The Sheikh's Rebel (gay) ☑️

13. "Crap. Of course he's a Prince."

All the clocks in the room were on their own time to avoid jet lag. The wake-up call came in at eight. Half past nine breakfast was served, and at nine thirthy they got into a car that would bring them to the house of Jared's grandmother.

Tyler, who had slept wonderfully after the relaxing massage, took in his taciturn companions. Except for a good morning and the polite yes and no answers to simple requests, not a single word was spoken. Tyler blamed this on their visit and that thought pushed his nervousness to greater heights.

"Why are you coming along, Eric?", he asked curious about the answer, but also to break the silence.
"I also work on a committee basis and Jared's uncle had emailed me a request. I wonder what it is," Eric said cheerfully.

Almost the entire ride, Tyler drank in the view Paris offered. The beautiful squares, the streets, the houses. So many elegant people and so many on foot.

They drove along a long stone wall, where they suddenly turned left and drove through an open fence. Tyler's mouth fell open. A beautiful mansion revealed itself to him in all its beautiful glory. How could something so beautiful be hidden behind all those boring bricks? Windows with shutters and bins full of flowers sparkled at him. Bright and full of character, the image overwhelmed him and this was just the outside.

After a clerk opened the front door and Tyler was waiting in the hallway, he fell silent. Everywhere his eyes looked, he saw exceptional-quality furniture and accessories. Precious rugs were on the floor. Rubbed antique chairs lined with expensive fabrics stood next to a table with a crystal vase with a huge bunch of flowers. He looked around in awe.

Until he unexpectedly absorbed a reflection of himself. It was a sobering experience. This was too much. He was very out of his depth and pretending otherwise served no point. After a few deep sighs, he felt his control return. By the time the next servant appeared, he was himself again.

Jared didn't get anything of the mini-meltdown that was going on behind his back. Eric, however, looked first with pity and then with great respect at the young man who re-captured himself in front of his eyes and straightened his back.

"Welcome, Prince Jareed. Mr. Marchant," an eastern-looking man greeted them.
"Crap! Of course he's a Prince!', Tyler thought bitterly.
"Kareem," Jared nodded briefly to the servant.
"Your uncle expects Mr. Marchant in the left wing," Kareem said without looking at him.
"Get him to the right place," replied Jared, who apparently didn't think this strange.
"Of course, Your Highness."

Kareem snapped his fingers and a girl of Naomi's age appeared to accompany Eric.
"Good luck!", Tyler could just whisper.
Eric laughed at him. "You too."
Tyler looked as Eric walked up the wide stairs, turned left and disappeared from his vision.

"Your grandmother is ready to receive you," Kareem bowed. He turned around and preceded them.

Focusing on his breathing, Tyler walked through the house to a room with high doors of beautifully encrusted wood with artful carving. He noticed that the quality of the work brought admiration to him, but it didn't overwhelm him anymore. Slowly he began to take up his surroundings more. "Take it easy," he admonished himself.

In a spacious room where the sunlight subtly fell in, a woman sat on a couch. Ram-straight back, full of authority that, despite her small physical form, was completely believable. Half hiding behind Jared, he was able to take the woman in. He estimated her in her 70s and still in good condition. Her olive skin and graying hair may betray her age, but the sharp green eyes that were thoroughly absorbing him did not. Now Tyler understood the comment Jared made at the amusement park. "If my grandmother asks for an audience, you don't ask why, you just obey."