by Avery Laval
Now she was holding court with a room full of men in their thawbs, long, lightweight white robes that matched Khalid’s exactly, except in the detailing of the white-on-white embroidery that embellished their plackets. In her own professional-looking abaya, with her young assistant dressed similarly poised next to her taking minutes, Jana seemed every bit the part of the high-ranking royal aide, regardless of her gender. In fact, Khalid thought, she was a much more appropriate companion for a crown prince than Marissa could ever be. If he were smart, he’d find a woman like Jana to become his wife. Someone who knew his country well already, who could speak the language and navigate the conventions of the Arabian Peninsula without hesitation.
Only now that Marissa was back in his life, that wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
After the meeting was over and the conference room had cleared out, Khalid lingered, pretending to be checking his phone for messages, even though he’d have noticed if it had vibrated in the last half hour. Which it hadn’t. He opened and reread the email he’d gotten from Amid for the third time that day. The email that had told him, apologetically, that Marissa remained at the palace, determined to wait for the use of his jet. By now Khalid could have sent it back and forth three times while he worked in Kuwait City, but he did no such thing, against his better judgment. Despite every self-protective bone in his body, he wanted her to be there when he returned. He wanted to get the chance to say good-bye properly.
Hell, he wouldn’t mind a chance at a very intimate farewell.
That, he told himself, was why he hadn’t sent her away just yet. One last horizontal goodbye was all he needed to get her out of his system. Then he’d be ready to let her go and get down to the business of producing an heir with a more appropriate partner.
But he knew he was lying to himself. He knew one more night with Marissa wouldn’t be enough. A thousand more nights with her wouldn’t be enough. And he would just have to live with that.
“Mr. Abbasi?” Jana poked her head back into the conference room.
“Sorry, Jana,” he said, rising up in his seat and making his way toward the exit. “I was just checking on an issue back at the palace.” Quite an issue, he thought. One without any satisfactory solution.
“Of course,” she said. “Whenever you’re ready, our car is waiting to take us back to the hotel for the night.”
Surprised, Khalid consulted his watch. Sure enough, it was pushing six p.m. The day had passed before him in a blur of meetings, and he’d hardly even noticed. He sighed, knowing they were nowhere near settling this matter. Another day would pass with her in the palace and him here wondering how much longer she planned on sticking around. Already he’d been surprised at her patience. Now he was beginning to think—okay, hope—that she was waiting for him. Why else would she still be there?
He and Jana made their way down to the street level where a black SUV waited on their arrival. Once their party—Jana, her assistant, and a couple of the poor bodyguards he found so damn irritating—had climbed into the vehicle, they began their trip back to the hotel yet again. Khalid felt the surge of grouchiness begin to set in. He told himself it was from the damned monotony of this business trip and the complete lack of progress they were making.
But in reality he knew it was because he wanted to get back to her.
Without meaning to, he growled to himself in frustration.
Sitting next to him in the middle row of seats, Jana leaned her head in toward him. “Sir?”
“Sorry, Jana,” he said immediately, wishing for the fortieth time that he could be alone with his thoughts for a moment.
“I have meant to tell you,” she said quietly enough for no one else to take notice. “That our guest plans to stay at the palace again tonight.”
“So I heard from Amid,” he replied, matching his volume to hers.
“I wonder if you wouldn’t mind my contacting Ms. Madden to make sure she has everything she needs. She might be more comfortable making requests of me, since we’ve had a chance to speak more often than she and Amid have.”
Khalid scrutinized Jana’s face, wondering what his aide was hinting at. Jana was not one for gossip, he knew. He watched as she smiled openly, and then she twirled her wedding band absentmindedly. Maybe she wasn’t a gossip, but she certainly was a romantic.
“That’s unnecessary,” Khalid replied simply. “I’m sure Amid is handling things capably back at the palace,” he added. As Khalid had let Amid know in his reply email, Amid was to inform Marissa just how long she could be waiting. And if she was still there when he returned, then, and only then, he would hope.
Three days later, with a completely secured deal under his belt at last, Khalid walked into the palace with undisguised anticipation over seeing Marissa. He knew from Jana’s now daily reports that she was still here, and that she wanted to see him upon his return. The time he’d spent away from her had opened his eyes to just how disappointed he was at not yet becoming a father, and how dishonest he’d been with Marissa when he’d kept that from her. Perhaps she’d felt the same way, but he’d never given her the chance to say so.
And yes, the trip had given him time to miss her. And miss her he had. He was beginning to believe that he could trust her again, and that it would be worth it to do so. She could be the woman he’d wanted her to be three years ago. The two of them might still have a chance.
He heard his own determined footsteps across the marble-tiled entryway as he strode toward his offices to deposit the briefcase that had felt chained to his wrist over the last week, and then he halted for a moment. Where in the palace would he find her at four p.m.? Swimming? Or in the library, perhaps? Jana had told him she’d taken a series of tours around the city, and he hoped like hell she wasn’t off on some sightseeing trip now. He had been waiting a week to find out why she wasn’t returning home. He could hardly wait another minute.
He started for the pool, and when he found it empty, reversed his path and headed down the long, narrow corridor to the curved stairs that led up to the library. Just as he reached the first step, he saw a figure rushing toward him in the corner of his eye. Was it her? he wondered briefly—only to see it was just Amid, practically scampering to him, hollering, “Sir, sir!”
Annoyed to be delayed for even another minute, Khalid sighed and stepped back down to the floor, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed impatiently. “Hello, Amid.”
“Nice to see you back, sir,” his aide panted. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a sensitive matter I feel I must discuss with you. It’s really very urgent.”
Concerned by Amid’s flustered demeanor, his mind suddenly racing with a flurry of potential catastrophes, Khalid uncrossed his arms and led him down to a quiet alcove a few feet away. “What is it?”
His aide’s voice was hushed. “It’s your guest, sir. Ms. Madden.”
Khalid’s heart began to pound. “What about her? Is she sick? Has she gotten hurt somehow?”
“Oh, no, she seems to be quite well.”
Khalid sent a silent prayer of thanks at that, and began to coax his breathing back to normal. Amid must never gave him a scare like that again.
“But—and I hope you don’t find this impertinent,” Amid went on, “I felt it vital that I report to you on her unusual behavior while you were absent.”
“Unusual behavior?” Khalid parroted, then remembered himself. “I don’t care in the least about her behavior,” he added, attempting to keep his face neutral rather than confirm all the gossip about the nature of their relationship.
“If I may speak frankly,” Amid said, lowering his voice so much that Khalid had to lean in to hear him. “I try not to listen to gossip, but the idle talk of palace maids has led me to believe you are engaged in some sort of relationship with Ms. Madden.”
Khalid’s blood boiled at that. “If that were true, it certainly wouldn’t fall under the purview of your office.”
“Perhaps,” Amid persisted, holding up
a single finger as if to beg for a moment to explain. “But one of my jobs as your chief aide is seeing that everyone who enters this palace is of worthy character. And Ms. Madden, in my judgment, is most unworthy.”
Khalid felt his face harden into a cold glare. “You had better explain that statement quickly,” he said, his voice menacing. He’d known from the start that his staff would gossip about Marissa or any woman he spoke to more than once, but now he had been pushed too far. He had quite enough of all this speculation.
“Every night since you’ve left,” Amid went on, undaunted, “she’s been on her personal computer, talking to an American man in her bedroom, late into the evening. Perhaps she doesn’t realize how closely we monitor the Internet usage here in the palace. It is obvious that their relationship is quite intimate, considering the manner in which they converse.”
Khalid realized he had to unclench his teeth to speak. “How so?”
“The English phrase ‘I love you’ seems a clear enough indication,” Amid said, eyes fixed on Khalid’s. “His name is Grant, or so I’ve gathered from their conversations, though I haven’t been able to determine a last name yet.”
Grant. Blakely. The very same man she’d been in the car accident with. On their way to pick out an engagement ring—apparently for Grant’s wife, Jenna. Seething, Khalid rose to his full height, towering over his aide, and fought the urge to break the first thing he saw. His muscles were so tense, he found, he was nearly shaking with fury. But could Marissa have been lying this whole time? Grant was married, Khalid had had that information confirmed. But Grant’s marriage didn’t mean that he didn’t have a mistress on the side. Marissa.
She’d been waiting in his palace for days, making him think she was pining for him, when every night she’d been cooing to a man back home. Unable to control himself, he picked up a fragile-looking object in the palm of his hand and then dashed it down to the marble floor in an explosion of shards and noise. “Damn her!” he shouted, annoyed at his own inability to control his emotions. Struggling for control, he looked to Amid and found him still sitting, hands folded in his lap as though he was proud of his spy work. At once, Khalid couldn’t stand to be in his presence.
“We don’t spy on our guests in this palace,” he said through his hard-set jaw, though he felt the hypocrisy of his words even before they were spoken. He had to get out of here. He needed just one goddamned minute alone to deal with this bit of news. “I’ll discuss that issue with you later,” he muttered, as he fled the scene, his shoes crunching over the shattered bit of china that he hoped wasn’t too much of a priceless family heirloom.
Though frankly, he was too furious to care much either way. He had made a fool of himself—not just now, in front of Amid, but in front of everyone who watched him, and it seemed these days that that was everyone he met. Of course they had whispered about his nighttime visits to her, of course they had noticed his every move. They’d known what he was doing better than he had. For what he’d been doing was lunacy.
And now he saw just what an idiot he’d been. For he’d let himself trust the least trustworthy woman he’d ever met. And not just trust her. He’d let himself fall.
Marissa was on her little stretch of balcony wrapped up in a book when Khalid came bursting into her suite, scaring the paperback out of her hands onto the cool tile floor. She stood up at once, looking from him to the door of her chamber, through which he’d come, realizing that he’d just tramped through her bedroom and probably seen the mess of clothes that came from packing and unpacking her bags at least once daily. But what did she care? He was back, and the moment she laid eyes on him she broke into a silly grin, so happy to see his face again, even if he was scowling at her. Well, she hadn’t expected him to be happy about her waiting for his return, she reminded herself. She would have to convince him that it had been for a good reason. And it had been.
“Khalid,” she whispered, as though they’d been apart for a year, not a week. Unable to control herself she went to him and put her arms around him, pressed her face into his strong chest and inhaled deeply. Feeling his body so stiff in her arms, she pulled back sheepishly. He was angry. She had a lot of explaining to do.
“Listen, Khalid,” she said, still standing an arm’s length from him, looking up into his hard eyes for any trace of feeling and finding none. “I’m sorry I’m still here,” she said. “I know you wanted me to leave. I know it seems like there’s no reason for me to stay.”
Not saying a word, he nodded his head just an inch. Marissa’s heart began to pound. “After we found out I wasn’t pregnant, there was nothing keeping me here. I should have wanted to get on the next plane for Vegas. After all, you had forced me into coming here in the first place. But the thing is, I didn’t want to leave.”
Still his face remained impassive. She told herself it was now or never. And as safe as never sounded, she owed it to herself to go for it now. “I didn’t want to leave because,” she pressed her lips together as if trying to hold back the words, but then she forced them out. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.” She paused, looked up at him waiting, hoping he would say something back.
But the ice in his eyes didn’t melt at all. Instead he quirked his mouth and lowered his gaze so it seemed to bore a hole in her forehead. “You’ve fallen in love with me?” he asked, his voice distanced and almost amused. “What happened to wanting to be back home with your loved ones?”
Marissa swallowed hard. Why was he making this so hard on her? She hadn’t expected a tearful exchange of I-love-yous, it was true, but he just seemed to be getting angrier with every word she said.
She wanted to chicken out and run more than ever, but she refused to give up. “I still miss them, but I am beginning to believe there’s a way to make this work.” She saw him frown even more deeply at that and turned her face away, focused on the floor and began to talk fast, afraid of a moment’s silence, terrified of his reaction. “I think Rifaisa is a magical country, and I’m fascinated by its history. I know I could be happy here if we were together. And the thing is, I was, as crazy as it is, I was starting to hope to build a family with you.”
With those words out of her mouth, there was no going back now. She locked her eyes with his and pressed on. “I was so hurt, for years, by the way you just disappeared after you came here. I didn’t understand why you would abandon me and get married so soon after we stopped talking. But that’s in part because I didn’t see what you were going through on your end. I’m beginning to understand a lot better how much pressure you’re under in your new life, and how distanced it can feel from the rest of the world in this palace.”
Khalid’s face fixed into a grimace. She didn’t dare look him in the eye as she pushed on. “And I know I didn’t make things easy back then, the way I kept my pregnancy a secret from you and then holed up and wouldn’t talk to you after the accident. I know you’re still angry about that, and I understand that, but I was dying of grief, Khalid. I’d never gone through anything so painful before.” She closed her eyes to ward off the memory of it and swallowed hard.
“But I think enough time has passed, and I’ve proven that I can be trusted and it’s time to forgive me. So I guess, what I’m trying to say is, I stayed here, even after you were gone, even after you sent Amid to schedule my departure over and over, because I wanted to ask you if you thought you had it in you to let the past go.”
At the mention of Amid trying to schedule her departure, Khalid looked at her quizzically, showing, finally, a break in his angry demeanor.
“If you’re willing to let go, Khalid, I know we can make this thing between us work once and for all. I still want to share my life with you. I want to keep trying for a family—with you. You got me believing I could try for a pregnancy again, and I know there’s no one else on earth who could have done that.”
Suddenly out of words, she sat down in a heap on the bench, almost unable to believe what she’d just said. Could he beli
eve it? That was all that mattered.
She looked up into his face, saw in his eyes something so far away that for a moment she wondered if he’d heard a word she’d just said. God, she hoped so. She couldn’t imagine trying to say it all again.
“Khalid?” she said, when he said nothing in response.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice stiff and matter of fact, as if she’d just called a business meeting to order, not declared her love for him.
She was flustered, confused. She’d prepared herself for all kinds of responses from him, but indifference wasn’t one of them. “I just poured my heart out to you,” she said. “Don’t you have anything to say back?” She knew she sounded like a scolding teacher, but she didn’t care. Her heart was on a skewer in front of him, and he was ignoring it altogether.
“I do have something to say,” he told her. “Get. Out.”
Marissa gasped in a breath.
“You have the gall, the nerve, to stand there and tell me you think we can make it work again? That you still love me after all these years? While every night you’ve been online, chatting with your lover back in America?”
She was stunned. “My what?”
“I know everything, Marissa,” he said, his voice like daggers. “You actually had me convinced that Grant and Jenna were your friends, that Grant wasn’t your lover like I suspected all those years ago.”
“That’s because he isn’t.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Khalid had lost his mind.
“What was your plan, Marissa? To marry me, and what, use your connections in Rifaisa to create opportunities for your lover’s empire?”
She was so horrified by his words that she didn’t know whether to defend herself or laugh.
“But here’s the damnedest thing, Marissa,” he said, pointing a finger at her angrily. “You actually had me going there. I was starting to think that you really wanted to be here with me.”