by Lucy Monroe
Shifting slightly from one side to the other helped, but pretty soon she was going to have to ask Sayed to move.
Suddenly, he stopped typing and leaned toward her. “Are you all right, habibti?”
“Yes, I just, um…” Liyah wasn’t just repressed about sex, but found talking about any private bodily functions a trial.
Which was ridiculous, she realized. She was an adult woman, for goodness’ sake.
“You should have told me you were a virgin.” Sayed frowned at her. “I could have shown more restraint with you last night.”
“Are you trying to undo a lifetime of repression in a single day, or something?” If asking him to move so she could use the restroom would have been embarrassing, this was mortifying. “I’m fine.”
“You are clearly in pain.”
“I need to pee,” she huffed out in a furious whisper, frustrated by her own reticence and his insistence.
“Why did you not say so?” He rose, allowing her to exit her seat.
When she got back, she considered sitting across from him, but didn’t gainsay him when he stood again so she could retake her seat by the window.
Once she was settled in again, he handed her an electronic reader. “It has most of the recent bestsellers, but if you want to download something else, the plane is set up with wireless internet.”
“Thank you. The magazines would have been fine.”
“Nonsense. Though, really, you should probably take a nap.”
Startled, she asked, “I look tired?”
“Perhaps a little. It has been a full and wearing day.”
He could say that again. “For you, too, but I don’t see you dozing in your chair.”
“The last time I napped, stuffed animals still decorated my bed.” He smiled. “Getting six hours of sleep in a row is a luxury for me.”
“But that’s not healthy.”
He shrugged. “Such is the life of an emir taking over the responsibilities of a melech with no younger brother to take over my own diplomatic duties.”
“Why is your father abdicating? Does he have health issues?” she asked before realizing it was probably an invasive query. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”
“I never answer questions I do not wish to.”
“Arrogance has its benefits.”
He smiled. “I suppose so. I do not mind telling you my father is in excellent health.”
“Is he tired of being king?” she probed, trying to understand the heavy responsibilities being thrust on Sayed.
“Not at all.”
“Then why?”
“It is tradition.”
“Will your father take over the diplomatic stuff once he’s no longer acting melech?”
Sayed jerked, as if surprised by the question. “That would not be in line with Zeena Sahran tradition. I am not sure my father would find taking orders from his son a comfortable circumstance.”
“But the melech dictates political policy?”
“With the help of a cabinet of counselors, yes. My father will act as one of my advisers, as well.”
It still wasn’t making sense to her. “So, what, your father is just going to retire and start golfing, or something? Won’t he get bored?” How much time could it take to give Sayed advice every day?
Maybe she didn’t understand working monarchies, but she could not imagine a former king content to sit home twiddling his thumbs.
“Honestly? I have wondered the same thing myself. My father is a very dynamic man and I do not think he would enjoy the pursuits that kept my grandfather busy in his twilight years.”
“So, why retire now? Do you want to take over as melech?”
“No one has ever asked me that.” He looked at her like she was some kind of rare species he’d never seen before.
“Maybe they should have. What’s the answer?”
“My duty is clear.”
“Yes, but is it one you want, or even need, to take on right now?”
“You question things you cannot hope to understand.”
“Maybe.” But he still hadn’t answered the question and Liyah thought that was telling.
Sayed went back to his computer, dismissing her. Refusing to take it personally, Liyah skimmed his download of that morning’s copy of The Times. He had probably been happy to note there was no mention of Tahira’s elopement, but it would certainly be in tomorrow’s edition.
After a while, she set the reader down, intending to take that nap he suggested.
But as soon as she closed her eyes, everything started pressing in on her. The argument with her father played over in her mind like an unpleasant reality show. When she managed to push those images aside, then pictures of the night before rose up to fill the void.
An unrelenting montage of the sensual and profound that uselessly fed her newly discovered love.
Sighing, she opened her eyes.
It didn’t help. Her mind and heart were determined to dwell on emotions and experiences she would have been better off without.
Sayed turned from his work at his computer. “You are very pensive, Aaliyah.”
“Don’t you think I have reason to be?” She rubbed her temples. “I may not be an emir, but my whole life just took a ninety-degree turn.”
“Perhaps you needed a detour.”
“Do you think you know what’s best for everybody?”
“It is in the job description.”
“Right.”
He smiled.
And she almost smiled back. Darn him.
That nap was sounding better and better. If only she could sleep, but then she’d probably dream about him. She’d done that before they’d made love. Now the dreams would probably be even more frequent and, with her new knowledge, definitely more graphic.
She expected him to go back to his work, but he didn’t. “You said something yesterday about having a confrontation with your father being the reason you’d broken into Tahira’s liquor stash.”
Liyah opened her mouth to deflect, but she wanted to discuss the painful event with someone and Sayed was offering. “Yes.”
“It did not go well?”
“No.”
“You alluded to him treating you very poorly.” Sayed’s dark gaze probed hers.
“He did.”
“You are being rather laconic.” Sayed smiled, as if he found her amusing.
She didn’t mind. She liked his smile. Too much. “I suppose I am.”
She found herself grinning at his huff of obviously exaggerated exasperation, but then memories took away the lightness his humor had wrought. “It hurt that my father thought I was trying to work an angle, but that’s not what was most painful.”
“What was it, then?”
“When it became clear that my mom had lied to me my whole life.” That had hurt so much. “She always told me that even though he could not have me in his life because he already had a wife and children, he cared enough to send a small stipend to help with my care and education.”
“And this was a lie?”
“Yes. Oh, he was married, but he didn’t even know I existed.”
“That must have been quite a blow.” Sayed laid his hand over hers, offering comfort she needed badly. “To learn your beloved mother had been dishonest with you, but also to be made aware that whatever concern you’d thought he had for you had no substance.”
“You can’t care about someone you don’t even know exists.”
“And then when he learned, he reacted badly.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Liyah wanted to lean into Sayed, but stopped herself from such a blatantly needy action. “The best I can figure out, the money Mom saved from not paying rent was what she pretended came from him.”
It had been an elaborate but necessary ruse as Hena had insisted on teaching Liyah about finances from a young age. Her own parents had not been forthcoming with Hena and she’d made some bad monetary decisions in her ignora
nce.
She’d been determined her own daughter would not be put in the same situation.
Hena teaching Liyah about finances resulted in her daughter being very aware of their own. The pretense of support payments had worked to conceal both of the big secrets her mother kept from Liyah.
“Not paying rent?” Sayed asked.
“Another thing she hid from me. Her father owned our apartment and allowed us to live there rent-free as long as Mom promised not to bring me to Zeena Sahra.”
“What?” Sayed’s expression registered astonishment. “Why would he make such a stipulation?”
“So I wouldn’t shame them with my existence.”
“Because your mother chose to raise you,” he guessed.
Apparently, he understood his own culture better than Liyah did. She’d never understand that kind of thinking. “Yes.”
“Was that the reason you had no immediate plans to travel to Zeena Sahra?”
“Not on your life. Once I’d fulfilled my mom’s last wish, I had every intention of visiting her homeland.”
“You are very strong-minded.”
“Another facet of my character for you to get to know,” she said, facetiously repeating his words of the morning back to him.
He nodded quite seriously, though. “Yes, it is, and one I believe I like.”
“Considering how bossy you are, that is difficult to believe.”
He shrugged. “Nevertheless, it is the truth.”
“You’re surrounded by yes-men,” she guessed, not sure she believed it.
“You’ve met Yusuf,” Sayed said with meaning.
She felt another smile and gratitude for it. “He doesn’t seem overawed by you, that’s for sure.”
“I assure you, he is not.”
“That makes two of us,” she said cheekily.
“I am wounded. A man hopes his lover esteems him.”
“We’re hardly lovers.” They were more like a one-night stand with consequences.
His gaze heated. “I would like to be.”
Suddenly tension thrummed between them.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I will not press my attentions on you, but I will also not pretend the thought of making love to you again does not dominate my thoughts far too much, particularly considering the issues facing me.”
“You still want me?”
“Very much so.”
“But won’t that make the chances of pregnancy higher?”
“We will use condoms.”
She blushed, as much at his frank speech as at the fact she hadn’t immediately thought of that, as well. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I want you, too.” And any stored memory for the future she could manage to hoard, she would.
“I am glad.”
“Me, too, I think.”
They shared a look that made sitting in the luxury leather seat on the private jet uncomfortable.
She was pretty sure he would have done something about it right then, though she had no idea what it would have been considering their circumstances, but the flight attendant came over to set the table in front of them for dinner.
They were eating their braised lamb with potatoes and vegetables when he asked, “You discovered these things after your mother’s death?”
Liyah found herself explaining how she’d found out her grandfather owned her apartment, how utterly devastating the funeral and meeting with the lawyer afterward had been when he had told her she must vacate her apartment.
“I didn’t let them see it, though. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”
“You have admirable emotional control.”
If he realized the feelings she had for him she’d been unable to prevent or stifle, he wouldn’t think so.
“Do you plan to return to San Francisco?”
“After we confirm I’m not pregnant?”
“If that is the case, yes.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I will travel for a while.” She’d planned to save what was left of her mother’s life insurance for the future, but to what end?
Liyah was twenty-six. If she didn’t experience life now, when would she?
“Alone?” Sayed asked, disapproval evident. “Your mother would not encourage that, I think.”
“I’m an adult and this is the twenty-first century, not the twelfth. A woman can travel alone.”
“Not safely.”
“Oh, please.”
Sayed spent the next five minutes quoting statistics for crime against women traveling alone, particularly out of their home countries.
“Why do you know all this?”
“My cousin Samira wanted to go backpacking across Europe without bodyguard or chaperone a couple of years ago.”
“How old was she?” He was thirty-six, Liyah knew. She couldn’t quite picture a woman in the same age bracket wanting that kind of trip.
But then again, why not?
“Twenty-two. Her mother is my father’s younger sister.”
“And you said no.”
“Actually, my father refused permission on the request of my aunt.”
“Why not her own father?” Or Samira’s mother, for that matter?
“Her father died in the explosion that killed my older brother.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is an old grief.”
“But not one that ever goes away completely.”
“No.”
“So, I bet Samira was mad.” Or maybe being raised in the royal family had made it easier to accept restrictions for the woman who was four years younger than Liyah.
“We found her a well-trained female bodyguard team and a companion to travel with her.”
“And they went backpacking?” Liyah asked in shock. “Seriously?”
“With a few travel compromises, yes.”
“Let me guess, they rode first class on the trains and had drivers in the cities they visited on a well-ordered travel itinerary.”
He smiled winningly. “Something like that.”
“So, is Samira your only cousin?”
“No, she has a younger brother. Bilal. My aunt was pregnant when she lost my uncle.”
“Are you close?”
“He is twelve years my junior.”
“I’m sure he looks up to you.”
“I spent what time I could with him since moving back from the States, but he left for his own years at university. Bilal was to return to Zeena Sahra in time for my wedding.” Sayed’s lips twisted in a grimace.
“He is close with my father. He stepped in for his deceased brother-in-law from the beginning.”
“Bilal is lucky to have you both.”
Sayed shrugged. “He is family.”
“So, why can’t you train him for the emir responsibilities before taking over from your father as melech?”
“You do not think I will make a good king?” Sayed demanded, sounding hurt.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just pointing out there are options to tradition.” Her mother’s insistence on certain traditions had hurt Liyah more than helped her.
Hena’s willingness to break with others had made Liyah’s life what it was—in a very good way. Which was not to say that all tradition was bad, but being a slave to it was.
“Tell me about growing up in San Francisco,” Sayed said in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Liyah didn’t hesitate, though. Because answering him gave her a chance to talk about her mom and that was something she’d been craving to do.
Sayed listened attentively to the stories of Liyah’s childhood and time living with her mother as an adult.
“You clearly loved your mother very much.”
“Yes.”
“It is equally apparent that she loved you fiercely.”
Suddenly choked with emotion, Liyah could only nod.
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “It sounds very much like each prevarica
tion on your mother’s part was done with the intent to protect your feelings.”
“Then why ask me to find my father? She had to know once I realized the truth how devastated I would be, how his rejection would hurt.”
“I can only theorize Ms. Amari expected a much different reaction from your father than the one he gave you.”
“She died hoping her family would one day acknowledge me.”
“She was an optimist.”
Liyah smiled. “She definitely was. She tended to see the best in people and dismiss their flaws.” Expelling a long breath, she admitted, “I also don’t think she ever stopped loving my father.”
And because of that love, Hena Amari had built Gene Chatsfield up in her head to be a man very different than the one he was in reality.
“While that love may have been misplaced, your mother’s love for you was not. You were undoubtedly the most important person in her life.”
“She sacrificed so much for me and she never once threw it back in my face.”
“A truly astonishing woman.”
“Yes, she was.”
“I think, perhaps, her daughter is a great deal like her.”
Liyah wasn’t sure how true that was, but if she could share her mother’s strength and willingness to sacrifice for others, she would count herself very blessed.
“You have already shown how deep your well of integrity goes,” Sayed remarked.
“How so?”
“Many women would have tried to capitalize on what happened last night. You’ve done nothing but try to help me mitigate any possible negative consequences.”
Liyah couldn’t believe how much better she felt about everything that had happened since her mother’s death after talking with Sayed. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. We all need a friend now and again.”
“Do you have friends? People you can trust enough to talk to?”
“I have my parents and Yusuf. Perhaps Bilal will become one now that he will be back in Zeena Sahra.”
“That is a short list.” Even with his cousin added to it.
“Trust for a man in my position cannot be offered on a whim.”
She could well imagine. Last night would not have helped with that, either. “I’m sorry.”