by Juniper Hart
Cruz was aware that he was blatantly misleading himself, but he had no other options. He could not marry Kalyn and carry on with Sage. It was not fair to either women, nor would it be fair to his child. A sheik’s son could not tie his future to an American woman with no fortune, and the fact that she was already pregnant would create a chaos within his family that Cruz could not even begin to imagine.
“Cruz.” Jett appeared on the deck stealthily, causing both Ara and Cruz to jump slightly.
“Hello, Alab.” They greeted one another formally with kisses on the cheek.
“Are you hungry, son?” Ara asked. “I will have the chef prepare you something to eat.”
“Yes, Ara. See to that,” Jett told her dismissively, and she nodded, hurrying off. “Come in, Cruz. I must confess, I was surprised to learn you were coming. I thought you would be… what is that American term? Sowing your wild oats? You have only a month before your marriage, after all.”
“Father, I wish to discuss my living arrangements with you,” Cruz told him slowly, the two men starting up the stairs to the sun deck. Jett glanced at him through his peripheral vision.
“What of them?”
“I believe that moving back to the palace would be unwise—from a business perspective,” Cruz blurted out. Jett sat on a lounge chair and peered at him with hazel eyes.
“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?” he asked. Cruz lowered his gaze.
“I have been thinking about it for a while. Really, as time grows closer, I am thinking of how much business we do in Europe and Asia. It makes far more sense that I am situated centrally, does it not?”
Jett was silent for a long moment.
“I suppose it does,” he answered finally. Cruz looked up at him, surprised. He had expected an argument, the typical locking of the horns. It had been ridiculously easy. “Is that why you came today?” Jett asked. “To discuss something we could have spoken about on Skype?”
“I did not think you would be so compliant,” Cruz confessed. Jett laughed heartily.
“You think me to be unreasonable,” he complained lightly. “I am anything but, son. You will return here for the wedding, and Kalyn will return with you to Paris after the ceremony.”
Cruz swallowed, his next request ready to spring from his lips. Not too much at once. You can discuss calling off the marriage later. Take what you have and run before he changes his mind.
“Thank you, Alab,” he said. “I must catch a flight. I have to be in Berlin tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, I remember. The Kroeger affair. Make sure he signs the non-disclosure. In the past, he has somehow ‘overlooked’ that aspect and wound up making royalties off products he no longer owns.”
“I will, Alab. Thank you for the reminder.” Jett rose to see his son off. “Will you tell Mama I said goodbye?” Cruz asked, and his father nodded amiably as the two walked down the ramp to where Omar was waiting by the car.
“Of course. We will see you in one month, Cruz.” Jett hugged and kissed his son, watching him drive off. Slowly, he turned to walk back onto the yacht, signaling the captain, who awaited his order.
As the ship prepared to leave the dock, Jett pulled his cell phone from his robes and scrolled through his digital rolodex. When he found the number he wanted, he dialed out. When a voice answered, he spoke, his tone steely.
“I want you and Kalim in Paris tonight. Do not let Cruz see you. I want a detailed report of everywhere he goes.” Jett hung up and turned, startled to see his first wife staring at him.
“What was that? You are sending security detail to spy on Cruz again?”
“It is not your concern, Ara,” he replied shortly.
“He is my son also, Jett. Why have you sent Hasan and Kalim to follow him this time?”
Jett watched her beautiful face carefully. She loved her children as any mother would, but she did not see the cunning of which Cruz was capable.
“He is hiding something from me,” Jett said matter-of-factly. Ara’s eyes narrowed.
“How can you be sure?” she demanded. “Because he asked to stay in Paris?”
Jett chuckled mirthlessly. “No, my dear wife, because I know our son. He believes he is a master in deception, but he is a terrible liar.”
“He was worried you would fight him on his decision!” Ara protested. “You mustn’t have him followed like a criminal, Jett. If he discovers you are doing that and he has done nothing wrong, it will only further put stress on your relationship.” Jett’s smiled faded.
“And if he is plotting something behind my back like he did in Madrid? Our family cannot afford another 200 million euro hit! I would rather put a strain on our relationship than have the business suffer.” Jett stalked away, leaving Ara to watch after him.
He does not care about his son, she thought. He cares only about his business.
Ara wrung her hands nervously. She prayed that Cruz was not double-crossing his father, or there would be a steep price to pay this time.
When Cruz returned from his business in Berlin, he and Sage spent every moment together. He took her to doctors’ appointments, and they had dinner at the most expensive restaurants in the city. They made love under the stars in the Nouvelle Garden and visited the Eiffel Tower like tourists.
“I have been here at least twelve times,” Sage told Cruz, making him laugh.
“Yes, but Bean has never been here. We must expose Bean to culture and art early.” Sage laughed, amused that Cruz was also referring to their unborn child as ‘Bean’.
“Have you spoken to your father about us?” she asked one day, two weeks after they had reconnected. Cruz sighed heavily and shook his head.
“No, Sage, I have not. This is not something I can just spring on him.”
“What is the worst he can do if you tell him?” she demanded. Cruz did not have an answer for her. Why did she care so much? She had everything she wanted; she had the guy, and she had security for her baby. That was all she needed.
But a small voice inside Sage wondered if there would be marriage in their future, if that was even a possibility. She pushed it out of her mind. There was plenty of time to worry about that later. Sage refused to let the shadow of Jett Reyes’ judgment ruin the moments she and Cruz finally had.
Cruz maintained his Paris apartment, but he spent his nights at Sage’s flat, holding her close, stroking her stomach, and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Sage felt found for the first time in her life. She had never been happier.
As she entered her seventh month, furniture began to arrive at the apartment.
“What is all this!” she exclaimed to Cruz, who shrugged sheepishly.
“I could not resist. I hope you do not mind terribly. I saw these items online, and I had to purchase them.” How could Sage argue? She admitted that her mate had good taste.
“How do you know that it will be a boy?” she asked as soccer jerseys arrived in a box with a pair of tiny cleats and a ball.
“Girls do not play football in your country?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. Sage was instantly embarrassed.
“Of course,” she muttered, and Cruz laughed.
“Between you and me, I hope Bean will be a girl.” Sage was surprised by the confession.
“Really? Why?” she asked. Cruz’s smile faded.
“Because boys are born with an unhealthy expectation,” he answered solemnly, and Sage knew he was thinking of his father and the long line of bears before him.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” she told him softly, turning to face him. He smiled tightly and nodded.
“I know. It does not matter. Of course, I will love our child regardless of the gender. Do you have any names selected?”
Sage approached him and cupped her slender hands around his face. “Yes. I believe that Matin is a beautiful name for a boy or a girl, don’t you?”
Cruz looked at her, his eyes shiny with tears, which he blinked away immediately. “Surely you have another name
you would like to call our baby. You need not name the child after my brother.”
“Why not? It means ‘morning’ in French, and that is what this child will be—a new dawn. A beginning for us, right?” Cruz swallowed quickly and pulled Sage close, kissing her gently on the lips.
“You are incredible,” he whispered. “I will never let you go.”
“You better not,” she answered.
Jett Reyes hung up the phone and sat back laboriously in his chair.
He has defied me again, and to what an extent! He has impregnated an American flight attendant. The scandal will be insurmountable. His intel had not dictated whether or not the woman was a shifter, but it didn’t matter. Cruz had betrayed him and their family, and Jett was furious.
“Jett, you summoned me?” Ara stood in the grand library, staring at her husband expectantly.
“Yes, Ara. Come in.” She slid across the floor, dressed in a stylish pantsuit, and sat primly across from her husband by the fireplace. “We are moving up the date of the wedding,” he informed his wife, and she blinked.
“Cruz’s wedding?” she asked dumbly.
“Yes. You must inform Kalyn’s family and the guests.”
“But Jett, it is only two weeks away! Why must we upset the order of things now?”
“Because your son has done the unthinkable.” Ara’s back went stiff, and she waited. “He has impregnated a woman in Paris. He has set her up like a concubine in her own apartment and is living with her in sin.”
Ara’s face went ashen.
“Are you certain the child is his?” she whispered, making Jett scoff.
“You cannot make excuses for him this time. What he has done will bring shame and dishonor to this family, and we must circumvent any further disaster. I will leave it to you to inform him, but you must not tell him why. He cannot know that I know of this woman.”
“Jett, what are you going to do about her?” Her husband smiled cruelly.
“She is on her way here now. I do not think we will have to worry about her again after today.” He waved a hand in dismissal, and Ara rose from her chair, her heart hammering dangerously. “Three days, Ara. I want the wedding in three days.”
“Yes, my love.” She hurried from the study and upstairs to her chambers. As she collapsed inside, she ran to her nightstand and retrieved a cell phone from under a mound of books and turned it on. There was only one number in the contacts.
He answered after the first ring.
“It is me. We have a big problem,” she whispered quickly. “It is time for Cruz to join you, before it’s too late.”
16
Sage did not know how long she had been in the air, but she forced herself to be calm. You cannot panic. That is what they expect of you. She stared balefully at the two giants sitting across from her in the private jet, who continued to thumb through magazines, both with headphones in their ears.
Sage had been at the Marché Bastille, poring over a bouquet of orchids, and suddenly, the world had gone black. Cruz was in Chicago, and she had not expected him home for another two days. When she had awoken, they were already in the air.
I guess his father knows about us now, Sage thought bitterly, her heart racing, willing herself to be still. She wanted to scream profanities at men who had no qualms about drugging a pregnant woman in broad daylight, but she quickly reasoned that men who would do something so daring and with so little regard for an unborn baby would likely do much worse to a hysterical female. The desire to shift and overtake them was overwhelming, but she had no doubt that they, too, were shifters, and given her state, she would be taken down in seconds.
She ran her tongue over the throbbing skin of her gums and spread her hands protectively over her stomach.
“How much longer?” she finally asked, unable to keep silent any longer. The bigger man heard her and smiled humorlessly.
“We will be landing shortly,” he told her. “But I would not be in such a rush if I were you.”
The words sent chills down Sage’s spine, and she clamped her lips together. True to his word, the plane began its descent, and Sage found herself glancing about for a weapon.
What are you going to do? Stab them and run? You have no idea what country you’re in! Although you might be able to find someone to help you anywhere in the world, your chances of getting to safety alive are slim. Just wait and see how this plays out. Maybe the sheik just wants to welcome you to his family.
The thought made Sage laugh out loud as the jet touched down, and the goons eyed her warily, possibly imagining that she was losing her mind. Sage looked out the window and gasped. She was at the Palace of Ara in the Red Sea. She had seen pictures of the remote location online, especially after Cruz had told her of its splendor. The pictures didn’t do it a bit of justice.
“Come along,” the smaller ogre told her. “We do not want to keep the sheik waiting.”
If there was any doubt, it’s been dispelled. The sheik knows about me. Sage rose clumsily to her feet and followed the two men. They disembarked down the stairs, and she stared at the lush greenery within the palace walls.
It was everything Sage would have expected of a palace, with its columns of gold and pillars of white. There were at least half a dozen rotunda rooms extending from the vast base of the structure toward the sky, all lined with terraces to overlook the thrashing of the sea. The roofs were spectacularly glimmering in bronze and gold, all blinding beneath the bright sunlight. The humidity in the air told Sage that there was a cluster of trees nearby, but she could not see anything from the plush runway on which she stood.
Suddenly, the sheik appeared.
“Hello, my dear,” he called jovially, hurrying toward them. He clasped Sage’s hand tightly. “You are more beautiful than these brutes informed me,” Jett Reyes told her, smiling happily. Instantly, Sage felt herself tense, her sixth sense honing sharply. His voice was warm, but his hazel eyes were colder than anything she had ever seen. She realized that she’d been followed a lot longer than she’d been aware.
Nothing good can come from this, she thought. There will be no “Welcome to the family” party happening here.
“Come and join me on the patio, where we will have something cold to drink,” Jett said. “Beautiful as it is here, it can get devastatingly hot.”
Slowly, Sage walked after him, each step causing her more anxiety. They stopped around the side of the house, where a sweating pitcher waited with two glasses.
“Please sit down,” Jett told her, extending a heavily jeweled hand toward a chair. Sage knew she was in no position to argue, and she lowered her trembling legs to perch on the edge of the wicker chair. “Forgive the theatrics of bringing you here, but I could not allow Cruz to know you were coming. I hope you understand,” the sheik told her. Sage chewed on her lower lip to hold back a scathing retort.
“Of course,” she murmured. A house servant scurried toward them, but Jett waved him away.
“Sage? Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. Sage Aubin. I was looking forward to meeting you, Sheik, though I must confess, not like this.”
“Oh, you must call me Jett. After all, I am going to be a great help to you in the future. We should be friends.”
For the first time, Sage felt a spark of hope.
That doesn’t sound like a death threat, she thought optimistically. So that’s something. She peered at him through guarded eyes. Perhaps I misjudged him. Maybe Cruz was wrong about him, too. Maybe he will give us his blessing. After all, I am carrying his grandchild. Every man wants his grandchild, right? And I’m a shifter, not just some random mortal. The bloodline would be pure.
“When is your child due to be born?” Jett asked, pouring her a glass of lemon water. Sage accepted it gratefully, taking a sip.
“The end of December,” she said, tracing her fingers against the beads of water on the tall glass.
“Oh, perhaps a Christmas baby!” Jett announced, and Sage stared at him, unsure if
he was being genuine or mocking. She gave him a thin smile.
“Maybe. It is due on New Year’s Eve.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Jett wanted to know. She read genuine interest in his eyes. Why did he really want to know? So he could harm her? Or because he truly wanted to be a part of the child’s life?
“I don’t know,” she answered slowly, her mind a mass of confusion. “We decided to be surprised by it.” The mixed signals she was receiving were overwhelming.
He seems to want you to like him, she thought, and yet his animosity is almost palpable. He will get to the point eventually. You just have to be patient and not show any weakness. He’ll like you more if you don’t appear scared. This powerful man doesn’t want to see his son with a weakling.
“It will be a boy,” Jett told her confidentially. Sage immediately thought of what Cruz had told her about boys being born into unhealthy expectations.
“Cruz and I will be happy with whatever we are given, as long as it is healthy,” Sage muttered, her eyes trained on the sheik’s face for clues as to his desires. The mask of friendliness slipped completely off his face.
“No, my dear, Cruz will not be happy. But that is irrelevant right now.” The words sent ice chips through her body, and finally, she understood what was happening.
“Why won’t he be happy?” Sage demanded through clenched teeth.
“Because you are going to disappear.” Panic overcame her, and she went to rise but stumbled back, falling onto the cushioned seat. “You cannot be so foolish as to believe I would allow you to ensnare my son, would you? How do we even know the child is his?”
“He does not have any doubt,” Sage hissed back. The attack she had sensed was upon her, and she was prepared. She had lost Cruz once, and she would not do it again.
“You can’t keep us apart—unless you’re willing to do this by force.” It was a naked challenge, and one she knew better than to accept, but the safety of her child was on the line, and she would not go down whimpering.