Nothing Lasts Forever (The Montebellos Book 4)

by Clare Connelly

  “When would you like to visit the facility, your highness?”

  “As soon as it can be arranged.”

  Less than a week later, Chloe’s private jet flew over Bern, the beautiful winding river glistening like a snake sunning itself beneath her. The old buildings stood like an Alpine postcard, and Chloe leaned closer to the window, her breath held, as the plane flew lower and lower, the plane touching down early enough in the morning that the air was still crisp, the sun still fresh.

  Instead of the stately limousines that were used in Ras el Kida, a fleet of three armoured Range Rovers was waiting on the runway. She stepped into the middle car, accompanied only by Aysha.

  “How far are we from the hospital?” Chloe murmured, as though her pulse wasn’t racing, as though the answer was neither here nor there.

  “Only twenty minutes.”

  “Excellent.” She pressed her head back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. Aysha wouldn’t have started a conversation in any event, but Chloe wanted to make it clear that she’d prefer not to speak. Her mind was too distracted. She was miles away.

  The outskirts of Bern passed her by, all beautiful low buildings with lemon yellow walls and terracotta red rooves, windows that forced their way out like little children reaching for bubbles. She barely saw, though. Buildings gave way to trees, in city-parks, and finally, the car drew to a stop at a grand, old building near the river.

  The door to the limousine opened and Chloe stepped from the car, her eyes taking in the façade of the hospital, her stomach shifting with the rolling kaleidoscope of butterflies that had taken up residence within.

  Several men and two women stood at the top of the steps, and as Chloe’s eyes moved towards the group, one gentleman stood further forward. He wore a suit, and had dark, gleaming hair with a grey streak brushing back from his brow.

  “Your Highness,” he bowed low and then took two steps closer.

  “Doctor Schultz,” she smiled. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  “Of course, we are honoured by your interest in our facility.”

  “Your facility has achieved a lot in a short space of time.”

  His smile was wry. “It does not feel like a short space of time to me.” He gestured towards the hospital. “I have been the director for over ten years and only recently have we found strategies that have proved successful in raising our profile and therefore fundraising initiatives.”

  “I’d love to hear more about that.”

  He nodded, moving back towards the hospital.

  “May I introduce you to our heads of department?”

  “Of course.” She waited, feigning polite interest when impatience was making her mind sag. She made polite conversation with each member of the team, listening and committing details to memory so she could engage with the staff throughout the tour.

  It took almost two hours to see the facility, and Doctor Schultz was generous with his information as they went. Between Chloe’s staff and the heads of department, Chloe felt as though they had an entourage of one hundred, when it was really only perhaps twenty or thirty people walking in their wake.

  And with such attention and company, it took Chloe the full two hours before she could lean close enough to Doctor Schultz on the guise of examining a wall-chart, and murmur, “Is it possible to speak privately with you, sir?”

  His eyes jerked to hers, showing surprise, but his nod was almost instant.

  “And now,” he said, turning to address the assembled group. “I would like to show Her Highness some information in my office. As you all know, there is no space in there for more than two.”

  The hospital staff tittered with laughter, and Doctor Schultz joined in. Chloe liked him. Some of her anxiety ebbed away as she realised she had the good fortune of having happily fixed upon someone who was kind and nice to be her light in the dark.

  The various heads of the hospital departments said their farewells, moving back to their duties, leaving only Chloe’s staff.

  “My office is in this direction,” Doctor Schultz said, nodding down the corridor.

  They began to move towards it, and Chloe worried over how she would manage to get rid of her own staff, but Doctor Schultz answered that question.

  “I was not exaggerating about the size, or lack thereof, to my office,” he said with a grimace. “And I would like to discuss some confidential donor strategies with Her Highness. If she has no objection, I wonder if you’d excuse us?”

  “I have no objection,” Chloe was quick to interject. “I’m grateful you’re willing to be so generous with your time.” She met Aysha’s eyes, her expression regal and firm. “Thank you.”

  It was obvious that Aysha disagreed, but she didn’t – couldn’t – do so publicly. “We will be just here.”

  “Very well.”

  Chloe preceded Doctor Schultz into his office and lifted her brows at the smallness of the space. There was room for a desk, a small armchair and two seats.

  “The third floor is being renovated; my office is a little bigger, though not much.” He gestured towards the seat opposite his desk. “Please.”

  “Thank you.” She settled herself into it, looking every bit the Princess of an important country, save for the obvious concern that lined her eyes.

  “You wished to speak with me?”

  She nodded. “You know who I am,” she said and then laughed, a brittle, desperate sound. “Obviously you do. But I mean, you know who my husband is, and his father? You know his father is ill?”

  “I didn’t. I’m sorry to hear it.”

  Chloe sighed. “You and me both.”

  Doctor Schultz’s expression shifted. “I’m not sure of His Highness’s illness, but you know we are a pediatric hospital? Our specialty is on obstetrics and pediatrics. I cannot say I, or my staff, would have the gerontology experience your father-in-law might require.”

  “No, no,” she shook her head. “It’s cancer, anyway.” Chloe drew in a deep, steady breath. “My point is that my husband and I would like – need – to have a baby.” She was grateful then that she wasn’t prone to blushing. “I needn’t tell you how confidential this conversation is,” she said softly. “If it became public that we haven’t been able to conceive, it would be very dangerous for the country’s stability.”

  “I see,” the Doctor said sympathetically. For this was now within his realm of experience, and he knew what to say and how to act to reassure a young woman who was struggling with the visage of potential infertility. “You say you haven’t been able to conceive. How long have you been trying?”

  “Six months,” she said. “And I know that’s too soon to worry, and I’m sure everything will be fine, but if it’s not, it’s something I would need to know sooner rather than later.”

  “I see.”

  Chloe doubted he saw anything to do with the perilous state of her sham marriage, and the ramifications for Chloe if no child was produced but she nodded anyway.

  “There are some reasonably simple tests we can do.”

  “I thought there would be,” she interrupted. “But what’s not simple is how to make sure no one outside this room ever finds out.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re asking me to hide the fact you’re a patient?”

  “Yes. The tests will need to be put under a different name. My staff cannot know; my husband doesn’t even know I’m speaking to you.”

  “To get a full understanding of the situation, it would be better to examine you together.”

  “If my tests show that I’m fine, I’ll speak to him about it,” she lied, knowing that while Amit’s identity was hardly a secret, it was ostensibly something the palace denied. Raffa could have children. He’d had a child. It was Chloe that was the problem, she was sure of it. “I don’t want to worry him yet. Please.”

  “Very well, your highness.”

  “I’m your patient; perhaps you could call me Chloe.”

  He nodded. “If you’d
prefer. I can make an appointment for you tomorrow –,”

  “No. It has to be today.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I have official engagements to attend to and to stay longer risks arousing suspicion.”

  He expelled a sigh. “Well,” he looked around his office. “I’m not equipped to screen you here. But if you can think of a way to dispatch your staff, there’s an examination suite two doors down.”

  Chloe pulled a face. “That’s easier said than done.” She stood. “But I’ll manage.”

  She pulled the door inwards and addressed Aysha. “Doctor Schultz has one more thing he’d like to show me – a piece of equipment that was purchased with the latest round of fundraising. But it’s proprietary technology and I’ve had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Only I may see it.”

  Aysha’s look was one of obvious disapproval. “Your highness,” she spoke in lowered tones and her natural tongue, to exclude Doctor Schultz. “It’s most improper for you to be alone with this man. It’s not safe.”

  “I trust him,” Chloe said. “And it won’t take long.”

  Her voice was ice-cold, and as firm as steel. “Please wait here.” She nodded at Doctor Schultz and once he’d stepped out of his office, she walked beside him. It was, as he’d said, only a few doors to the examination room. Bright white with a bed, curtain, computers, and all the peripherals a hospital might need.

  “Hop up,” he said, closing the door and locking it for good measure. He pulled the curtain closed so there was an added layer of privacy.

  His examination lasted only ten minutes, and then he drew blood from Chloe’s arm, writing his own names on the vials.

  “When will you have the results?”

  His eyes held hers. “Some of them within a day, but nothing concrete for at least a week. I’m very thorough, your highness, and test for many factors that might be affecting your ability to conceive.”

  Chloe’s heart dropped. “Do you think I have a problem?”

  His eyes were sympathetic. “It’s impossible to say with the information you’ve provided. I understand why you’re concerned and I think you’re wise to be investigating at this stage. Particularly given the political importance of your pregnancy.”

  Chloe felt ill. Just speaking her fears aloud made them so much more real, so much more likely to be true. “Please let me know as soon as you have anything.” She reached into her handbag and removed a small, gold card. Her name was written in looping calligraphy and on the back was her private phone number.

  “Don’t speak to anyone but me, and if you call and a servant answers, please leave a message that you wanted to pass on additional donor information.”

  “Of course,” he nodded, and she believed him. She trusted him. She just hoped he would be the bearer of very good news when he called.

  Aysha was not happy with Chloe; that much as obvious. But for once, Chloe reveled in the fact she was royalty, that she need not care what her servant thought, even though she liked Aysha very much. Chloe was doing the best possible thing for her husband, her country and her marriage.

  As the plane took off from Bern a short time later, Chloe stared out of the window, looking at the tiny houses below, the proud river sparkling through the city, the verdant parklands that merged with the city so artistically. Thousands of people were down below, living their lives, each of them with their own worries, their own joys. How many women around the world, living and past, had felt what she was? How many had grappled with this worry, had been plagued by doubts, only to be rewarded with a new little life growing in their belly?

  And if she wasn’t one of them?

  Chloe turned away from the view, focusing her gaze on her hands, clasped neatly in her lap. Her wedding ring sparkled at her, and she swallowed.

  If she couldn’t have children?

  He had an heir. She reminded herself of this forcefully. Amit was a perfect candidate. They needn’t have a baby after all. She’d simply help Raffa see that they could legitimize Amit. Surely once people saw them as a family, once Amit was brought onto the public stage, shown to be a King in the making, the public would embrace him?

  And Chloe?

  Where did that leave her?

  A redundancy, that’s where. Why would Raffa need her? Oh, he wouldn’t divorce her. She’d known, when she’d married him, that come what may, this was for keeps. And she’d been happy with that – happy to pick up the reins of this new life and make of it whatever she could.

  She’d been happy to forsake love and sex and true happiness for the freedom and privilege, the independence, that came of marrying the Sheikh of Ras el Kida.

  Only now she’d tasted life as his wife and she couldn’t imagine things going back to how they were. She couldn’t imagine being simply Her Highness, living in the city, living as a princess with all of the trappings and none of the responsibility.

  To be alive without knowing the pleasure of his body possessing hers. To be alive without knowing the pleasure of holding a sweet baby of their making in her arms…

  She gasped audibly and turned back to the window. They were flying through clouds now; thick, fluffy clouds that made the plane pitch a little, though she barely noticed.

  Her eyes swept shut and she pushed all thoughts of the future resolutely from her mind. She would carry on as before – she would presume everything was normal until – if and when – she was told otherwise.

  “You’re distracted.”

  Raffa stared at the desert with a scowl on his handsome face, his shoulders broad, his spine tensed. His eyes ran over the landscape that was ever-changing, shaped by the winds of time to resemble something different yet inherently familiar.

  Kalim shifted beside him; Raffa didn’t respond.

  “No.” Kalim frowned. “You’re… upset.”

  “Upset?” At his, Raffa’s thick, dark brows shot upwards. “When have you ever known me to be upset?”

  It was true, yet Kalim wasn’t convinced. “How is your father?” He probed gently.

  “Surprisingly well. He seems to have rallied.” He shifted his gaze to his friend’s face for a moment. “Doctors say it’s not uncommon, towards the end. When patients accept their illness, accept what’s coming.”

  Kalim nodded. “And your wife?” He knew he’d hit closer to the mark when Raffa grimaced and jerked his gaze away.

  His wife? Could she be called that? She was a woman he slept with – that was all. He’d made sure of that. He’d pushed her away months earlier, and with good reason. The way he’d been after the ball, after seeing her having a conversation with Goran? He’d been like a savage animal. He’d never known himself to experience such a monumental loss of control. He’d terrified himself that night.

  The feelings that had coursed through him unchecked, the way he’d wanted to use his innocent wife’s sensual needs against her? To make her pledge herself to him when this marriage was nothing more than a convenient match for both?

  How dared he use her in that way? How dared he treat her like a possession of his?

  It hadn’t been the first time, either. That first night, hadn’t he wanted to force her to confront this? To admit the strength of need that ran through her was as fever-pitched as his own?

  I hate you for doing this to me. Her angry cry filled his mind now and he grimaced at the force of it. Jerk. She’d called him that. She’d told him she hated him. And she’d begged him not to stop.

  “Raf?” Kalim lifted a hand and placed it on his friend’s shoulder.

  “She’s fine.” The words were released from tightly clenched teeth. Was she fine?

  She was amorous. He could arouse her to a state of passion in bed; he could drive her wild. But beyond that? He didn’t know.

  I hate you for doing this to me.

  Each month that passed without a pregnancy forming was something he was ashamed to admit he was grateful for. Because it gifted him another month. Another month to take her in his arms, to shamelessly seek her body.
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  What would happen when she conceived? When he no longer had an excuse to go to her bed?

  His stomach lurched with the visage of that new reality. He had gone into this marriage bargain with every intention of conceiving a child with his bride, and now?

  He didn’t want to give this up. He didn’t want to share her.

  “You’re unhappy.”

  “No.” Raffa expelled an angry sigh. He was… what? Frustrated? Discontent? Uncertain?

  None of these emotions were familiar to a man who was always in control of his life. He’d convinced her of the need for a baby. He’d used her attachment to his father to practically blackmail her into a sexual relationship with him. Did she even want a baby? It was too late to be asking himself that question, but it had to be asked. What if she said no? What if she was glad they hadn’t conceived, but for entirely different reasons?

  What if she really did hate him?

  What if she hated their marriage?

  She’d have every right.

  He let out a groan. “Where is my wife?” He looked at his friend and a torrent of emotions rolled through his dark eyes.

  “I don’t know.” Kalim frowned. “What is it, Raf? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost?”

  He hadn’t. It was worse than that. Raffa was finally seeing the truth.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE FLIGHT FROM Bern was bumpy and Chloe felt nauseous as the plane glided back into Rad el Kida. It was the kind of nausea that had her reaching for a travel sickness bag, only it abated as soon as they touched down, so any hope that it might have been something more significant was fleeting.

  She was quiet as the limousine pulled her through the small settlements that lined the airport, then the old city with its ancient, low-set buildings and familiar aroma of spice and heat. Before long, the road gave way to desert, and then, the palace loomed, a stronghold, a mythical centre of ancient lore, the home to the royal family of Ras el Kida, in one form or another, for as long as the country’s memory stretched.