“He’s good with kids,” Talib told her. “Most likely because he’s the oldest.”
Sara was at a loss, grateful for the size of the room, because in a normal-size hotel room these two vibrant Al-Nassar brothers would have overwhelmed her. Power seemed to emanate from them. It was a self-assuredness that she would like to have said was more pronounced with Talib, but that wasn’t the case. They wielded their authority with ease, but in different ways. Even here, Emir was larger than life and Talib even larger than that, at least physically. She sank down on the bed as Emir handed her son back to her. But the look Emir gave her was like the moment of truth. She could see it all in his eyes. He knew the truth that had yet to be told.
The hand that he put on her shoulder, as brief as it was, spoke of support and solidarity. As she met Emir’s ebony eyes, she sensed he knew. He had seen the truth in her son’s face. Even he couldn’t help but see how closely the boy resembled Talib.
Talib had the power to take her son and offer him the life she could not. Running from the blackmail rather than turning to Talib had been a bad decision. It wasn’t until she’d run out of places to go that she’d been willing to turn to the one man that could help her: Talib. But seeing Emir and Talib together terrified her because it reminded her of everything she stood to lose. Everett was one of them in a way she never could be. The Al-Nassar family had the power and the might to run roughshod over someone like her. They had the resources to claim Everett and raise him as their own. And the head of all that might was making this room just a little too crowded.
The nightmares that had awoken her so many nights in a cold sweat, trembling with what she imagined the future could be, seemed so much closer to becoming a reality. Emir had squeezed her shoulder, as if telling her he was on her side, not to worry. Or maybe all of that was wishful thinking. It would be nice to have one member of the family on her side. But was he on her side? The Al-Nassar brothers’ loyalty to each other and their sister ran deep. But the look that was now on his face confirmed not only what she already suspected, but that he also guessed that Talib did not know.
“The hotel’s secure?” Emir asked as he turned to Talib.
“It is.”
“I heard there was an explosion...”
“Handled,” Talib said shortly. “Look. Can we talk later?”
“There’s a case I want you to take.” Emir looked at his phone as it beeped a message. “Take care of whatever you need to, tonight. And I’ll brief you in the morning. If you’re not needed here...” He let the words trail off, but his eyes were on her and not Talib as he nodded and exited the suite.
“What was that about?” Talib asked as he came over to her. “I thought you’d never met Emir.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then what was with the look between the two of you?”
“Sit down,” she said, indicating the bed, where Everett had again fallen asleep.
She’d run out of time. But this wasn’t how she’d meant to tell him.
He didn’t sit down; instead he strode away from her. He stood distant and alone, looking out at the night sky of Marrakech. A minute passed, then another.
She stood up and followed him into the sitting area where she stood for a moment, watching him, as she contemplated what she needed to say. She took a breath. She’d wasted enough time.
“When we broke up...” I was devastated, she thought. And you couldn’t have cared less. Instead she said, “A few weeks later, I...”
He turned from the window. His emotions were hidden in the unreadable look that had frustrated her so much throughout the span of the last few days of summer that led to the breakup. Before that, it had been a magical time.
This was so hard.
“I’m sorry about your car,” she said, thinking of how she’d deliberately scratched the paint with the heel of her shoe. It had been so long ago and yet she’d been sorry about it ever since.
“My car?”
He frowned and something in the way his brows drew together reminded her so very much of Everett. Who was she kidding? Everything about him reminded her of Everett.
“Never mind.” She shook her head. “It’s irrelevant.” She felt stupid having said it, but it had been one of those involuntary things that you just spit out and regret later. The car was now long gone, or at least she assumed so, and would have been replaced by a newer, more exquisitely expensive sports model. That was Talib. Some things never changed. She twisted her hands together and considered how to begin even though she’d gone over this a dozen times.
“You came to see me,” Talib said quietly, as if encouraging her to continue.
She wasn’t ready. She turned the words around in her head.
“In Wyoming, you never wanted to break up. I regret all of it now, at least how it ended. I didn’t want you to leave that way. I should have known how you felt, I should have...” He broke off as if gathering his thoughts. “It was me and...”
Her jaw tightened.
“Things have changed, Sara, but I’m still the man you remember, I...”
His words were a low rumble in the back of her thoughts as her disbelief seemed to mute the sound of his voice. What was he talking about? He couldn’t possibly believe that she’d come here to beg to be back in his life? He couldn’t possibly. But he’d always been an arrogant son of...
There was no time for such thoughts. She combed her hair with splayed fingers, then dropped her hand. She had no defense. He was right. She had come to see him and as difficult as it was, she had to remember why she was here. Tell him, the voice of reason inside of her screamed. And then figure out how to tell him why she’d hidden this from him for so long.
“Everett...” she began.
She couldn’t do it.
Her next words were going to change everything, and the neat little life she had built would crumple around her. Who was she kidding? The neat little life had been blasted into oblivion by one stupid move months ago. One date that turned into a half dozen with the wrong man. Now she was in a corner and there was nothing she could do, other than the one thing that would protect her son. The one thing that would destroy the world she had still hoped she could return to.
His eyes seemed to hold shadows, as if he felt her pain, as if he knew. She saw the promise of courage and strength that mirrored the passion he lived by. They were eyes she could drown in if she didn’t stay strong.
She took a breath. She’d flown halfway around the world. She’d dodged a madman for months and arrived here in desperation, willing to lose what she loved most in exchange for the promise of his safety. There was no more delaying.
She met his scrutiny, and it seemed to hit somewhere deep inside of her. She didn’t have time to wait for courage and she no longer had an excuse for keeping it secret. She’d determined that when she’d bought the plane ticket for Morocco.
The truth needed to be told. It couldn’t wait another minute longer.
She looked up, met his gaze and with all the courage she had—held it.
“Everett is your son.” She blurted out the words before her doubts took over once again.
This time the silence hung heavy in the room.
“My son,” he finally said.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Everett Talib.” She said his full name, as if that confirmed everything. And in a way it did. The second name referenced the fact that Everett belonged to the Al-Nassar family. One day she’d fully intended that he would know his father and claim the heritage that was his right. But one day wasn’t supposed to be until Everett was older. One day was when he was able to make his own decisions. When he was safe from being ripped out of her arms by a man who had more power than she could ever imagine.
Circumstances had worked against her.
“And you thought now was a goo
d time to tell me,” Talib said, turning a question into a statement, and the statement into an accusation.
The moment that followed seemed to tick like a retro alarm clock between them. The silence was full of recrimination on his part, and fear on hers. He didn’t look at her but instead walked away and stared out the window before turning again to face her.
“Why, Sara? Why now? Two, three, if you count pregnancy, years later.” His voice was low, in that way of his when anger was brewing just below the surface.
She didn’t say anything. Seconds ticked by and turned into a minute.
“And why would I believe you? How can I believe that there weren’t other men, that...” He ran the palm of his hand across his chin and his gaze never quite met hers.
She was shocked. He’d actually insinuated that not only had there been other men, but that there also might have been many men. There’d been Tad, but that had never been physical. She couldn’t, not after... Her thought dropped off. Somehow, of all his possible reactions, she’d never thought that he wouldn’t believe her, that he would think so little of her. “I don’t expect—”
“Don’t say anything, Sara, please.” He swung around. “I’ve sensed from the moment you arrived that money was the issue. I didn’t want to believe it. That was never you.”
She should be angry. She should tell him where to go, but shock and desperation seemed to act as a wet blanket to any outrage she might have felt.
Instead, she wanted to deny his accusations. She wasn’t a gold digger. She’d starve first, but that was herself she was talking about, not Everett. Her stomach clenched. Now, to admit the truth was to admit that he was right, it was about money. For it was only money that could save her son.
“So, why now, Sara? Did you think this was adequate punishment for the breakup?” He shook his head. “Keeping my son from me. That is, if he is my son.”
“He is,” she said. “Look at him.” For it was true. Everett was his father’s son. He had skipped over her fair complexion, gray eyes and light brown hair streaked with blond. Instead, he had his father’s thick, black wildly curly hair, although in the sun it was a softer curl that framed his olive-toned face. If he was awake, you could see the warm eyes that had so many times reminded her of the man she’d loved and left. Or, more specifically, asked her to leave. And if he looked at his hands, he would see that even as a baby, Everett had extremely long fingers, like his father. “I meant to tell you eventually. Just not now, but—”
“Do you have a birth certificate?” he said, cutting her off in a voice that had a dark edge.
“You’re not on it,” she admitted softly and this time she couldn’t look at him. It was an admission that had been a long time coming and one that drove the final nail into her betrayal. But he was his son and he needed his father and it was that fact that had her standing her ground.
Silence beat accusing wings around them.
He’d stood with his back to her, now he turned to face her.
“We left on bad terms, Sara, but I never thought you’d do this, keep—”
“Is that what you think?” she interrupted, struggling to keep her voice low, so as not to awaken Everett. “That I kept your son from you so that I could punish you? You arrogant son of a donkey,” she whispered. This conversation had to end. It was not something to discuss around a baby, sleeping or otherwise.
“I can’t believe this,” he said. “My son,” he mused, as if saying the words made them more palatable.
A minute passed, as if he needed the time to absorb it all.
There were things she wanted to say and she said none of them. Instead, her bottom lip quivered and she knew that she had to tell him everything and soon, before it was too late.
Chapter Ten
Talib ran a hand along the back of his neck, like he was too hot, but the only thing hot was the situation. He stood there for a minute, maybe two. Neither of them said anything. It seemed like there was so much to say and yet all of it ran too deep.
“I’m sorry, Sara. I know I’m not dealing well with this. I...” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what to say. I believe you, he’s my son and I’ll do right by him, but I need some time.”
She looked at him with a frown. “There’s more I need to tell you. Everett—”
“Not now,” he said shortly. He knew she’d heard the edge in his voice. He could see that in her face. He couldn’t help that. It was all too much. He was overwhelmed. He needed time alone to figure out what he felt, but the doubt wasn’t about the boy or about being a father to him. That was a given. It was about the lost time, about Sara and her deception.
“Keep the door locked. You’re safe here. Despite that, don’t open it for anyone. I’ll be back.”
“When? This is important. I—”
“Tonight,” he interrupted. “The hotel is secure. You’ll be safe. But for now, stay in your suite.”
She frowned.
The door of the suite shut with a finality behind him. It made him remember that other door shutting almost three years ago. Only then the door had slammed, brutally closing in conjunction with words that told him where to go. In a way it had been like their relationship, high-powered and unpredictable. And yet, he’d never forgotten her.
It was all too much and he was furious with Sara. Whatever her reasons, one more minute in that room would have had him doing something juvenile like put a fist through a plaster wall. It was a thought that in real life he doubted would give one any satisfaction. But the fact that the thought was there had frightened him. What he needed was time and space before he said something to her that no apology would ever repair.
His heart pounded and he wasn’t sure what he wanted or needed to do. He wasn’t thinking logically. The familiarity that had immediately struck him between Everett and himself... He had blown off believing that Sara would never deceive him about something that important. Now, the truth of her deception took his breath away. He only knew that he needed to get out of the confines of the hotel and get some air.
He’d been deceived on a scale that was unfathomable, by a woman who he thought incapable of such a thing. He clenched his fist and his jaw twitched. He pushed past the uniformed bellhop and past another man, who looked at him oddly. He needed to get it together, but first he had to get his emotions under control.
If it was true, that this boy was his son, he’d missed so much. He wasn’t sure what it all meant or how this could have happened. They’d used birth control. They’d been careful, but obviously not careful enough. It didn’t seem possible and yet he knew she hadn’t lied. He strode through the lobby, heading through a side door and into the parking lot.
“Why now, Sara? Why the hell now?”
* * *
IT HAD WORKED beautifully and still it had failed. Tad Rossi rubbed his thumb against his index finger. His teeth were clenched and his back molar ached. He’d have to get that fixed one day. Except that he had no money even for emergency dentistry. He’d maxed out what little credit he had and borrowed everything he could from what little family he had. But they’d long since closed the door on him. He’d been scrounging ever since—living off his good looks and the back of one girl or another.
He needed to get to Morocco and he needed to get there without delay. But he had no resources, that had been the reason behind all of this. Sara had been a lucky find. The fact that she was hot enough for any man—a bonus. She was nothing now. He’d drained her of everything, at least everything monetary, or so he’d thought. Then, she’d surprised him. Getting more money out of her should have been easy. She should have done what he asked and she had, and then she’d stopped.
“Damn,” he snarled. The plan was now far bigger than terrorizing one resource-limited woman. Al-Nassar had money, more money than he wanted to contemplate. But that had been his fi
rst mistake—sharing that part of the plan. He’d set something in motion that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop, at least from here.
Sara and the boy were nothing. Neither of them mattered. Despite his initial interest in her, like any woman, that hadn’t lasted long. Sara had been pleasant enough and the child mattered not at all. Although he’d threatened kidnapping to encourage her to get more money, he didn’t want the child for any longer than it took to get his mother to comply.
He couldn’t believe she’d run. That had been a major oversight on his part. She’d run before, that was true, but it was also true that it had been in the United States. She’d been easy to find. A computer-geek friend, an app that easily fished information out of a social-media site and he was in business. The bonus was that she was conscientious about contacting her parents through social media. In a private message to them, she’d left a contact number each time. He’d followed that trail with ease. But Morocco was another story.
He was losing his touch. He couldn’t believe that this had happened, that he’d read her wrong. She wouldn’t have chanced it if she wasn’t desperate. He’d pushed her too hard.
He remembered the moment like it was yesterday. He’d picked up his phone and punched a number that had been on his contact list for over a decade, spoken with someone he hadn’t in years. But it was a man whom he’d always felt was a kindred spirit.
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