by Leslie North
“Thank God,” Chloe said. “Your normal clothes are so un-sheikh like.”
“How dare you?” he joked, and kissed her temple. “If my clothes are so offensive to you, then I’ll just have to take them off.” He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt.
Chloe jumped up after him. “We’re in a sitting room,” she said, laughing, but there was something behind her eyes that didn’t look like humor. “And if we’re going to a fundraiser tonight, then I need to start getting ready.”
“Please.” He took her hand and tried to pull her back, spinning her into him like they were dancing. “You could choose any gown and walk out of the palace right now, and no one would say a word.”
“Isn’t that the opposite of what you want?” Chloe raised her eyebrows, and he recognized the expression she wore from one of his first nights at the bar. It was the face she made when she was accommodating someone. “You want everyone to notice that I’m a perfect wife. That means I need hair and makeup. And that takes time. I’m not like you, Kishon, I can’t just toss my hair into a bun and waltz out.” She slipped her hand out of his, blew him a kiss, and left him standing there in the sitting room.
It was time to put on her wife costume.
It rankled, being a fake wife, but that was what she had agreed to, wasn’t it? She had agreed to pretend, along with Kishon, for a short period of time, and nothing was supposed to come of it.
So why couldn’t she shake this awful, curdling feeling at the pit of her belly? Why couldn’t she wipe away the furious blush from her cheeks?
A photo op should be the least of her worries. They’d done a hundred of them before the wedding.
The wedding wasn’t supposed to change anything.
She went back to Kishon’s apartment, ditched the tablet, and got the new portable easel he’d gotten her for their honeymoon. She would paint, and it would make her feel better. She could spare an hour. All her time lately had been taken up with the youth center, and she hadn’t made any time to paint. She’d been…uninspired. Chloe didn’t want her mother to be right, but here they were.
Flowers weren’t usually her thing, but Chloe took the easel out to the garden. Once she’d had some time to settle down—time to put back on her public bartender’s face and get her feelings in check, for god’s sake—she’d call the palace stylist. But for now, she would paint some flowers. She slammed the easel into place, threw out a canvas, and got out her palette. Everything was brand-new and felt unfamiliar in her hands, which sent another bolt of irritation zinging through her.
Chloe took a deep breath and tipped her face back toward the sun. She would make the brushes work. She would make the painting work. She would be fine.
She got out some green and white and mixed them together, pushing the color back and forth on the palette. It was like she’d lost all her muscle memory. The shade wouldn’t come out right. She put some of it on her canvas, but the thickness was off. Leave it to the paint to put up a fuss. Leave it to her life to put up a fuss. Right here, in the middle of what was supposed to be her dream vacation.
A peal of laughter caught her attention. Through the flowers, Chloe caught sight of a little boy tearing through the garden, shrieking at the top of his lungs. Mid-shriek he clapped his hand over his mouth and kept running. It was Hannah’s son Ryan. He was closely followed by none other than Nina, the woman who had come to her door the other day, and Kishon.
Her heart skipped and wobbled. Kishon looked completely relaxed, smiling, at ease. He looked down at the woman—Nina—and called to Ryan. Ryan came running back. Chloe thought her skin might catch fire.
The three of them stood there in the garden, chatting. Kishon took a ball from his pocket and tossed it back and forth to Ryan. Nina looked on, saying encouraging words.
She didn’t understand what was going on and couldn’t make sense of it. Her fingers locked around the brush.
And then she saw the palace photographer.
He had come along behind the little group, and as Kishon and Ryan threw the ball back and forth, he snapped photo after photo.
Chloe could see the photos now, as if she were the one taking them.
Kishon and Nina looked like the perfect royal couple. With Ryan, they looked like the perfect royal family.
That would never be Chloe.
The knowledge hit her like a blast of icy rain, pricking at her eyes and skin. The idea of staying with Kishon and starting a family with him was a fantasy. Only a fantasy. A big, dangerous fantasy, because she’d lost her heart to it.
She tossed the canvas to the ground and folded up the easel, throwing the brushes and paints back inside without looking where they landed. It didn’t matter anymore. She was done. Done faking the relationship. Done faking that everything was all right, because it wasn’t. She didn’t want this—not another second of it.
She picked up the ruined canvas with its shapeless green blob and tucked it carefully under her arm. Nobody seemed to have noticed her. Good. If they saw her—if they came over, and she had to smile for the camera, she thought she might scream.
Chloe needed space.
Leaving Hamari wasn’t an option, but the palace was huge, with plenty of guest suites. Chloe hurried toward the palace entrance. If she worked quickly, she could have her things packed and moved before the fundraiser.
This is your best idea in weeks, she told herself. This is what you should have done all along.
15
Kishon returned to his apartment to find it a hive of activity, with servants coming and going, boxes in their arms.
Like someone was moving out.
Only he had not given any such orders, and he himself wasn’t moving out. That left only one conclusion.
“What’s all this?”
The nearest servant paused. “We’re moving some items, Sheikh Kishon.”
“And why—never mind.” If the servant had had an answer like that prepared, it was because they didn’t want to upset someone else.
Kishon found Chloe in the bedroom, a full suitcase and her easel on the bed. “You don’t have to take this much to the fundraiser, you know.”
She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t worry about the fundraiser. I’ll be there on time in my Sunday best.” A book went into the suitcase, followed closely by a pair of shoes he recognized from her Washington days.
“Chloe.” Her eyes met his for the first time since he came into the room. “What are you doing?”
She straightened up and brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m done faking it.” Her chin quivered, and it was like a gong ringing, the vibrations covering every inch of his skin. “I saw you in the gardens with that woman, Nina, and—”
“Ryan’s nanny.”
“Yes, Ryan’s nanny. The three of you looked like your ideal royal family, so it’s a little beyond me why you didn’t just marry someone like her in the first place.”
“Nina is my nephew’s nanny. I don’t know why—”
“I mean someone who looks the part. Someone who’s already part of the scene.” She waved a hand around in the air, indicating the room. “She’s perfect for the job. Did you really think a down-on-her-luck artist turned bartender was going to make a good queen?” Chloe put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter if I am queenly as long as I play the part for the cameras, does it?”
“Chloe…”
“I’ve played my role.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ve played my role, and I’m done playing it.”
“Stop.” This outburst didn’t make a lot of sense. They’d both agreed together that the marriage would be a temporary one, for the ease of all parties involved. It had made it far simpler to sweep her away to the Middle East instead of letting her languish in DC without a job. “What is it that you want from me, Chloe? Why are you packing?”
“I want you.” Her eyes shone, and Kishon realized she was on the verge of tears. “I want a real relationship. A marriage and a
baby. Seeing you in the garden with Ryan and Nina showed me the exact image of the life I want. If I’m going to be with a man, then I want it to be like that. Real and messy and genuine. I want us to fall in the dirt together and get back up. I want…” She swallowed hard. “I want you.”
His mind was devoid of any words that could possibly make sense. That kind of marriage terrified him. To be so deeply in love with a woman would show the world that he had a weakness—her. And it wouldn’t just be the elders who thought so. The rest of the world would have their own opinions.
A flash of anger wiped away the fear. What was Chloe thinking? He’d planned on a quiet divorce and a friendly parting of ways, not a teary ex-wife.
So even though part of him—deep below the surface—wanted to agree with her just to make the tears in her eyes go away and chase the hurt from her voice, he couldn’t do it.
“I think the relationship we have now has run its course.” He said it, and he heard how flatly the words fell in the room between them. “Chakir’s wedding is in a week, and after that you can have your trip.”
Chloe looked down at her hands, at the art deco ring sparkling there, and gave a smile so sad it tore at Kishon’s heart. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were dry. “I don’t want the trip, Kishon. I’d just like airfare back to DC.”
Without another word, she picked up her suitcase and easel and left the room.
“Rough day?”
Kishon sat on the sofa in his rooms, a drink in hand, staring into the fireplace. There was no fire, but he didn’t need one to look at. His head was a mess of images from the day…from the last few weeks.
Matek stood nearby, frowning down at Kishon.
“What makes you think I’ve had a rough day?”
A smile pushed up a corner of Matek’s mouth. “The fact that you’re here alone, still in your suit from the fundraiser, and you spent the entire time looking like you’d swallowed something sour.”
“Chloe left.”
Matek blinked. “She didn’t leave. She was at the fundraiser tonight.”
“She moved out of my apartments. She’s staying in a private suite at the other end of the palace.”
Matek came and dropped down on the sofa next to him. “That’s too bad. Nina liked her.”
Kishon laughed, the sound bitter and sharp in his mouth. “It’s Nina’s fault. Chloe thought Ryan’s nanny would make a better queen.”
Matek snorted. “Obviously not. If Nina wanted to be queen, she would have been already. We’ve known that since school. Didn’t you tell Chloe that?”
“We didn’t reach that point in the conversation.”
His cousin waited until Kishon couldn’t stand the silence. It was an old trick of his, but tonight Kishon couldn’t wait him out.
“We didn’t get there, because Chloe keeps throwing it in my face.”
“What could she possibly have to throw in your face?”
“All the things I can’t provide for her.” He downed the rest of his drink in one swig. “I can’t allow myself that weakness. Doesn’t she get it? We’re all pretending to be more than we are to get by. I wasn’t born the leader of a country. I’ve struggled my whole life to learn to do this the right way.”
Matek considered him. “Maybe it would be less of a struggle if you were the kind of leader you want to be instead of the kind of leader the elders tell you to be.”
Kishon shot him a look.
“You’ve always been kind and just,” Matek said with a shrug. “The country would do well under a leader with heart instead of one who rules with an iron fist. That was the way of the past. We’re not in the past anymore.”
“I’m the leader the elders expect,” he grumbled.
“And look at you, all empty on the inside.”
Kishon narrowed his eyes. “Very brave of you, to say that to the king.”
This earned him another, smaller shrug from Matek. “You’re not the kind of king who’d have me cast out of the palace for daring to challenge you.”
“Lucky for you.”
“Very lucky. But what’s lucky for you?”
“Matek.”
“Kishon.”
Once again, Kishon was pulled under by the exhaustion of the day. It had taken almost everything he had not to pull Chloe aside at the fundraiser and demand to talk this out. There was nothing to talk out, anyway. She had been explicit about what she wanted from him, and he’d done the same. He couldn’t expect her to be happy about it.
He expected himself to be happier about it, though. In theory, she was only making this easier for both of them—cutting the connections early, before they got too deep.
But part of him knew that it wasn’t early enough.
Part of him knew that it hadn’t been early enough even back in Washington.
Kishon wasn’t going to say anything about this to Matek.
“It’s for the best,” he said finally. “We both know the terms of our agreement.”
“Your face doesn’t say the same,” Matek said.
“Your face doesn’t say anything good, either,” Kishon shot back.
Matek burst out laughing. “Kishon, you know you’re in a bad way when that’s the best insult you can dig up.”
He dropped his head back against the sofa. “I’m not in a bad way. It’s been a rough day, that’s all. You were right about that.”
Matek’s laugh slowly wound down, and finally he let out a last, long breath. “How do you think tomorrow’s going to go?”
“Better, if I have anything to say about it.”
“Is that part of your kingly powers?”
“Not yet,” said Kishon. But in this moment, he very much wished it was.
16
The new rooms had backfired spectacularly.
Chloe had thought that moving across the palace would give her the same kind of peace she’d had in DC, which was to say that she had plenty of alone time, even if nothing else was going right. It was one of the reasons she lived in a tiny apartment by herself rather than having roommates.
Now she was in a fancy guest suite in a palace in Hamari, surrounded by a bunch of new, fancy clothes, and she couldn’t stop crying. Focusing on the details of the room—the plush navy carpet, the intricately patterned wallpaper, the pristine white paint of the trim—did nothing to distract her. The suite’s kitchenette had been fully stocked with food. None of it appealed to her. There was even a rack of wine bottles, ready to be uncorked. None of it held her interest.
She pretended she was on shift at the bar. That worked for a few minutes, but more tears slipped out from beneath her lashes. She pretended she might be fired if she didn’t stop crying. She held her breath.
She felt like an idiot.
A knock at the door made her feel even more idiotic. She flicked the tears away from the corners of her eyes and stomped over to answer it. If it was Kishon, she’d just shut the door again. There was no point in talking to him now or ever, except when they needed to make appearances leading up to Chakir’s wedding.
It was Nina.
“Hi,” she said with a little wave. “Can I come in?”
“It’s not a good time.” Chloe started to shut the door, but Nina stopped it with her hand.
“I’ve got chocolate.” She brandished a large box tied with a white satin ribbon.
Chloe had never been so torn. On the one hand, she didn’t want to talk to this nanny, who was inexplicably close to Kishon. She was probably the secret love of his life. Once their own divorce was finalized, she’d have to brace for the announcement of their engagement. But the chocolate was from a famous chocolatier in the city, and she wanted it.
“It is a good time for chocolate,” she admitted, and the two women sat down in a pair of overstuffed chairs by the window. Nina held the box out and let Chloe take a few pieces. The first melted on her tongue like a dream—it was filled with raspberry creme, and Chloe closed her eyes to take it all in. “You’ll have to excuse
me. I haven’t had the best day.”
“Yeah.” Nina frowned. “I saw you crying on your way through the palace. Figured you might not want to be alone.”
“I wanted to be away from Kishon.”
“Really? You two seem like the perfect couple.” Nina selected a chocolate and put it in her mouth.
“We’re not,” Chloe groaned. She found herself spilling the story to this woman, unable to stop. It was the worst, because she liked Nina, who had now taken up the position of Kishon’s secret longtime lover, at least in Chloe’s imagination. “I’m a fraud. I’m just a broke bartender from the USA. Kishon only said I was his fiancée to make an asshole leave me alone, and now…well, now it’s gotten this far.”
Chloe opened her eyes to catch the tail end of a shrug from Nina. “That’s cool. Or—it’s not cool, but it’s not a big deal, I guess. I’m just an American nanny.”
Just an American nanny. “What does that mean?”
Nina gave her a look. “What does what mean?”
“You’re just Ryan’s nanny, but…you know Kishon well enough to laugh in the garden with him for the press?” Jealousy reared up like an angry horse, and Chloe couldn’t settle it. It didn’t matter. Kishon didn’t want to be with her. And she still couldn’t let those garden photos go.
“I’m just the nanny,” Nina insisted with a smile that made Chloe’s own face return the gesture. “I’ve known Kishon for a long time. We went to school together. My parents were both ambassadors, and our time at school happened to overlap.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have no idea why the palace photographer was in the garden. That guy always wants the lifestyle shots, even if it’s not a real lifestyle. It’s not like Kishon and I have a lot of time to hang out. He’s the king.”
Chloe took a slow breath, embarrassment heating up her face. “Wow. I was really wrong about you, then.”
“What? Did you think we were secret lovers?”
“Yes.”
Nina laughed. “Oh, I—I feel bad about that. No, I have never been interested in Kishon, except as a friend. You don’t have to worry about me.”