ZAHIR_Her Ruthless Sheikh by Theodora Taylor

Author:Theodora Taylor [Taylor, Theodora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rom Tell That
Published: 2018-03-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

One day, Raima wakes me and says instead of Zahir meeting me for a late breakfast, Nabida will escort me downstairs to join Her Highness, Sheikha Mahirah, and her daughter, Aisha, for tea.

Less than an hour later, I enter a gold and white sitting room behind my two rarely seen female guards and Nabida beside me—just in case I need “attending,” I guess. At first glance, the room appears less colorful than mine. Yet in spite of its muted tones, it is one of the most ostentatious rooms I’ve been in thus far with its gold inlay columns, overstuffed Queen Anne sofas, and crystals dripping off everything from the chandeliers to the beige silk curtains. Forget the medallion carpet...this room has a large Persian rug draped over the marble flooring. I suspect the pattern has its own special name, like Carrara or Emperador.

The room gives off a vibe that makes me instantly afraid to touch anything, but the woman in the fashionable rose print silk abaya and hijab looks completely in her element as she rises to greet me.

“Princess! Princess!” Aisha calls out, jumping to her own feet.

“Ms. Princess, please,” her mother chides. Then she turns back to me and gives me a kind “assalamu alaikum” before introducing herself with her full, and very long, name. “But you may call me Mahirah,” she finishes warmly.

“Wa alaikum assalam,” I carefully reply. “And please, I insist you both call me Prin.”

“Of course. Aisha begged me to bring her when her father mentioned he would meet with the sheikh today. You certainly made quite an impression on her at the wedding.”

“And she on me,” I answer, grinning at the little girl.

“You are very kind,” Mahirah says. “Typically, children do not attend weddings in the UAK. But the sheikh made a special exception for Aisha because the bride and groom’s children attended.”

“How thoughtful,” I say, trying not to feel awkward about participating in simple small talk after weeks of playing Zahir’s psychological sex games. I scramble for something else to say to a woman—a princess, no less—who from what little Nabida told me on the way down, never attended school abroad like Zahir and his brother. I super doubt she watched His Majesty when it was on. And I can’t imagine her listening to hip hop or R&B…or having any interest whatsoever in intellectual property law.

Thankfully, she asks after my family. “I hear you have two eighteen-year-old half-sisters who will graduate from high school this spring.”

“Yes, I do. They’re singers. In fact, they’ve got a show tomorrow for this after party at the Tribeca Film Festival.”

“You must be very sad to miss it.”

“I am sad to miss it, too!” Aisha says. “I wish I could go to America and hear your sisters sing.”

“Well, maybe one day…” I begin. But then I notice Mahirah purse her lips and quickly change the subject. “And your husband, Rashid…how is he?” I ask with a wince when it dawns on me there’s probably a title or something I should have tacked in front of his name.

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