Letting go of Khalid, Zaid faced him. “I know my duty. And I want you to remember, I would not be in this position if you knew your duty as well.” He turned and walked away his back stiff.
Khalid rubbed a hand over his face. “This whole mess is just getting worse with him. Perhaps I should have just married Fadiyah.” Ahmed shook his head. “There was no chance for that—not after your American put an end to your wedding. And I think Father will make certain your American does not interrupt this wedding.”
“She’s not—”
“Not what?” Ahmed shook his head. “Not yours? Palace gossip is already buzzing that you spent the night with her. Your marriage to her is now certain. Unless she does something horrible.”
“Such as stop Zaid’s wedding?” Khalid sighed. “I doubt Father will allow her to even step foot near the bride and groom until after the ceremony. He no doubt is laying down plans now for extra guards.”Ahmed put a hand on Khalid’s shoulder. “Get married to your American, Khalid. From what I have seen of her, she is not just beautiful but she is a woman who will always keep your interest. You will never be bored with that one.”
Khalid shook his head. “I do not want to be married. I am not ready. But…but neither is Zaid.”.
Ahmed shook his head. “Why am I the youngest and the only one with sense? Khalid, your American is everything you could want—and if you can’t see that, perhaps you are indeed not ready to deserve her.” Turning, Ahmed strode away, following after Zaid.
Khalid stared after him, wondering if there was perhaps some truth in his brother’s words. But he did not like being pushed. Oh, he had slept with Casey—and she had been amazing in bed. He did not want to give that up. Ahmed was right about one thing—Casey was never going to be boring. But marriage—no, this was all being pushed on them by their father. And perhaps it was time the sultan learned he could not order the entire world to his liking.
12
The article came pouring out. The interview with Fadiyah had been just what she’d needed—the woman’s point of view about this tradition of arranged marriages, many of which were bound to lead to unhappiness. She tried to balance how the Emirate of Sharjah was slowing coming into the modern world and struggling to balance their traditions with the modern trend of recognizing the rights of the individual. But she wanted to stress that this was one age-old tradition that had to go—and Fadiyah was a poster girl for the cause.
Fadiyah had been great—she’d been passionate, expressive, and had paced Casey’s room as she spoke. Thankfully, Casey’s room had been cleaned by the maids—it would have been hard to work in there with the smell of sex and honey scenting the air. But Casey wasn’t sure Fadiyah would have noticed a bomb going off in the room—now she had someone who would listen to her, she poured out her story in a mix of rapid English and Arabic.
Fadiyah had wanted to go to college—and her father had refused. She’d snuck in online classes and books to educate herself. She’d met Hazim when her father had come to visit the sultan and had found someone she could talk to—she’d fallen in love quickly, but had been heartbroken when her father had demanded she marry Khalid. She viewed Casey as some kind of angel sent to save Fadiyah—and Casey was determined now to find a way out of this second arranged marriage for Fadiyah.
When Fadiyah had finished with her story, Casey had promised to talk not just to Hazim but to Khalid as well. Someone had to help this poor girl, and it was about time Khalid told his father that he had to stop being such a tyrant.
Now, staring at the story she’d written, Casey bit down on her lower lip. Her finger hovered over the send button because another thought had occurred to her—what was Khalid going to think about this story?
It was the truth and this story needed to be told. But would Khalid see this as a betrayal on her part? Except how could he? He’d known from the start what her views were on arranged marriages in Sharjah. But she couldn’t help worrying a little—the story did not paint a great picture of Sharjah as a forward-looking country. Some American companies might well pull back on investments once this story hit the wires—or that was Casey’s hope. Change would only come from outside pressure.
Pulling in a breath, she sent the story. Now it was time to see what else she could do for Fadiyah.
She closed her laptop and headed to the door. As soon as she opened it, two burly men in suits blocked the doorway. She glanced from one to the other. There was no missing the fact that these were the same two that had dragged her out of the Khalid’s failed wedding—and handed her over to the local police.
Neither man smiled, but one said in lightly accented English, “The sultan would prefer you to stay in your room for the next two days.”
“He would?” Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “I don’t suppose one of yo
u is named Hazim.” The two guards swapped looks but said nothing. Casey nodded. “Tell Hazim I want to see him. And he’d better be here in the next hour or I’m going to start making some noise—and you both know I can be more than a handful.”
She closed the door on them. Heart pounding, she leaned against the door. Did Khalid know she was being held a virtual prisoner in her own room? Heading to the balcony, she glanced down. Too far to jump. Too hot as well. Maybe she could make a rope from knotted sheets, but she’d only seen that done in movies—she had the feeling any knot she tied would come undone. However, she had the palace phone, her cell, and her computer. She was not without resources.
She was also starting to wonder just why the sultan wanted her locked up—but the answer seemed obvious.
The sultan was ready for one of his other sons to marry Fadiyah, and if he wanted Casey out of the way that had to mean the wedding was supposed to happen right away. Fadiyah wasn’t just being pushed into a marriage, she was being shoved in right away.
Sitting down on her bed, Casey started sending out texts—and cursing because she’d never gotten Khalid’s number. She did, however, have the palace phone—and hopefully she had Hazim coming to see her.
It took Hazim over an hour.
She’d ordered breakfast—a large one—and had tried to get the maid to take a note to Khalid for her. The maid had turned pale and hurried away, as if frightened to do anything for Casey. She was going to guess the sultan had sent out orders to make sure Casey didn’t stop this second wedding with a scene. But Casey had other plans.
She’d also gotten texts out to Luke—one asking him to track down Khalid’s private cell number, but that was going to take time. And she’d texted her sister—Candace was a wiz with online research, and followed a dozen gossip websites. She might be able to get Khalid’s information faster than Luke could.
Casey had downed her coffee, nibbled on some sweat pastries and was starting to write an article in her head on tyrant sultans when a knock sounded on her door. She jumped up, her pulse skidding into high gear, and was almost a little disappointed when a stranger stepped into the room. She realized then she’d been hoping to see Khalid.
She faced the guy and folded her arms over her chest. “Hazim I presume?”
He gave a small nod and shut the door behind him. “I had word you wished to speak to me?”