Page 33 of Hiding in the Sheik's Arms

Rolling onto her side, Marianna hugged a pillow to her chest. She missed her friends and her mother desperately. This country was so different from France and she ached for…what? What did she want?

Maybe it was time to change her ways, get back to finding something more important to do other than just…rebelling against her obnoxious, overly muscular brothers who didn’t even seem to know that she was sneaking out every night.

She heard a knock on the door but ignored it. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Marianna just wanted to be alone and…? What? Whatdidshe want to do? She felt so listless. So goal-less. She had no path, no direction to her life anymore.

And she missed her mother so terribly!

“Marianna?” a soft, feminine voice called out. She recognized the voice. It was that woman, her oldest brother’ssecretary or…Tasha. The woman seemed to be more than just a secretary or assistant though. The few times Marianna had spoken to Tasha, the woman had seemed like she was the one in power instead of her brother.

For that reason only, Marianna liked her.

There was another knock on the door, but she ignored it again. A moment later, the door opened.

Chapter 28

Tasha stepped into the suite and looked around, shocked at the mess. The elegant space might have been decorated with a teenager in mind at some point, but there was no way to know what that décor might have been. There were clothes, towels, and empty food trays scattered everywhere.

“Who are you?” a teenager with multicolored hair demanded. The pretty girl leapt off the bed, tossing the pillow away so that she could glare belligerently.

Tasha stepped closer, extending her hand. “I’m Tasha. We’ve met several times since your arrival, but we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m your brother’s executive aide.” Her hand wasn’t accepted so she dropped it, feeling awkward. “It seems that the cleaning staff have ignored your suite. I’m very sorry about the miscommunica…”

“They didn’t,” the grouchy teenager interrupted.

Tasha’s apology stumbled on the militant tone. “Didn’t…what?”

The girl turned her back on Tasha. “I sent the cleaning staff away. It’s just me here and I see no reason not to clean up after myself.” She snorted. “It’s not like I have anyrealduties.”

Tasha stared at the girl, wondering why she hid herself behind that atrocious makeup and bizarre hair. Still, there was something in the girl’s voice that called to Tasha. Something that she recognized. Fear? Sadness? Both, probably. “But…you’re a student, right?”

“Yes.” She snorted and Tasha felt as if she were invading the girl’s privacy. She started to turn away, but the girl’s nextwords, and the sadness in her tone, stopped her. “I could graduate. If I wanted.”

Tasha turned back to the girl, curious. “You could…graduate?”

The girl shrugged, trying to pretend that the conversation wasn’t worth her complete attention. She walked over to the sofa, stuffing several pillows behind her as she looked out the window, feigning casual unconcern. “Yeah,” she said with a forced sigh. “I was taking college level classes…before.” She swallowed hard and Tasha could see the sorrow and grief in Marianna’s eyes, even if she tried to hide it behind her multicolored hair.

“That’s…amazing, Your…”

“Don’t call me that!” she hissed, her eyes suddenly glaring at Tasha. “I’m not…I don’t want to be called that! I was left with my mother all my life, my father only stopping by occasionally to check in on me. I don’t ever want to hear that title or anyone in this…” she lifted her eyes as if encompassing the entire building, “to refer to me by that title! It’s insulting!”

Tasha didn’t understand, but she wanted to. In fact, she wanted to go to the girl and pull her into her arms. The girl-child was trembling with misery. She probably felt abandoned and alone. Not to mention, confused.

“What would you prefer to be called?” she asked gently, moving closer to perch on the edge of a cushioned chair.

“Just…call me Marianna,” she whispered, pain edging into her tone.

“Okay. Marianna it is. And I’m Tasha. Would you…like to talk? I’m not a royal. I’m not related in any way.”

“You’re in love with my oldest brother,” she argued, animosity tingeing her voice, but it wasn’t as vehement as before.

Tasha smiled gently, nodding her head. “Yeah. I love him. He’s a grouchy pain in the neck sometimes, but he’s a very good man.”

There was a brief spark of humor before Marianna’s sadness returned. “He doesn’t want me here.”

Tasha was stunned by that assertion and hesitated as she shifted on the chair. There was plenty of space between them and Marianna sighed as she pulled her feet towards herself. Still, her body language screamed that she was hurt and wounded. Tasha knew that feeling all too well.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’m…not one of them. And besides, he wasn’t even here to greet me when I arrived. I’m just…the baby sister that was inconveniently born.” Her angry brown eyes glared daggers at Tasha. “I didn’t choose to be born, you know! I didn’t have a choice in being here! I wasn’t given an option to stay with my friends in Paris. I was just ordered here to the palace and patted on the head.” She humphed, then her shoulders drooped as if she were defeated.

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