Page 22 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

A silence settles over us, the airy chirping of birds and the gentle whisper of the wind filling the void as they exchange glances, their eyes speaking volumes in their secret language of shared history and mutual understanding.

Then Sheikh Yusuf breaks it. “You know you can always talk to us, Tara. You’re not just an employee here; you’re part of our family.”

His words are kind, wrapped in a well-meaning sincerity that warms my heart. Yet it also serves as another reminder — a painful one — of how much I’m withholding from them.

“Thank you,” I reply, forcing a polite smile onto my face. “That means a lot.”

They excuse themselves, disappearing into the labyrinth of lush greenery that stretches beyond the garden’s edge. Alone again, I turn around and make my way toward the staff parking lot.

I could haunt the palace all day long, but with every step I would feel that I’m overstaying my welcome. No, it’s best that I head home.

And maybe that’s not all it’s time for me to leave, I consider as I get into my car and drive away.

Back in my apartment, I sit on the couch, laptop open before me. The cursor blinks on the job-search page, a silent challenge. Could I really consider leaving? Starting anew elsewhere, whereroyal secrets and the echoes of unspoken feelings don’t cloud my days?

“Complicated” doesn’t begin to cover it. With every click, I feel a twinge of disloyalty, a whisper of fear at the unknown. Yet the thought of remaining amid this intricate web of obligations and hidden truths is equally daunting.

“New beginnings,” I murmur to myself, the words tasting bittersweet as I type in my qualifications and hit “search.”

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to find a place where my heart isn’t pulled in ten different directions. Where I can be more than a keeper of secrets, where the distance between duty and desire isn’t so treacherous.

I hit “submit” on yet another application, a role so far removed from my current life that it might as well be in another universe.

With each application sent, my chest tightens. An uncomfortable truth settles like a stone in my stomach — this isn’t about escaping complexity; it’s about Ali.

The image of his smile, bright and unburdened, flashes before me. How can I think of walking away when he needs someone who understands? Someone who sees him not just as a burden to be stuffed into the shadows but as the boy with boundless imagination and untapped dreams?

My fingers hover over the keys, now still. They’re cold, almost numb, echoing the chill that seeps into my resolve. I close and open my eyes, focusing on the blank screen, the cursor blinking expectantly, waiting for my next move.

“Can I really leave?” The question hangs in the air, unanswered. But deep down, I know.

A sigh escapes me, heavy with resignation and an odd sense of relief. My finger reaches out, almost of its own accord, closing the tabs one by one until the screen reflects nothing but my own conflicted gaze.

“Ali needs me,” I whisper to the empty room.

I’m staying — for him, for the chance to see his potential for true freedom unfold into reality, for the bond that goes beyond titles and walls. Because sometimes, the right choice isn’t the easiest one — it’s the one that feels like home.

CHAPTER 12

TARA

The ping coming from my phone almost goes unnoticed. At first I think that it’s part of the TV show I’ve been mindlessly staring at for the last hour. Pressing pause on the show, I glance at the message lighting up the phone screen. It’s from Faiz.

My heart leaps into my throat, the last place it belongs. It doesn’t matter what I tell it, though; it seems set on believing that romance is still possible for me and Faiz.

Would you join me for dinner tomorrow night? A small token of gratitude for your services,the text says.

I squint at the words, trying to decipher his intentions. His demeanor is unpredictable, warmth flickering like a flame in a drafty room — now bright, now dim. The professional part of me insists on boundaries, but the woman within whispers of a desire to bridge the gap between us, if only to understand him better.

My fingers hover hesitantly over the keyboard before tapping out a simple response.

Thank you for the invitation. I’d be delighted to accept.

The following evening arrives swathed in the soft blush of twilight. I drive to his palace, my heart ticking in time with each mile closer. The grandeur of the place never ceases to leave an impression, and it feels extra special tonight, though maybe that’s just the lights strung along the driveway and placed strategically in the garden.

Ali greets me at the door, a pint-sized dragon with eyes sparkling brighter than any treasure. His costume is a vibrant green, complete with scales and a tail that swishes as he moves. I laugh, happy to see he’s feeling well enough to be up and running around.

“Knight Tara! You must help slay the evil dragon!” Ali commands, his voice fierce.

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