Page 13 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

“Please,” he gestures toward the leather chair opposite his desk, his formality making it feel like the old ocean has filled up between us yet again.

“Thank you,” I accept, perching on the edge of the cushion. My fingers curl around the glass, and I’m glad that I at least have something to hold on to.

“Ali really does seem to be doing better,” I venture, watching the amber liquid swirl in my drink.

“Yes, thanks to you.” He leans against the desk, crossing one ankle over the other. He’s only relaxing in his home, but he looks like he could have been ripped from the spread of a magazine.

I take a small sip, the scotch smooth but potent, mirroring the man before me. As I lower my glass, I catch him observing me, his gaze lingering just a beat too long, causing my pulse to quicken.

Is it the scotch or his nearness that sends a flush creeping up my neck? I pray it’s the former. My skin burns under his scrutiny,and I focus on the patterns in the grain of his desk, willing myself to retain composure.

“Ali’s lucky to have someone as dedicated as Amina,” I say, deflecting the intensity of the moment.

“Indeed,” he replies, his tone softening. “She has been with us for many years.”

The silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable anymore, but still charged. There’s more coming; he invited me in here for a reason. But I’m fine with sitting here and waiting. I take another sip, letting the warmth spread through me.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, fix on mine as he sits in the chair nearest mine, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

“Ali is my son,” he says quietly, the simple admission heavy with implications that ripple through the space between us.

Ah. There it is.

So many pieces fall into place — the guarded demeanor, the constant vigilance. Faiz is unmarried, and he always has been. I understand now the fortress he has built around himself, an armor wrought from secrecy and fear of scandal.

“Does your family know?” My voice is barely above a whisper, afraid to shatter the tenuous thread of trust that weaves itself between us.

I don’t know why I’m asking. I suspect I already know the answer. Even if they were also keeping Ali a secret, surely they would come and visit the boy? That can’t be the case, though. I know for a fact, thanks to what the main palace staff has said, that Faiz hasn’t invited anyone to his home in over five years.Every time his parents ask to visit, he comes up with some sort of excuse.

“No.” The word slices through the air, final and resolute. “And it must remain that way.”

I nod, though I don’t understand. Not really. Finding out this truth has only led to more questions. Why is it that he feels he can’t trust his family with Ali? What is it that they would do?

Is it merely because Faiz isn’t married? Is he ashamed to have had a child out of wedlock? Worried his parents would be disappointed in him?

I want to ask about Ali’s mother, to understand the full breadth of this story, but I hold back. It’s not my place — not yet.

He clears his throat, shifting in his seat as if to dispel the heaviness. “Tara, would you consider… extending your role here? To become the palace doctor for my family as well? I would pay you in addition to what my father is paying you. With discretion in mind, of course.”

“You wish me to not tell your family I’m working for you,” I clarify.

He hesitates a moment before nodding.

“Ah.”

“Is that a dealbreaker?” he asks.

I think about it for a moment. If it weren’t for Ali, perhaps. Now that I’ve met the boy, though, and he’s my patient, I feel somewhat responsible for him. I still don’t have the entire picture of what his life is like in this palace, and until I do, I welcome the opportunity to be able to keep an eye on him.

Despite the guilt that nibbles at the edges of my conscience for keeping Faiz’s secret from my main employers, I also realize that my duty to patient confidentiality comes first.

“Yes, I accept,” I reply, the words firm and certain.

I’m grateful, not just for the professional opportunity, but for the chance to be closer to Ali. The boy with the bright smile who deserves to know the world beyond these walls.

“I’ll do my best for your family,” I add, my heart fluttering at the knowledge that this family includes Faiz. This means I’ll be seeing more of him as well.

“Thank you, Tara,” he says, and there’s a softness in his voice I haven’t heard before. It’s a rare glimpse behind the mask he wears, and it makes me wonder what else lies hidden beneath his stoic exterior.

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