The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 3 (Jatar Sheikh 3)

She turned to Omar, “Mr. Khalid, I do not blame you for what happened, the world is a scary place. I am just grateful you care so intensely for my daughter. She is all I have in this entire world. Please do not think I wish to separate the two of you. I just feel maybe she would be best cared for in a familiar environment.”

Omar offered her a drink and she accepted, “Your daughter is a prized jewel, Melinda. It is unfortunate that Richard and I are no longer acquaintances; his attitude is distasteful to say the least. I have left it up to Anna—if she wishes to return to the states, she will have my full support. She however has told me on numerous occasions that she wishes to remain here, with me.”

“I plan on talking to him about his attitude and language. That was entirely uncalled for. He is reacting from fear, and he is anything but his best when cornered.” She said, but her voice was full of trepidation.

I piped up, “I need to settle some stuff with dad too. Even if it means we don’t talk again for a very long time, I need to clear the air with him.”

Omar gave me a grave nod, “Do not let this stress you my love. There is always another time or place. I’d rather you not have more emotional upheaval in your life until your physical is healed.”

“He’s right darling, let me handle your father. I can stay, but he can’t, at least not for more than a couple of days.” Then she looked around the tastefully decorated parlor, “And I can tell you are safe here, and so happy with Omar.” She looked back up at my future husband, “Thank you for loving my daughter Mr. Khalid.”

“Ahhh, but it is me that’s grateful Anna loves me. And please Melinda, call me Omar.”

We sat like that, chatting for well over and hour and it was near dinner time. Omar picked me up, cradling me in his arms and we went downstairs with my mom following closely. Once in the dining room, my dad turned from looking at a painting and his expression clouded when he saw all my bruises. My mom went to him and led him to the corner, whispering.

Omar continued to hold me in his arms and I whispered, “You can put me down.”

“No.” He said and dashed down to kiss me. I could feel my dominant male was returning.

I could hear my parents, even though they were trying to be quiet. My mom was crying again, and my dad’s voice was rising, “Melinda, you are worthless when it comes to this kind of thing. I expect you to back me up. Don’t you want her home with you? I can make that happen before it’s too late.”

My mother bit out, “She loves him Richard! You would know nothing of this kind of love. I refuse to interfere and force her to go home. I did try! Don’t think I didn’t, and yes, I feel she is better off with me in Boston, but what you are doing, this insistence of yours? It’s only going to cause an irreparable rift between you and her. Do you really want that? Do you really want to lose your daughter? Mr. Khalid is genuinely in love with her, what is your problem? He has taken perfect care of her.”

“Look at her Melinda! She could have been killed. Then we’d only have her body to bury. Are you willing to take that risk again? Next time, he might not get to her in time, did you see her? Seriously Melinda, this is ridiculous!”

I interrupted my parents, still in Omar’s arms, “Um dad, mom, you are arguing over nothing. This is my choice, not yours! I am twenty five now, I get to make my own life choices.”

Omar’s hands gripped me just a hair harder and I felt his concern that I was expending too much energy on this kind of stress.

My dad drew his lips into a tight line and came to where we were standing, “Anna, you are my only child and I don’t feel this is the right coupling for you. I will never be okay with this.” He waved his hand in the air indicating both me and Omar.

I shrugged defiantly, “Sorry dad, not your choice.”

He inhaled and exhaled dramatically, “I think I should just leave then. I don’t like it here and it turns my stomach to be near the two of you this way.”

I made a motion that Omar set me down in one of the dining room chairs, “Dad, sit here and face me. Now. I need to tell you some stuff.”

“Anna, I don’t really want to hear all your childish reasons why you are staying here. In my mind, this is wrong and I will never soften on the subject.”

“Dad, sit. Now!” I commanded, and surprisingly, he obeyed.

I took a deep breath and then I told my dad how much his indifference and general self-centered, work-centered, complete lack of parental involvement in my formative years, had affected me. I told him I thought of him as someone who provided money, but never emotional support and often it was the opposite and he undermined my self-confidence on a continuing basis. I also told him I didn’t believe he understood real love at all and that he was the reason for mom’s continued depression and utter lack of desire to live a real life. I also told him that he was often mean and cruel with his words and language, and that I had a cold place in my heart when it came to him and his involvement in my life.

He sat and listened to me, and didn’t check his phone once. He furrowed his brow, huffed and puffed, shook his head and offered me myriad expressions. By the time I was finished, he was sagging in his chair and he seemed like a broken man. “Why are you telling me all this now?” He muttered.

“Because you are right, I did almost die. I came very close to being killed, and I feel an urgency to make sure you knew how I felt. Dad, you have to change. Your heart is cold and hard and you are starving us.” I indicated my mother in the, us, statement.

My dad surprised me when an obvious sob crept up his throat. He nodded, but didn’t talk. He scrubbed at his mouth with his hand and then he quietly said, “Yeah, I know I could be nicer sometimes.” He looked up at my weeping mother, “Mel, I’m sorry. I often avoid coming home because I can’t stand your depressions and phobias. Is it really because of me?” His voice was bordering on desperate.

My mom choked on a sob. “I don’t know Richard. All I am certain of is that I feel alone and without a partner that loves me, and that is what makes me sad.”

My dad rose up and took my mom into his arms, “Mel, I do love you.” He turned back to me with my mom still cradled against his chest, “Anna, I love you too. Can you both forgive me? I promise to try harder, for both of you.”

CHAPTER SIX

After dinner, which was mainly spent in silence, my mom went with my dad to their room. Omar again picked me up and carried me out to the pool and we looked up at the night sky and the million twinkling stars. I stayed on his lap, and cuddled into his chest.

“You are doing much better now that we are home.” He said.