? Nasser, who’s your flavor of the week? We should probably bring her on as Vice President of the Tribal Council. Just for good measure.”

Fatim sighed heavily. “Amad, why don’t you tell us what this is really about?”

Amad remained silent, finally serving himself a heaping portion of chicken. After all the punching he’d done today, he needed the extra calories. He took a big bite, staring at his brother as he chewed. Emotions clamored for release, but he tamped them down. Made sure they stayed buttoned up.

“Amad,” Fatim said again.

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” Amad said with a mouthful of food. He chewed and then swallowed.

“How about this?” Fatim started, his tone measured, monotonous. The same tone he used when dealing with royal matters or overseeing issues in the tents. “Ever since you’ve gotten back, you’ve let your pride stand in the way of actually performing your job.”

Amad blinked, pushing rice around his plate. “You’re entitled to your opinion, even if it’s wrong.”

“Calla tells me what a bull you are when you attend meetings about the fashion line. How you barely listen to the women and try to direct things as though you’re the one in control.” Fatim kept his gaze steady on Amad as he spoke. “I didn’t need to be there today to know how you must have treated Vanessa, too, when you found out she’d arranged the connection with Le Suiz. If there’s anything you hate, it’s being outranked.”

Amad’s insides were sizzling, but he didn’t know whether it was from being called out or from the terrible injustice of these lies. Because Fatim could only be completely right or completely wrong. This topic left no room for a middle ground. “Whatever.”

“I know this is hard to hear,” Fatim said, sitting back in his seat. He steepled his fingers as he watched Amad fidget. “But don’t forget—I have a kingdom to run. And I don’t need my brother to be the head of finances. I can find someone else.”

Amad snapped his gaze up to Fatim’s. Now he was threatening him. “Why the hell would you say that to me?”

“Because even though I love you as my brother, we all have jobs to perform here. The structure of the kingdom has changed. Will you accept it or not?”

Amad clenched and unclenched his teeth, staring at his plate. He’d barely taken two bites. When a palace employee came into the dining room, he barked out his request for a whiskey on the rocks.

“You’re being a little dramatic,” Amad finally said. “What happened today is primarily between Vanessa and me.”

“And based on what I know about the situation, Vanessa is an asset to the very initiative we’re hoping will become the tribe’s main source of income, and you don’t want her to have a hand in it.”

“She can have her hands in it,” Amad said. “Just not where my hands go.”

Fatim leaned forward. “And why not?”

Amad worked his jaw back and forth, grateful when the employee returned with his whiskey. He downed it in one gulp and then set the glass down on the table.