Page 5 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

CHAPTER 3

TARA

The morning heat creeping into the apartment wakes me, and my lashes flutter open to the reality of my living room. The couch cushions hold a dent from my body’s weight, and there’s the romance novel, splayed open on the floor as if it had tried to escape my grasp in the night.

I lift myself up, a small grunt escaping my lips. A dream clings to me like the remnants of sea-foam on skin after a dip in the ocean. Faiz was there, his hands gentle in my hair, the way the breeze dances through the perfumed air of Zahrania. It was just a dream, but the memory of it sends a blush creeping across my cheeks.

Guilt gnaws at me for reveling in such thoughts. He’s off-limits, a line drawn so thick in the sand no tide could wash it away. I stand, folding the blanket that has slipped from my shoulders during the night, and place it neatly over the armrest. A sigh escapes me as I bend down to pick up the book, thumbing it closed before setting it on the coffee table.

The apartment is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. I head to the kitchen, my bare feet padding against the cooltiles. The coffeemaker gurgles to life after I fill it with water and beans, a morning ritual that feels grounding, even when my mind is a whirlpool of “what-ifs.”

With a cup of steaming coffee cradled between my palms, I sink into one of the kitchen chairs. It’s a new day, I remind myself. New chances, new choices.

The first thing I’m choosing? Not to fixate on my weird, sensual dream about Faiz.

What’s to see in him anyway? He’s grumpy and reserved, with nothing of the sweetness that I want in a man.

I unlock my tablet with a swipe of my fingertips and tap the news app. I’m looking for distraction, an anchor in the form of current events to pull me away from the treacherous shores of longing and fantasy.

But even as headlines scroll past, I can’t stop myself from wondering about him — about the man who commands my dreams without even trying. What is it about Faiz that has breached the walls of my well-ordered world?

Logic dictates I keep him at a distance, yet my heart seems to have missed the memo entirely. I take a sip of coffee, trying once again to focus on the words in front of me.

The top headline on the news app arrests my gaze, its bold letters spelling out a name that sends a ripple through me: Faiz Al-Rashid.

Well. So much for ignoring his existence.

The article details his noticeable absence from royal events and public appearances over the last five years. His odd behavior hascrept beyond the palace walls, the whole country taking notice of it and starting to ask questions.

It makes me wonder about the royal family’s reaction to this press. Do the sheikh and sheikha feel disappointment, concern… or perhaps they harbor their own secrets that mirror his? The thought tugs at me with an uncomfortable curiosity, a need to understand the man who is both my patient and a puzzle.

With a sigh, I set the tablet aside. Faiz isn’t my mystery to solve, and it’s not my job to unearth or manage any matters in the royals’ private lives. They have been good to me, but they are still my employers first and foremost. I would probably do well to remember that before I come under the delusion that I’m some sort of honorary member of their family.

Leaving the tablet and coffee, I stand and stretch. It’s a lazy morning, like most are with my job, but I don’t want to sit around here letting my mind wander. I need to get moving.

In the bathroom, the mirror greets me with a reflection that’s all soft edges and sleepy eyes. I splash water on my face, watching droplets race down my skin, each one a tiny reminder to wake up, to be present.

As I brush my teeth, the buzz of my phone from the bedroom splits through the air. I already know it’s not the palace — I have a separate ringer turned on for that. My mother’s number flashes on the screen when I peek, her persistence both a comfort and a weight. But today, I can’t shoulder that burden, not when it feels like I’m working so hard to keep myself together.

“Sorry, Mom,” I murmur, the words lost in the hum of the electric toothbrush. I’ll call her back later when I have the bandwidth to weave through our familiar dysfunction.

Dressed and ready, I grab my purse and keys and head out. My sedan waits in the gated parking lot, a guard at the mouth of it. It’s the kind of place I would never choose to live in if it were up to me, but working for the royal family means you need to take an extra step towards security.

The palace security team set me up here, in a building with cameras on every exterior corner and guards checking identification. Merely working for the royal family opens me up to the possibility of kidnapping or coercion into harming my employers. It’s not a pleasant reality, for sure, so it’s also one that I do my best not to think about.

At the palace, I sit in my car, engine running, and stare at the main building. Is Faiz in there?

I shake my head. I’m being ridiculous. No, of course he isn’t there. He only occasionally shows up for dinner.

But he was there yesterday… in my office… touching all of my things.

I groan, finally and properly fed up with myself. “That’s it.”

Pulling out my phone, I open the app store and create a search for dating apps. There’s a first time for everything, and the sheer number of apps is overwhelming.

Picking one based on its promise to “connect young professionals,” I hit the install button. I watch the download circle fill out and remind myself that this is self-preservation.This is me taking control. If I’m busy going on dates, I won’t have any time to think of Faiz.

Maybe I’ll even find someone.

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