CHAPTER TEN
King Nadim Al-Mansoori stared down at the laptop screen, wishing he could witness the look on Maya Corbett’s face as she watched the video of her daughter so perfectly posed. He gained great joy knowing that, if for only an instant, she would experience the terror of seeing a loved one dead—as he had when he’d discovered his brother, Zahir, all those years ago.
A resonant knock on the heavy door rumbled across the room.
“Enter,” Nadim called out.
Adnan Bashar, the king’s right-hand man and longtime friend, approached and stopped in front of Nadim’s desk.
“What is it?” He lowered the lid to his laptop until it snapped shut.
“Sir, the girl has begun to stir.” Adnan looked straight ahead, as direct eye contact with the royal family was not allowed unless permission was given. “Shall we continue to medicate her? ”
They’d grown up playing together as small boys, went through primary school together, and even attended Oxford together. Though Adnan had been there not as a student but to attend to Nadim’s needs. Even with their shared experiences, his friend was still a servant to the royal family, as had been his father and his father’s father before him.
Adnan also knew where all of the Al-Mansoori family skeletons were hidden. Literally and figuratively. Which was one of the more important reasons why Nadim kept him so close.
“I think it’s time for her to awaken. I’m curious to see what happens when she fully comprehends her situation.” Would she panic and scream and cry for her mother? Or would she exhibit the same iron will? “Set up a camera in her room. I’d hate to deprive her mother of a single moment of her daughter’s stay with us.”
“Yes, sir.” Adnan remained in place, waiting to be dismissed.
“Relax, my friend.” Nadim rolled his chair back from the desk and stood. “Come, let’s sit. I’ve requested some tea and would love for you to join me.”
He extended a hand and led the way over to a conversation area with two oversize sofas facing each other with a delicately carved, wooden table with a glass top set between them .
Adnan waited until the king was settled on the couch before sitting across from him.
“So, tell me, my friend. How are things going with you and Fatima?” Nadim asked.
“Things are … well, they are what they are.” He relaxed back. “She is busy planning the wedding.”
Fatima Mifsud was sixteen years younger than Nadim and Adnan’s thirty-six. She was the youngest daughter of seven daughters and was an immature, petulant, spoiled brat. Their marriage had been arranged the day she was born. Her family, like his, had served the Al-Mansooris for generations.
Adnan didn’t love Fatima and never would. His friend’s heart would always belong to another woman—an independent, sturdily built Dutch woman named Skyla whom he’d met and fallen in love with while in Great Britain. However, according to Qadiran customs, marriages outside of their culture were strictly forbidden.
There was a gentle rap on the door.
“Ah, our tea has arrived.” Nadim called out, “Enter.”
A guard swung the door open and allowed a young woman to pass into the massive office. With the exception of her eyes, which she kept focused downward, she was fully covered. In her hands was an engraved silver tray holding two small brass cups and a matching teapot. The entire set shone and glowed beneath the warm lights .
The guard waited at the door while she quietly set the tray on the table between them. She picked up the teapot to fill their cups.
“We’ll do that, Halima.” He shooed her hand away. “Thank you.”
She gave a slight bow, a flashing glance at Adnan, then she turned and walked out of the office.
Adnan watched her until she was out of sight.
“Your younger sister is doing quite well.” Nadim looped a finger through the small handle on the teapot, filled their cups with Yansoon tea, and handed one to his friend.
“Thank you.” Adnan accepted the tea. “She is honored to serve you.” His friend’s forced smile said otherwise.
“To good friends.” Nadim lifted his cup in a toast.
“To good friends,” he repeated.
Nadim tilted his cup to his lips and watched his friend over the brim as he did the same. The strong scent of anise whispered up from the sweet tea and filled his nose with a hint of black licorice.
“I know Fatima is not the woman you would’ve chosen for yourself, but she is very beautiful.” Fortunately for Adnan, their culture had no restrictions when it came to a man’s fidelity to his wife. “You can still be with Skyla, as long as you provide your wife with enough children to keep her busy.”
“Skyla has made it very clear that she will not be my ‘side chick,’ as they say in America.” He made air quotes around the crass term. “And I would never disrespect her in that way.” He let loose a deep sigh of resignation. “No, Skyla deserves a good life with a man who will be committed to her and her alone.”
His friend was much more noble than Nadim, who spent more nights in other women’s beds than with his own wife. She, too, was from a powerful family, and their marriage had been a business arrangement, not a love match.
She’d known what she was getting before marrying him. Her only requests had been that he give her children and that he be discreet and not bring her disrespect or shame. She’d also been adamant about never coming face-to-face with one of his paramours. Understandable demands that he’d easily agreed to.
What could he say? It was good to be the king.
“May I speak freely, Your Majesty?” Adnan asked.
“Of course.” Nadim could guess what his friend wanted to discuss.
“I am concerned about your plans for the girl.” Adnan sat forward, placed his cup on the tray, and rested his elbows on his knees. “What her mother did to Zahir was terrible, and I understand your need to punish her.” He threaded his fingers together. “But the child, she is innocent. ”
“Yes, she is. Which is exactly why I had her taken.” Nothing motivated a mother more than having her child in imminent peril.
“She is rather small for her age, and the doctor is concerned about the amount of medication she has been given.” Adnan’s big heart would be his downfall one day.
“You must trust me, my friend.” Nadim set his cup on the tray and stood, a sign that this conversation was over.
Adnan hurried to his feet, and his posture stiffened.
“See to it the video camera is put in place.” He walked over to his desk.
“Yes, sir.” Adnan stared ahead, no longer making eye contact.
“You are dismissed.” Nadim waited until he was almost to the door. “Adnan.
His friend stopped and turned back to him.
“I want Saleem and Usman stationed outside the girl’s room at all times.”
“You cannot be serious. Those two are savages.”
How dare he take such an insolent tone?
“I am very serious.” Nadim speared him with a look that reminded him he was now addressing his king, not his friend.
Saleem and Usman were brothers who didn’t share a full brain between them. However, what they lacked in intellect, they made up for in sheer brutality. They also had a deep dislike for Adnan, and the feeling was mutual. By assigning them to watch the girl, his friend now knew that the king questioned his loyalty where the child was concerned.
“Yes, sir.” Adnan’s tone had become remote, that of a servant following an order.
“Go.” Nadim watched him walk away and waited until the door closed to settle into his chair. “I really do not want to have to kill you, my friend.” But if Adnan proved to be a problem, he would not hesitate.