Hurting.
He saw it because it was exactly as he felt! He recognized the pain in her features, the stretching of skin over worry and doubt. And for a second he felt hope, and gladness, but then he realized: she was grieving Malik. Of course she was. It was the only event that might have pulled her from the woodwork.
And once the funeral was over, she would disappear once more.
And he’d let her – because she wanted to go, and he wasn’t going to imprison her against her will. Hell, their whole marriage had obviously been so exactly the opposite of what she’d wanted. His gut rolled; anguished recriminations danced on the periphery of his mind but he wouldn’t speak them.
The time of speaking was passed – this was closure. An end. That was all.
“Leave us.”
The servants straightened and walked in a line through the door, pulling it softly behind them, the click of the lock quiet but vital in a way that resonated around the room.
“So,” he drawled, taking a step towards her, studying the way her expression shifted, the way she tried – and failed – to hide behind that icy mask she always had to hand. “You came back.”
“Is it true?” She whispered, swallowing, so that the fragile column of her neck shifted visibly beneath his scrutiny. “Is he…”
“Is my father dead?” Raffa asked, only the fact the death had, in fact, happened a week earlier, allowing him to speak the words without sounding at all effected. “Yes.”
Chloe’s eyes swept shut and now, to his surprise, she began to sob. Big, racking sounds that filled his office. “I’m so, I’m so, sorry,” she stammered, spinning away from him, walking towards a chair and sinking down into it. “I knew he was sick but I thought… I still wasn’t ready …”
“I told you almost a year ago that he was close to death,” Raffa denied, ignoring her cries, ignoring her pain. She deserved to feel it – she’d chosen to walk away from him, from his father, from all of them.
“But he seemed well, and he…”
Raffa didn’t finish the sentence for her.
“I just didn’t think it would happen.” She dipped her head forward and it took every ounce of willpower not to go to her, to comfort her. She didn’t want his comfort – she never had. Or perhaps, early on in their marriage, she would have taken it, if he’d offered it. He hadn’t, and he couldn’t change the past.
With a heavy sigh, he stalked to his desk and picked up the divorce papers. “You have no business here, Chloe. He’s not your father-in-law, he’s not your family. He is no one to you now.”
“He’ll always be a man who showed me great kindness,” she countered softly, her voice cracking.
“And you left him.” Raffa threw the words at her, like grenades. It was juvenile to make her feel guilty for running from Malik when what he really wanted to do was punish her for leaving him!
Her nod was a sad, tentative admission.
Raffa refused to soften. “I’m glad you came, though. It saves me the trouble of having these sent back.”
He lifted a pen, his fingers shaking slightly as he hovered it over the space for his signature. He’d stared at the line for weeks now, knowing he needed to sign it, knowing he needed to give her what she wanted and end the marriage, but he hadn’t. And now, with her in his office, he finally scrawled his name – and for the worst possible reason.
He did it so he could have the satisfaction of seeing her react.
He wasn’t disappointed. When he straightened, the papers held in his hand, Chloe looked as though she was about to faint. But then, with what must have taken a monumental effort, she assumed some of her usual expression, a hint of ice around her eyes as she stood. Only the wobbling of her knees betrayed her. He watched as she crossed the room, and came to stand right in front of him, but he didn’t hand the papers over.
“Tell me why you left,” he demanded, and despite his efforts at restraint, the words emerged as a hoarse, dark plea. Perhaps the depth of it surprised her, because her eyes jerked to his and she stepped back a little, shaking her head an infinitesimal amount.
“It’s for the best,” was all she murmured.
And the quiet, plaintive little sentence was like striking a match over gasoline. Raffa slammed his palm on the edge of his desk and spun away from her, stalking towards the window. Crowds had begun to form; hundreds of people dressed in black with highlights of gold, to honour the deceased King.
“For whose best? Not my best!” He said quietly, but with enough anger to make the room shake. “Not my country’s best. For your best, then, I presume you mean. So tell me, Chloe, what was it about being my wife that you hated so much? What about me that made marriage so abhorrent? Tell me why you felt your only option was to run away as though you were some kind of unwilling prisoner in my bed?”
He continued to look out of the window, so didn’t see the way she stumbled back slightly, didn’t see the way her fingertips grazed the edge of his desk, needing something solid to connect with.
“Tell me that you hated me,” he said grimly. “Tell me that you hated being married to me. That you ran from me because I didn’t deserve you. Because I treated you like a possession instead of a woman. Tell me the words I have thought these last three months.”
Behind him, Chloe shivered, but she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her mind was fuzzy around the edges and black spots hovered on the edges of her mind.
“Damn it, if you’re trying to protect me –,” he spun around in time to see her knees buckle and her body sag forward. He swore under his breath, striding across the room and catching her just an inch before her head connected with the hardness of the floor.
Her face was pale against the black fabric of his robe, and now that he held her, he felt for himself how slim she was beneath the clothes she wore.
A new emotion usurped all others. Fear.
“Call a doctor,” he shouted in his native tongue, the words ringing out like a bell through this wing of the building. He heard the response – thudding of military boots as security officers ran, and the bursting open of his door as two more servants entered the room. Chloe was beginning to stir, but Raffa held her still, his eyes boring into hers when she blinked them open.
“Stay where you are.”
Chloe frowned, her mind blank. Which was where? She blinked again. No. She wasn’t dreaming. The last twenty four hours had really happened.
Malik had died. She groaned, trying to sit up, but Raffa’s hands on her shoulders were like vices. Her head was in his lap, and his body was warm, all around hers. She needed to stand, but being close to him like this was the best thing she’d ever felt.
But then she remembered. The divorce papers.
Their marriage was officially over. Well? What else had she expected? She’d sent them to him. She’d walked out on him, and she’d hidden from him. Did she think he might still be foolish enough to want to convince her to stay?
And even if he did, she couldn’t give into that. She couldn’t give him what he needed – and he needed that baby now more than ever.
It jerked her into action. “Let me go.” She said with desperate urgency and determination, even when her heart was breaking, and now when she tried to move, he didn’t fight her. He helped her up though, and guided her to a seat. Once she was settled, he strode across the room and filled a crystal glass with iced tea, bringing it back to her and holding it out. She took the glass from the bottom, careful not to touch his fingers – there’d been enough touching already.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’ve been travelling all day. I hadn’t eaten. And the shock of Malik…” And seeing you again, she added mentally, closing her eyes as though that might blot her husband from her mind and her heart.
It didn’t.
“The doctor will be here soon,” Raffa said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I don’t need a doctor,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m fine, truly.”
But the door pushed inwards and a medical professional appeared, distinguishable by his white coat and black leather bag. He joined the servants who were hovering in the door, unsure of how to proceed.
Chloe hadn’t seen this man before, but for once, the doctor was a servant who met her eyes. In fact, he smiled into them kindly, and when he spoke it was as though they were equals. How refreshing it was to be seen as a person rather than simply the Sheikha.
“What happened, your highness?” He asked, placing a bag down beside Chloe and crouching at her feet. His voice was accented, but she understood him well enough. She could have slipped into Ras el Kidan but the language was part of her past – a past she needed to forget.
She stuck to English.
“Nothing, I…”
“She fainted,” Raffa contradicted, coming to stand over them. “And she looks terrible.”
Chloe swept her eyes shut, his assessment no less hurtful for being true.
“Would you mind having the room cleared, sir?” The doctor asked, without looking at Raffa.
Raffa barked a command in Ras el Kidan and the servants disappeared.
Apparently the doctor knew better than to ask Raffa to join them. “Lie down please,” he said gently, arranging a pillow behind Chloe’s head.
“This is silly.”
“Chloe,” Raffa’s voice was thick with torment. “Just do as he says. Please.”
She jerked her eyes to his and felt something pass between them, something she didn’t understand. She’d come to Ras el Kida to mourn the passing of her father-in-law, but also because she wanted to see and support this man, and instead, she’d arrived and brought pain to him, and now she was making trouble when he no doubt had other things to attend to.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said softly, lying back against the pillows.
A muscle jerked in his jaw but he remained resolutely where he was.
“You fainted?” The doctor asked, taking a blood pressure cuff from his bag and wrapping it around her upper arm. It squeezed against her flesh and Chloe stared at the ceiling while it did its job.
“Yeah. But it wasn’t a big deal. Like I said, I hadn’t eaten and…”
“In how long?” The doctor prompted.
“I had an apple this morning. American time.”
The doctor frowned, but it was nothing to the glower or Raffa’s face. “And before that?”
Chloe blinked. “I… can’t remember.”
“Do you make a habit of skipping meals?” The doctor asked, removing the cuff and taking a thermometer from his bag. He placed it under Chloe’s tongue so she shot him a look of pique. He answered with a smile, before removing the thermometer.
“No,” she answered. “I’ve just been…forgetful lately. Out of routine.”
The doctor lifted his gaze to Raffa’s face then returned his attention to Chloe.
“How have you been sleeping?”
She swallowed. “Fine.”
“Chloe?” It was Raffa now, and he crouched down beside her. “Tell the truth.”
How did he know? How did he know that she tossed and turned all night every night, as though each shift might somehow fill the empty, gaping void inside of her?
“Not well,” she answered, staring at the ceiling.
“Is this the first time you’ve fainted?”
“Yes. No. I nearly did when I heard the news about Malik,” she whispered. “I was so surprised. It just hit me that I hadn’t been here…” Her eyes flew to Raffa’s face and she felt a sob welling inside of her. She hadn’t been here for him – she loved him, she loved him with all that she was and she’d walked away from him. She’d done it to protect him, but how she wished she could have comforted him as well!
His eyes met hers for a brief second before jerking away, a muscle throbbing at the base of his jaw.
“Have you been sick at all? Any viruses? Flus? Nausea?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t feel great a lot of the time at the moment, but I think that’s just because I’m not sleeping well.”
The doctor nodded, but his brows were drawn together.
“Do you mind if I touch you, Chloe?”
“Touch me?”
“I just want to check your abdomen.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Has it occurred to you that you might be pregnant?”
Beside her, Raffa stilled. And she hated, more than anything, in that moment that she was going to disappoint him. That he had this glimmer of hope, that a baby had been conceived, and she was going to fail him – as always.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said. For all the reasons she’d left him, she still couldn’t reveal the truth about her inability to conceive. He would still feel honour-bound to tear up those divorce papers, and they’d both be locked in a loveless, childless marriage. He deserved so much better than that.
“Let’s just double-check,” the doctor said, and because there was no harm that could come from the inspection, Chloe nodded.
He pressed his fingers against her abdomen, low, and she startled at the feel of another man’s hands on her body. Though his touch was clinical, it was odd to have anyone touching her, besides Raffa.
She knew, without even consciously making the decision, that she would never be with another man again. Not for as long as she lived.
“I thought as much,” the doctor said, a large smile on his face as he stood.
“What is it?” Chloe pushed to sitting.
“You’re about three months along, I’d say. We’ll need to run tests to confirm the date, but there’s no mistaking it. If you were any earlier in the pregnancy, I wouldn’t have been able to feel the baby.”
“No,” Chloe’s denial was instantaneous. She didn’t look at Raffa. “I can’t be. You’re mistaken.”
“Impossible,” the doctor demurred, his smile kindly. “I can feel it for myself.”
“But I…” But what? She’d been so grief-stricken since leaving Ras el Kida, she’d ceased tracking her cycle. It had no longer seemed to matter; she knew she wasn’t pregnant and that she couldn’t become pregnant. So what was the point? Had she menstruated since she’d left?
It was absurd, but Chloe couldn’t recall! Surely there’d been something?
She shook her head; none of this made sense.
“I don’t believe this. It can’t be true.” Chloe dug her fingernails into her palms, her mouth wide open.
And the doctor frowned, a look of confusion on his face. “I take it this isn’t the news you were hoping for?”
Raffa, rendered immobile by the revelation, stood to his feet now. “Thank you, that will be all.”
The doctor’s frown deepened. “I will need to consult further with Her Highness – discuss pregnancy guidelines, prepare some vitamins, and arrange for further testing…”
“In due course,” Raffa said with steely firmness.
“Very well. Call me when you’re ready.” The doctor bowed and walked from the room, pulling the door shut after himself.
They were alone. No. Not alone! They’d never be alone again! This changed everything! It was impossible! A miracle!
Chloe’s smile stretched across her face and tears sparkled on her lashes, but they were happy tears now. Tears of utter, unadulterated joy. Her husband didn’t love her, but she was able to give him what he needed, and she would love their baby more than she’d ever thought possible.
“Did you know?” The question was thick with doubt, thick with despair. “Is that why you left?”
Chloe was sucked out of her moment of jubilation by the very real darkness of her husband’s emotions.
“Oh, no, Raffa.” She stood, and moved towards him, lifting her hands to his chest. He gripped her wrists, as though he wanted to pull them away, but instead, he held her where she was, held her close to him.
The words tumbled out of her, one after the other, just a jerk of sounds that she hoped made sense. “Raffa,
I’m so sorry for what I did. I thought… I thought it was for the best. Leaving you, I mean. I was told I couldn’t have children. And I thought… I thought Amit would be enough, that you would accept him as your heir, but then you told me the truth about him and I knew I could never give you what you needed and so I left, but I had no idea! I was told I could never fall pregnant.”
He looked beyond shocked, of course. “When? When were you told this?”
“The morning I left,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t mean that I lied to you. Only after a few months, I started to worry, to suspect something was wrong and I got tested. I needed to know. And the morning after we came back from the desert, the doctor called. Believe me, Raffa, if the results had been ambivalent, I wouldn’t have left. But with no possibility of giving you the heir you needed, how could I stay? This is impossible, Raffa. It’s a miracle. I can’t believe…”
“So you left me because you thought you couldn’t conceive,” he said, as though slowly piecing together a puzzle. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chloe went to pull her hands away but he growled and instead wrapped them around his waist, before doing the same, locking her in his embrace.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeated.
“Because I thought you’d feel obligated to stay with me.” She dropped her gaze. “I know how much is at stake here – how much this baby would mean to you. I understand your duty to your kingdom, and the kingdom’s need for continuity. And I couldn’t bear the thought of locking you into marriage without being able to give you the one thing you needed from me.”
“The one thing I needed from you? Chloe,” he shook his head. “There is much I need from you, and a baby is lower on the list than you might think.”
She shook her head. “Sex isn’t enough either.”
“I don’t mean sex,” he promised, running his hands over her back.
“Then what? What do you want from me? I can offer you nothing, Raffa.”
“What about your heart?” His eyes flared when they met hers. “What about your kind, sweet heart?”
It Started With A Lie: A forbidden fake-boyfriend Cinderella romance (The Montebellos Book 5) Page 35