Chapter Two
The granite felt cool against his skin. That shouldn’t be. It was over one hundred and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit in Yomarani, and even the family crypt for the Zaman dynasty should have been warm. However, no matter how many times Sheikh Rami Zaman came to visit his lost wife and child, he perceived a chill in the air and a coldness that seeped into the very stones before him.
Bowing his head low, he ran his fingers over the raised text of Etana’s name.
“Hello, my dear. I’ve come to bring my greeting. I have another casino opening tonight. Sometimes I don’t know if changing the course of the family company’s fortunes away from oil and into tourism was wise. I don’t know if I’m doing my father justice as I spend most of my time working against the rebels in the north. I don’t know anything these days.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I’ve known any truth or peace since I lost you.”
Standing, he eased over to an even smaller stone, the shock of its chill as biting as the Arctic air. That granite marked where his child lay, the daughter who had died along with Etana and before she’d had a name.
His family.
He ached for them. It had been hard enough when his father had been murdered by rebels almost a decade ago, but he’d still had his most trusted advisors and his loving, dutiful Etana by his side. Then the childbirth that even the best doctors in Yomarani hadn’t been able to help had happened, and his life had been ashes ever since. Some days, it hurt too much to breathe. Yet he carried on because he knew it was what Etana would have wanted and the best way to honor his father. The elder Sheikh Zaman had been one of the best leaders in Yomarani history and brought them into a new age of peace with the West. He had no idea how to match his father’s legacy.
He had no idea how to do anything, and yet his subjects looked to him for wisdom and guidance, as if he understood everything. Rami feared letting his own insecurities out. Today was always the hardest day of the year, the one where those old wounds were ripped open, raw and bleeding once again. But it was also the day the leasing company wanted to have the casino announce its opening with its premiere party. Somehow, he’d have to slap on a happy face and play the perfect host to keep his company thriving.
Perhaps a spot of liquid courage would help with that as well.
Sighing, he stood again and nodded toward Etana. “I love you, and I miss both of you. I just wish I could…I know you don’t want me to be alone for the rest of my life, but I can’t imagine any woman who could compare to you. No one else ever kept me as honest.”
There was a polite cough behind him and he turned. Before him stood Waheed, his most trusted assistant. His long, traditional robes flowed down to his sandaled feet and his white beard was neatly trimmed.
“The party is starting soon. We need to get downtown in order to have you check into the penthouse.”
“Am I staying the night?”
“It will look better for business, my sheikh, if you stay late to welcome your guests. The presidential suite has been swept by the security team. We should keep to the itinerary.”
He offered his most trusted advisor a small, tight smile. “I wish there was any other day but today we could have opened.”
“The American half of the investment team were insistent on their time frames. Perhaps if you’d explained about Etana…”
He gripped the granite of her headstone as if it were a steadying cane. “She’s private, and I don’t need for anyone to know more about the pains of my heart.” He stood straighter and nodded to Waheed. “Let us get on with it. The sooner this night is over, the better.”
“Surely, my sheikh. That’s the spirit,” he said dryly.
***
The throbbing bass of the music at Aladdin’s Den, the nightclub within his casino, felt like a metal spike being driven into the base of his skull. Sitting in the VIP section, he plastered a false smile on his face. The train of business associates trailed in and out of the curtained-off area, and he’d paid appropriate lip service to the co-investors. Currently, a few beautiful women were hovering by the edge of the velvet ropes and preening their hair. One woman with flowing blonde extensions tried to catch his eye. He nodded toward her politely but offered nothing else. There was nothing Rami had less interest in than a woman, at least not the usual dilettante or model wannabe who filtered through clubs like his. He had one in Monaco and one in New York already, and the women who stalked him there were always looking for the title and wealth. Trying to land a sheikh as if he were no more than a big mouth bass or wild game.
The last thing he needed was a gold digger in his life.
Waheed breezed past the women and sat in a chair facing Rami. “You have quite the busy corner here for yourself.” Waheed sipped his bottled water slowly. Unlike Rami, the other man was tightly observant and hadn’t had so much as a coffee in his entire life. “My sheikh, have you ever heard that charming American expression ‘fake it until you make it?’”
“I don’t need advice, Waheed.”
The other man chuckled and stroked his beard. “I believe that is the sum total of my job description. I think you need more advice than you think, and being your father’s advisor before you were elevated means more than being charged with knowledge on political strategy.”
“What do you mean?” He shook his head and drained a tumbler of scotch. “I don’t need a love connection. This is a business arrangement, and I’ve kept the investors happy. I’m showing the flag for Zaman Enterprises. The last thing I need is to entertain one of those Jezebel types. I have no interest in a fling.”
“Maybe you just need to have fun once in a while. You don’t always have to stick to merely duty, Rami.”
He frowned back at Waheed. His loyal advisor was courteous to a fault and rarely addressed him informally. Since Waheed was doing it now, Rami knew he was being serious. “I have rebels to address, threats that have been made on my life more than once in the last month, and a brand new casino that hopefully will become as revered and as profitable as the ones in Dubai. Besides, you know what day it is. I don’t feel like ‘fun.’”
“But you need something to keep your life from being work and only work all the time. I worry about you. I felt after the first few years you could grow past all of this---”
“Past Etana? She was the one, and I lost her. I do what I have do because I love Yomarani as dearly as I loved my family. If keeping the Zaman Enterprises bottom line high can help, then that’s great. But party’s…”
He trailed off then, bemused by the sight before him. A woman had just sat down at the bar. One of the things that struck him was her long auburn hair that fell in waves about her shoulders, but the thing that stuck out about the mystery woman across the club was the sweater she wore over her shoulders. In Yomarani. In September.
What on Earth?
She was making small talk with the bartender and nursing a beer, at least something imported, but still, she was the most casual person there. Yet, when she craned her neck to look around at the people before them, her emerald green eyes seemed to miss nothing. They were as piercing as any he’d ever seen.
Rami’s breath caught in his throat.
Despite his dour mood and the hassles of the night, he had to meet her, if only to understand the mystery of her sartorial choices. Standing, he gave Waheed his first genuine smile of the night. “Excuse me, my friend. I think I have some advice to take.”