by Tara Pammi
Pain was an arrow in her chest, a knife lodged in her ribs. Words wouldn’t rise to her lips past her raw throat. “You still intend to look for some suitable candidate?”
“Yes. I can indulge myself for a short while, Amalia, but in the end, I will need a sheikha...”
Amalia rose to her feet so swiftly that her head whirled for a second. She had been right. He would never see her as anything but unsuitable. Never give her a chance.
She raised her chin, draping her pride and self-respect like a blanket over her breaking heart. “As good as it is to know that you have it all worked out according to your plans and life, I’m afraid that will not work for me, Zayn.”
Something hard entered his eyes at the way she had imitated his formal speech. “And why is that?”
“You see, just like you, I have some expectations for myself, if not a kingdom’s. And since I joined this whole living away from the shadow of past a little too late, I intend to make up for lost time.
“A toxic relationship that’s predestined to go nowhere while I fall more and more into its depths...” Her voice wobbled here, her grief over losing him overpowering her stupid pride. “That reminds me far too much of a fate my mother lived.
“If there’s one thing I have learned in these six weeks, in our torrid affair, it is that I don’t have to live my life based on anyone’s fears or hang-ups. And that includes you and this notion you have, this template you have of what kind of woman would suit you.”
He clutched her arms, his grip painful. Tears filling her eyes, Amalia struggled to not sink into his embrace. “You have always known where this was going.”
“Yes, I did. And I’m saying enough now. Before you completely break me. Before you make me into a shadow who could never recover her old self.
“Don’t do that to me, Zayn. Don’t make me regret knowing you. Please don’t make me hate you and myself.”
Such a fierce glow burned in his eyes. Amalia shivered violently, seeing the knowledge that dawned in his eyes. They both knew how powerless she was to resist him again and again... They both knew that in that minute, all he had to do was to cover the distance between their seeking mouths and she would agree to stay...
But slowly his grip on her loosened. And he walked away without a word.
Amalia crumpled to her knees on the tiles, disappointment and relief and every other emotion crushing her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HANDS TUCKED INTO the pockets of his trousers, Zayn stood at the window of his study, looking out over the grounds that surrounded the palace. The last few weeks had been the hardest of his life. He had buried himself in work, driving himself at a relentless pace that had strained his staff to the maximum as if he could run far and fast from the desolation that seemed to be weighing him down if he took a moment to breathe.
Duty over personal happiness...it had been a tenet by which he’d lived all his life and yet, that same duty lost its satisfaction for him. The more he worked for the betterment of Khaleej, the more resentful of it he grew.
For it was a steep price he had to pay.
Amalia had shattered the cold aloofness he had built into a shell around him, reaching a part of him that he had buried deep.
He had spent all morning on his phone and still, he had no idea where she was. Morning had given way to noon, sunlight glittering over the gardens in the courtyard.
Had he drifted here because this was where he had met her first? Had she so thoroughly written him off that she had made herself so unreachable? Only one man could have helped her, and the idea of Amalia with Massi burned an acrid hole in his gut.
Regrets piled over him. He should have never let her leave him in the first place. He shouldn’t have taken so long to break out of his own shell, to realize that his world was empty without her by his side, that he couldn’t even stomach the idea of some faceless, docile woman... The thought that she might be permanently lost to him carved paths through him, making him utterly restless.
He had never felt so alone; never had the burden of Khaleej felt so unbearable. He didn’t even want to face his father.
He had never been a gambling man and yet, he had taken this chance. Had hoped that the thought of his wedding would somehow bring Amalia back to him.
The creak of the door made him turn, his heart jumping into his chest.
He let out a harsh breath when he saw that his guest was Benjamin Carter. Newly wed and nauseatingly in love, the New York tycoon was the last man Zayn wanted to see.
At least with the rest of the palace and its staff, no one dared to point out the obvious with him. That he was to be married in hours and his bride was missing.
“It has come to my attention that you’re missing a bride, Sheikh,” the American drawled, a lazy twitch to his mouth. “Is it possible that our esteemed Ms. Young was unable to convince a woman to take you on?”
Zayn rolled his eyes. “Since you’re my invited guest and your bride will clearly be horrified by the result, I will refrain from messing up your face, Carter. Now leave me in peace.”
Any other man would have cowered at the steel in his tone. However, as he had expected, the warning barely registered on the man. His gaze, at least, lost that wicked smile. “Your staff is in uproar, your PR people don’t know if they should issue a statement. This could easily become another big scandal, Sheikh. Even if your sister is happily married, your reputation could still—”
“In your slang, Carter, I don’t give a damn.”
“Where is the woman you’re supposed to marry?”
Despite the void in his gut, Zayn found it easy to answer. Maybe because Carter was one of those few people in the world who wasn’t intimidated by the mantle of power that Zayn carried. “Not supposed to, Carter. The woman I want to marry.”
Carter’s gaze cleared, as if the meaning was clear. “Yeah? So where is she?”
The expression on the other man’s face made Zayn crack a smile. “I don’t know where she is. I don’t know if she will show up, either.”
“But she knows that she’s marrying you today, yes?” Now he sounded as if Zayn had lost his mind.
Maybe he had. Maybe waiting for a woman he hadn’t even asked to marry him was foolish. But if this talk of his wedding didn’t ferret Amalia out, nothing would. He would have a mess to clean up come tomorrow, but Zayn found he didn’t give a damn right now.
Zayn shook his head and a filthy curse fell from Carter’s mouth.
“This is not some strange custom in Khaleej, is it, Sheikh? That the groom doesn’t know if the bride’s going to show up?”
“I should feel insulted, I think, but I know you mean well, Carter. And no, it is no strange custom.”
He had defied all customs and traditions by falling in love. He didn’t think Amalia was unsuitable for him anymore. It was he that fell short of the kind of man Amalia deserved.
He had incredible power at his hands; he was probably one of the wealthiest men in the world, but he would not be able to give her unlimited time if she spent her life with him. Nor could he give her a loving, welcoming family.
Except for Mirah, he had no doubt that most of his family would give her the cold treatment. For most of her life, she would be made to feel like an outsider.
She would have to trade so many things that she could have with any other man to be with him. If he had any sense, he would just let her go.
But Zayn realized he was also selfish when it came to her. Giving up architecture, unsuitable friends, personal happiness, they were nothing when he thought of how empty his life would be without Amalia by his side.
“Then I need a drink and it’s clear that you need one, too, Sheikh. So why don’t you—?”
The door slammed open again and this time, Amalia stood at the threshold. Mouth trembling, ches
t rising and falling, she looked blazingly furious. “You...arrogant, heartless, cold brute. How could you?”
His heart thudded against his chest. Something twisted and settled deep in him, an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and hide her away in the desert. Where she would never have another opportunity to escape him.
He smiled at that imagery—that would be as palatable to Amalia as him dragging her by her hair into his cave... Throat tight and air gushing from his lungs, he couldn’t quite hold himself together.
His bluff had worked. But it was still a long way to go. Pride came to his rescue. “I believe heartless and cold mean the same thing, Amalia.” It was the only way left to him to fight the lost feeling that had surrounded him for three weeks.
He was not good with this feeling of inadequacy, this self-doubt. He did not like that he was going to have to finesse the deal of his lifetime and he had less to offer than the other party.
Twin spots sat high on her cheeks as she curled her mouth in that threatening way of hers. “You don’t want to mess with me today, Zayn. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m very good at blackmailing, remember? And the whole world, once again, would love to hear what I have to say about His Royal Highness Sheikh Zayn Al-Ghamdi.”
Shock made Zayn silent while Carter’s laughter boomed in the room like the explosions of firecrackers.
She cast a glance at Benjamin, her chest falling and rising. “Can I have a few minutes with the sheikh?”
That lazy smile returning to his mouth, Carter nodded. To Zayn, he said, “I assume the wedding is on, Sheikh? Should I alert your staff to the fact?”
If there was a moment when Zayn would have happily forgotten that they were supposed to be adult men and not pummel each other, it was this. He kept his eyes on Amalia, saw the anger in hers and caught the urge. “Yes,” he said irritably. He hated the weak feeling in his gut, this feeling of being out of control. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this.
“Ms. Christensen, I suppose,” Carter asked and Amalia nodded. “Give him hell.”
The door closed behind Carter, leaving them in a stark silence. For a few seconds all they did was stare at each other. He had faced so many daunting situations in his life—political and financial with innumerable lives in his hand, and yet, the tension that was strummed through every inch of him was a stranger.
“Amalia—”
“You said you were going to wait a few months. It’s been barely a month since I left and this date... God, this was the date we told people we would be marrying. I just...” She ran a trembling hand to push a lock of hair out of her eyes and that was when finally Zayn noticed it.
It felt like a punch to his gut, a slap of rejection.
She had cut her hair. Those long waves that he’d loved wrapping around his fingers, that had caressed his body with a silken touch, they caressed her face and jaw now, giving her an elfin-like look.
But since he meant to begin the way he wanted to go on, he pursed his mouth. He needed her in his life like no other but he didn’t want their life to become one battle after another. There were going to be enough battles to fight together without their personal life becoming one, too.
“You cut your hair,” he said, accusation high in his tone.
Her fingers drifted through her shoulder-length locks. Defiance made her eyes glimmer like precious jewels. “I wanted something different, something that didn’t make me think of you every day.”
Another punch, another roughly indrawn breath. “And it was as simple as cutting off your hair?” Something he had adored.
She shrugged. And when the furor in his chest calmed down, when he let instinct, the newly discovered emotions in his gut, drive him rather than plain facts and logic, Zayn remembered that she did that when she didn’t want to quite tell the truth.
She was here, he reminded himself again. She had come blasting through his doors at the idea of his wedding. That was the start he had wanted.
“Where have you—”
“I didn’t come here to answer your questions or to be harassed by you.”
Why had he thought this was going to be easy? He had little enough experience dwelling on and talking about his feelings...only a handful of times when he had even felt such strong emotions...and this was Amalia, who turned everything into a battle. He sighed. “Why are you here, then?”
“I came to give you a piece of my mind.”
“And where have you been for the last month?” The question slipped through his lips, bitter jealousy tugging at the reins of his control.
“With...” Again that infernal shrug. “That doesn’t matter. I needed to come because—”
“Is Aslam in trouble again?”
“Will you stop interrupting me as if I’m one of your staff members? This is hard enough as it is,” she mumbled at the end.
Only now did he realize the dark circles under her eyes, the pinched cut of her features. “I was merely curious about Aslam. I thought I would keep an eye on him for you but my staff could not even locate him.”
She stared at him, as if she didn’t know what to make of that. And her startled disbelief that he could care about even such a small thing as her brother’s welfare made his ire rise. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes. No...” Her lashes flicked down and she moved away from him. He saw her swallow forcefully before she did that. “He...is making changes in his life, the right ones. You were right. That time he spent in the jail, I think it made him see that he was heading toward utter ruin if he continued like that. He’s thinking of returning to college.”
“I am glad, for your sake more than his. I know how much you love him.”
She shrugged, a sheen of wetness coating her eyes. The slight tremble of her mouth, the shuddering breath she drew, it hit Zayn like a blow to the chest.
“Yes, but love is not always enough, is it? I have found out that my father loved my mother just as much as she loved him, but they could not make it work.”
“You went to see him?”
She nodded, a lone tear carving a path on her cheek. “Aslam refused to let me leave. Nor would he go with me. He kept saying I belonged in Sintar with—”
“You do.” His statement fell in between them like the pounding of a gavel.
“When he heard of Aslam’s release, my father came to see us at the hotel... I realized I couldn’t be a coward for the rest of my life. It was time to face him.”
“You’re the last woman on earth I would call cowardly, Amalia.”
She blanched, her skin losing every ounce of color.
“Is it so hard to think that I think well of you, Amalia?”
“Whether you think I’m strong or beautiful or intelligent, it doesn’t matter, does it, Zayn? Not when you think...”
Silence ensued between them again fraught with tension and their emotions, things that were rearing to break out into the open. Zayn felt as if he was going to break from the inside out.
Her shoulders shaking, Amalia looked like a slight breeze would fell her, too. Only then he realized how much it would have cost her to come here today, when she would have had to see the woman he would’ve chosen.
And in the face of that vulnerability, pride and self-respect and arrogance, everything dissolved. That she would take this step toward him when he’d done nothing but use her was humbling and even disconcerting. Love, it seemed, given and returned, was a roller coaster, one minute exaltation and the next, utter desperation.
“There is no bride here today.”
She frowned. The tremor that went through her lithe body was far too obvious to miss. “No bride...what does that mean?” She pushed her hair back from her face, a gesture left over even though she cut the thick waves. And it tugged at him as nothing could.
She looked
toward the door, her body poised for flight and then turned toward him again. The frown deepened into a scowl. “But there are guests flying in from the neighboring countries and from your own family. There are network station crews everywhere waiting to telecast...how the hell can you not have a bride, Zayn?”
Zayn came to her and took her hands in his. Never had his heart beat so rapidly. “I forgot to ask the bride to marry me. So she doesn’t know. I was just hoping against hope that she would show up. Carter thinks I’ve lost my mind and I believe he is right.”
Comprehension dawned on her face and she jerked her hands away from him. “This was all...”
“Amalia—”
“You’re a manipulative jerk!”
“Manipulative? You disappeared off the face of the earth. You would not take my calls, you cut me off from your life as thoroughly as you did your father.”
“Because my heart was breaking and there was only so much of you I could resist before I weakened and stayed for as long as you wanted me.”
“You do not know how much I regret putting you through that, how much I wish...” Tenderness filled his gaze, stealing what little rationality Amalia was trying to hold on to. “Will you marry me? Today?”
“Is this some kind of political face-saving?”
“No. In fact, I’ve had advisers continually offer infernal advice that you might not be a good candidate to be my sheikha.”
“I heard enough of that while I was here. And I think you and your damned advisers are all wrong. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“That’s what you came to tell me...” he repeated, a little spark of hope fluttering to life inside him. Her wrist bones were delicate in his hands, almost fragile. And yet she held his happiness, his future, in her hands. “Tell me, then.”
“I think your assumption that you can’t have even a small flicker of happiness in your life is wrong. Your assumption that I would somehow detract you from your duty, somehow minimize your power, is even more absurd.
“I understand about duty and selflessness more than you think.