Page 23 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

“And I suppose you’re the dragon?” I wink at him. “I don’t know… you probably fly too fast for me. I doubt I’ll ever catch you.”

“Try!” he yells before sprinting back into the house.

Closing the door behind myself, I run after him. The laughter of our game fills the rooms we pass through. One moment I’m “Knight Tara,” charging up the grand staircase, and the next, I’m a giggling accomplice to the dragon’s escape, letting him outsmart me at every turn.

Eventually, our game leads us to the living room, where I let Ali catch me. Pretending to be sore over losing, I offer my wrist willingly to the ribbon he holds — a makeshift shackle.

He hops around me, securing me to a chair with more enthusiasm than skill. I play my part, pretending to struggle against my bonds, watching Ali’s delight grow. This is what joy sounds like — a child’s laughter, pure and untainted.

“Looks like I’ve come just in time. Should I rescue the knight or let her face her peril alone?” Faiz’s voice, laced with amusement, cuts through our play.

I turn my head to see him leaning casually against the doorway, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his guarded eyes.

“Rescue me, and I promise to share the dragon’s treasure with you,” I plead dramatically, holding Faiz’s gaze, challenging him to join us in this pocket of lightness.

“Very well, Knight Tara,” he says, striding over. As he gently unties the ribbon, his fingers brush against my skin, sending a ripple of awareness through me.

“Thank you, my lord,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear the way my voice catches.

“Your bravery knows no bounds,” Faiz replies, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a rare, genuine smile that transforms his entire face.

Ali claps, delighted with the conclusion of our tale, unaware of the undercurrents swirling between his father and me.

Suddenly feeling very self-aware —did running around mess up my hair?— I stand and smooth my dress. “I’ll let you and your treasure get away this time,” I tell Ali. “But watch out for next time.”

“Try to get me now!” Ali jumps onto the couch, but Faiz is shaking his head.

“That’s enough for now,” Faiz says. “It is time to eat.”

“But—”

“Now, Ali.” Faiz is stern but not unkind, and Ali doesn’t need to be told again. He jumps off the couch and walks across the carpet, his tail dragging.

The dining room is grand, like every other space in this home, but it also feels very lived-in. Faiz pulls out a chair for Ali, his face lighting up in a way I haven’t seen before. It’s as if his son is the sun and he’s just a planet caught in orbit.

“Dragons need their strength,” Ali declares, plopping into his seat with all the grace a six-year-old can muster. I can’t help but laugh at his serious expression, squinting eyes scanning the spread of dishes as though evaluating a battlefield.

“Indeed, they do,” I agree, seating myself across from him.

We’re served a meal that looks like it’s straight out of a royal feast, yet there’s a playful edge to it — bite-sized foods perfect for Ali’s small hands. As we eat, Faiz shares stories about Ali’s latest adventures around the home, and I find myself captivated not by the tales themselves, but by the fondness in his voice.

“Did you build the entire castle yourself?” I ask Ali.

“Uh-huh, with pillows and blankets.” He nods vigorously. “But Dad says it’s not structurally sound.”

Faiz raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “We’re working on understanding the fundamentals of architecture.”

Dinner progresses, filled with laughter and the clinking of cutlery. I savor the rich flavors, but more than that, I relish the easy camaraderie. It strikes a chord within me, stirring a yearning for something I’ve pushed aside in the pursuit of my career.

A family.

The image of a life beyond anything I’ve known blooms in my mind, vivid and terrifying in its appeal.

“Bedtime,” Faiz announces after dessert, and Ali makes a show of protesting, though his drooping eyelids give away his fatigue.

“Will you tuck me in too, Dr. Tara?” Ali asks, his hopeful eyes boring into mine. The request catches me off guard, as does my unexpected desire to do exactly that.

“Of course,” I say, touched by his trust in me.

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