by Kate Hewitt
* * *
Rico gazed between Sultan Hassan’s impassive face and Halina’s frightened and confused one and felt his stomach and jaw both clench. Whatever they’d been talking about, it hadn’t been good.
‘What do you need to tell me, Halina?’ he asked in as mild a voice as he could manage. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Tell him, habibi,’ the Sultan said.
The endearment did not go unnoticed. So that was how Hassan was playing it. The doting father had returned. Rico had often wondered how he would act if his father had ever returned. What he would have said, whether he would have opened his arms to him. He’d known what Halina would do. He saw it in her face, in the unhappy guilt written on her delicate features.
She was leaving him. At least, she was thinking about it. God knew the last few weeks had been hard. He knew that; he’d felt it. Halina’s admission that she wanted love from him, from their marriage, the terrible uncertainty shrouding her pregnancy...all of it had taken its toll. Had made her doubt, made them both doubt, if they were doing the right thing getting married. Because he was honest enough to admit he’d started wondering too, and somehow that made this moment all the harder to bear.
‘Halina?’ he prompted, an edge entering his voice, and she stared at him unhappily, her lips trembling.
‘Let me talk to him,’ the Sultan said, and Rico swung his gaze over to appraise his real adversary. He didn’t trust this man. Not a single inch.
‘I can...’ Halina persisted, but she looked so pale and miserable that Rico took pity on her.
‘Let him say what he wants to say. We can talk later if needed. You should rest.’
They stared at each other for a long moment, a world of yearning and regret spinning out between them, then she nodded and walked wordlessly to the bedroom. As the door clicked shut behind her Rico turned to face Hassan.
‘Well?’ he said coolly.
‘The Princess is coming home with me.’
Rico kept his expression neutral, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him affected by anything he said. ‘That was your suggestion, I presume?’ he drawled.
‘My suggestion and her desire.’
‘She said as much?’
‘I know it. She’s my daughter.’
‘And she’s the mother of my child.’ Rico stared at the man, refusing so much as to blink. ‘We are to be married.’
‘Yet the wedding was called off.’
‘For health reasons only.’
‘Come now, Falcone.’ Hassan smiled, the genial expression so close to a smirk that Rico itched to wipe it off his face. His fists clenched and he forced himself to unclench them and relax. ‘Let’s be honest with each other, now it is just the two of us.’
‘I am being honest.’
The smile dropped from Hassan’s face like the mask Rico had known it was. ‘I have had people look into you and your background,’ he said in a low voice, his lip curling in an ugly sneer. ‘Seen what a gutter rat you truly are. No matter how many billions you have now, you were born a beggar boy and you still are one now. I will never allow you to marry my daughter, a princess of the royal blood. How could I?’
‘What you will allow is not my concern. Halina is of age and in this country, my country, she is not bound by your archaic laws.’ Rico spoke calmly even though the blood was boiling through his veins.
‘So you would shackle her to you, all because of a child you’ve never wanted?’
‘I’ll always want my child.’
‘Oh, yes, I understand that certain code of honour—’
‘Do you?’ Rico interjected, unable to keep the venom from his voice. ‘Because, by all accounts, you do not possess it.’
‘Halina has spoken to you about that unfortunate incident, I see.’
‘You tried to make your own daughter get an abortion she didn’t want.’
‘I am King of a country, Falcone,’ Hassan said sharply. ‘With it comes responsibilities and expectations, some of them unfortunate. For my people to see my own daughter shamed in such a way...it would be disastrous. For them, for my rule, for the stability of my country and for Halina herself.’ He took a step towards Rico. ‘She sees things from her own view, a simple child’s view. Trust me, the truth is much more complicated. But we are both men of the world. We know that.’
Rico stared at him, his jaw clenched so tight he thought he might break a tooth. He recognised the truth in the Sultan’s words, a truth he had not wanted to see before. He didn’t condone the man’s actions; he could never do that. But he could understand them.
‘Halina belongs in Abkar with her own people, her own family.’
‘And would you marry her off to a man of your choosing, a stranger?’ Rico demanded. ‘Because those do not seem the actions of the loving father you are professing to be now.’
‘Come, Falcone.’ Hassan smiled. ‘We both know that her marriage to you would be no different, and in some ways worse, for there would be no political benefit to you. You would tire of her eventually, whether you are willing to acknowledge it or not.’ The Sultan levelled him with a starkly honest and challenging stare. ‘Do you honestly think you could ever make her happy?’
Rico tried not to flinch at that question and the lack it revealed in himself. Because the truth that he’d been trying to avoid staring in the face for the last few weeks was that he didn’t. And he knew in his gut, in his heart, that Halina deserved more than he could ever give her.
‘Would you marry her off against her will?’ he asked, the words dragged from him, scraping his throat.
‘Against her will? No. In time, when she has recovered from this and longs for a husband and a family? We would make the decision together. That much I have learned.’ The Sultan met his gaze unblinkingly; Rico knew he had no choice but to trust him.
‘And the child?’ he asked painfully, the sting of tears behind his lids, in the back of his throat.
‘Would want for nothing. He or she would grow up in the palace, a member of the royal family.’
‘Your people would accept that?’
Hassan smiled grimly. ‘They will have to.’
Several moments ticked by; it took all of Rico’s energy and effort simply to breathe. To keep standing. ‘Fine,’ he said finally. ‘Leave us now. I want to talk to Halina.’
‘I’ll return in an hour.’
‘An hour...’
‘It will be better if it’s quick,’ the Sultan said, then walked towards the lift.
Rico stood where he was, waiting for the man to leave before he moved. Before he told Halina what he intended.
As the doors pinged open and then shut Rico let out a shuddering breath. So this would be the end. He would let her go, because he cared for her too much to shackle her to him. He saw that now.
And, in a jolt of sorrowful realisation, it occurred to him that he finally had a glimmer of understanding of what his father might have gone through in leaving him at the orphanage all those years ago.
Perhaps, just as Rico had, his father had come to the grief-filled conclusion that he could not make the person he loved most in the world happy. That he could not provide for them in the way he longed to. That leaving was the better, and harder, choice.
With a leaden heart, Rico walked towards the bedroom door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HALINA HEARD THE rise and fall of low, tense voices from behind the door but she couldn’t make out any words and she didn’t think she wanted to. What was her father saying to Rico? And what was Rico saying to her father?
She paced the room in a ferment of anxiety and fear, wondering if the two men she loved most in the world were deciding her future without her. Here, then, was the ultimate loss of freedom. Her fate was completely out of her hands, even while she waited in the next room.
Then she heard the lift doors open and closing. She stilled where she was by the window, one hand resting on the sill. She couldn’t hear a sound from the other room; had Rico gone?
Just when she was about to go and find him, the bedroom door opened and Rico stood there. The haggard and grim look on his face struck a cold note of fear in Halina’s heart.
‘Rico...’
‘Your father will return in an hour.’
‘Return? Why?’
‘It’s better this way, Halina.’
‘Better?’ She stared at him wildly. The doubts that had been festering in her heart burst into painful reality. ‘What are you saying? You want me to go?’
‘It’s not a question of want or whim. It’s what is best for you—’
‘Best for you, you mean!’ Halina cried, pain lancing every word.
‘I can’t give you what you need.’
‘You mean you can’t love me.’ Even now it hurt to say it. Rico hesitated, his jaw tight, and then he nodded. ‘And what if I was willing to live with that?’ Halina asked painfully.
‘Do you remember what you said to me? That if my loyalty or affection wasn’t grounded in love it would eventually fade?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Are you no different? Eventually you would come to resent me for not loving you. Hate me, even. And I would hate that. So would you. We’d end up living separate lives, festering in bitterness and resentment.’
She stared at him, hating the bleak, bleak picture he painted with his grim words. ‘It wouldn’t have to be like that.’
‘Maybe not, but the risk is too great. I can’t make you happy, Halina. I can’t give you what you want.’
‘And that is a reason to walk away?’ she demanded, her voice shaking. ‘You’re a coward, Rico Falcone—’
‘Do you think this is easy for me?’ he cut across her, his voice a ragged roar. ‘Do you think I am doing this lightly? I am talking of abandoning my child, as my father once abandoned me. Do you think I would ever want to do that?’
‘Then don’t—’
‘I am trying to do the right thing, hard as it is for both of us. You have to think of the future, Halina. Your future. Perhaps one day you’ll find a man you love, a man who can make you happy...’
‘Perhaps,’ Halina answered in a choked voice, ‘happiness is overrated.’
Rico stared at her. ‘Do you really mean that?’
Halina simply stared back, confused and miserable. She didn’t know anything any more. She didn’t understand why Rico was doing this, even as she feared she did. Because their relationship had been doomed from the start—forced into a marriage neither of them wanted for a child they never should have conceived. But even now she couldn’t regret her baby, their baby, and she pressed a trembling hand against the soft swell of her bump.
‘What of your child? What shall I tell him or her about you?’ She shook her head slowly. ‘You’re really going to give up all your rights?’
‘It’s better this way,’ Rico said. His face was as blank as his voice; it was as if he had already left her, emotionally if not physically. Halina knew she would never reach him.
‘So that’s it?’ she said hollowly. ‘After everything that’s happened...the way you pursued me, how determined you were to marry me...that’s it?’
A full minute ticked by as Rico stared at her, his jaw clenched, his eyes pitilessly blank. ‘That’s it,’ he said flatly.
Everything happened in a fast, unhappy blur after that. Halina packed, leaving behind the couture gowns and outfits that she and Rico had shopped for together. She couldn’t bear to bring away clothes that held so many memories, beautiful as they were. Her father arrived, nodding graciously to Rico before he turned to Halina.
‘Are you ready, habibi? The plane is waiting. So is your family. I called your mother and she is eager to see you.’
Everything in Halina cried out to resist. She stood in the living room, trying to work up the courage to turn to Rico and tell him she loved him. She’d never said the words. She’d never confessed how she felt about him, only that she wanted him to love her. Would it make a difference? Didn’t she have a duty to try?
She opened her mouth, her heart beating hard, but before she could say a word Rico spoke first.
‘Goodbye,’ he said, and walked out of the room.
Halina stood there for a moment, stunned and blinking, then she followed her father out of the apartment.
She didn’t talk much on the ride to the airport; grief swamped her, a fog surrounding her that made it difficult to think, much less speak.
Sultan Hassan was all gracious solicitude, asking how she felt, if there was anything she needed. Once they were on the royal jet Halina went to lie down; she couldn’t face anyone, not even the servants. She slept the entire journey, only waking up when it was time to land.
She stared out of the window of the jet at the bleak, undulating desert of Abkar and her heart cried out for Rome. For Rico.
‘Everyone is waiting for you,’ Hassan said as he guided her from the jet to the waiting SUV. Halina slid inside, resting her head against the seat. She felt too listless to ask what was going to happen now, what her father intended.
Would she live in the royal palace? Raise her child there, under the benevolent eyes of her parents? It was so far from the fury and sick disappointment they’d shown her before, she couldn’t quite believe in it. Somehow it didn’t much matter any more, because Rico had rejected her.
Throughout the journey, even as she remained dazed, one hard truth had emerged from the fog of her mind. His claim that he was thinking of her, of her happiness, was nothing more than an excuse. Of course it was. Rico would never give up his child unless he wanted to. Unless he’d decided that marriage and fatherhood wasn’t for him, after all.
Bitterness rooted in her heart as she replayed their last conversation in her mind. He was a coward. He should have had the courage to tell her the truth—that he’d changed his mind, that he didn’t want to marry her—instead of dressing it up with fine sentiments about thinking only of her happiness.
Back at the palace her sisters swarmed her, and Halina hugged each of them in turn, her heart emerging from its chrysalis of grief as she realised afresh how much she’d missed her family.
‘Halina.’ Aliya pressed her cheek against her daughter’s. ‘We are so glad you have returned home.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ Halina whispered.
‘We have much to do,’ Aliya said as she gestured for Halina to sit down in the family’s private living area. A member of staff poured glasses of mint tea.
‘Much to do?’ Halina’s youngest sister was curled up on her lap and Halina put her arms around her, grateful for the easy affection.
‘Yes, for the wedding.’ Halina stared blankly at her mother and Aliya’s eyes narrowed. ‘To the Sultan of Bahari. Surely your father told you?’
‘No,’ Halina said numbly. ‘He didn’t tell me.’
‘But the wedding is in a week! The Sultan wants to marry you before you show too much.’ With her lips pressed together, Aliya glanced repressively at her younger daughters. ‘You are lucky to have such a match arranged for you, Halina.’
‘Lucky?’ Halina stared at her mother in disbelief as realisation bloomed poisonously inside her. Her father had duped her with his words of love and regret. He’d wanted her home only so he could marry her off again to his political advantage, this time to a man over three times her age.
She knew the Sultan of Bahari. She’d sat next to him at one of those stuffy diplomatic receptions; he had to be at least seventy, and he had two wives already. And it seemed she was to be the third. Bile churned in her stomach and rose in her throat.
‘Mother,’ she whispered, ‘Are you really intending this for me?’
Aliya folded her arms. �
�It is all you have left.’
‘Rico Falcone, the father of my child, a billionaire in his own right, was willing to marry me,’ Halina retorted, even as a treacherous little voice inside whispered, Was he? ‘Surely he is more appropriate than an aging lecher with two wives already?’
‘Do not speak so disrespectfully. Falcone is not appropriate because he does not offer any political alliances, and his reputation is quite beyond the pale. This is your duty, Halina. Surely you see that? After all your disgrace, this is the least you can do for your family.’
The least? She’d be giving up her whole life, and in far worse a way than any future she could have envisioned with Rico. But Rico didn’t want her, and Halina was left yet again with no freedom, no choice, in the worst situation she’d ever had to face.
She turned from her mother, tears blurring her eyes. She could hardly believe she was right back where she started, only worse. So much worse.
Rico. Her heart cried out his name. She should have told him she loved him. Even if she had to marry the Sultan of Bahari, at least Rico would have known. It would have been small comfort during the bleak, barren years that stretched ahead of her now.
* * *
Three days had passed since Halina had walked out of his flat, his life. Three endless days. It was long enough for Rico to reconsider his decision, which now seemed unaccountably rash. What had he been thinking of, letting her go? Letting his child go?
Sultan Hassan had played on all his doubts, all his fears of inadequacy and commitment. The fear he had of risking his heart for someone, holding it there for her to crack or crush. Halina had been right. He was a coward. He’d chosen to let her go rather than fight to hold on. To tell her the truth, which had come to him in a shocking moment of naked realisation: that he loved her. He’d loved her for a while, but he’d been hiding it from himself because he’d been so afraid. Afraid to fall, to risk, to beg her to stay. So he’d chosen the cowardly option of walking away.
Now he would live the rest of his life knowing he’d loved and lost. It was the price of his cowardice, his shame. And all he could do was pray and hope that she had a better life without him.