The Sheikh's Redemption (Desert Nights 1)
He cast each a look, was hurled back a hail of antipathy.
All he needed now was for Jalal to walk in, and the triad of wrath and rejection would be complete.
He exhaled, tried to focus on the proceedings. Though what he hoped to achieve here, he no longer knew.
The people who had mattered most to him hated his guts. He didn’t think his transgressions against each warranted that level of acrimony. Seemed just being himself was enough to earn it.
And he thought a whole nation would want him?
Another major point was they—even Rashid with his scars and transformation—were prospering with him gone from their lives.
Maybe that should tell him something. That there was no escaping his mother’s legacy. That all he could ever be was a malignant influence. That redemption was out of the question and the best thing he could do for Azmahar was stay the hell away.
He turned one last time to the two who thought that was a given. At the confirmation in their eyes, a conviction took root.
He turned around, giving them his back, one thing settled.
He’d prove them and everyone, starting with himself, wrong.
* * *
Three hours of moderating the self-important, conflicting, anachronistically tribal so-called elite would have been enough. But to do it while being subjected to Haidar’s burning focus had shot Roxanne’s nerves.
She and her team had worked hard to get all major movers and shakers in the kingdom together, find out their positions and see how they’d mix. She was supposed to come out with a firm idea of who could be part of the solution, and who’d better be sidelined.
Then Rashid Aal Munsoori had walked in.
She’d thought the introduction of that superpower this early would disrupt a balance that hadn’t yet been found. The man seemed like such a force of…darkness; he’d swayed people just by showing up. And scared them. She’d thought he was the worst thing that could have happened. Then, enter Haidar.
It had been his presence that had polarized reactions, incited passions and generally disturbed everything.
Seemed his effect on people was universally consistent. And that when he’d only sat there silently watching.
She’d barely stopped the situation from devolving into a mess.
Avoiding eye contact with anyone, she strode to get out before people could corner her with questions she couldn’t or wouldn’t satisfy. Before Rashid could cut his way through his detainers to her. Most important, before…
“So the question is—what was the point of all that?”
And she’d almost made it!
She just stopped herself from stomping her foot and screeching a chagrined no. From running the hell out of there. Right after taking off her high heels and hurling them at Haidar.
Unable to give their audience any indication of how much she’d like his head on a stick, she slowly turned. And almost toppled over.
He’d looked stunning from afar. It was far worse up close. If possible, he looked better than he had two days ago. In a steel-gray suit the exact color of his eyes that worshipped his every inch and flaunted his proportions, he looked like a sun god. Eyes gleaming in the soft-toned ambience, skin glowing like heated copper, hair shimmering like a black panther’s coat.
All in all, a divine masterpiece of masculinity. And born to exist in backdrops of such opulence, created to justify their extravagance, which showcased his grandeur.
To make it worse, that voice of darkest wine and velvet cascaded over her again. “Was that a drive for the up-for-grabs court? There are enough wannabes to turn the strongest stomach.”
Her teeth ground together as he left barely enough distance between them for public decorum, his scent and virility cocooning her senses, triggering desire and distress.
Somehow she found enough discipline to pretend an impersonal smile for their now-avid audience. “A king doesn’t a royal system make. It was agreed that we have to fill the lower slots in the hierarchy before the top is filled.”
“So you want the new king to come to a ready-made government. All I can say is, good luck getting Jalal or Rashid to return your calls once you reveal your figurehead intentions.”
If she made him think that was what was on offer, it would send him out of Azmahar within the hour.
Too damn bad she was too professional. “It will be a transitional government until a king sits on the throne.”
“Then said king will be free to toss whatever pieces he doesn’t approve of back in the box?”
“I don’t think such unilateral decisions would be welcome anymore in Azmahar.”
“You think any of the candidates will even consider such a deficient position? Such limitation of power? Such an upside-down process? You think I would?”
“We’re just trying to learn from the mistakes of the past.”
“Even in democracies, presidents pick their deputies. You expect a king in our region not to pick his trusted people?”
“As long as they are picked through merit, not nepotism.”
“That isn’t even an issue in my case, or Jalal’s or Rashid’s, for that matter. We were headhunted because we proved in the big bad world of business and politics that we know who to pick to help us run our multibillion-dollar enterprises. We’re not about to become tribal, blood-blinded throwbacks if we sit on a throne.”
His eyes were all gotcha when she had no ready answer.
Before she could regain ground, he changed direction. “So I understand why my uncle’s slew of successors was bypassed for the king’s position. Any reason they are now for all other positions?”
That she had an answer for. “For the same reasons you say you understand. Just as the clans’ council that formed after the king’s abdication refused to let his sons and brothers succeed him, they wouldn’t let them assume any significant roles. It was agreed the sons are too inexperienced and the brothers too same-school, and all are guided by the same entourage that damaged Azmahar.”
“And you think the bozos present here today are any better?”
“They’re here today so we can weed out the bozos.”
His lips spread. “It would be far easier to leave those in, and pick out the non-bozo types. Want my advice on how to do it?”
“No. But you’re going to blight me with it, anyway.”
His grin grew wider. “Play back the evening’s taped hoopla. Eliminate anyone who spoke out of turn or lost his temper. You’ll be left with five out of five hundred. I counted. Those are the only people I’d have in my cabinet.”
That was exactly what she’d thought, too. Damn him.
She wasn’t about to tell him that. “You’re founding a new kingdom and recruiting ministers for it?”
“Cute. But if you don’t heed my advice, just have a raffle. Anyone but those five would be equally disastrous, after all.”
“Thanks for the gems of wisdom. But we won’t do anything until we’re in possession of enough data.”
“And what else are ‘we’ going to do?”
“We won’t do anything. While I have to go.”
“Good. I’ll tag along.”
Yeah. Right. She’d sooner have a lion in tow. One just released after a month of captive starvation.
“Why don’t you stay and complete the chaos?”
His eyebrows shot up in what must be simulated surprise. “Chaos?”
Her genial expression didn’t waver even as her hiss attempted to disembowel him. “I planned this to be a relaxed event, even a bit festive—”
“That explains it. I thought you were trying to start a new tradition—Azmaharian Halloween.”
She sharpened her tone. “I wanted to put the attendees in the most cooperative frame of mind, to alleviate the mood of doom and gloom that permeates the kingdom. So thanks so much for spoiling everything.”
“Me? What did I do?” Those mile-long lashes swept up and down.
She almost felt their swoosh, certainly felt it fan her fire. “You have the superpower of discord sowing. And you have it on constantly, exercise it at will, actively or passively.”
She waited for him to volley back something inflammatory and incontrovertible. Lightness only drained, leaving his face bleak.
Then it got worse. Agony flitted through his eyes as they tore away. She followed their trajectory to the most disturbing presence around. Rashid.
As if feeling his gaze, Rashid half turned. And if looks could dismember, Haidar would have been in pieces.
She shuddered at the force that blasted between the two men. Surprisingly, the viciousness felt one-way. What emanated from Haidar was as intense, but different in texture. Something she’d never thought to feel from him. Despondency.
Haidar returned his gaze to her. “Rejoice, Roxanne. I’m taking my disruptive presence away from inhabited areas.”
Then he turned and strode out of the ballroom.
Roxanne stared at Haidar’s receding back for the second time in as many days. Then she found herself rushing after him.
She had to pour on speed to catch up with him. In a deserted corridor that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
It was only when she caught him back that her actions sank in.
What the hell was she doing?
He turned to her, something like…hurt filling his eyes, and she blurted out, “What’s wrong?”