Olivia Gates - The Sheikh's Claim

“Fadi, so good to hear from you.”

Not one to indulge in niceties, Fadi got to the point, his deep voice pouring its usual solemn gravity into Jalal’s ear.

“Considering you have not renewed my orders concerning this matter, or asked about any developments in the past two years, you may not be interested in what I have to tell you. But I decided to let you know in case you still are.”

Jalal’s gut tightened. This didn’t sound like something that concerned his business, his personal safety or his campaign. There was only one other thing Fadi had ever taken care of for him. One person he’d entrusted him with keeping tabs on. Lujayn.

It seemed he hadn’t groaned her name mentally but out loud, for Fadi said, “Yes, this is about Lujayn Morgan.”

The desert wind suddenly stirred, as if in response to the questions and temptations that stormed through him.

He’d been holding himself back with all he had so that he wouldn’t “renew Fadi’s orders” or “ask about any developments.” And he’d succeeded. At least he’d managed not to seek her out, or learn news of her, thereby renewing his exposure and losing any hard-won closure.

The sane thing to do now was to leave Fadi certain that his orders concerning her were at an end. That he was not to even report any information that came his way by accident.

At his prolonged silence, Fadi exhaled. “I apologize for presuming you would be interested.”

And he did the one insane thing. Heartbeat spiraling out of control, he growled, “ B’haggej’ jaheem, ya rejjal, just tell me.”

His bark silenced Fadi instead. Fadi, like everyone else, believed Jalal was the epitome of sangfroid. While this was mostly true, control and Lujayn had always been mutually exclusive.

He could almost hear Fadi’s miss-nothing mind clicking on the new conclusion before he finally said, “She is back in Azmahar.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out you were in Azmahar?”

Lujayn pulled away the cell phone to groan at hearing a voice she’d come back here hoping to avoid.

Aliyah’s.

She and Aliyah had once thought they were cousins, with both their fathers belonging to the Irish-American Morgan clan. But Aliyah’s mother, Princess Bahiyah Aal Shalaan, had turned out to be her flesh and blood aunt, with Aliyah actually the daughter of now-ex-King Atef Aal Shalaan of Zohayd from his American lover, and now new wife, Anna Beaumont.

It had been years since Aliyah had been declared an Aal Shalaan and become the wife of King Kamal Aal Masood and the queen of Judar. Quite a change from the minor royalty she’d been when Lujayn had known her.

But while their false family relationship had introduced them to each other, they had become true friends when Lujayn had followed Aliyah’s footsteps in modeling. Aliyah had offered her unfailing guidance and priceless support, steered her from many a mess and hooked her up with the few people it was safe to know in that turbulent world.

Aliyah had also been the reason she’d met Jalal, back when they’d thought she was a cousin to them both. Now that they knew Aliyah was his half sister, there was an even bigger chance she might pull Lujayn into Jalal’s orbit once more. That was why she’d been avoiding her. That and the fathomless joy Aliyah radiated ever since she’d gotten married.

“So what is an appropriate punishment for you, now that I’ve caught you in Azmahar unannounced?” Aliyah’s vibrant voice teased.

Lujayn wasn’t about to confess to the woman who’d shown her unforgettable kindness when she’d most needed it that she’d been avoiding her because she inadvertently made her feel bad about her life and because she didn’t want to risk seeing Jalal.

So she told her what she felt, free of pettiness and anxieties. “I missed you, too, Aliyah.”

Aliyah let out a laugh as clear and tinkling as crystal. “And here she is. The woman who knows just how to thwart me and still leave me with a smile on my face. You’re more slippery than an eel, you know that? I hear it’s an Azmaharian trait.”

A smile pried Lujayn’s stiff lips apart. It had been an endless source of fun among them to compare notes on their “hybrid” nature. “Since I’m only half-Azmaharian, the trait must be diluted, so I can’t be that slippery.”

Aliyah hooted. “My dear, you’re talking to a bona fide halfling. Being half-and-half only augments any traits we inherit from each side. Just ask Kamal.”

And there it was. The woman was unable to form five consecutive sentences without leading back to her husband and love of her life.

She knew she was being pathetic, but it wasn’t just hearing the wealth of love in Aliyah’s voice. She’d seen them together, alone and with their two children. Seeing and feeling that lion of a man’s fierce love and devotion to Aliyah had been amazing, but it was also evidence that such passion existed—and that she would never have anything like it.

“So how long are you in Azmahar?” Aliyah interrupted her darkening thoughts. “Last time you were here was more than four years ago and you stayed less than four days.”

“I don’t know, Aliyah. It depends on my aunt’s health.”

“Suffeyah?” All levity left Aliyah’s voice, alarm replacing it. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s been diagnosed with breast cancer.”

“Oh, Lujayn, I’m so sorry. Bring her over to Judar. We have one of the best medical systems in the world, thanks to Kamal. I’ll see to it that she has the best health care the kingdom can offer.”

“I can’t thank you enough for the offer, Aliyah, but I have to decline it. I tried to make her come to the States, but she refuses to leave her daughters behind for the months the treatments might take. One is a senior in high school and the other just had twins.”

“I understand all too well putting your kids before yourself. But Azmahar isn’t in good shape and I understand one of the sectors suffering most is health care.”

Lujayn’s heart constricted at Aliyah’s words. “I know. But Aunt insists she’ll take her chances with the medical care here like any other Azmaharian would. All I could do was arrange for a consult with some of the best doctors in the States. I’m flying them over in a couple days. We’ll take it from there.”

“That’s great. And if what they recommend can’t be carried out in Azmahar, I’ll provide you with medicine, equipment and personnel. If she won’t come to us, we’ll bring the best of Judar to her.”

“Oh, Aliyah, that is beyond anything I could have hoped for.”

“But you didn’t hope for anything, did you? You have this infuriating thing against a helping hand from a friend.”

Lujayn exhaled. Aliyah was right. Being the daughter of a servant in the palace Aliyah had grown up in had been enough. She hadn’t wanted to tip the balance of their situations more by accepting favors she’d be unable to repay. She’d only accepted Aliyah’s help when Aliyah had insisted it was the fruit of her experience, nothing to do with her royal status.

Even now she had nothing of equal value to ever offer Aliyah. That made it impossible for her to be the recipient of favors that had everything to do with Aliyah’s status.

“I can hear your mind churning, Lu,” Aliyah said. “But since it’s not you on the receiving end this time, it should ameliorate your allergic reaction. Now promise you won’t say no, and you’ll let me do what I can when needed.”

She chuckled even as tears rushed to her eyes. “I forgot how well you know me, Aliyah. And about this pesky total recall of yours. And just how incredible you are.” She sighed, swallowing the lump of emotion. “Thank you, and I promise.”