by Sue Swift
The sea was cool but not uncomfortable. She walked into the water until it was up to her waist, letting the waves wash away the stickiness. The salt tingled in the achy, stretched parts of her body.
She gazed at the gray horizon, resting on the gray ocean, and watched day take over night, with a delicate wash of pink gradually delineating the border between air and water.
The enormity of what she’d done, what they’d done, settled on her like a leaden blanket, weighting her heart. She realized she’d never be the same. She’d given her virginity to her husband on her wedding night, just the way she was supposed to, but everything was as wrong as it could be. Phony husband, fake wedding night, emptiness inside where joy should dwell.
Her sorrow was real, but it was strange that Kam had seen it before she had.
He was behind her again, standing too close, practically breathing down her neck. “When we made love, you were the one to take me.”
She didn’t turn to face him. She couldn’t. The conversation was too intimate. Meeting his eyes would be unbearable, so she continued to stare at the ocean. “I thought it was pretty mutual. We were side by side and it just… happened.”
“I had told you that I would wait for you to come to me.”
“So you lied.” The weight around her heart chilled.
“I told the truth. When we were lying together, you pushed yourself onto me. You took me. I did not take you.”
Whirling, she confronted him. “Hey, I’ve had enough of this I-forced-you jibber-jabber.”
He flushed.
“I know what being forced feels like, so just shut up. Just shut up. How dare you?” She shoved a palm into his chest, pushing him away. He fell on his butt into the shallow water with a splash. She stood over him, yelling. “I was a virgin. You’ve had so many women you’ve probably lost count. You’re the sexy sheik, remember?”
He stood, his jaw tightening even more. He looked as though he was about to explode into a million stressed-out pieces. “You don’t understand. How could you? You’re a commoner, a nobody. This is a disaster for my country.”
“You are a total egomaniac. You’re so full of yourself that I’m surprised there’s room inside your self-absorbed, arrogant head for worries about anything else, including your country. But I doubt that Zohra-z—wherever is going to fall into the sea because we messed up.”
“We messed up?” His eyes remained bright and accusatory.
“Yeah. We messed up. I’m willing to shoulder my share of the blame, but only my share.” Pushing past him, she walked out of the sea to her dress. After shaking the sand out of it, she slipped it over her head. “Feel free to file for a divorce. I’ll sign whatever papers your attorney sends me. You can contact me through Grandpa Jerry’s office.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kamar showered and packed, then found Jerome Carrington in The Greenhouse Cafe finishing breakfast in the company of Emma Forsythe. Carrington’s eyes gleamed with interest as he surveyed Kamar. He hoped Selina hadn’t talked with her grandfather. If she kept silent, Kamar could avoid discussing the fiasco.
After greeting Carrington and Forsythe, Kamar swallowed, then said, “I must return to my country to take care of some urgent business that has arisen.”
“What a shame,” Forsythe said. “My daughter has been looking forward to furthering her acquaintance with you.”
Kamar guessed that neither Forsythe nor Carrington knew of his marriage to Selina. Otherwise, Mrs. Forsythe would not be so eager to throw Cynthia at him.
“And I, also.” Kamar directed his gaze to Jerome. “But I am concerned about our, um, other business.”
“Not to worry.” Jerry rose. “Please excuse me, my dear. Shall I see you by the pool in, say, an hour?”
Kamar left The Greenhouse, sweating from the hot sun and his proximity to Carrington. Fortunately, Jerome appeared oblivious. “Let’s check the business center. The seller should have responded to our offer by now.”
When they spoke with the concierge, an attractive older woman, she said, “Oh, yes. A fax did come in last night. There’s been some trouble with the fax machine, but we got it straightened out.”
“Where is the fax?” Kamar asked.
The concierge took a sheaf of papers out of her desk and handed it to Jerome Carrington, who said, “Let’s go to my suite and review this.”
Oh, no, Kamar thought. He’d surely see Selina if he went to the Carrington suite, and she was the last person on earth he could face. He could barely look Jerome in the eye after what he’d done, and seeing Selina after the hurtful, wicked things he’d said…Kamar winced.
He’d been a fool, not because she’d tricked him into marriage, but because he’d forgotten everything he knew about Selina. She was the last woman who’d bother entrapping him into marriage. First of all, she truly didn’t like him. She’d said over and over again that she considered him arrogant. He thought that perhaps she’d changed her mind about him, but her words that morning showed that she believed he was concerned only with himself. Further, he now understood she wasn’t playing at the game of dance-away lover, but her urge to stay unattached was as essential a part of her as her blue eyes. She hadn’t planned to get involved with him, but through the machinations of Marta Hunter and Jerome Carrington, she was as stuck as was he in an ugly spiderweb of trickery and deception.
He sighed. What would be the outcome of this game? Kamar didn’t know, but he figured he’d have to see it through. He said to Carrington, “Yes, let’s go to your suite. I’m…eager to see Selina this morning.”
“Oh, she’s at the resort spa.” Jerome pushed his card key into the elevator’s slot. “Didn’t she tell you?”
“Um, no.”
“She left me a note saying she was sore from the parasailing yesterday and wanted a massage. She got sunburned, so I think she also scheduled a facial.”
“Oh.” Kamar breathed easier. “I’m sorry I won’t see her before I leave. Maybe we can get together when I go to D.C. to take possession of the house.”
The elevator opened at their floor, where a bellman loaded Kamar’s luggage onto a cart. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He slipped the bellman a five, then followed Jerome Carrington into his suite.
Jerome sat on the couch and began looking through the papers. “How long are you going to be gone?”
Kamar cleared his throat. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, the seller accepted your offer.”
“He should have. It was a full-price offer in cash.”
Jerome smiled, no doubt thinking of his commission. “When do you want to move in?”
By claiming exhaustion, Selina was able to avoid others for the rest of the day, having contact only with a doctor at the resort’s clinic and a masseuse. With Kam paying for their suite, she charged everything to his bill, scheduling massages every day she’d remain at La Torchere.
She longed for the familiar comforts of home, but how could she explain herself to Grandpa Jerry? He’d already purchased plane tickets from Florida to D.C. for the two of them for the following Saturday, one week away. He disliked traveling alone, so she didn’t want to let him down, but she wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened with Kam. Casual chatter was also beyond her.
The light spa dinner she ate didn’t dispel her heavy mood. After the quiet, solitary meal, she phoned the suite. No one answered, so she assumed Jerry was out wooing Emma Forsythe. Selina hadn’t liked the woman when they’d met, but right now she blessed Emma and her daughter. They were a welcome distraction for Grandpa Jerry.
But on Sunday afternoon matters came to a head when Jerry burst into Selina’s room waving a newspaper.
“Ixzit,” she said. “The Washington Post. What do they say about me?”
“You and Prince Kamar got married and no one told me!” Jerry slumped onto the edge of her bed and gazed at her reproachfully. “Don’t you think I deserve better?”
She sat up and adjusted the terry
robe she wore.
“Yes, you do, and if it had meant anything we would have told you.”
“Why did he leave so soon?”
“To get a divorce.”
“Oh, no! But the two of you were getting along so well.”
She rubbed her temple. “Yes, we were, until we got married. I guess…I guess that just happens sometimes.”
“Not to you. Not to my girl.” He hugged her.
Her heart split in two. “Oh, Grandpa Jerry, everything’s just so messed up.” Her lips began to tremble. To control herself, she bit down hard, drawing tears.
“What happened?” He hugged her closer.
She tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder. “What did the paper say?”
“That the two of you eloped, secretly getting a marriage license and executing it. I have to say that it doesn’t sound much like you.”
She managed a bit of a smile. “No, it doesn’t. I never intended to marry.”
“Sure you did.”
She blinked, easing away from him.
“Look at this.” Jerry took his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and extracted a photo. Worn around the edges, it was evidently one of his treasures. The image was of a little redheaded girl in a voluminous wedding dress, complete with veil and flowers.
“That’s me,” she said slowly. “I was…about five?”
“Seven.” Smiling, Jerry rubbed his finger along the picture’s edge. “Wedding day was one of your favorite games. First your dad and mom would tell you about their wedding day, show you the album, and then you’d dress up.”
“I don’t remember that at all.”
“I guess it was overshadowed by your dad’s death and Audra’s, um, peculiar behavior.” Jerry grimaced.
Selina shoved the subject of her mother out of her mind. “Why didn’t you show me this photo before?”
“Just didn’t come up, I guess.” He tucked it back in his wallet before putting an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t let Audra and Donald destroy your dreams, honey. You and Prince Kam really liked each other, didn’t you?”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Yes, we did,” she whispered.
“He’ll be back,” Jerry said with certainty.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
He gazed at her steadily. “If he does, are you going to hide out in your room like you’ve been doing for the past two days? Is my girl gonna show the white feather?”
She jerked upright. “Heck, no!”
“If he comes back, I want you to give him a chance.”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe.” She wondered what Kam was doing. Probably getting a divorce while wooing some nubile Zmar-zbel chick…or whatever his country was called. She wished him good luck. Despite what she’d said to Grandpa Jerry, she really didn’t want him back.
“You did what?” Seated at his huge, elaborately carved desk, the king glared at Kamar, who stood at attention before his father. In a nearby doorway, Crown Prince Denya lounged against a lintel, his casual stance belying the seriousness of the conversation.
“Let me understand this correctly,” the king continued. “You married a virgin from a good family, despoiled her, then walked out on her. Is that right?”
Kamar stared at his father. Never in his craziest dreams had he imagined the king’s reaction. Oh, he’d expected anger, even fury, but not because he’d wronged the woman. “I thought you’d be upset because I can’t make a political marriage.”
“We had no plans for you, so there’s no loss. Besides, one arranged marriage in the family is enough.” Denya glanced to a sofa at the side of the room, where Amira, his wife, nursed their third child, a daughter named Sadira.
Amira winked and said, “She must be a clever girl, this American, to have snared you, brother.”
“She did not snare me,” Kamar said. “She feels as trapped as I do. But she is very clever. She graduated from business school and has a good job in public relations.”
“Public relations?” the king asked. “Then she will be an asset to us. PR is diplomacy applied to retail sales. What kinds of products does she sell?”
Kamar frowned at the incongruity of Selina’s thoughts issuing from his father’s mouth. “Her latest ad campaign was about a cereal, Corny Crunch.”
“Horny crunch?” Denya asked in English, laughing while the king and Amira, neither of whom understood the slang, looked confused.
Kamar rolled his eyes. “Oh, like I haven’t heard that one a few times before.”
Denya grinned and said in Arabic, “I’m sure she’s attractive and presentable.”
“Beyond attractive. Really quite gorgeous,” Kamar said, thinking of Selina’s hair, her neck, her eyes, her…her everything.
“You sound very enthusiastic about her, brother.” Amira lifted the baby to her shoulder and patted her back. Sadira responded with a hearty burp.
“I guess I am. She really is a great girl,” Kamar said.
“Good.” The king stood. “Then it’s settled.”
Kamar stiffened. “What’s settled?”
“You’re now our ambassador to the United States. Go back and make up with your wife. Good job, Kamar. Your marriage to an American girl will solidify our relationship with them. Now, how about some tea?”
Everyone but Kamar left the room, and he slumped into a chair. Though he had his orders, he didn’t know quite how he felt about them. Was he ready for the responsibility of a wife? Not judging by the way he’d treated his! Selina was a terrific person, but he’d treated her so badly, he didn’t know if he could win her love.
However, he knew he’d better obey his father.
He wondered what Selina was doing. In her newly vulnerable state, could another man be horning in on his wife? A female who was nursing disappointment was easy prey for a wolf. Many women had sought his comfort after an affair gone wrong, so he was in a special position to divine the intentions of other males. He used to be the other man, the wolf stalking easy female prey. He figured he’d better get back to Florida. Fast.
Chapter Sixteen
On Tuesday afternoon, Selina encountered the resort manager outside the spa. “Ms. Montrose,” she said frigidly. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
The older woman’s hands worked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Selina advanced on her. “You married Kam Asad and me without our knowledge or consent, and now he’s gone.”
“Oh, no!” Montrose put a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, yes. He’s gone to get us a divorce.”
Montrose looked stricken.
“And you know what? Kam and I liked each other. We might have had a chance. But you just had to meddle, didn’t you? You and that witch Marta Hunter—”
“Hunter’s not a witch,” Montrose said.
Selina ignored her. The tears she’d held back for days flooded her eyes, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “We had a chance, but now he’s gone. And it’s your fault.”
Whirling, Montrose fled. A mean part of Selina was glad that she’d made someone else feel as lousy as she did.
After her massage, she dressed in the same pair of denim shorts and T-shirt she’d worn for the past two days. She planned to eat a light dinner back at her suite while finishing the latest volume of the Harry Potter books. Bliss!
But there he was, like the proverbial bad penny: Kam Asad, her sort-of husband, a man she never expected to see again. Wearing his usual loose white linen, he leaned casually against her doorway as though he hadn’t a care in the world. The wretch.
Every muscle in her body tightened into steel cables, trashing three days of relaxing massages. She felt like Harry confronting Voldemort, with the same mixture of hope, desperation and fear.
She’d missed Kam. She wanted what her husband could give her, but the reality of Kam and what he’d said warred with her hopes, her dreams and her memories of the fun times they’d had.
Plus, there was the potenti
al their friendship—she wouldn’t call it a romance or a relationship—had once shown. She’d meant what she’d told Merry Montrose. She and Kam had once had a chance, but it was gone.
She’d thought it was over between them, but here he was. What could he want?
Though anxious, Selina wouldn’t back down. Closing in on him, she tamped down her hope and focused instead on her anger. “So, it’s you,” she snapped. “What do you want?”
He pushed away from the lintel, smiling, and held out his hands. “You, of course.”
She gave him a brief, contemptuous laugh. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Avoiding his embrace, she shoved the card key into the lock, opened the door and walked past him into the suite.
He followed. She had to admire his gall while loathing the rest of him.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked.
“Talking to you.”
“Not anymore. Door’s that way. Out.” She pointed.
“I’m not leaving until you listen to what I have to say.”
“What for? I heard everything you had to say on Sunday morning, thank you very much.”
He winced. “I apologize. I said many things that weren’t true. Hurtful things that you didn’t deserve.”
She stopped, startled. “Kam Asad apologizing? The prince of Zorah-z-whatever admitting he was wrong? Wow. This must be a historic occasion. Maybe I should call Marta Hunter so she can get the scoop.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Has she still been bothering you?”
“No, because I haven’t been out and about very much.”
“Why not?”
She put a hand on her hip. “Well, it’s just a little embarrassing for the entire world to know that I got married but that my husband walked out on me the very next day.”
“That was also a mistake. I should have taken you with me.”
“Excuse me? What makes you think I would have gone anywhere with you?”
“Oh, you would have. After that night, I could have taken you anywhere.” He gave her that slow, sexy, intimate smile again, the one he’d probably practiced in front of a mirror when he was a teenager.