The Sheikh's Stolen Bride-To-Be(5)

"O'Hanlon," her father told the man, who typed their name into the system.



The clerk's eyebrows lifted, and he looked back up at her father. "It  would seem you've had a change of rooms, sir. Instead of a single with  two queens, you have been upgraded to the lounge suite on the top  floor."



Jerry looked down at his daughter with a glance of approval. "He's really trying to impress you, wouldn't you say?"



"How do you know it's him?" Steph countered.



The further in she got, the more she felt like she couldn't go through  with the wedding. It was made all the worse by the fact that whoever the  groom was, he was obviously kind enough to shower her and her parents  with upgrades and gifts before the big day. Could she really walk out on  someone like that? On the other hand, could she really go through with  marrying someone she didn't know? What if this was all just a show, a  way to win her parents' trust so that he could do what he pleased to her  and they would take his side? If her parents had been willing to give  her even a small hint, maybe she could have relaxed, but Steph felt her  panic rising with the elevator as they rode to the highest floor of the  hotel.



When her father opened the door, the view they were met with was  absolutely magnificent. The whole room was surrounded by  floor-to-ceiling windows, so they had a sweeping view of the majestic El  Farah desert as winds whipped curls of sand off the tops of towering  dunes. The living room was spacious yet comfortable, with colorful  furniture that still managed to be chic. There were three bedrooms, and  Steph picked the one across from the suite her parents took.



They settled in comfortably, resting after their long journey before meeting back in the living room.



"Steph, we're planning on checking out that landmark I was telling you about before. Would you like to come?" Jerry asked.



Steph let loose a huge yawn, stretching her arms to make a big show of  being tired. "I think I'm going to rest here for a while. I don't quite  feel like walking around yet."



Elora lifted one dark eyebrow. "But you always feel like walking."



Steph shrugged. "Okay, well maybe I just want some time to prepare  myself for tomorrow. It's kind of the biggest day of my life."



Her tone brooked no argument, and her parents, wanting to be  understanding, relented. Once Steph was sure they had made it to the  elevator, she sank to the floor, taking deep breaths as she tried to  steady her nerves.         

     



 



She could do this. She could marry a stranger. The man had set them up  in first class and upgraded them to a penthouse suite. He clearly cared  about her welfare and happiness, right? She was being silly. There was  nothing wrong with getting married this way-she had just grown up in a  culture that didn't understand the merits of it.



Steph paced around the suite, needing to get all her excess energy out.  While relaxing and watching movies was all well and good, her legs felt  stiff and unused, and for a moment she entertained the idea of going for  a jog to clear her head. Did people jog in El Farah?



Steph took a moment to stare out at the desert, feeling utterly small as  she did so. It was silly to lose one's mind so close to an event that  there was no stopping. Or was there? Did she really have no choice over  her own future?



Feeling trapped, Steph came to a decision. She found a notepad and pen  and scribbled a note to her parents, telling them she got hungry and  stepped out for some food, and not to wait up. After her note was  written, she left it on the coffee table in front of an enormous  television before grabbing her purse and hotel key on the way out the  door.



It didn't matter where she was going as long as she wasn't in that  stifling room-and with the responsibilities that came with it.





FOUR



Steph





Stepping back out into the hot desert sun, Steph took a deep breath. The  air had a distinct scent to it, almost like a beach. The buildings  around her were all rounded at the top, domelike in nature. It was a  fascinating style, and she probably would have enjoyed it immensely if  she weren't in the middle of a crisis.



Casting her eyes downward, Steph began walking. She paid enough  attention to avoid crashing into other people, but otherwise she was  lost in a tangled web of thoughts, trying to puzzle out her life. She  debated with herself at length about what the best option was. She was  already in El Farah. There was no turning back.



She was trapped.



She walked and walked, turning down winding streets without noticing  what the street names were. At one point she looked up and saw a sign  that was written in her mother's native tongue as well as English, and  she was reminded that El Farah had once been colonized by the English  before gaining their independence many years before. Then she remembered  that she would be marrying a stranger the next day and forgot all about  the history of El Farah.



After some time, Steph's feet began to ache. When she bothered to look  back up, she realized what a mistake she had just made. She'd taken off  without any thought as to where she was or where she was headed, and as  she gazed around, everything looked completely foreign. She was lost in a  place she knew nothing about. How equitable to her own life was that?



Slumping onto a fountain ledge, Steph stared into the gurgling waters  and began to cry. A single tear dropped from her face, joining the pool  of water below.



"That must be some wish," a voice said from behind her.



Steph turned, craning her neck to meet the eyes of the gentleman who had  spoken. He was tall, his clothing neatly pressed, his dark hair and  eyes perfectly symmetrical. In a word, he was stunning.



Steph stared with her mouth open for a beat before she realized what she  was doing and closed it. "I wasn't making a wish," she replied, dabbing  at her eyes.



To her surprise, the man perched next to her, gazing into the waters himself.



"Well, based on those tears, it appears you may want to. I've seen many  people cast wishes into this well. I'm convinced most of them actually  come true."



"How would you know if their wishes came true?" Steph asked, sniffing.



The man procured a small white cloth from a pocket and handed it to her.



Steph laughed, accepting it. "Thank you. I wasn't aware there were men in the world who carried handkerchiefs anymore."



"You're not from here," he said, and Steph shook her head.



"I'm not. Well, I kind of am. It's complicated."



The man tilted his head. "You can explain it to me, if you like."



Steph wiped her nose as delicately as possible before telling him her  backstory. "I grew up in America, but my mother is from here. This is my  first trip to the country."         

     



 



The man's stare was intense, filled with deep intelligence and something  else Steph couldn't quite describe. He carried himself with a sense of  stateliness, almost as if he were a diplomat or something similar.



"We haven't made a very good impression on you, it would seem," he said, glancing down at the wrinkled handkerchief.



Steph looked down at it, clenching it in her fist. This man was a  stranger, but there was a steady sense of calm about him. It made her  feel like pouring her heart out, which she hadn't done to anyone, even  her parents. Taking a gusty breath, she said the one thing she hadn't  been willing to admit out loud.



"I'm arranged to be married tomorrow. Since you're from here you know  that I've never met the man, though I'm certain he is very kind. My  parents insist that it will be a good thing-that he is wealthy and  handsome and I will find nothing lacking in the match. I just don't  think I can go through with it. What if they're wrong? What if I'm  trapped in a situation I can't get out of?"



The man nodded his head. "I understand. While parents generally have our  best interests at heart, they don't always see past the veneer some  people put up just to make a suitable match. You're not wrong for  feeling the way you do."



Steph stared at him. He had just said exactly what she needed to hear.  This stranger, who she would likely never see again, had just validated  her feelings better than anyone ever could.



"I'm Steph," she said, holding out her hand.



"Mehdi," he said, giving her hand a firm but gentle shake. His skin was smooth and warm, and Steph was reluctant to let him go.



"So what are you going to do?" he asked.



Steph stared into the fountain. "I honestly don't know. The truth is,  I've never really felt like I belonged in America, but it's the only  culture I know. How will I get on here, when I don't know the customs  and culture of everyday life? I don't belong in either place, yet I come  from both. Still, maybe if I go through with this, if I can give this  mystery man a chance, maybe I could create a home for myself and find my  own way."