The Sheikh’s Stubborn Bride by Leslie North

8

The day of the Great Press Invasion, as Stella had come to think of it, arrived. She’d spent the past week preparing as best she could for it all, taking full advantage of Kadir’s PR team, but she was already feeling a bit overwhelmed.

First off, the production was way bigger than she’d expected. Stella had pictured one or two photographers following them around at a discreet distance, kind of like those dating reality shows she liked to watch sometimes. But no. There was a film crew, several reporters, and the whole royal security team, all milling about the palace at the same time. And not just the palace either. Wherever they went, the entourage came too.

Like now, at the local children’s hospital. They were supposed to hand out toys to the sick kids, spend time reading to them, stuff like that. But then, right in the middle of it all, Kadir took an opportunity to hold a press conference on his plan for Al-Fatha.

Stella stood off to the side, doing her best to radiate the whole serene-princess vibe in one of the outfits Kadir had helped her pick, but feeling like a nervous mess. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying instead of her visions of imminent public humiliation, but it was hard.

“Take South Korea,” Kadir said, directly to the camera. “They’re a powerhouse in technology and pop culture. I’d love to do something similar here in Al-Fatha. I want my country to be a hub for investors and tech wizards. There’s no reason the next Samsung or LG can’t set up headquarters right here in Jazid.”

She took a deep breath as he continued speaking about his plans, but her mind was whirring with ideas. It was clear from what he’d just said, as well as talks they’d had earlier, that Kadir’s plans hinged on Al-Fatha’s ability to attract foreign money and foreign workers, rather than building on his country’s own budding tech industry. But bringing in all that outside influence risked losing the identity of his country and his people, risked trampling the local voices, as well as flattening the old buildings and cultural institutions. Not that she’d say any of that in front of the press. Presenting anything less than a united front now would be very bad.

“And what do you think?” a reporter asked her, mic at the ready.

“Uh.” She forced a smile, feeling a bit ambushed. Still, she stayed on script. “I think Al-Fatha has so much to offer. Take the planetarium here in Jazid. It’s not only beautiful but has also proven to benefit the local economy.” Like the bazaar Kadir wants torn down, she thought but didn’t say.

Thankfully, their convoy arrived outside, cutting the interview short. As the palace security team escorted the reporters toward the exit, Stella did her best to calm her frazzled nerves. She hated being put on the spot like that, especially under the circumstances. She’d been warned that the challenging questions would come but she hadn’t expected that it would be the very first one thrown at her.

As they approached the glass entrance doors, she glimpsed the crowd gathered on the sidewalk in front of their vehicles. Time to put those etiquette lessons to good use.

Her mood improved as the day progressed. Kadir stayed by her side the entire time, focusing more on her and less on the press, and after that initial surprise press conference, he stuck to their plan. In fact, things got so pleasant that she found herself enjoying their trip to his father’s greenhouses.

She’d met Ibrahim before, at the wedding, but she hadn’t really spent much time with the rest of his family until now, taking most of her meals in the suite or going out to dinner with Kadir. In his fifties, with graying hair, Ibrahim Oman still looked good for his age and was in excellent health. So much so that he apparently tended his own gardens.

“Ah, my son,” Ibrahim said. “You’re here at last.” He gave Kadir a quick hug before turning to Stella. “And your new bride. How is married life going?”

He extended his hand to her, and she noticed the dirt under his fingernails. A small thing, and probably silly, but something about that made him seem a bit less intimidating. She took his hand and found herself engulfed in his big bear hug.

“Good, thank you,” she said, her words muffled by a face full of his shirt.

“Glad to hear it,” Ibrahim said, pulling away slightly and giving her a quick wink before straightening and smiling for the cameras that were filming it all. “Now, how about I share with you all the best homegrown strawberries you will ever taste. Come.” He waved for their whole group to follow him deeper into the greenhouse. The air was humid from the misters going everywhere, and the scent of chemicals and fertilizers filled the sunny space. “There’s more than enough for everyone. Come.”

Later, once they were back at the palace, she and Kadir finally joined the rest of his family for dinner in the family’s private dining room. Naziha was there, as were Ibrahim and Kadir’s brothers, Salah and Yusef. Stella remembered Salah from the reception, and he was just as funny now as he’d been that night, bantering with Kadir like typical siblings and landing barbs whenever possible. Having time with Naziha was nice. Her friend had been busy with work, and Stella missed their coffeehouse meetups and girl-chat time. After the chaos of the day, the evening felt so normal, she almost forgot about the press being there.

Almost.

After dinner, it was time to sit down for one more formal interview. They’d staged this one in the palace’s elaborate library, with its stately paneled walls and endless shelves of books. Stella vowed to spend an entire day in there one day, exploring. But for now, she had more important matters to contend with. Namely, not making a fool of herself on national television. The reporter had been given a list of approved questions ahead of time, but if the press in Al-Fatha was anything like the American media or the reporter earlier who’d caught her off guard earlier, all bets were off.

“So, Prince Kadir,” the reporter said, after a few minutes of chatting about the events of the day, “tell me how you feel about your mother’s latest film, Katmandu.”

Stella froze and shot her husband a discreet side glance. His mother’s departure was a touchy subject, of course, and she couldn’t imagine Kadir approving such a question, so yes—wily reporters. She hadn’t watched much TV since she’d been here in Al-Fatha, but even she’d seen the trailers for the new big-budget action movie winning global praise. Stella glanced at her husband from beneath her lashes to see how he was reacting. Before she had a chance, however, Kadir had taken her hand and was rising from his chair. She stood with him.

“I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for questions this evening. Good night,” Kadir said, and they made a hasty exit. His tone reeked of clear dismissal, and a member of the PR team rushed up to whisper something urgently in Kadir’s ear. Given his scowl and the tight grip he had on her hand, Kadir was pissed. He’d obviously been blindsided back there, the same as she’d been earlier, and he had every right to be upset about it.

Stella couldn’t say she was sorry about being done with the interviews, but she did feel bad for Kadir. He hauled her out the side door and into a private, secluded garden.

The moonlight cast shadows from the trees around them as they took a seat on a stone bench along the wall. For several long moments, they sat in silence, until Stella couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Kadir grunted, his arm brushing hers as he shrugged.

Right. She picked up a leaf near her feet and toyed with it as she reflected on the reporter’s question. She’d known from the dossier that Aziza Oman was Kadir’s mother. She’d seen several of the woman’s films and liked her as an actress. In fact, Stella had even been hired as an extra in one of her films. She hadn’t mentioned that to Naziha because she hadn’t thought it was important, and considering Kadir’s mood now, the timing wasn’t right for a confession tonight either. She’d tell him someday, once things had settled down. Just not now. Now, she needed to do what she could to smooth her husband’s ruffled feathers.

“I’m sorry about that reporter’s question.”

Kadir sat back and sighed, shaking his head. “Thank you. I should be used to it by now, considering.”

Stella didn’t want to push too hard, but she needed to know. “I know you don’t like to talk about her.”

“No, I don’t.” He let out a joyless laugh. “I guess I just don’t see the point in rehashing it. She walked away and never looked back. Not much up for debate there. She didn’t care about us. She loved her career more. What is there to say?”

“That must’ve hurt you deeply.” Stella reached over and took his hand. “I can’t imagine how terrible that was. For you and for the rest of your family, too.”

“It was awful.” He played with her fingers, staring down at their clasped hands, frowning. “Being abandoned by your mother…it leaves this huge gaping hole, you know? Nothing will ever fill it. I’ve learned to deal with it, as have the rest of my family, but that wound stays.”

“And she never tried to contact you?” Stella asked, her heart hurting for him. “Not once in all those years?”

“No. Not once.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “That shows you how much she cared about us. She’d rather have her life of fame and fortune. That’s what she really loves—her life of pretending.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” He took a deep breath. “Me too. That’s why I never talk about her. None of us do.” Kadir looked up then, scowling at the palace. “That reporter knew better. I don’t understand why he thought he could get away with that question.”

“I don’t know either.” Stella bit her lip and stared up at the starry sky. She probably ought to mention the whole extra thing to Kadir but feared upsetting him even more. The poor guy had been through enough tonight, and it was so nice just sitting out here with him in the peace and quiet after their busy day. She hated to ruin it.

So, instead, she released his hand and smiled. “Scoot around so your back is facing me.”

“Why?” He gave her a wary look. “Are you looking for the reporter’s blade?”

“Kadir.” She said in a soft voice. “Just do it. Trust me.”

He gave a reluctant sigh then did as she asked. She put her hands on his broad shoulders and started giving him a massage, much as he’d done for her the other day in the closet when she’d been stressed. “How does that feel?”

Kadir groaned low and rolled his neck and shoulders, sending a buzz of excitement through her. “Excellent.”

She worked the knots out of his stiff muscles then moved to his shoulder blades, digging in deep with her thumbs. “Good. Just returning the favor.”

By the time she was done, Kadir appeared much more relaxed beneath her touch. So much so that he’d slumped back into her. His soft hair brushed her cheek, and the sandalwood scent of his cologne drifted around her, making her chest constrict from the tenderness she felt for him. Stella couldn’t resist dropping a quick kiss on the side of his neck before she let him go. “Better?”

“Much.” He turned to face her and kissed her sweetly on the lips. “Thank you, habibi.”

“My pleasure,” she said, smiling as a wave of affection rolled through her. Something was happening. Not the big L word, but way more than just like. She stood and took his hand and winked. “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m sure we can find a much more pleasant way to spend the evening.”