Page 9 of Her Irresistible Sheik
“What’s going on?”she asked warily, her gaze flicking to each familiar face.“Where are Mom and the aunts?”
No one answered.
That more than anything chilled her blood.
It wasn’t that her family didn’t have serious conversations.They were a close-knit clan.Loud dinners.Endless teasing.Her aunts always had input; her mom, Tasha, especially, never stayed quiet when something serious was happening.
But now… it was just the men.
Her throat tightened.
Something waswrong.
A creeping sense of displacement settled in her chest.She took a step back, uncertain.Maybe she’d walked into the middle of a crisis meeting.Maybe the message from her father to come "immediately" had gotten mixed up.But no… she’d read it twice.He’dwantedher here.
So why were they all standing so still?So stiff?And why did half of them look like they wanted to throw a punch?
“Nahla,” her father said, his voice deep, but not unkind.“We need to speak with you about something important.”
Her eyes darted to Zayn, but even he was silent, rubbing the back of his neck with a clenched hand.His other arm was folded tightly across his chest, his brows knit in concern.
From the sheer weight of their stares, she knew—whatever this was, she wasn’t going to like it.
Saif stepped forward.His jaw worked for a second before he spoke.“You’re in danger,” he said, his voice low and even.“Someone’s targeting you.But we’re going to keep you safe.”He forced a small smile, the kind that was more about reassuringhimselfthan her.“We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Nahla blinked, her mouth falling open slightly.Her heart stuttered.
Danger?
Saif stood taller than most men—broad-shouldered and calm under pressure—but right now, he looked ready to punch through a wall.She couldn't stop staring at his posture, the tight set of his shoulders, the veins visible along his forearms.
“Was today’s… situation because of me?”she whispered, the words rough in her throat.Her eyes locked on her father’s, desperate for answers.
Uncle Joran stepped forward, his voice gentle despite the steel behind it.“Honey, it wasn’t your fault.But yes… someone is after you.”
Her breath caught.Her mind reeled.
Afterher?
That didn’t make sense.She wasn’t a politician.She wasn’t a general or an ambassador.She was aphotographer.She took pictures of baby goats and sunflowers and—her stomach twisted—lost animals in grimy alleys.
Was this about a puppy?
Had sheaccidentallyphotographed someone’s animal and created an international incident?
Her brain latched onto the scraggly, malnourished cat she’d snuck into the stables yesterday.Was that it?Some furious aristocrat’s prized feline?
She opened her mouth to confess, to offer restitution, but her father interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
“But we have a plan,” Khal said, his voice firmer now.He stepped forward, his eyes still on her face, reading her panic like a headline.
“You’re probably not going to like it, though,” Raj muttered, his mouth pulled into a tight, angry line.
“Why don’t you come sit down, honey?”Khal added more gently, motioning to the sofa beside him.His hand patted the cushion twice, coaxing.
Nahla hesitated, then gave a slow nod.Her legs moved like they weren’t entirely hers.She felt lightheaded.Guilty.And vaguely nauseated.
The security alarm had rattled the entire palace earlier.The walls had nearly shaken with the tension afterwards and her guards hadn’t left her side since.They even stood outside thebathroom.That had to mean something was truly serious.
