The Torn Prince

by Zee Monodee

  “SpongeBob?” Rio asked as she stopped on the threshold. “Seriously?”

  Zediah shrugged, more so since the sight of her had snapped all his vocal cords. She’d dressed in an emerald-green swirly cocktail dress that sheathed her lithe body like an expensive glove. Thin diamante straps crisscrossed over her muscled shoulder blades, meeting the fabric of the garment just above the swell of her delectable backside at the small of her back. Four-inch stiletto heels elongated her legs to almost-stratospheric lengths. She’d pulled her thick hair into a complex updo with some loose locks artfully framing her face.

  He, however, zoomed in on the thin strand that had broken free to softly curl against the nape of her neck. His fingers itched to wrap the hair around his index while he caressed her silky skin with his knuckles and made her shiver with desire.

  Nour gurgled something from below, and Zediah tore his gaze from the magnificence that was Rio to see the baby also seemed to be approving the woman’s elegant attire.

  “Ooh, fancy,” Oksana said as she brushed past into the room. “Did you use the hairspray I gave you?”

  “How do you think this whole thing hasn’t fallen flat already?” Rio replied.

  The nanny picked the baby up and started for the door again. When she drew close, Nour tried to reach for the sparkling chandelier earrings dangling from his mother’s ears. Rio easily side-stepped with a laugh and, blocking the jewels with her hands, bent to kiss Nour’s cheek. The two women then started towards the stairs, going down to the main level. Zediah got up to follow them.

  “Don’t wait up,” Rio was saying. “I might not get home until the early hours of the morning.”

  A lance of burning jealousy slashed through his chest. Looking so beautiful, she was obviously going on a date. And the mention of early morning? She would most certainly be spending the night with the man who would be accompanying her.

  She had a life. He needed to remind himself. That she’d given him a place in their son’s existence didn’t mean she had opened the doorway to hers.

  Yet, all his life, he had been waiting for someone like Rio. No other woman had made him feel the way she did. Ever. She filled him with desire, with want, made him crave her so severely. Then still, he’d gone and bungled it all up.

  The heat of jealousy intensified, wearing him down.

  Padding softly to the front window, he stayed a few paces behind the gauzy voile curtain. He would be undetectable from the road yet still able to see her getting into the waiting car. A Rolls Royce Phantom, no less, and as she exited the house, the passenger door opened and out stepped the same insipid blond from Tempo decked out in a tuxedo, with a cummerbund and all. They were definitely off to a fancy event.

  So, this was the kind of life she wanted? He should drop the bombshell that he was a bona fide prince—it would surely go a long way in presenting him in a positive light.

  Except, he had never used his royal status for anything. Had even abhorred doing so, too. He wouldn’t start now when it would mean winning her attention via a method he despised. She deserved so much more.

  With a heavy heart, he watched them get into the vehicle and take off. It was a bit like looking at the princess of a fairy-tale riding away into the sunset in her pumpkin carriage with her prince. Too bad he wasn’t the actual royal in the reference.

  A heavy sigh tore out of him, and he ran a hand over the tight nape of his neck. He should cut his losses when he still could. Returning upstairs, he got his shoes, and he was grabbing his coat from the pegs in the front hallway when Oksana tore the lined wool from his hand.

  “No way. You are not leaving. I’ve got a full marathon of The Masked Singer planned tonight, and you’re staying. You analyse the music so well.”

  A groan escaped him.

  “Come on,” she pleaded. “I’m making popcorn. And it’s not the crap that comes from a microwave.”

  Zediah smiled. What did he have waiting for him back in the Park Place house? Probably a marathon of the same show—Oksana had indeed got him hooked during the past week. They could definitely watch it together.

  “How can I say no to popcorn?” he said with a nod.

  “Exactly. Come on, let’s feed Nour, grab some dinner, then the sooner I can give him his bath and get him to bed, the sooner we can get started.”

  It sounded like a solid plan for the evening, except things didn’t turn out that way. An hour into his sleep, Nour woke up with a plaintive wailing that all but ripped Zediah to useless scraps.

  “Teething pains,” Oksana told him calmly. She wasted no time getting the bottle of baby paracetamol syrup and feeding Nour a dose.

  As the medicine slowly started working, the crying lessened, settling into an absolutely desolate whinging often accompanied by hiccupping sobs. Zediah, now just a bundle of shreds barely tacked together, wished he could do something, anything, to help ease the plight of his son.

  The child felt a little bit warm to him. “Shouldn’t we be going to see a doctor? Like at A&E?”

  Oksana rolled her eyes at him. “His temperature is just a little over thirty-seven. It’s not even considered fever until it’s reached thirty-eight, you know.”

  Still, the low lament was tearing at every layer of his heart. “What can we do for him?”

  “He’s had the meds. Now we just have to distract him and soothe him until he falls asleep again.”

  “Should we call Rio?”

  This earned him a glare, and he muttered a soft apology. Oksana was a competent nanny. Rio wouldn’t leave their son with her otherwise.

  They took turns during the evening cradling the baby and pacing the room while the show’s reruns stored on the DVR played ahead on the TV. Nour dozed off from time to time against a shoulder, constantly waking with a jerk when they’d try to put him down in his cot, and the weeping would start anew.

  By one in the morning, the two of them were utterly exhausted, with Nour giving no sign he would let up.

  “What can we do?” a harried Zediah asked for the hundredth time.

  “He wants his mummy,” Oksana replied.

  “We should call her, tell her to come home.”

  The nanny remained silent, then nodded. “She should be on her way back. These things never go on for too long usually.”

  Zediah’s nostrils flared as jealousy piqued him again. “Didn’t you hear her? She said not to wait up.”

  Blue eyes full of reproach narrowed on him.

  “Rio is a good mother, Zediah. Her son always comes first.”

  The wind tore out of his sails at her scathing tone. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Good. Because where were you all this time, huh? She’s much too good a person to tell you what hell her life has been like all this time, but I’m telling you. You have absolutely no right to question that woman’s love and dedication for her child.”

  Chastised, he stayed mum. Though her words made him curious. “What happened to her?”

  Oksana grimaced. “Not my place to tell.”

  The sound of a car engine starting outside made them both go silent. The front door opened and closed softly, then quick footsteps trudged up the stairs.

  Rio rushed to the baby in Oksana’s arms and placed a gentle hand against his cheek.

  “Poor sweetheart,” she mumbled. “Teething pains again?”

  Oksana concurred, bringing her up to speed.

  Rio nodded. “Let me go get changed first.”

  With a quick dash, she left the room and went upstairs to the master suite. Less than two minutes later, she was back, the dress having been discarded for loungewear. She reached for the baby right away, and Nour went willingly into her arms, burrowing his face into her neck. Already, the crying had diminished.

  “I’ve got him,” she told the nanny. “Go to bed. You have an early morning coming up.”

  Oksana nodded and left the room, going downstairs to her studio in the basement. Rio rocked the child softly and went into the n
ursery. She didn’t seem to have noticed he was still there. He should let her know he was leaving, but right now, the priority was soothing their son back to sleep.

  When he made it into the adjoining room, he found her lying against the many soft pillows arranged like a Turkish lounge in a corner. Nour lay sprawled over her stomach and chest, a tiny fist clenched around a lock of her hair that had fallen across her shoulder.

  The soft jersey jumper she’d worn had slipped down one arm and bared the creamy golden skin of her collarbone. Seemed to him the bones weren’t so obvious anymore—pregnancy must have made her put on some weight. It suited her.

  She looked up when he came in, though nothing in her demeanour indicated any reaction. He should remember this while he still had the hots for her, she clearly didn’t anymore.

  When he took a few steps in and reached the lounge area as if an invisible magnet behind her had been pulling him all along, she gave him a soft nod. He took it as an invitation to sit down on the cushions by her side.

  Watching her gently running her hand over Nour’s back, it struck him how unruffled she appeared.

  “It broke my heart to see him crying like this,” he ventured.

  She nodded. “You, unfortunately, get used to it. All the same, it still fells you every single time.”

  “You’ve dealt with a lot of that before?”

  “Not teething, but for the first three months, he would have the most awful colic every evening around six, and the only thing that worked was holding him like this.”

  So she’d had practice. He hadn’t, as he hadn’t been here.

  Oksana’s pointed words also made themselves known, and he squirmed. Now was as good a time as any to have a heart-to-heart talk with Rio. There hadn’t been a quiet moment for just the two of them lately.

  Zediah took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Rio.”

  She simply cocked an eyebrow.

  “For everything,” he added. When she still didn’t answer, he knew he should give more. “I meant what I told you the other day. I was going to come back.”

  “Then your father had a heart attack.”

  He gulped. “Yes. Because of me.”

  “He’s better now?”

  Her solicitude surprised him. Not because he hadn’t expected empathy from her, but she was still thinking about someone else’s wellbeing when she had also paid a price here.

  “Yes,” he bit out.

  “Are you an only child?”

  “Why would you think so?”

  “Well, if he took your news this badly, it must mean he had been worried about losing you.”

  A mirthless chuckle escaped him. Not even close to the truth.

  Rio was watching him with a puzzled look on her face.

  He shook his head. “I’ve got three sisters and three brothers, one of whom is my twin.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re identical?”

  At this, he laughed. “Thank goodness, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, let’s just say he’s had a stick up his arse since we were kids.”

  She laughed, too. “Your father’s the traditional type.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Because a heart attack is also what would happen to my mother if I told her I was moving to another country.” She then stayed silent for long seconds. “They rubbed it in, didn’t they? That it was all your fault?”

  Zediah’s throat seized up. He’d never expected anyone to understand what he had gone through in the past year and a half. Yet here was this gorgeous, amazing, wonderful woman who had figured it out without him needing to say a thing. Wordlessly, he nodded.

  Her silence seemed to mean she’d acquiesced. A part of him still roiled and churned with the unfairness of it all, for her.

  “I should have come back,” he said softly.

  A soft snore tore through the air. Their gazes went to the baby, who had finally fallen into a deep sleep.

  When Zediah looked back up, the depths of hurt and suffering in Rio’s eyes made him want to weep. It was like seeing her beautiful irises as dull and muddied as they’d been when he’d seen her at Tempo again all those years ago. And this time, he was the one who’d put all the pain there … when he’d promised he would never hurt her.

  “What can I do to make it right?” he asked, a hitch in his voice.

  She gave him a sad smile. Her silence seemed to say it was a tad too late for that.

  “Please,” he begged.

  She tore her gaze away, and her throat worked as she swallowed hard. When she turned to him again, resignation had tightened her features and made her look older, tired.

  “It’s not just me, Switz.”

  The use of his nickname squeezed the vice in his chest.

  “I managed to turn my life around. Others weren’t so lucky.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “See? You didn’t even realize, did you?” A long sigh poured out of her. “Remember Jalil?”

  He did. Now. Bile rose in his throat at the reckoning. “What happened to him?”

  She shrugged. “Back on the estate, failed his A-levels. Probably embroiled in some gang or the other there.”

  Her voice hardened with every word. Each successive one drove a blow deep into his gut as if he were being sucker-punched.

  Jalil had been a regular at Tempo back when he had produced the music for the foundation gala. The lad had had talent up to his armpits, and Zediah had known he would be the next big thing in a couple of years.

  He’d encouraged the kid to pursue his love of music and DJ-ing. Rio had been the sensible voice in the background, advising Jalil to finish his schooling since he’d had the brains for it and then pursue his heart’s desire.

  Right before he was to leave for LA, Jalil had become something of an unofficial protégé. He’d even planned to bring the youngster over to California once everything was settled and get him started.

  Then things had gone haywire. He’d imagined the voice of reason would’ve prevailed, and Jalil would’ve finished school and then probably gone on to university as he was that bright.

  “I can right this,” he told her softly.

  It was his fault, and he owed the kid now.

  Just like he owed her and Nour.

  “Can you?”

  Her softly voiced question drove daggers into his soul when it made him contemplate what he could achieve.

  “I’ll stay and make it all right this time.”

  The words had torn out of him without a second thought. That’s what he had to do. Let his father disown him. Rio didn’t need his money or his status, and what he could offer Jalil was entirely his own, with no ties to the crown of Bagumi. His penance could also be to provide such opportunities to other kids who might need them, too.

  Yes, it’s what he would do.

  “What if your father gets sick again?”

  “It won’t be my fault.”

  And he suddenly reckoned it hadn’t been his fault the first time, either. Parents weren’t supposed to bring children into the world and force them to their own ideals of life and expectations.

  Looking at Nour, he knew that wasn’t how it worked. While it would hurt his ego if his son turned his back on music or anything artistic when he grew up, he would give Nour the freedom to be his own person. Whether he was straight, gay, non-binary, or horror of all horrors, gifted for military strategy, he would respect it.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she concurred in a soft tone.

  She understood. Riona ‘Rio’ Mittal was the only person in the world who ‘got’ him.

  How had he let her go?

  Better yet, how should he beg and grovel for a place in her life again, in her heart?

  Did he even have a chance? The memory of her slipping into the car earlier blazed inside his head. The bloke’s hand on the small of her back, even if it had been over her plush coat. The bright smiles on the
ir faces as they’d greeted each other.

  To imagine the other guy touching her, holding her, feeling her warm and supple body in his arms and against him like in the tango they had shared the other day. He didn’t even allow the thought into his mind as it would burn him to ashes.

  Zediah took the hardest gulp of his life before asking the question plaguing him. “So, you and the man you went out with tonight.”

  “Humphrey.”

  Even his name sounded staid and bland. “He’s the same one from Tempo, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re together?” It had taken all his willpower to push the last word out.

  Her inhale was audible. “Pretty much.”

  “I don’t see a ring.”

  That did make him sound like an arse, but he didn’t care anymore.

  “It’s not official yet.”

  Those words sank his battleship along with all his fleet in the game. He’d lost her. Again.

  Another soft snore from the baby tore through the quiet hanging between them, and it felt like his cue to get up and get lost. What else did he have waiting for him anymore except being the best father possible to Nour?

  “I— I’m happy for you,” he bit out before turning and heading for the door. On the threshold, he paused. “I’ll make it right, Rio. I promise.”

  To her credit, she didn’t say anything. She must know better than anyone how far and deep he had fucked up.

  He found his shoes, then his coat near the door, and waited outside in the blistering cold for an Uber to pick him up and take him back to St James. Through the trip, his decision during the conversation with Rio anchored to his mind like a beacon.

  He now knew what he had to do. Even if it didn’t make him win Rio back, it didn’t matter. It was a question of principle, of being true to the man he was inside and not to the persona of the prince he phoned in on most days.

  His watch read just past four a.m. when he entered Nick’s house. It would be around five-thirty in Barakat. Bilkiss would be up. A devout Muslim, she never missed her prayers, much more the first one of the day. Propping himself on the edge of the bed in the guest bedroom he occupied, he dialled her number for a video call. What he had to say to her would be better face to face, and the next best thing to in-person was this.