Chapter 3
I watch my friend storm downstairs on the yacht, with my brother right behind her. That part would be perfect, if the model hadn’t followed them. There is no way I’m letting that witch ruin the happiness of the two people who, along with my father, mean the most to me in the world.
As I approach, I look at the woman’s back.
She really is beautiful, but if I could give her some advice, even if Adeela weren’t in the picture, I’d tell her to value herself more.
From what I know of my brother, he hates forced situations.
Kaled only does what he wants, and if she were the one, he would never have committed to Adeela, no matter how much he needed a wife.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, even though I’m boiling inside.
The party is going wild upstairs, and instead of enjoying it, I’m stuck babysitting the giantess.
Kaled always says that the moment I set foot in Europe, I shift into a child in front of a candy-shop window. I can’t deny it, but right now what matters is protecting my friend’s happiness.
There’s no sign of my brother or Adeela, which means they left this woman talking to herself. Even then, she didn’t get the hint.
She keeps ignoring me, even though I know she heard me.
“Hellooooooooooo, Ingrid,” I call, deliberately shrill.
She finally turns around, a bit unsteady, since the heels she’s wearing are as tall as mine. I’m no expert, but I’d swear she’s drunk. She can barely focus on me.
“Who are you?”
“We’ll get to that. First, answer me: what do you think you’re doing?” I repeat.
She already threw a public tantrum in front of everyone, complaining that my brother ended their relationship.
“Do I know you?” she asks, practically snarling.
One thing to know about me: a woman treating me badly, acting like a rabid dog, doesn’t scare me. I have sisters and was a punching bag, virtually and literally, for a long time, until I learned how to stand up for myself.
“I’m Kaled’s sister.”
Her attitude changes instantly, and I roll my eyes. She must think we’re about to become sisters-in-law.
“Hi, how are you? I’m Ingrid,” she says, slurring slightly and offering her hand.
“I know who you are, and I think the entire party does too by now. But I didn’t ask your name. I want to know what you think you’re doing coming after my brother and his fiancée. Hasn’t anyone taught you to respect other people’s privacy?”
Her face twists back into anger. “Oh, I get it. That little thing who went downstairs with my Kaled is his chosen one, right? The problem, sweetheart, is that saints can’t satisfy a man with your brother’s appetite.”
My cheeks burn at the implication, not only because I don’t want to think about my brother’s sex life, but also because, as modern as I want to be, I was raised seeing sex as taboo. Something only done between married people.
“Don’t do this to yourself.” I’m still trying to be nice, but she’s really testing me.
“What? Tell you the truth? I can do things in bed that—”
I step toward her.
I’m five-six and I’m pretty sure she’s at least six feet tall, but I don’t care—I’m filled with absolute, murderous rage. No one insults Adeela in front of me. Being a virgin is not a flaw; it’s just a fact.
“You don’t know me, Ingrid, so here’s a warning because I’m a very polite girl.
Hearing you talk about your sex life with my brother disgusts me, because that’s something only the couple has any business knowing.
What you two did—emphasis on did—when you were together is none of my concern.
But if you try to humiliate Adeela, I’ll end you.
She’s not just Kaled’s fiancée; she’s my best friend.
A sister to me. And I promise you that if you embarrass her, I will rip every inch of that extension hair off your head. ”
“How do you know it’s extensions?”
I almost laugh. Out of everything I said, of course she latches onto that. “You were in a magazine last week with short hair, but that’s not the point. Focus, Ingrid. We’re circling back to my threats.”
“You’re just a kid,” she scoffs.
“I’m nineteen and a half, and guess what?
I live in the desert. I was raised around venomous scorpions.
You know how painful a scorpion sting is?
” Not that I have the slightest idea. “So to keep this short, be warned: if you hurt Adeela, I’ll bury you in the Rheadur desert, with that long neck of yours sticking out and at least a dozen scorpions to sting you. ”
She trembles, and I’m nauseated just imagining the scene, but I keep my face neutral.
“You’re insane,” she says, suddenly sounding sober.
“No. Just protective. You’ve been warned, Ingrid. Next time you even think about interfering in my brother’s engagement, remember how painful scorpion stings can be.”
I almost laugh when I see her practically sprinting away. I follow her, because now that I’ve fulfilled my guardian-friend duties, it’s time to have some fun.
When I reach the deck, Ingrid still hasn’t left. She seems to be arguing with Vicenzzo and another girl who I think came with her.
I watch as Kaled’s friend asks the security guards to escort the two off the yacht, probably so they can call a taxi.
Good. Now it’s time to show Europe that Jazmina has arrived.
I grab a glass of water from a passing waiter’s tray, only because I don’t want to stand out. Everyone has a drink in hand, and since I don’t know whether any are alcohol-free, better not to risk it.
I walk toward an area of the yacht where several tables are set up. Some girls are dancing on top of them, and I’m kind of hypnotized watching. They look so free. What must it feel like to do whatever you want without being judged by an entire nation?
I look around. Everyone is distracted, having fun, and I decide it’s time for me to try it too. Now that Kaled is going to be the new sheikh, I’m sure my spot at a university in the UK is guaranteed, and I don’t want to arrive there like some wild creature. I need to blend in.
I take off my twelve-centimeter heels and congratulate myself for choosing jeans instead of the dress I’d originally planned on wearing.
“Need help?”
I turn and see a drop-dead gorgeous guy, smiling like he’s in a toothpaste commercial. He offers his hand, but I hesitate. Touching a man in public without any familial or romantic ties is . . . not exactly culturally acceptable.
“No, thank you,” I say, realizing he intends to lift me into his arms and place me on top of the table. I step back. “Um . . . I can do this on my own.”
He shrugs but doesn’t move away, which makes me self-conscious.
I turn to the side because I want to experience this moment alone, and if I think someone is watching me, I won’t enjoy it properly.
The feeling of being up high, with the wind brushing against me, is so delicious that I close my eyes, savoring freedom for the first time. People around me don’t care that I’m a princess.
The music changes to a beat similar to the ones from my country.
Still with my eyes closed, I move into a few steps of raq? bládi, what Westerners call belly dance. Adeela is amazing at it, and we’ve trained together since childhood, though we only ever performed publicly at my father’s birthday.
I’m lost in the rhythm, smiling, swaying my body, when someone calls my name. Startled, I open my eyes too fast and almost lose my balance. Only then do I notice several guys gathered around me, watching me dance, but it wasn’t one of them who called me.
It was the redhead. One of Kaled’s closest friends. The grumpiest of them, who didn’t even say hello when my brother introduced me earlier. I was far away, but I saw him ignore me completely. Now he looks ready to drag me off the table by force, judging by that scowl.
What he doesn’t know is that I survived Naim and all his chauvinism. He’s not intimidating me that easily.
“Hello, Rodrick,” I reply, as if we’re old acquaintances.
“Hello, princess. Are you coming down willingly, or is your loyal subject here going to have to throw you over his shoulder in front of everyone?”