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

“Think about things, brother,” Fatim said in a softer voice. He reached for some flatbread. “Don’t make a decision you’re going to regret. Vanessa is an amazing woman. She’s your equal. And I think that’s what might be hardest of all for you to accept.”

Amad studied the empty glass on the table. Then he swung his gaze over to Nasser.

“Marriage is rough, kid. Avoid it as long as you can,” he cracked. Which was ironic advice, because Amad had just waltzed right into it, not realizing what a challenge things could become.

Fatim smirked. “It’s only rough if you keep yourself closed off.”

Thankfully, Fatim seemed to have said his piece, and the interrogation about Amad’s personal life came to a close. He managed to down a few more bites as conversation drifted to safer topics—Nasser’s time abroad, and all the fun he’d been having exploring old temples and taking lovers for a night.

But Amad couldn’t hear much of anything. He’d checked out of the conversation as soon as Fatim had wrapped up his lecture and now just needed to be alone.

He excused himself as early as he could and headed for the bedroom. Vanessa at least deserved to know what his plan was. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure of it.

When he got there, Vanessa was tucked into the walk-in closet, all the lights ablaze, the shick of hangars sliding along the metal bars the only sound. He cleared his throat as he came into the bedroom, his skin prickling.

She didn’t come out to greet him. Not that he expected her to.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, gritting his teeth as he braced himself for what he might find. Inside, she was tugging shirts off their hangers and dropping them into a suitcase. His heart sank.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Moving to a guest room.” She didn’t even look at him.

“No.” He shook his head, drawing a slow breath. “I’ll do that. You stay in this room. You’re comfortable here. Just…promise me one thing.”

She sighed, propping her hands on her hips. “What?”

“Don’t leave. Just give me a few days to clear my head.”

Vanessa nibbled on her lower lip, gaze darting back and forth over the clothes scattered across the suitcases. Finally, she said, “Okay.”

Amad knew that he should leave, that he should give her the space he’d promised her…and himself. There was so much to make right between them. A lot of difficult words to be said.

He just needed to figure out what they were.

And right now, standing just feet away from her, when she looked gorgeous but broken, all of the tension and confusion and anger from earlier in the day threatened to fade away.

He could forget all of it, if he wanted to. He could practically taste her sadness, and his fingers twitched with the urge to make things right.

But before he did that, before he stood here and said things he didn’t mean or promised things he didn’t believe, he needed to get himself right.

17

Vanessa’s days bled onward at the palace without Amad at her side. It felt strange, to have so much autonomy in the palace. To know how to greet people, where to go, and when things took place. To actually feel like she belonged here.

Amad taking his time and space was something she’d never had happen to her before. And by all rights, this was the beginning of the end, if her dating history was any indication. Amad was formulating the most graceful way to end things, now that she’d ruined his fantasy of her being a useless, pretty doll, and he was probably buying her plane ticket home so she could have this baby in Vegas by herself while he sent occasional child support payments.

There was no end of nightmarish future realities as she went about her days. Luckily, she had Calla and the tribal ladies to distract her. Production was ramping up in a huge way. Calla’s proposal for a downtown shopfront had been approved, which meant that they needed a manager to oversee that aspect. Calla’s attention was even more divided these days, so Vanessa found ever more room to help with the daily operations of the fashion line.

And amid all the busy-ness of the fashion line, she still found herself eager to share things with Amad. Even though he’d clearly drawn the line in the sand. She wanted him to be proud and excited. To look at her with that same gleam in hi

s eyes he’d had back in Paris, when things still felt like they were a team. Not butthurt because Vanessa had dared try to make herself useful.

You knew it all along. Her own rightness was irritating. The end was always coming.

Except the fact that the end had come now—during this fantasy life in Amatbah where things had been fun and fulfilling and beautiful and romantic—hurt even more. Because even though they’d only been casual at the outset, somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love with his stupid self.

It made nights without his heat and weight at her side particularly sad. She cried herself to sleep each night, pre-mourning the end of this relationship. How could it last? In his eyes, she’d betrayed him. Practically traitor level. She was lucky they didn’t send her to prison or something. All bets were off in a foreign country.