Page 41 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

Tara looks at me, really looks at me, and in that moment, I see the understanding in her eyes — the kind that comes from shared secrets and unspoken bonds. “I understand,” she assures me, her voice soft but resolute.

My hand finds hers, and it’s like electricity, that touch, grounding and igniting all at once.

“Please,” I whisper against the softness of her cheek, my lips just shy of touching skin, “come to my home soon. Ali misses you. And” — it catches in my throat, the admission of my own need — “so do I.”

There’s a pause, an intake of breath, and then I feel her nod against the palm I’ve cupped around her jaw. “I’ll be there tomorrow,” she promises, her voice steady but her pulse fluttering madly under my touch.

The relief floods through me, swift and staggering. Before I can stop myself, I close the gap between us, sealing the promise with a kiss that feels both stolen and infinitely precious. Her lips are a balm, soothing the raw edges of my fears and regrets.

In the embrace of shadows, we linger for an instant, two hearts synced in silent understanding. Tomorrow, another day, another chance — for her, for Ali, for me. For us.

CHAPTER 22

TARA

I’m awake before the sun, because today is different. Today is fresh, new, and I cannot wait to begin it.

Not needing to be anywhere for a couple hours, I take my time in bed, lying on my side and watching the morning light slide in through the windows. I stretch, a smile curving my lips as I recall last night’s reconciliation with Faiz. The weight that had been pressing on my chest has lifted. Today feels different, hopeful.

Finally getting out of bed, I pad across the hardwood floor, humming a tune that’s been stuck in my head since yesterday. It’s an old love song, the kind that speaks of endless possibilities and happy endings.

Happy endings. The thought makes me chuckle.

Could it be that I have finally found my own happy ending? The promise of seeing Faiz and Ali later sends a flutter through my heart, like the wings of a caged bird finally set free. Everything is falling into place.

In the kitchen, I scoop coffee beans into the grinder and start prepping vegetables for an omelet. The coffeemaker whirs to life, and I imagine us three together — Faiz with his quiet strength, Ali’s laughter ringing through the halls, and me… Could I dare to envision myself as part of their world? My gaze drifts to the fridge, where family photos usually go; it’s a future so vivid in my mind, yet still just out of reach.

The coffee drips leisurely into the pot, and I lean against the counter, lost in daydreams. But reality nudges me gently when I remember my phone — I didn’t plug it in last night. It might be dead, and the thought of being unreachable twists something in my stomach.

I rummage through my bag, check under yesterday’s discarded clothes, and finally spot the phone lying on the kitchen counter. Its screen relentlessly flashes missed calls from Faiz, one after another, like a silent scream for attention.

My pulse quickens.Ali. Is everything okay? Why would Faiz call so many times if it wasn’t urgent?

With trembling fingers, I unlock the phone. Before I can play a voicemail from Faiz, though, there’s a knock on the front door. My breath catches as I set the phone on the counter. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, and my feet carry me toward the sound, heart thumping.

I open the door, and there he stands — Faiz, his eyes dark storms of fury, his posture rigid with indignation. He doesn’t wait for an invitation, brushing past me into the apartment like a tempest seeking shelter.

“Did you tell them?” The accusation is sharp, a dagger thrown without warning. “About Ali?”

His words are a gut punch, stealing the air from my lungs. “What? No, I—” Confusion tangles my thoughts, a snarl of disbelief and hurt. “Tell who?” I shake my head, realizing the “who” part doesn’t even matter. I haven’t uttered a word about Ali to anyone.

He thrusts his phone at me, and the headline screams back in bold, unforgiving type. It brandishes the secret we’ve guarded so fiercely, the existence of his son laid bare for the world to dissect. “A source close to the family,” the author says, has spilled the beans.

“I didn’t do this,” I whisper, still shocked.

“You’re the only one who knew!” His voice is a whip, each word lashing out to mark me as a traitor.

I press my lips together, hard. I’m not the only one who knew. His entire staff knew about Ali, long before I ever entered the picture. But I understand the real meaning behind his words. I’m the only one who is new to knowing. The only one who hasn’t fully earned his trust.

“Faiz, please,” I say, reaching for him, for the understanding that seems to have evaporated under the heat. “You know me better than that.”

But his gaze is unyielding, a barrier erected between us, built from his fear and the responsibilities of a crown. He believes I would willingly shatter the fragile peace of his world, and that belief cuts deeper than any headline ever could.

“Faiz,” I try once more. “I would never tell anyone about Ali. Why would I do that?”

“The same reason anyone else would.” His jaw flexes. “How much did they pay you?”

I suck in a sharp breath, his words hurting as much as a physical blow. My face heats up. Does he really think that of me? That I would stoop so low just for a payday?

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