Page 15 of The Sheikh's Secret Family

Hamid shook his head and put on his threatening expression. He was a big, muscular man, and could be very intimidating when he wanted to be. “You are not going in there alone. Not in this neighborhood.”

This neighborhood where Emelia lived. Tariq shook his head, too. “Hamid, you stay in the car. I’ll be back soon.”

“Not going to happen,” Hamid said stubbornly. He was still fixing Tariq with his threatening look and seemed a little confused that it wasn’t working.

“Hamid,” Tariq said, his voice calm but firm. “As your sheikh, I am commanding you to stay in the car.”

Hamid opened and closed his mouth a few times, tried a rerun of the threatening look, then sank back into his seat. “If you get killed, I don’t want to have to tell the sheikha.”

“I won’t get killed. And my mother wouldn’t blame you, anyway. She knows I’m not always good about following the rules.”

Without another look back, Tariq shut the car door and crossed to the building. The main door was propped open with a brick, so Tariq entered, ignoring the line of buzzers. Inside, the hall was clean but smelled faintly musty. One of the lightbulbs was flashing on and off. Again, Tariq shuddered to think of Emelia living here.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor (the elevator had a sign saying that it was broken). Then he walked down the hall to number twenty-six and realized that he hadn’t needed to be told which one was Emelia’s. This door had a mat out in front that said ‘Welcome Home!’ in big, bright letters. There was a fall wreath on the door that looked homemade. Of course this was Emelia’s house.

For a moment, Tariq’s confidence failed him. He’d come this far, but what if Emelia didn’t want to see him? What if she slammed the door in his face? After all, she had run off without talking to him for a reason.

At least then you’d know,Tariq told himself firmly. Whatever happened next, he would deal with it. He was ready for anything.

With a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

CHAPTER10

EMELIA

Emelia flopped back on the couch, letting out a deep sigh. She’d just gotten Owen settled, after determining that his ‘stomach ache’ was nothing more than a wish for her to come home, and sent Jen off with her full payment. Now she was here, home, in her familiar living room. And she’d failed. This had been her one chance to tell Tariq about their son, and she’d failed.

Maybe now she’d send Tariq an email, breaking the news of Owen over the internet. There wasn’t really another option, after all.

Emelia rubbed her forehead with one hand and wished, not for the first time, that she had someone to talk to. She didn’t have a lot of friends. Her coworkers often invited her out for drinks, but she was always rushing home to be with Owen. And when she wasn’t with Owen, she was working. There was no time for the kind of closeness that would let her pick up the phone and call someone to talk over what to do.

Just as Emelia was considering getting up, putting together a snack, and leaving this be for now, there was a knock on the door. She almost jumped out of her skin with surprise. She wasn’t expecting anyone, not at this time of the night. Not for the first time, Emelia wished that she didn’t live alone. It would be nice to have someone to check who was here so late.

Slowly, she got to her feet and crossed to the door, peering through to see who was outside. Then she froze, heart pounding. Tariq was standing in the hallway, only a few inches from her if you didn’t count the door between them. He was still wearing his suit from the event.

Emelia reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. Some of Owen’s toy planes and crayons were still scattered across the coffee table. If Tariq walked in and saw them, he might jump to conclusions before Emelia had a chance to explain.

“Just a minute!” she called instead. Then she hurried to sweep the planes, crayons, paper, and cookie crumbs into her arms, dumping them quickly in a drawer. On the way back to the door, she nudged Owen’s shoes under the shoe rack and hid his coats behind one of hers.

With one last glance at the room to make sure that there were no signs of a child, she took a deep breath and opened the door. Tariq was there, really there. Emelia was having trouble believing that it was him. This moment should have some dramatic music or a fanfare. It shouldn’t take place in a slightly dingy hallway in her apartment building.

“Emelia,” Tariq said. He reached for her, then let his hand fall back to his side. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

“We should talk,” Emelia said, her voice coming out a little sharper than she’d meant it to. “Come in.”

Tariq slowly followed her into the house, kicking off his polished black loafers at the door, and looked around. For a moment, Emelia saw her house through his eyes: the sofa from the secondhand store, the chipped paint, and the small size of the living room. She felt a hint of embarrassment but pushed it away. She was doing the best she could.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, wanting to delay the inevitable for a moment. “I think we have water, juice, and coffee.”

Tariq opened his mouth to answer, then his eyes widened as he saw something behind her. Emelia turned, worry stabbing at her heart. What could he be seeing that would make his eyes go wide like that?

Then she saw him. Owen was walking down the hall in those airplane pajamas, holding his stuffed bear, Arnold.

“Mommy!” he called, sniffing a little. Emelia looked from her son to Tariq, who still looked frozen with surprise, before walking quickly to Owen and scooping him up.

“Hi, sweetheart. Why are you out of bed?”

“I thought maybe my tummy hurt again,” Owen said.

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