by Cara Albany
There was acid in her voice, a hint of fire in her eyes, and he could see she was exasperated.
He didn't rise to the bait, thinking it better to let those remarks go. "Can I call you later?"
She looked sternly at him. "Why? To get my answer?"
Qazim shook his head. "No. To make sure you're okay."
She gazed deep into his eyes. Perhaps she saw just how sincere he was being, because she didn't answer him back, but just turned away from him.
"Call me if you like, Qazim. I'm pretty sure I'll be home."
She took a few steps away from him. For a moment, he thought he'd never seen anyone look more beautiful, never seen a woman more alluring than Grace.
Right now, the last thing he wanted was to be apart from her. But he knew there was no choice.
He'd have to wait.
At least she hadn't said no.
He held onto that thought as he watched her push open the glass doors and enter the apartment building.
She looked back at him as she stood waiting for the elevator. It was a brief glance, but he didn't see any resentment or anger in that look.
Then she disappeared into the elevator and Qazim turned and walked back to his limo.
Already he could feel the tension in every part of his being. It was going to be a long wait.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once in her apartment, Grace slipped off her shoes, made her way to the bathroom and washed. The heat of the day had gotten to her briefly when she'd stepped out of Qazim's limo downstairs.
Feeling better, she made herself a cool drink of apple juice and sat down on the sofa. She felt as if she been subjected to a trial of strength, some kind of endurance test. As if her own inner strength and resolve had been ruthlessly examined.
How could she have been so stupid? She should have walked right on by Qazim Al Shirah, she told herself. At the Medical Center, she should have ignored him and headed out the door, making it absolutely clear that he still had no place in her life.
But, she had foolishly allowed herself to be tempted into his limo, back into his world.
It had been a mistake, and she knew it.
And then he'd gone and made things worse by proposing a marriage.
A marriage of convenience, of all things.
What century was this?
What kind of life would that be, if she did go ahead with it? Grace couldn't even begin to comprehend what that life would consist of.
She knew that both of Qazim's brothers had married American women. Grace had briefly met the wife of Qazim's older brother Zaheer. Grace remembered Becca as a sweet woman, blonde and blue-eyed. Zaheer and Becca had a little one, a baby just a few months old.
The Al Shirah brothers certainly had a thing about American brides.
His other brother Riaz lived a secluded life in the desert. He also had taken a wife, an American journalist who seemed content to live the life out in the wilds of the desert. Qazim had described Riaz as some kind of desert chieftain, searching for the authentic, traditional Qazhar life.
Better her than me, Grace told herself. That was definitely not the kind of life she could even contemplate.
What would a marriage of convenience really involve? For one thing they would probably lead separate lives. Even if there was a child, Grace and Qazim would probably co-exist with stiff formality, constantly keeping up appearances in front of friends and family members.
It sounded like a cold, emotionless existence, Grace thought.
Was Qazim seriously asking Grace to sign up for that kind of life? Surely he must know that she wouldn't be able to tolerate such an existence. It would be almost like a living death.
But, then she thought about the child that was growing inside her. Grace placed a hand across her middle. Of course, it was too early to feel anything, too soon to be showing.
But, one thing she knew from some of her friends who'd had children, was that pregnancies could proceed faster than you could imagine. It wouldn't be long before her belly would be growing and Grace would have to make some huge adjustments to her life.
Grace felt a sudden warmth in her heart at the thought that she was growing life within her. Was this just the barest hint of the joy to come?
She thought about the way Qazim had acted in the limo. He'd seemed stunned by the news at first. But, after his initial amazement, he'd quickly made his intentions crystal clear to Grace.
Qazim was determined that the child would be born in Qazhar. He seemed driven by a fierce need to ensure the boy or girl grew up in his kingdom.
Grace could understand him. It was true that the last thing the child would need would be insecurity. This had happened so quickly that Grace had barely had a moment to even think about how she would look after a newborn, let alone bring the child up in the way she knew she wanted.
Grace sighed and then took a sip of the apple juice, feeling the instant energy of the rush of sugar.
One thing was for sure. She wasn't going to make a decision right at this minute. Especially when it came to the subject of becoming Qazim's wife.
She thought about that for a moment. Images drifted into her mind. Her and Qazim living in the palace he owned at the edge of Qazhar city. She thought about what it would be like to be so close to Qazim, all the temptations which would surround her. Surely he didn't think they could live like that.
Without any kind of intimacy.
Without any feeling.
Grace could understand why marriages of convenience had gone out of style. It sounded almost like a living hell.
She immediately chided herself for that thought. Qazim didn't deserve that. All he was thinking of was her welfare and the welfare of the baby. She couldn't fault him for that.
In any case, Qazim's life would be turned upside down as much as hers. They would be a couple, albeit a couple who would have to keep each other at arms length.
The sheer, physical impossibility of how that sounded made Grace frown.
The phone rang.
Grace picked it up. It was Bruce.
"Just wanted to check you're okay," Bruce said at the other end of the line. He sounded concerned. Grace smiled. Bruce was that kind of guy.
"I'm fine, Bruce," Grace replied. She felt like asking him if he really had told Qazim where she'd gone. If he had, maybe she had a case for telling Bruce she was disappointed in him. But, then again, maybe he'd just been trying to look out for Grace. Bruce was considerably older than Grace. A good friend and trusted business colleague.
Grace held her tongue.
"You fit for the flight tomorrow?" Bruce asked.
Grace paused. Was she really going to leave? Doubt hovered at the back of her mind.
"I think so," was all she could say in reply. "I'll see how I am tomorrow morning."
There was a long pause at the end of the line and when Bruce spoke he seemed surprised. "There isn't something you need to tell me, is there?"
"No, Bruce. Everything is fine. I just need a rest. I'll call you in the morning."
The flight wasn't until the evening. Grace would have plenty of time to come to a decision. Because, she knew she would have to, one way or the other.
They chatted a while longer about business matters. Then, Bruce wished her well and hung up.
Grace stood in the middle of the apartment. She felt suddenly exhausted. Perhaps if she slept, things would be clearer. She was reluctant to go lie down. Maybe that would be something she'd have to get used to.
Grace sighed. There were going to a whole lot of things she was going to have to get used to, no matter what she decided to do.
A sudden weariness swept through her.
Yes.
A lie down was what she needed.
Then she'd see how things seemed later.
Grace went into the bedroom and got under the thin cover.
And, as she fell asleep, there was one image in her mind that just wouldn't go away. It was the expression on Qazim's face when sh
e'd told him about the baby.
How could she describe that look?
One word came to mind. A word that made her turn over and groan quietly to herself.
Joy.
Qazim's face had been filled with pure and absolute joy. And, because of that, Grace knew that the decision she'd have to take would be the most difficult one she'd ever taken.
Mercifully, sleep claimed her within minutes of her lying down.
****
Qazim instructed his driver to take him back to his apartment. On the way, Qazim thought about what had happened.
What was Grace going to choose to do?
Qazim leaned back on the leather seat and ran a hand through his hair. He felt nervous. He wasn't used to not being in control. And in this instance he was most certainly not in control.
But that was the way it should be. The decision was Grace's. She had to be free to make her own mind up about what was best. All Qazim could do was make it absolutely clear to her that he could offer her and the baby complete security. A loving home. Even if Qazim and Grace would have to enter into what would really be a marriage of convenience.
Grace had been right about that. An arranged marriage seemed so old-fashioned. It was something Qazim wouldn't have believed he'd be involved in.
Not in a million years.
Of course, his father had tried to marry him off on one occasion a few years ago. But Qazim had resisted that. The proposed bride had been from the family of close friends of his father.
Qazim had known Elena for a long time. But she just wasn't the right woman for him. Certainly not someone he could contemplate marriage to, let alone having children with the pleasant but uninspiring woman.
That couldn't be said of Grace. She was everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman. Feisty, spirited, beautiful and strong. Grace was in an entirely different league to every other woman Qazim had been with.
He sighed quietly, and thought of Grace. He thought of the life that was growing inside her. A life they had created with their love and passion.
Love?
Certainly, Qazim told himself firmly.
He loved Grace. Had done since very soon after they'd met. It hadn't taken long for him to discover the depths of her personality, and the more he'd learned about her, the more he'd felt a longing, a deep attraction that had transformed how he felt every moment of the day.
Grace had changed everything for Qazim. She'd shown him how empty his life had been for such a long time. Of course, his family had been trying to tell him just that for years. But, Qazim had ignored them all, determined to enjoy his life to the maximum. To get the most out his twenties.
But now, was it time to really settle down?
He smiled in the darkness of the limo.
Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, he thought. Especially with someone like Grace.
Their connection was powerful and very real. He'd felt it every time they'd made love.
And now, with the baby on the way, the connection was unbreakable.
Now, if only Grace would see it the same way. He wondered again, why she had left him before. Fear? Pressure? She'd told him everything had been moving too fast, and he could understand that. He'd been told by others in the past that he often dismissed other people's feelings too readily.
Maybe it was time for him to change, he told himself. And there was no better person to remake him as a man than Grace. He would savor that, enjoy becoming a husband to her and father to their baby.
Everything looked so positive, Qazim told himself.
Anxiety twisted in his middle.
Now, all that was needed was for Grace to agree to stay, to consent to the life he had offered her.
Would she do it?
He didn't even want to consider what would happen if she left him again.
Surely there was something he could do.
Qazim stretched out and began to think. Hard.
What would persuade Grace to stay? She'd said that she couldn't see how she would fit in to the life in Qazhar. That she would feel completely isolated.
That was where she was wrong. She wasn't the first American to marry a wealthy Qazhar sheikh.
And, if she went ahead with it, she wouldn't be the last, Qazim told himself.
An idea floated into his mind. A simple idea. A way for Grace to see exactly what life could be like for her.
Here with Qazim and the baby. A joyful family.
Qazim flicked a switch and spoke to the driver. He gave him instructions. He wasn't going to waste his time going back to his apartment. Not when there was something else he could do.
Maybe he would win her over to this life, after all.
But first he had to speak to someone very important.
CHAPTER NINE
Somewhere in the distance of her awareness, Grace could hear a doorbell ringing. She shifted in her bed and tried to ignore it. Whoever it was might go away and leave her alone.
But the bell kept on ringing. They were being mighty insistent, she told herself as she opened her eyes and stretched. Grace sat up and glanced at the clock. Five o'clock. She'd been sleeping for about three hours. It was still light outside.
She slid out of bed and put on a robe. The doorbell rang again. Grace felt irritation as she padded barefoot into the apartment's living room. Maybe it was Bruce, she told herself. Why hadn't he just called instead of coming over?
Grace rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair was all mussed up. She shrugged. It didn't really matter.
She continued toward the door. There was one more ring and then, suddenly another noise.
That noise made Grace freeze in her tracks.
She tilted her head to one side and listened. She wasn't sure whether she'd been hearing things.
There was a long moment of silence. Then the noise again, confirming her suspicions.
A child's excited squealing!
Whoever was standing outside the door had a young child in tow.
Grace frowned. What was going on?
She went to the door and opened it.
There were two women standing there and one of them had a little dark-haired boy in her arms.
"Becca?" Grace asked incredulously.
Becca Al Shirah smiled at Grace. "Surprise!" she exclaimed. Becca looked at the younger woman alongside her. "Told you she wouldn't be expecting us," she said to the young woman who Grace had never met before.
But she had met Becca Al Shirah, briefly at a reception on one of her early dates with Qazim. She was the wife of Zaheer, Qazim's older brother.
Becca narrowed her eyes good-naturedly. "You do remember me, don't you?" Her soft East coast accent was sweet music to Grace's ears.
Grace hesitated and then said: "Of course, Becca. We didn't meet for long."
"I know," Becca exclaimed. "It was a while ago. Can we come in?" Becca asked brightly.
Grace blinked and nodded, stepping aside, holding the door. "Of course," she said. "Forgive me. I didn't expect any visitors."
Becca waltzed breezily into the apartment, and the younger woman followed behind her. "This is Anilya," Becca explained. "She helps me look after this little one."
The "little one" gazed straight at Grace.
Grace watched disbelieving as the two woman made their way into the middle of the apartment.
"I hope you didn't mind us popping in," Becca said. "We were just passing and I wanted to say hello." She gazed at her son. "I thought it would be nice for you to meet our son, Tariq. Zaheer is awfully proud of him."
"I can see why," Grace said smiling at the little boy. "He's adorable."
Becca ran her gaze around the room. "This is nice," she said.
"It's been fine." Grace glanced around the apartment and shrugged "Comfortable enough."
Becca glanced at the sofa. "Do you mind if we sit down?" She glanced at Tariq. "This one is getting heavier by the day," she added and smiled at her son.
Grace gestured to the sofa. "Be my guest," she replied.
Becca and Anilya sat down on the sofa.
"Can I get you both anything? Something cold to drink?" Grace asked, realizing she had to make at least an effort at being courteous, even if she had been caught completely unawares by this very surprising visit.
Becca shook her head. "No thanks, we're okay."
Grace glanced out the window. "It's just so hot here. Don't think I'd ever get used to that," Grace said.
Grace saw Becca glance at her, eyes narrowing slightly and Grace was sure Becca was about to say something, but Zaheer's pretty American wife bit her lip, as if she'd held something back. Grace wondered what Becca had been about to say.
Becca handed little Tariq to Anilya who swept the boy into her arms. Tariq giggled as Anilya took him. He started to pull at Anilya's white blouse. She played along, seemingly enjoying Tariq's boisterous nature.
Grace saw Becca watching Tariq. There was obvious adoration on her face.
"Do you mind if I take a moment and change into something," Grace said glancing down at her robe.
Becca waved a hand. "You don't need to bother. It's only a short visit. As I said, we were just passing," Becca said.
Why didn't Grace believe that? She knew that Zaheer's residence, a large palace, was situated on the other side of town. Maybe Becca had been out shopping. But then again, perhaps she'd made this trip for some other reason.
"I'll just put on a dress," Grace explained. "This robe is sweltering," she said, pulling at the collar.
She made her way into the bedroom and changed into a plain blue dress and flat shoes. When she came back out, she saw Anilya on the carpeted floor trying keep Tariq from crawling under a small table.
Becca laughed as she watched her son's determined efforts at hiding from his mother.
Grace sat alongside Becca. "He's a little tearaway," she observed.
Becca nodded. "He's got his father's spirit."
"And his mother's good looks," Grace added.