The Sheikh's Purchased Bride, Page 32

  FIVE

  Anita began trying to get the restaurant back into order, but realized very quickly that she had no chance of doing it by herself. The day was hitting her, hard, and the second wind she’d gotten at Hakim’s invitation was completely gone now she knew she couldn’t accept it.

  She wanted to rage at Fadi. She wanted to rebel, and tell him he had no power over her, and he couldn’t tell her what to do. But tonight had been so different. It had been like she didn’t even know him. The strangers had brought out a side to him that she’d never even known existed, and wished now that she had never seen.

  The one thing that she knew was that after seeing him like that, and seeing the way he insisted that it was too dangerous to see Hakim, she couldn’t see him.

  She resolved to keep asking. Now that she knew a little more about the history of her ring, she felt it like a hand on her, reaching out from the past. It was like her father was calling out to her.

  But she would never get anything out of Fadi if she disobeyed him in such a serious way. And one evening of polite conversation with a man who felt indebted to her for returning his lost ring felt like a bad trade for a lifetime relationship with her father.

  She climbed the stairs slowly, heading towards her bed, convinced that if Hakim actually did remember her number and ever contacted her, she would have to turn him down.

  She changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. This, at least, was still the same. This room was home. It had been home for as long as she could remember.

  This was her life. It was the one where she worked her hardest at the restaurant, and at school. It was the life where she was a dutiful daughter who cared about her family, and her friends, and didn’t get asked out by handsome princes.

  Anita was just beginning to doze off, her eyes opening and closing sleepily, when she saw her ceiling light up, followed by the subtle buzz of her phone. She reached out to grab it off the nightstand, her tired arm grasping awkwardly and accidentally knocking a book to the floor.

  She picked up the phone and looked. A text from an unknown number:

  Hello Anita. Are you still awake?

  Anita laughed into the empty room, careful to keep her laughter quiet enough that Fadi wouldn’t be able to hear it through the walls.

  It was Hakim. It had to be. And he didn’t text much, judging by his weirdly formal text speak. Besides, anyone who did much texting would know that a text like that, sent at 1:30am, was a booty call. And there was nothing funnier than the idea of the proper, elegant sheikh she’d met earlier making a booty call.

  She went to reply that she was, then hesitated. She had to turn him down. She had to tell him she couldn’t see him. But, Anita thought, she didn’t have to do it right away. It would be rude not to at least have a little bit of a conversation with him.

  I am. Is this Hakim?

  A silly question, but she felt a little awkward texting the man with the entourage and the limousine from the pink and yellow patterned bedroom she’d had since she was three.

  She saw the little bubble. Typing…. Typing… Never had that little typing bubble been more annoying to her than it was now. Finally, she got a response.

  Oh good, I remembered right. Thank you again for finding my ring. I hope you will allow me the honor of taking your out to dinner tomorrow night. Pardon my contacting you at such a late hour. I only did so because I needed to know if you would be available, so that I can make the proper arrangements as early in the morning as possible.

  It was, by leaps and bounds, the longest text Anita had ever received. No, the Sheikh apparently did not text.

  She bit her lip. She couldn’t answer his question right away. If she did, the conversation would be over before it started. She wanted to live in the moment a little longer.

  Since she was never going to see him again, Anita figured she might as well say what she really wanted to. She typed it into her phone and pressed send, holding her breath while the progress bar filled at the top of the screen.

  Is that the only reason?

  A typing bubble. And then no typing bubble. And then a typing bubble again. Was he trying to kill her?

  Finally, a response.

  For shame. Such implications! And here I am, innocently begging you to promise to see me when you’re almost certainly in bed. Innocently. Like an innocent person.

  Anita smiled to herself. He didn’t do texting, but the man certainly did sarcasm.

  She thought for a moment, and then replied.

  Oh, good. I was worried. There have been far too many saucy sheikhs around here lately. I have to be sure.

  She should stop. She knew it. She shouldn’t keep on like this—not if she was going to honor the promise she had made in her mind to Fadi—but with every message, she found it harder to imagine not meeting up with him the next day.

  Finally, she had to put an end to it. It had been, in many ways, the most exhausting, overwhelming day of her life. It was time it came to a close, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

  Luckily, or unluckily, Hakim brought it up himself.

  So, you’ll meet me tomorrow night?

  Now was the time. Anita knew what she had to do.

  I’m sorry. I can’t meet you.

  She clutched her phone as she waited for a response.

  How do you make the pictures on this?

  What?

  Wait, I found it.

  And then there was a picture of a sad-faced emoji.

  It was too late for Anita to laugh again in her room; Fadi was only a few rooms over. But something about the idea of the heir apparent to the throne of Az Kajir sending her emoji’s was a bit too much to take. She texted back.

  Well done.

  His reply came quickly.

  Well enough done that you’ll meet me?

  Who was he to say? But then, just now, it felt like he wasn’t asking too much

  I’m sorry.

  Even as she typed the word, she could feel her conviction waning.

  I command you as your prince.

  Anita realized she hadn’t stopped grinning like an idiot this entire time, and this response only made it worse.

  You’re not my prince.

  A bubble. No bubble. A bubble again.

  Not yet.

  Anita clutched her phone to her chest and stared up at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d put up there when she was young. She should have removed them long ago, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.

  “What should I do?” she whispered up at them now, as though they would provide her with guidance.

  There was no answer. But she had no willpower to go on refusing.

  She told Hakim she agreed, and he fired back a happy-faced emoji.

  You’re getting the hang of this.

  His reply came back almost instantly.

  I’m a quick learner.

  He sent an address through, and they said goodnight.

  Anita tried to sleep, but she kept looking at the phone in the dark, hoping for another message, even though they’d already said goodnight. She’d have to tell him the next day that they couldn’t be together, she thought. It wasn’t fair to string him along.

  Still, she couldn’t help but be excited. There were butterflies in her stomach, and they fought hard against her exhaustion.

  But finally, it was all too much, and she fell into a deep sleep.