The Sheik’s Heir Introduction

Tessa’s Story…

“He’s coming!” Naomi hissed, rushing into Tessa’s dorm room.

“Who?” Tessa asked, dabbing on a bit of rose colored lipstick.

“Prince Assif!” Naomi replied, her friend’s tone implying that the question was ridiculous. “Who have we all been talking about and drooling over for the past three months?” 

Dramatically, Naomi flopped onto Tessa’s bed and sighed as if she’d just been brought up to heaven.  

Tessa snorted and focused on her lipstick again.  “You act like he’s some sort of rock star,” Tessa teased, trying to pretend that her pulse wasn’t racing.

Naomi rolled onto her stomach, her mouth hanging open in unhidden confusion. “I can’t believe you don’t think he’s hot.” Her eyes narrowed at Tessa’s reflection in the small mirror. “Of course, you’ve met him before. So you probably know that he’s actually shorter than he appears in all of the pictures online.”

Tessa rolled her eyes as she tugged a sweatshirt out of the small wardrobe. “He’s six feet, three and a quarter inches.”

“Interesting,” the other girl commented. “Well, he’s probably not as smart as the press think. They most likely exaggerate.”

Tessa pulled the sweatshirt on over her head. When her head popped out through the top, she grunted. “Prince Asif attends Stanford University. You don’t get into that school by being stupid.”

Naomi waved her hand dismissively.  “A legacy alumni, then.”

Tessa huffed with impatience.  “His father, the current Sheik of Campour, went to Oxford. Plus, Asif was accepted to the prestigious Economics Conference on Poverty at the age of twenty.” Tessa grabbed a hair band, pulling her hair into a high pony tail. “He’s also being considered for a fellowship with the London School of Business.” She flipped her hair around while stuffing her feet into soft sneakers. “He spoke at the Tokyo Economic conference last year. Do you know how many nineteen year olds are allowed to speak at an economics conference, much less the one held in Tokyo every year? None!” she explained, throwing her hands in the air as if the answer were obvious.  

“That’s very impressive,” Naomi replied with what she hoped was appropriate awe.  

Tessa grunted again and turned away from her friend.

However, Naomi wasn’t finished.  Tessa didn’t see her friend’s evil smile before she said, “Then he’s probably a jerk.”

Tessa opened her mouth, prepared to defend the next ruler of Campour. But that’s when she caught the teasing glint in her best friend’s eye. All of her indignation blew out of her in a huff. “You’re a pain in the butt!” she hissed, throwing a decorative pillow at Naomi. The other woman caught the pillow, giggling as she rolled onto her back.

Asif’s Story…

“We shouldn’t be here,” Asif grumbled, but kept up with his two friends.

“Of course we should be here,” Dillon argued. “We’re here to visit my sister. She’s a first year here and raves about the school.”

Asif looked around at the old stone walls of the girls’ boarding school. Everything looked appropriately old, adequately impressive and tediously stately. But he knew that, behind the ancient, stone façade, the girls most likely lived in drafty dormitories, ate bland food and had a political hierarchy similar to that of a small government, fueled by gossip and jealousy.

Just like in his boys boarding school, except the politics there were fueled by vicious pranks and aristocratic status. As heir to the Campour throne, Asif had been somewhat protected by the pranks, but he’d seen the results and knew that the trauma from some of those pranks could last a lifetime.

“We’re heading over there,” Dillon announced, pointing to a large, stone building that looked just like the others, except for a few lights on the outside.

Asif glanced at the bright lights coming through the ancient windows of the stone monastary-turned main building. There was music floating out through the open doors, something from one of the latest moody rock band, Asif couldn’t remember the name, nor did he care. His music preferences leaned more towards the jazz sounds, or rock from the eighties.

“Come on. My sister is probably whining that we’re already late.”

Asif clenched is jaw and followed his friends into the building. Once inside, the trio stood still, watching the lovely girls float around the makeshift dance floor with their partners. Among the beautifully clad girls were boys in stiff suits, all driven in from the boarding school ten miles away. And all of them looked terrified of the lovely ladies.

However, Asif wasn’t interested in the other girls.  He was only interested in one.  He looked around until he found the one girl that had always fascinated him. When he found her, his shoulders relaxed and he felt as if something in his stomach loosened as well.  Tessa. She stood off to the side, appearing gorgeous in a soft, pink dress and heels. Damn, she was lovely!