Bonds of passion

Episode 1

When I turned exactly ten, I entered an Arabic school. My father received a work offer to move to Arabia. Business was thriving, and the prospect of a new place of residence filled our family with joyful excitement. Everyone knows that an entrepreneur’s success depends not only on their efforts but also on the country where they work. Life turned into a happy fairy tale. Good income, new acquaintances, and successful deals lifted our family higher up the social ladder, and after six years, we came as close as possible to what is commonly called the elite of society.

Everything happened unexpectedly. That day, I found myself outside the carved oak office of the director, where the air was saturated with the oriental aroma of jasmine and spicy incense. Senior schoolgirls stood there, preening themselves and nervously biting their lips, dreaming about the future.

We had come to see the school’s latest inspector. It seemed like a small thing, but we were children, and curiosity tormented us. Usually, it was someone from high society — sometimes even from the royal family, as their daughters studied at our school. Who would refuse the chance to see the elite of the world in person?

— Oh, Allah, please choose me, — Marzhan prayed, folding her hands in a prayerful gesture and rolling her eyes like an eastern princess begging for fate’s favour.

— Girls, there’s only one today, — someone from the older students whispered, trying to peek through the keyhole that seemed to maintain the ancient atmosphere despite the modern magnetic locks.

— Just one, but what a one! You should have seen him, — Rossana, the heroine of an Arabian fairy tale, blushed, remembering dreamily.

— He’s already been here, watching the younger classes, — Kubra reported, adjusting her glasses on her freckled nose and revealing a gap-toothed smile, a cheerful character from Scheherazade’s tales.

— You’re lying! You’re just jealous! — an indignant voice from one of the senior students sounded, like an echo of an eastern bazaar where emotions boil and flow like desert gossip.

— Girls, go about your business. Your time will come, — the passing deputy headmistress warned sternly, though she herself was eager to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

The door opened smoothly, and a tall man appeared on the threshold, as imposing as a minaret. Sheikh Amir al-Faisal. The girls gasped in unison like a choir of eastern sirens. In his extraordinary eyes, dark ice shimmered, cold and piercing like the Arabian night sky. I involuntarily recoiled as if from an invisible blow. The sheikh was the embodiment of beauty — with harmonious facial features and high cheekbones, his black curly hair was impeccably styled, as if by a magical brushstroke. I thought about my unruly curls and couldn’t help envying his perfect hairstyle. It occurred to me that such beauty was the result of selecting thousands of the most beautiful women over several hundred years in the family. And, of course, a personal stylist.

His business Arabic suit fit his broad shoulders perfectly, clearly tailored specifically for him. But the most mesmerising thing about his movements and expressions was something elusive yet instantly captivating. His gaze, like a sandstorm, scanned the crowd of schoolgirls, creating an atmosphere of awe and admiration around him. The girls, enchanted, parted before him.

— Girls, to class! Right now! — the deputy headmistress’s command trembled with anxiety.

— Stop!

Everyone instantly understood who he was addressing. I froze, turning around. The director’s voice, muffled and receding, came from somewhere behind.

— She won’t do, Your Excellency, Sheikh Amir al-Faisal.

His presence felt unbearably tangible. I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that he could see right through me. The air grew taut like a stretched string, threatening to snap at any moment. I tried my best not to meet his gaze, but his attention didn’t fade, overwhelming me with its persistence and something unsettling.

— Why aren’t you looking at me? How old are you? — his voice sounded soft, insistent.

With a challenge veiled in politeness, I felt a storm rising within me.

— Sixteen.

— I’m Sheikh Amir, — he introduced himself, his voice переливая warmth and something more than mere curiosity. — And what’s your name?

I hesitated before answering, trying to decide whether I should speak at all. There was something in his eyes that forced my lips to part, albeit reluctantly.

— Vasilisa, — my lips finally parted, and I struggled to keep my gaze on his face.

He nodded, clearly memorising my name, and his smile widened slightly.

— Pleased to meet you, Vasilisa. I hope we’ll get to know each other better.

I was completely speechless with fear, not quite understanding what he wanted from me. The sheikh smiled slightly, his masculine eyes sparkling with interest, and a barely noticeable smirk appeared at the corners of his lips. He casually adjusted his clothes, as if wanting to look his best, and took a step forward, demonstrating confidence and interest. At the same time, his gestures remained fluid and restrained, подчёркивая respect and dignity.

— The girl has a different citizenship and a heart condition, — the director said, wiping her sweaty palms with a handkerchief, trying to calm down.

The man didn’t react and continued moving forward, confidently making his way through the crowd.

Marzhan snorted and shrugged her shoulders in displeasure.

— Not at all. He did come. Tell me, Vas’, he visited our class, didn’t he?

— I was sick that day, — I responded barely audibly, feeling the tension gradually ease, though the anxiety remained. The air felt heavy, as if something irreversible had just happened.

Then he came to the senior girls’ class, introduced himself to them, and gave a speech. That’s how I learned about Sheikh Amir al-Faisal, who had no idea of my existence until that moment. A man of immense influence, one of the wealthiest people on the planet, responsible for the security of the entire Arabia. His position didn’t match his appearance, and his visit to our school was perplexing.

However, it was that very day that determined my future destiny.

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