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The Sheikh did as she said, taking her hard and fast, the two of them coming in silence as their son played just out of sight, his wooden bear dancing on the floorboards while his parents danced against one another’s flesh, just as nature intended. Afterwards she kissed his mouth and patted her skirt back down and went out to their son, leading him to the mezzanine upstairs, which Irene had converted into her sewing room.
The Sheikh closed his eyes and sighed, and for a moment he thought that he was truly happy, that if he could pick one moment, this might be it. A moment pregnant with potential, full of possibilities, his entire life ahead of him. But then again came that stab of guilt. This time, however, it was not the past butting in—it was the present. The real world.
Mala. His young, strong niece. How could he be so cruel, so selfish? Here he was rejoicing in beginning a new life, and there she was, a child abandoned by the one sworn to take care of her. Again he questioned his thinking, his motives. He wondered whether he was being too extreme. After all, it had been two months. He’d checked the news, and it was clear that everyone believed he was dead. He’d seen footage of his own damned funeral! Mala took a week off from school to attend. She already looked older, that playfulness wiped away, replaced by a seriousness that saddened him.
He clenched his fist and tried to resist the urge he’d felt many times since deciding to take this extreme—perhaps stupid—action. Yes, he’d wanted to simply pick up the satellite phone, call the head of his personal security on the secured line. He’d order him to simply go ahead and kill that other brother. It did not matter whether or not he’d done anything yet. It did not even really matter if he truly intended to do anything. It would be so simple to just have him taken out. Taken away. Eradicated. He’d killed so many. What was one more? Why was he making his poor teenage niece pay the price, while he frolicked in the woods like some young stallion sowing his oats!
But there was risk to any kind of move, and the Sheikh knew it. There were too many unknowns. Who knew if the brother had some emotional hold on Mala, even if he did not have a physical hold yet? What if she trusted him as a confidante, perhaps more? If she found out the Sheikh was alive, she might tell the brother, despite Bilaal's warnings! It was hard to predict the actions of a teenager in turmoil! So no, he could not call Mala, and he could not order a hit either, because there was a risk of Mala learning he was alive before the hit was done. The Sheikh knew his security personnel very well. They were a close-knit group, and they loved the Sheikh more than their own lives. None would betray his trust, and if he told them to stay silent, they would do it even through torture. Still, they would be overjoyed to find that he was alive. And joy is contagious. It spreads like fire. Perhaps someone else in his service gets wind of it. Perhaps a soft-hearted attendant cannot bear to watch Mala mourn her uncle’s death when he is alive. Maybe they pass a hint to Mala. Her spirits rise and she is back to her bubbly, playful self.
Then the evil brother notices the change in her mood. He gets suspicious. Suspicion turns to paranoia. He does something. What if it happens before the Sheikh’s guards get to him? After all, they cannot storm the hallways of a Swiss boarding school with scimitars and machine guns and murder a man who is legally innocent of all wrongdoing! Even if the Sheikh didn’t go to international prison for the rest of his days, certainly Mala would never speak to him again for doing something so insane!
They could try poison, a sniper, a car accident. But all of that took planning, and the brother lived on the school campus, in a well-secured faculty-only building. No, it would be too hard to engineer quickly. And pulling her out of the school would arouse the same suspicion in the brother, possibly leading to the same result: Something unspeakable happening to Mala.
The Sheikh also considered calling Benson, and not his personal guard. But though Benson could be trusted, the man was a high-ranking CIA official, and he had obligations and duties that went beyond the Sheikh and his family. And even he would find it complicated to kill an innocent man in the sovereign nation of Switzerland!
No, he decided, taking a breath and resting his head against the wooden wall as he stared out the window. He’d gone over it a hundred times. It is extreme, but this is the safest way for Mala. Let the man think he has all the time in the world. Mala is in a safe, well-monitored environment right now. Although the possibility drives me mad, this brother cannot be stupid enough to advance on an underage girl in his own class, under the watchful eyes of well-paid, highly qualified Swiss administrators who are dealing with the children of the world’s rich and famous. He will take his time. Perhaps he will even drop the idea. After all, Mala is no fool.
Slowly the Sheikh began to relax as he reminded himself that his niece was not some imbecile, some brainless doll who needed the great Sheikh watching over her every move. And when had he ever really “watched” over her? He barely spent time with the child when her parents were alive, and the truth was, it didn’t change much even after they died. She will be OK for a year, he told himself. Just a few more months. We will stay until close to Irene's due date, and then we will return. I will order the hit right before I return. By then the brother should have relaxed and backed off, giving my men a chance to get to him. Perhaps I will have the chance to break his neck myself. For now, Mala is provided for. The people of the Khiyani court and her personal attendants are like family. They would die for her if needed. She will be OK, Bilaal. Suck up your guilt and do not let it own you. Take care of what is in front of you right now. Let go of the past, and worry about the future when it arrives. For now, just relax and take care of what is in front of you.
And as he thought it, she stepped into view, taking the stairs down from the mezzanine carefully, one step at a time, glowing like the bride she was. She’d fashioned a white gown out of a clean silk bedsheet, and she wore a wreath of leaves that looked suspiciously like Sage had picked them from the floor of the mezzanine’s balcony. She looked like a cross between a nature goddess and a Roman queen, and he stood transfixed by her simple beauty. He stayed silent, watching in awe until she and Sage walked over to the center of the room and stopped.
She blinked, her face flush, like she was waiting for his approval. She smiled nervously, a gentle blush showing beneath her healthy tan.
“Ta da,” she said, doing a slow twirl with her arms out wide. “Toga party!”
“Sorry?” he said, his head spinning as his blushing bride spun in her gown of white light.
“Never mind,” she said, laughing and throwing her hair back. “I’m ready.”
“Me too,” the Sheikh managed to say as he walked over.
“Me too,” said Sage, holding up his wooden bear.
“Good,” said the Sheikh, raising an eyebrow and then pointing at the bear. “Bring your bear, Sage. We will need a second witness to make it official.”