Billionaire Romance: The Billionaire's Secrets (Alpha Billionaire Romance Book 1) (2 page)

“Come on last picture for the day!” said Tricia.

Tricia, Ross and Ivy gingerly posed in front of the white walls of the Al-Fatiq Mosque, one of the landmarks of Bahrain. They lost count of the days they have been traveling together but if they were in Bahrain now, then it must mean they are halfway done through their much planned trip around the country.

“We got to get out of this heat! Dinner anyone?” asked Tricia

“Sure, there is supposed to be this great local diner that serves authentic cuisine, none of the tourist-friendly meals Ivy has been asking us to eat all day.” replied Ross.

“I’m all up for adventure but we can never enjoy good sights with a bad stomach,” countered Ivy.

“But that’s part of the adventure!” said Ross.

“You call explosive diarrhea an adventure?” said Ivy.

“Explosive diarrhea in the middle of the desert, in a foreign land, with my 2 med school girlfriends, now that is an adventure!” Ross retorted.

“Come on guys, no point in arguing. Explosive diarrhea or not, we are going to this diner and have the best Bahraini food. When in Rome right?” announced Tricia.

Ivy relented and Ross was placated, Tricia has always been the unofficial leader of the group. It was partly because she had the perfect balance for practicality and adventure and partly because she was the most popular out of all them since the start of the trip. She stood at 5 feet and 7 inches but when she wears heels, which she rarely does so; she can pass for a solid 6 feet. She has carefree locks of wavy blonde hair that she only ties to a ponytail. With bright blue eyes, full red lips, sun kissed skin and a cleavage that makes both Ross and Ivy green with envy, Tricia seems to be the total package.

Only her closest friends, Ross and Ivy know the story of her life and the circumstances that made the traveling necessary for her. Her parents were doing missionary work to Asia when they were taken hostage by a group of rebels. Due to the failures of the local police and military, her parents were caught in the crossfire and died.

Tricia was still racked by grief, with only moments of genuine joy. There were times where she left the two and wandered alone only to come back with her eyes red from tears. Now on their cities leg of the travel, she was beginning to really enjoy the trip and her friends are more than ready to support her. She was in fact looking happier than ever.

What was supposed to be a quick dinner turned out to be a long night of partying, instead of a local diner, it was a rowdy club filled with locales de-stressing from work and foreigners, who wanted a taste for the Bahraini night life. In the middle of the dance floor, the three girlfriends were having the time of their life. For Tricia, it was a welcome respite from the painful past and a chance to enjoy the trip. It was past 3am and soon the club was beginning to empty.

“Let’s call it a night?” asked Tricia.

“One more dance, please?” replied Ivy.

“Last one okay?” asked Ross.

“Okay, let me get last round of drinks,” offered Ivy.

Tricia and Ross were pleasantly surprised; Ivy was not only the least adventurous of the three but also has the least tolerance for alcohol. For one reason or another, Ivy showed no signs of being drunk, she was a bit tipsy but nowhere close to the usual clumsiness was she known for when she gets drunk. Or so they thought.

One of the bartenders hurriedly approached Tricia and Ross,

“Tricia and Ross?”

“Yes,” replied Ross.

In broken English, the bartender told them that Ivy slipped in the washroom and had a bad sprain on her leg. Tricia dashed towards the washroom and saw few ladies and another bartender looking towards Ivy, who was now sitting in the floor, obviously in distress.

“I think I slipped guys, help me up Tricia.”

“Ivy, you have a bad sprain, the alcohol is numbing the pain.”

“I don’t have a sprain, come on guys, one more dance, please?”

“No, we need to get you to a hospital. We need to take an x-ray to make sure nothing is broken and we need prescription for the pain meds.”

“I don’t need pain meds and I don’t need x-ray. I’m fine Tricia, I just slipped that’s all.”

“Ivy, you may be drunk but you are a drunk med student, come on, you know better than that.”

“All right mom, stop worrying about me mom.” In a brief moment of lucidity, Ivy realized that calling Tricia mom was insensitive of her, especially because of the recent death of Tricia’s own mother. “Oh my God, sorry Tricia. I did not mean it like that. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, I know. Come on, we need to get you up. Can you get up?”

By this time, Ross also came in and together they held up Ivy on either side and they heard the siren of an ambulance just outside of the club. With the help of the paramedics, Ivy was put in a stretcher, loaded in the ambulance and was ready to leave.

“Don’t leave me!” Ivy shouted.

Tricia and Ross were about to board the ambulance but one of the paramedics motioned that only one family member can still fit the ambulance.

“Go,” said Tricia to Ross. “I can get myself there.”

Ross was helped up the paramedic to the ambulance. Before the doors were closed, Tricia managed to ask,

“Which hospital are you taking her?”

“Closest one here.”

“I’m sorry, we’re tourists, which hospital is that?”

“RHB, Royal Hospital of Bahrain.”

“Got it.”

Isa was still in a state of shock. He could not think straight and it seems the walls of the hospital were either spinning around or closing in on him. His brothers and sisters stayed in his father’s hospital suite and the rest of the relatives and other dignitaries crowded the entire hospital wing that was closed just for the King and the rest of the Royal Family. Isa needed a place to sit, to think and to be alone.

He tried one room after another but was filled either by distant cousins or ministers of the government. He saw a prayer room but when he got inside, it was already filled by the more senior members of the Royal Family. He realized that there was another room that is guaranteed to be empty. Since the hospital advocated diversity, a small token chapel for patients from other religions was also in the floor. He went there and sure enough it was dimly lit, quiet and empty, except for a woman seated in the farthest pew.

Isa motioned for his bodyguards to give him privacy. One of the guards went in, made a quick ocular inspection and allowed Isa to enter. Both of the guards stayed in the doorway. This left Isa and the other woman alone in the chapel. Isa sat opposite the woman. Because of the silence and his proximity, Isa heard the muffled cries of the woman.

He approached the woman thinking he will be comforting an elderly grandmother. He was surprised when the woman raised her head. The chapel was lit only by the candles on the altar but the light was more than enough to show the features of the woman seated beside him. She was beautiful, blonde hair, tanned even just sitting, he knew she was almost as tall as him.

“Hi, my name is Isa,” he said.

She raised her head and looked at him. She would have liked to think that it was the emotions she was feeling or the circumstances around her that made her feel vulnerable to Isa but she had to admit to herself, she was mesmerized. The man that sat beside him was beautiful, it was not his face that made her stare but it was his musk. Not the familiar strong perfumes or the citrusy colognes that was popular among men now. She was sure it was his natural body scent, something primal, something sensual; it was like sweat, combined with dark chocolate mixed with an herb with a name that she cannot remember. She noticed that she was not only staring but also she was taking in all of the stranger’s manly scent and her entire consciousness was filled with the man standing in front of him now.

“Are you alright Miss?” Isa asked again.

“Yes, yes I am. Tricia. My name is Tricia.” she replied.

“You’re crying. Here,” with that Isa extended his hand and offered Tricia his handkerchief.

Tricia took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes then cheeks with it. As soon as she raised the handkerchief to her face, the same musk that paralyzed her with desire was now more potent than ever. She was sure that she held on to the handkerchief a second longer than appropriate. Despite this, she barely noticed the red and white crest that was embroidered in the corner of the silk cloth.

“Thanks,” she tried to return it but Isa said,

“Hold on to it for a while. I’ll be seating here for a while too.”

“Okay, thanks again. Isa is a familiar name.”

“It is a common name here in Bahrain. Where are you from Tricia?” Isa was trying his best to avoid divulging his identity, so he shifted the questions to her.

“The U.S. You?”

Isa hesitated not because he tried to lie but because he did not really know exactly where he was from, from England? From Bahrain? He answered as honestly as he could,

“I flew in from England.”

“Backpacking?”

“Excuse me?”

“Backpacking, traveling around the world, hopping from one rent a sofa to another, working along the way for the fare for the next destination…”

“Oh, backpacking. No, not really. Visiting a relative.”

“Oh sorry, is your relative here in the hospital too?”

“Yes, how about you?”

“My friend, she sprained her ankle and some tests are being done for her.”

“Is it serious?”

“The sprain, no not really.”

“I’m sorry I thought that since you were crying, I thought it was something serious.”

“I just remembered a few months ago, I can’t even remember how long it was. I was in a similar chapel, in another country, when I confirmed the news of my parents’ death.”

“Sorry, I did not mean to..”

“It’s alright. I’m fine now. How about you? Your relative?”

“He’s not doing too well. The doctors say we might have to bring him home since they can do no more for him.”

“Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“Heart attack, the doctors are still trying to confirm it but it is bad. I would rather not talk about it now. Want to grab a cup of coffee. I know a great coffee shop around the block that serves the best one here in Manama.”

“I’m not sure, I have to look after my friend. She might be done with her tests soon.”

“At the hospital cafeteria then? We can ask the hospital staff to look for you down in the cafeteria when your friend’s tests are done. Unless, you want to stay here.”

“I think I have enough crying done for the day. Cafeteria coffee sounds good.”

A knock came in from the door and Tricia stood up from her bed. She covered herself with the pink and black La Perla night robe that she found at the foot of her bed.

Another gift, she thought to herself.

Past the double doors of her bedroom, past the sitting room and then past again the living room of her suite, she finally attended to the persistent knocking. She peered from the hole and saw the familiar uniform of the hotel butler assigned exclusively for her. Without wanting to, she forced herself to open the door.

“Good morning Ms. Dover. Breakfast is served in the dining room; I was hoping that I could brief you on your schedule today with His Highness.”

From the tone of Mr. Davidson his state was more of giving information than asking for permission. For almost a year, he was in the service of Tricia but for the past few months, it seemed like Tricia was in Davidson’s service. Not just Davidson, the whole goddamn Royal Family.

“Let’s get on with it Davidson.” Tricia sat herself on one of the plush divans of her suite and crossed her legs just to make Davidson uncomfortable.

Davidson noticed and was not amused. He started to recite Tricia’s schedule:

At 9:00am, ribbon cutting of the newly opened wing for the Royal Bahrain Hospital

At 9:45am, tea for raising funds for the Asian victims of a typhone

At 10:30am, meeting with His Highness’ charity foundation

At 11:30am, reading with His Highness at public school in Manama

Tricia barely listened to Davidson. On and on, he droned about her schedule. Her schedule! Tricia with her free spirit, her quest for adventure and her passion for life, a schedule was the last thing she would have.

That’s the old Tricia.

She closed her eyes and imagined how she looked like today and how different she was compared to the time before he met Isa. Everything changed a few days after he met him. She distinctly remembered the cup of coffee that they drank at the hospital cafeteria where Ivy’s sprain was treated. It was only less than a year but it seemed to be an entire lifetime that has passed. Ivy and Ross left her and went back to the US. It was not only her friends that left her but also the cowgirl that left Texas for their trip around the world. Today, she was no longer plain Tricia Dover, she was the American love interest of Bahrain’s prodigal son turned darling of the country, Isa, Prince of Bahrain.

Of course, she realized that something was odd when they exited the chapel and two burly guards followed them on every elevator, stair and corridor. They sat a polite distance away from them while drinking coffee. At first, she thought that Isa must be a convict visiting his father at the hospital but later on she realized she was half right and half wrong about her guess.

No, Isa was not a convict, he was a Prince and with the current state of affairs in the Royal Family, future Crown Prince. But yes, Isa was in the hospital for his father. The King, without warning, suffered a heart attack while behind closed door meetings with a foreign delegation. Since he had no prior history, the Palace was ill equipped to handle a heart attack. The King was rushed to the Royal Bahrain Hospital and the entire wing was locked down to hide the King’s medical condition.

The King has been unconscious ever since and the Royal Family and the government agreed that until a legitimate heir was chosen, the public will not know of their comatose King. Tricia still does not comprehend why they had to keep it hidden and why Isa’s eldest brother is the natural heir. There were still some things that Isa kept hidden from her.

Despite that, there are a lot more things that Isa revealed to her. Isa lived a rebellious life as a growing child. With all the privileges of his position but without the responsibility of bearing the crown in the future, coupled with an absentee father who obviously preferred his children from his first wife and the death of her own mother, Isa’s life was without control and love.

He also told him that most of the rumors of the reason for his exile were true. Yes, he squandered the money that flowed to his personal accounts from the Crown Fund. Yes, he did alcohol and drugs and lots of them, he was even rehabilitated at the privacy of one of the Palace’s wing. Yes, he was a notorious playboy, experimenting in all manners of sexual innuendos and perversities. However, it was none of those sins that became the reason why his father banished him from his home, his family and his country.

During an argument with his eldest half brother and heir apparent Hasan, Isa under the influence of whatever drug he took then, went on a rampage. He hit his brother, the brother hit back. The guards had standing orders never to interfere but to leave the Princes’ presence so that the honor of the Family will be saved. By some unfortunate coincidence, the Princes fought in the game room of the Palace, where the King’s collection of rifles was stored. Isa on the verge of defeat, ran towards the rifle cabinet, took one gun and shot the Crown Prince. The bullet only grazed Hasan’s left shoulder and the guards came in restrained Isa. While Hasan forgave him, his father could not. Isa was banished and in the UK to continue his life of indulgence but without endangering his family.

All that changed when he was recalled  to the Kingdom. His father called him over the phone while on the private jet. The King must tell Isa something and it can only be said in person. He is to go straight to the Palace when he arrives. Isa did as he was told but he never did see his father well and conscious.

It was Tricia’s experience with the death of her own parents and Isa’s lost of one and possibly another that bound them together. A love born out of misery turned out to be something truly joyous. They grew closer and closer until without knowing it, they fell madly in love with each other.

It will take some time before Isa can introduce Tricia to his family. While male Muslims are allowed to marry outside the religion, Isa was no ordinary Muslim, he is a Prince and possibly a future King. Bahrain can accept an American fling but not an American queen and never even half Western child princes and princess, who will also be one day King.

Instead of waiting and biding their time, they made the most of what they had. Isa showered Tricia with gifts. Tricia may have lived a comfortable life as the only child of successful doctors but when her parents decided to live a life doing missionary work, the family savings soon dwindled and Tricia had to work for her own tuition.

Isa gave her designer bags personalized with her initials, diamond studded watches, long strings of necklaces and large rings all one of a kind, clothes flown in from the ateliers of French designers. He brought him to trips across the islands of Bahrain, sometimes on any one of his Ferraris or Maseratis, sometimes on a yacht he recently bought just for her and sometimes on helicopters, which Isa flew himself.

When Tricia told him that she appreciated all these things but only wanted Isa’s company and preferred simple but well thought of gifts, Isa did just that. He arranged for an inconspicuous evening at the club where Ivy slipped because without her sprain, he probably would not have met her. They danced the night away and went straight to her hotel suite, straight to bed and made love for the first time.

For both Isa and Tricia, it was also the first time that they truly made love to anyone. It was soft and gentle then rough and hard and then back again to sweet caresses and deep kisses. The only difference is that everything was done not out of lust but out of love. Isa was a vigorous lover. He brought Tricia to pleasures that she has never felt before. Tricia responded with equal endurance, they made love on the bedroom, the shower, a table and finally back to the bedroom. They slept naked and facing each other, with Tricia laying on Isa’s muscular arms her hands wrapped around his sweaty chest and one of his hands cupping her breasts. Their legs were intertwined as if trying to push them closer than they already were. In the morning, Tricia woke up and to her surprise, Isa was still there lying beside her. Both still naked and both reinvigorated from the restful sleep, they made love again. Only because of the butler’s insistent knocks did they leave their bed.

On their next date, Isa asked Tricia to shop for the best dress money could buy, she was about to remind him of her preference for simple gifts but Isa told her that they were going to someplace special. Tricia bought a dress off the rack because she was pressed for time. When the limo dropped her to the place, she laughed. It was at the hospital, specifically the cafeteria and of course for dinner they drank coffee from a styro cup.

One of the most recent things that Isa did that truly made Tricia cry was when during a lazy weekend at her suite; Isa gave him a foreign newspaper. She looked at the article that Isa was pointing her to read.  The article talked about a newly opened small hospital in an impoverished province in the Philippines called Basilan. The name of the place instantly sent shivers down her spine; it was the place where her parents were killed during a rescue attempt for them. Sensing her anxiety, Isa quickly pointed out the picture in the newspaper. Attached above the hospital main entrance was a sign that read, “The Darren and Maria Dover Hospital, Donated by Tricia Dover.” It was then that Tricia knew that she has found the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, whether it was possible or not.

She began to lose herself with her reminiscing when she felt a gentle then gradually becoming more forceful tapping on her shoulder. It was Davidson and he was still reciting her schedule:

At 12:00nn, lunch with His Highness

At 1:00pm, visit to a mosque

At 2:00pm, visit to another charity

Tricia interrupted, “go back to 12:00nn.”

“Lunch with His Highness.”

“Where?”

“His Highness instructed me to seek your advice on the venue of your luncheon.”

“You mean I can choose any place.”

“I do hope Ms. Dover will choose any of the pre approved venues for the safety and security of His Highness.”

“Does this mean that there will be no other person who will accompany us during luncheon?”

“Yes, you are correct Ms. Dover.”

“Great, we can stay here at the hotel.”

“Very good Ms. Dover and may I know what would you prefer to eat for lunch?”

“Don’t bother with room service.”

Davidson gave a knowing smile and decided to continue with reciting her schedule, at 2:00pm…”

Tricia stopped listening to Davidson and his schedule for her. She was already making a schedule of her own.