by Holly Rayner
Kathy took a moment to gather herself, confused.
"Um, Abu Sadah, right?" Kathy shrugged, not knowing much more than that. It had seemed wrong to pry into his private life when he seemed to go to such an effort to keep it separate from his work. "You're part of the royal family?"
"I am," Tehar confirmed. "Not that unusual in and of itself. The ruling family is quite large. But I am the nephew of the ruling sheikh which means, in addition to a great deal more money and responsibility than the more tertiary members of the family, there is a possibility, however distant, that I might one day become sheikh. It is highly unlikely, but I have been groomed for the position regardless. And part of that grooming requires me to have an heir for my titles and properties."
"Oh," Kathy said, beginning to understand. "But you're young. Surely there must be someone…"
Tehar smiled.
"I may not look it," he replied. "But I am nearing forty. My parents have grown very impatient for me to finally ensure their posterity. All I have ever had time for is my work, and I find it unlikely that will ever change. I don't have the time or inclination to go searching for a relationship."
"I feel the same," Kathy said, shocked by the sudden empathy she felt with the Sheikh. "My father's will says I have to have a child before the end of the year or my inheritance will be claimed by the bank, including the house that's been in my family for generations. I just want to focus on my work; that's all I've ever wanted. But I don't want to have a baby with just anyone. I just want there to be—"
"A connection," Tehar interrupted, leaning towards her. "I don't need her to be the love of my life, but the mother of my child cannot be a stranger to me."
"Exactly." Kathy realized she was leaning towards him as well, staring into his dark eyes and seeing him stare back at her, neither of them with a hint of self-consciousness, caught up in the moment of sudden understanding.
The waiter cleared his throat and they both sat back, caught off guard as he arrived with the second course, sweet slices of caramelized pork belly accompanied by a robust pinot noir. The thin slices of crispy, sticky pork were so good Kathy felt dizzy, mourning that there was only a few bites worth. It was almost enough to make her forget the strange situation she was in. For a few moments, they were both entirely focused on their food. Then it was gone, and in the breathing room between one course and the next, they studied each other across the table.
"You'd really be all right with me, you know, providing your heir?" Kathy asked.
"Of course," Tehar said without hesitation. "We may not have had much personal interaction, but you've worked for me for years. I know you're intelligent, responsible, and beautiful. You're healthy, as far as I'm aware. And most importantly, I know you. I know you're professional, logical. I feel confident we could continue to work together and associate with one another with minimum difficulty. You are, if I may be so blunt, ideal."
It was very unexpected praise.
"What about me?" Tehar asked. "Do I meet your standards? It seems like you've been searching for a while, so I assume they are rigorous."
Kathy considered it for a moment.
"To be honest, they aren't that high," she said. "But guys kept failing to reach them anyway. I just wanted someone nice with a stable income who I could get along with. And preferably no inheritable health conditions."
"Well, I know I check at least two of those boxes," Tehar said with a small chuckle. "It's up to you whether I'm nice enough to get along with."
"I think you sweep all four pretty easily." Kathy laughed, still slightly, delightfully baffled by how this was all turning out.
"Then you'd be willing to try it?" Tehar asked, raising an eyebrow. "Having a child with me?"
Kathy blinked and sat back, considering it. The proposal had come so out of the blue. She was still processing it.
"I need to think about it," she said.
"Take your time," Tehar assured her. "I hardly expected an answer tonight. If you don't mind, we could talk details, however."
"Of course," Kathy nodded, still distracted. "Whatever you need to know."
"I assume you're planning to use in-vitro fertilization?" Tehar asked.
"Yeah," Kathy confirmed. "Unless I unexpectedly really hit it off with someone, IVF seems like the least complicated way of doing things. No offense, but if we end up doing this together that would be my preference."
"No offense taken," Tehar assured her. "I agree; it minimizes complications. I would prefer to keep this as businesslike as possible."
"That's how I feel too," Kathy said with a small smile, a little amazed at how much his feelings seemed to mirror her own.
"Does your father's will stipulate that you have to raise the child?" Tehar asked. "If we do this as separate entities, we’ll need to agree on custody."
"Legally speaking," Kathy replied, "the will doesn't demand anything but that I have the baby. Technically, I could give it up and still inherit. But I don't want to. I want to be a part of this child's life. I can't just bring a baby into the world for the sake of money."
"Very understandable." Tehar nodded, but she thought he seemed a little disappointed. "I would have liked to take sole custody and have the child raised in Abu Sadah by my family there, but I respect your desire to be involved."
"To be honest though," Kathy confessed, "I don't really have the time or resources to raise a child on my own. Maybe we could split custody? Two weeks in Abu Sadah, two weeks with me?"
"That sounds plausible," Tehar agreed. "We can work out the specific details later. Do you have a preference for gender?"
"Not really." Kathy shrugged. "I guess I've always imagined it being a girl."
"My family, for reasons of tradition, would prefer a boy," Tehar said with a look of mild embarrassment. "I am not particularly swayed either way."
"If neither of us really cares and it would make things easier with your family, since we're doing IVF anyway, I wouldn't mind trying for a boy," Kathy said.
"It's something to consider," Tehar said with a nod.
The waiter arrived with the next course, interrupting their conversation again. It was a rich moulard duck fois gras accompanied by a dry Sauternes. It was delicious, and Kathy was beginning to understand and appreciate the small amounts. The food was decadent and almost overwhelming. She wasn't sure she could handle eight plates of this in any more than the current portions. They were silent for a moment, relishing the food.
"I had no idea fois gras was so good," Kathy said with an indulgent little moan. "I've only ever heard awful things about it."
"I know how you feel," Tehar said with a chuckle. "But don't worry. I checked with the kitchen when I first began eating here. The livers are ethically farmed. The ducks and geese are free to roam, and there's no force feeding at all."
"It seems like that would be really difficult to do and remain profitable," Kathy said thoughtfully.
"That is why it's so expensive," Tehar replied, raising his glass.
Kathy suddenly wondered just how much the meal cost and was suddenly more relieved she wasn't expected to pay.
"Exactly how much are you paying for this?" she asked. "If it isn't too rude to ask."
"About three hundred per person," Tehar replied casually, sipping his wine. Kathy choked on her fois gras.
"How—" she sputtered. "I have to help pay for this. There's no way I could let you—"
"Don't be ridiculous," Tehar countered her at once. "I just finished telling you I'm part of the royal family, even aside from my personal business ventures. You may recall I am a sheikh, Miss Burgess. I can more than afford this."
"Even with all the money in the world, I don't think I could justify spending that much on one dinner," Kathy said, feeling lightheaded. "God, that's rent on a small apartment. That's utility bills paid. That's a new computer. That's more than I made a month at my first job after I moved to Florida—and I had to live off of that for nearly a year while I was finishing my BA."
Kathy started counting on her fingers.
"I was spending about sixty, seventy bucks a week on food?" she calculated. "That's two-eighty a month, so dinner for two tonight could have fed me and my roommates for eight weeks."
"Goodness." She couldn't tell if Tehar was more surprised by the numbers or by how quickly and passionately Kathy had rattled them off. "I suppose I've never really had to think about things like that."
"It really caught me by surprise when I moved out," Kathy confided. "My family wasn't rich, but my dad worked hard and was good at what he did. We were comfortably middle class with good savings. Then I had a falling out with my dad and moved across the country, and suddenly that safety was gone. By the time I'd put the down payment on my first apartment, I was flat broke and literally eating at a soup kitchen while I tried to find a job and enough roommates to be able to pay the bills."
"I can't even imagine," Tehar said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Even when I left Abu Sadah to begin my business here, it was with my family's full support and financial backing. That kind of insecurity isn't something I've ever experienced."
"With luck, you'll never have to," Kathy said. "No one should have to. Not when we have the resources for…well, for something like this."
Kathy gestured to the opulent restaurant.
"A noble position to take," Tehar replied. "But, unfortunately, not one that I think most wealthy people share."
"Of course not." Kathy shrugged. "Who would want to give this up so that a stranger wouldn't go hungry? Our society doesn't reward people who think of others before themselves. They just get used up."
"Hopefully, the next generation will do better," Tehar said, contemplating his wine.
"I think that's still on us," Kathy said, sitting back. "We have to raise them to be people who would choose selflessness even when everyone else punishes them for it. And we have to make sure the world is still around for them to change."
"Worse than that," Tehar countered. "You and I might raise a son who is as driven and selfless as a saint. But what good does it do when those aren't the priorities of everyone else? What can one person do?"
Kathy nodded, understanding his point.
"Yeah, one person can't change the world." She sipped her wine, thinking hard. "But one person can write the article or give the speech or direct the movie that starts changing people's minds. You can't underestimate the power of one person. Yeah, one person not watering their lawn during a drought doesn't do jack. But one person can start a campaign, draw up a petition, rally their community to call their senators and vote in local elections until better drought regulations are levied against the agricultural and bottled water companies actually using all the water. One person going vegan is useless, but if one person can convince that vegan and his friends to write letters to the governor, maybe they can actually make a difference."
"Essentially, you must acknowledge the individual, but appreciate its influence as part of the whole," Tehar summarized.
"Yeah." Kathy smiled. "You just have to remember that people are people. Every single one of us."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're fascinating?" Tehar said, putting down his wine.
Kathy, caught off guard, laughed.
"Not really," she said. "But thanks. You're pretty interesting yourself."
"You've always done excellent work as an anchor," Tehar said. "But I can't help feeling you have more of a field journalist's sensibilities."
"I do prefer being in the field," Kathy confirmed. "I love traveling and getting to be a part of the story. But the pay is better in anchoring and what I report on actually gets seen, instead of forgotten in the back page of some travel journal."
"Would you like to go back to field work some day?" Tehar asked.
"Definitely," Kathy replied. "But with a kid to look after, I couldn't travel. I remember what that was like with my dad, and I'd rather not put a kid through that. And I couldn't afford it, anyway."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Tehar said. "As the mother of my child, regardless of our continued relationship, you would receive a generous stipend. Very generous. I would make sure of it."
"That really isn't necessary," Kathy said, flustered. "I do fine on my own and with my inheritance—"
"You might be raising my son half of the year," Tehar interrupted, calm and implacable. "If I have any say in it at all, the both of you will never want for anything."
"You're too generous," Kathy said, meaning it.
"It's easy to be generous when you have more money than you could spend in a lifetime." Tehar chuckled, and the waiter brought out another course.
It was a beautiful, single slice of rare wagyu sirloin served with marrow. It looked like art on the plate and melted in Kathy's mouth, unlike the Shiraz that came with it, which went straight to her increasingly light head. She'd have to be more careful about just tasting the wine rather than finishing the glass or she'd end up drunk, which was no way to end a…date? Interview? Whatever this was.
"What about you?" she asked as they ate and relished the brief delight of the delicious meat. "What was it like growing up royal?"
Tehar considered the question for a moment.
"I am unsure how to describe it, having never known anything else," he admitted. "I never went hungry, or lonely. I had a dozen siblings and cousins to run wild with across the palaces and villas of our parents. I started my formal education at six, and much of my time was spent with private tutors learning various skills and histories, and the names and lineages of my extended family. It's considered a sign of respect to know a family's history, so I was expected to know them all, among many, many other things."
"Sounds like hard work for a six-year-old," Kathy said.
"I had very little patience for it at first," Tehar admitted with a smile. "But I soon grew to understand and accept my duty to my family. I had a cousin, Shadaf, who was often ill. We would study together, or avoid our work and talk or read to each other. He has been my closest friend for all my life."
"That reminds me of Tessa and me," Kathy said with a grin. "We've been friends since middle school. Some bully stole my pencil case and called me fat. I was kind of a heavy kid. Tessa punched him right in the nose. We've been best friends ever since. When I moved out here from Colorado, she followed a few months later. We even have condos in the same building now."
Tehar nodded in understanding, his expression still touched with the fondness of remembering his own best friend.
"Sometimes I think we put too much importance on romantic relationships," Tehar said. "I've never felt the need to seek out someone to be in love with. But I could not have made it to where I am without friends to rely on. I believe friendships can be just as important and fulfilling as romantic relationships."
"Definitely," Kathy agreed. "I also don't think it's fair that we expect our romantic partners to also be our best—and sometimes only—friend. Romantic partners and friends fulfill very different emotional needs. It's practically impossible to expect one person to be able to be both things. We're social creatures. We need emotional support beyond just who we're sleeping with."
"I couldn't agree more," Tehar said, smiling.
They continued to talk as three more courses proceeded and then well after them, leaning across the table towards each other as their conversation rambled through their personal histories through philosophical quandaries and back into details about the possible arrangement.
Kathy was amazed by how seriously she was considering it by the time the meal ended. They sat nursing their dessert wines and discussing non-interference and objectivity in reporting, and Kathy searched herself for any sign of doubt. He was her boss, after all, and an incredibly powerful man. This wasn't something she should go into lightly. But her heart was already sold. He met all the requirements she'd set, and exceeded them.
Most importantly, she knew him. She'd already known he was a good, reliable person. Working
with him for years had shown her his dedication, his focus, how he treated the people under him. She'd seen that he could stay impartial and keep this businesslike. And tonight she'd seen that he was someone she liked on a personal level as well. Someone she would be able to get along with ten years or more down the line for family functions. She could share her child's life with him. It wasn't a grand romance sweeping her off her feet, but it was what she was looking for. And, quite unexpectedly, she found herself looking forward to the next time they would speak.
It was quite late when they finally noticed how long they'd been talking. The wine dizziness had faded to a pleasant warmth as they made their way out into the night. The cool breeze off the bay was refreshing on Kathy's flushed cheeks, and the smell of the salty air was strong.
"Did you take a taxi here?" Tehar asked, surprising her. For a moment, she'd forgotten he was just behind her.
"Yeah," she replied. "I'll be fine, don't worry."
"I've already called my driver," Tehar said. "It would be no trouble for me to take you home."
Kathy considered turning him down, but then realized she couldn't think of a single reason why she should.
"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate it."
It wasn't a far drive. They sat in the back of Tehar's sleek black town car, looking out their own windows in comfortable silence. They were close enough to feel each other's warmth, and for a moment Kathy worried he was going to make a move. But he was as quietly formal as ever, keeping a distinct emotional distance. This was a business transaction and nothing more, and that was both a relief and, in some little, unacknowledged way, a disappointment.
The car pulled up in front of her condo and Tehar got out to walk her to her door.
"Have you decided yet?" he asked as they climbed the stairs. "Whether to accept my offer?"
Kathy hesitated to answer. Part of her wanted to say yes at once, but the rest of her was smart enough to know she was a little tipsy and that this was not a decision to make without sleeping on it.
"Not yet," she said. "I want to really think about this."