by Maisey Yates
“No. I can’t believe that.”
“Why? Because if you did then you would have no reason to do what you’re told?”
“Because I would have nothing!” she exploded, her hands trembling, her stomach pitching. “You are the most horrible, horrible man. Stay here and pound the skin off your hands. I don’t give a damn.”
He advanced on her then, reaching around her waist and tugging her hard up against his body. He lowered his head, his nose nearly touching hers. “No, you couldn’t. Because if you believed me...there would be nothing to hold you back, and then you might have to do something out of the box, something that takes you beyond your safe little world.”
He dipped his head and took her mouth, hard and swift, his lips nearly bruising hers.
When he pulled away, she simply stared at him. She wouldn’t back down. She wouldn’t look away. “I have been kidnapped, then bought, dragged through this godforsaken desert back to your godforsaken castle. I have been held here against my will. I have overseen your personal hygiene and attempted to teach you to waltz. You have no right to call my world little. You have no right to imply that I am not brave. No right to imply that your words could crumble my life. I’m stronger than that. I’m better than that.”
She tugged herself free from his grasp and spun on her heel, turning to walk out of the room.
“A big speech, habibti. And yet, you are still doing everything you’re supposed to be doing. You are so well-trained.”
She gritted her teeth and kept walking, trying to ignore the echo of truth in the words that settled in her bones.
CHAPTER TEN
THEY SPENT THE next several days avoiding each other. Zafar knew she was avoiding him because every so often he would be walking down a corridor and he could hear footsteps, or see a brief flash of gold as she disappeared quickly back around a corner.
It was his own fault. He had failed thoroughly in the assignment of acting civilized. Kissing her, yelling at her and then kissing her again.
But she made him feel that way. Wild, reckless and a bit unpredictable. He didn’t like any of it.
But the event was tonight. His debut, for lack of a better word, and he wasn’t feeling confident. Put him on the back of the horse, in the middle of the desert. Let him fight with his bare hands, to the death, any man who dared threaten his people, and he had no fear.
A ballroom and cocktail shrimp were another matter entirely.
And thanks to that article in the paper, everyone here was watching. Waiting to see if he was a madman. Or a man at all.
He supposed he had no choice but to show them.
He rolled his shoulders forward, already bound up in his tailored suit shirt and jacket. And there were ghosts here. Everywhere. He couldn’t sleep at all or their icy fingers invaded his dreams.
He was starting to feel a little crazy, which was what he’d feared would become of him from spending so much time alone in the desert.
Ironic that it was more pronounced now that he was back here. Surrounded by an ever-growing staff, by civilization, by modern life, which should make things easier. Instead he saw shadows everywhere. Claws pulling him down into the abyss every time he closed his eyes. Forcing him to fight against sleep.
But he had no time to deal with it. And no interest in taking pills. They would only drag him under further. God knew if he would ever come back out of something like that.
He laughed, the sound flat and bitter in the empty corridor. He was grim today. Or perhaps he was every day.
Damn, but he was coming apart. He craved space and dry air. Not these obsidian walls that felt more like a tomb than a castle.
And then he saw her, out the window, in the courtyard, her hair like a golden flame, and he could breathe again.
He walked through the hall to the doors as quickly as possible, his heart pounding hard. He needed air. He needed to see her.
“Ana,” he said, striding out into the heat. She turned, the sun catching the side of her face, illuminating clear blue eyes, and he could swear his heart started over. As though every day since he was born it had been going, steadily, enduring the beatings life had thrown his way. Now suddenly, it was back at one. New. Untarnished.
The feeling only lasted a moment. Still, the exhilaration of it lingered.
“Ana,” he said again. “If you could stop being angry with me for a moment, I would appreciate it. I have a big event for myself personally and my country tonight, and I have no time for you to persist in your tantrum.”
Her eyes widened. “In my tantrum? I know you didn’t just say that.”
“I did,” he said. “And I meant it. The fate of a nation is at stake. I doubt a snit is worth the fate of a nation.”
“A snit? You undermined my entire belief system and told me I was stupid and imprisoned by my notion of love.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid.”
“Only that my worldview was.”
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Oh no? Why are you here?”
“Because this damned thing starts in a little over three hours, I have additional staff infesting my castle and I have to put in an appearance that is both polished and civil and I thought you might...be available to speak to me for a moment.”
“About?”
“Tell me that I can do this,” he said. He hated displaying this level of weakness. This level of need. That he had to use her as an anchor for his sanity. To remind him he was a man, and that somewhere in his past he had been a man who understood these types of things. A man who could walk into a room full of people and command it, command them.
He didn’t know why he thought he could get all of that from her. Except he wasn’t getting it from the palace. The palace was splintering him, his mind, his thoughts. And the nights were getting so bad.
She somehow made it all seem better. She made it all seem clear. Her grace and poise made him feel like he could absorb some of it himself. Like it existed in the world and all he had to do was reach out and take it.
When he was left to himself, to his own devices, he couldn’t find it.
“You need a pep talk?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You sort of did.”
“So, what if I do?”
“I didn’t think you needed anyone. Fierce sand pirate that you are.”
He frowned. “Are you joking?”
“Yes. Humor. I’ve even made time for it in my unexciting life. You should try it sometime.”
“I’ve never had much time for joking. I’ve been too busy...”
“Surviving. Making amends. Wreaking havoc on your horrible uncle’s men. I know. But now you’re here. And you’re going to have to play the part of suave, capable ruler. Check in your pockets for loose charisma if you need to.”
He felt a laugh rise in his throat, escape his lips. “This is why I needed to see you,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you make things feel...not as heavy. You make my chest feel lighter. Breathing is a bit easier.”
“You’ve been having trouble breathing?” she asked, the look in her eyes intensely sad.
“It’s this place.”
“Can you tell me? Everything?”
“I wouldn’t,” he said.
“Why?”
“I would hate to make your chest heavy, too.”
Ana blinked, her eyes stinging. And she couldn’t blame it on the sun. Something in her felt like it was being twisted, tied up in knots. Like he was holding on to vital pieces of her and manipulating them somehow.
She swallowed, then nodded. “I know. It’s okay. I’m just glad I made you able to breathe. Zafar, you can do this.”
“And
you can’t be there.”
“I know.”
“But I will remember this.”
“Our conversation?”
“How it made me feel.”
She took a deep breath. “Why are you being so nice to me? A few days ago you kissed me and then you freaked out at me and...and I don’t get where we stand.”
“Something about being near you...your civilization tactics have worked, clearly, and I feel more connected with that, with the more polished side of myself when I’m with you,” he said, his voice rough, dark eyes compelling. “And beyond that...I want you. But there is nothing that can be done about that. I can do nothing to compromise the relations Al Sabah has with Shakar. And I can offer you nothing but an isolated life here in this glorified graveyard. I would never ask it of you. Which means the only thing that can come from my wanting you is sex. And that isn’t sufficient, either.”
“I know,” she said. But it didn’t stop her from feeling the same way. From wanting him. Even while she was still mad at him for the crap that he’d pulled the other day.
But the truth was, he was right. She’d been thinking about it, and nothing else, ever since their confrontation in the gym. And he was right.
She was afraid. Afraid of losing her father’s love. His approval. And she did so much to make sure she never did. To make herself important to him so that he couldn’t just leave her, too. To be quiet, to be good so that at the very least, if she wasn’t important, she wasn’t in the way.
And the reason things had felt so different since she’d come to Al Sabah was simple. There were no shackles here. There was no one looking at her with disapproval or expectation. She had to make her own decisions to survive, to keep sane, and there was no one to guide those decisions.
It made her see things a little bit differently. It made her see herself differently.
It made her see herself. Not as other people saw her, but just through her own eyes. And it was different than she’d imagined. She looked at herself and saw the Stepford Daughter. Someone who was doing just as she was told so that she wouldn’t make waves.
Someone who was earning favor with good deeds. And she wasn’t even certain her father had ever asked for those things from her. But she’d been so afraid. After her mother left she’d wondered what she’d done to make it happen. Had been consumed with ensuring she never had to endure another abandonment like that.
And it had all made sense. Doing right kept things together, doing wrong, like her mother, made it fall apart.
She hadn’t even realized how much of that reasoning was borne of fear. The fear that saying no to one of her father’s requests would make him leave her. That she would be left with no one.
It made her think of Tariq. It made her question her feelings for him. Made her wonder if she was just agreeing to marry him, if she only thought she loved him, because it was the course that would make the least waves.
Because what she felt for Zafar was like nothing else ever. And no, she was sure she didn’t love Tariq. Under the circumstances, that was impossible. But shouldn’t a bit of the lust and need spill over to a future spouse? Shouldn’t some of the heat and flame she felt for Zafar be there for the man she loved? Instead, all she felt for Tariq was a drive to cement their union. Almost like he was the finish line of her good deeds.
The thought made her feel...it made her feel frightened. And more uncertain than she’d ever felt in her life.
Like a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon. But her wings felt wrinkled and wet, and she just wanted to climb back inside and curl up. Go back to sleep. Back to feeling like security was all she needed, rather than feeling curiosity about the size of the world. About how high she could fly.
Except now it was too late to stuff herself back in the cocoon. But she wasn’t ready for more yet, either.
“You’ll do fine tonight, Zafar,” she said. “And I really hope people realize how lucky they are to have you. I hope they feel everything you’ve given for them.”
“What if they only remember what I took?”
And she realized she didn’t have an answer for him. She was just a scared girl who had no idea what she was doing with her life, no idea what she wanted. And she was trying to tell a man who had witnessed unspeakable tragedy, who had lived his life in exile, who now had to rule a country, what to do. Trying to offer reassurance in a situation that very few people on the entire planet would ever have to face. If there was even anyone else dealing with it.
Zafar was alone. In his duty. And she couldn’t walk with him. Couldn’t hold his hand. Couldn’t lead him in the waltz or remind him to smile.
She ached to do those things. To be there to help him. Not because it was the right thing, but because for some reason she wanted to stand beside this man while he tried to fix the broken things in his country.
“Just...” She cleared her throat. “Just make sure you use the right fork. All sins can be forgiven in light of good table manners.”
“Then it is a good thing I had an excellent teacher.”
* * *
If the palace empty made Zafar feel like he was enclosed in a crypt, full of people it felt like a crowded crypt, and that was even worse.
Leaders from around the world were in attendance. And some of Al Sabah’s wealthiest citizens.
Tariq was not in attendance thanks to the damaged relationship between Al Sabah and Shakar. But in truth, Zafar wasn’t in any way sad about it. If Ana’s fiancé were present, he would feel obligated to send her back with him and damn appearances.
But he wasn’t. Which meant Zafar could keep her, if only for a little while longer. Just until he had a chance to think of a solution.
Yes, because you’ve been working on that so diligently since you brought her here.
In truth, he knew he had not. Because he liked having her around. And if the sins of his past didn’t prove what a bastard he was, then surely that did.
He affected a false smile and directed it at the very lovely ambassador from Sweden, who was currently giving him a winning smile of her own, trying to entice him to come and talk to her, he was certain.
She was lovely. Pale, with the same kind of Nordic beauty that Ana possessed. And yet, on her it was a bit too stark, unwelcoming. Looking at Ana was like stepping into winter. Crisp and clear and bright.
The ambassador started to move toward him, and he started looking for exits. Everyone wanted to talk to him. For hours now, he had been making conversation. Likely more conversation than he’d ever made in his life, and it had all occurred on one night.
He looked around the glittering ballroom, scanning the surrounding for an excuse to sidestep the woman making her way to him. He looked up, into the shadowy balconies that were set into the wall of the ballroom, and he saw a flash of red that sent his pulse into overdrive.
Ana wouldn’t show up, would she? She had no reason to. She had every reason to hate him, considering the way he’d treated her a few days earlier. So then, perhaps that would be incentive for her to come, to see him make a fool of himself in front of dignitaries and kings.
He looked harder into the shadows, but didn’t see any more movement. No more red.
He started moving toward the back door of the room, not caring how it looked. Not caring that he was surely ignoring people who wanted his attention. He was a sheikh now, after all, and it would stand to reason that he would have important business to do.
A brief flash of memory filtered through his mind.
When you see her...across the crowded ballroom...and you make your way to her...you have something better to do than talk about the weather.
It certainly wasn’t the weather on his mind. He looked around him, took a sharp breath and continued on.
No one needed to know he was chasing after a woman. No one needed to kno
w that he was following his weakness yet again.
There would be hell to pay for this, later. In nightmares. In physical pain, probably meted out in the gym. But right at the moment it seemed worth it. It seemed necessary.
He walked through the double doors and into the corridor, passing the security he hired for the event without making eye contact, as he went to the curved staircase that led up to the recessed balconies.
He put his hand on the railing, his fingers sliding over smooth, white stone as he made his way upstairs. He listened as intently as he could, keeping his footsteps silent. Wondering if he might hear the whisper of her gown’s fabric. Hear her breathe.
He heard footsteps, and then, a soft, warm body collided with his with a muffled “Mmph.”
He reflexively grabbed the person by the arms and held them out, steady, so he could get a look. “Ana,” he said.
“Guilty.”
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he said.
“I know, but I had to make sure you were doing okay.”
“And what did you observe?”
She lifted her chin. “You’re the best looking man in the room.”
“That, my dear, could be construed as non-bland conversation.”
“I know. I don’t...I don’t think I care.”
“Ana, you don’t know what you’re inviting.”
“I probably do. I think...Zafar...I’ve been thinking. But I don’t want to talk just now.” And then she was leaning into him, soft lips pressing against his. His body was on fire in an instant, all caution, all common sense gone as her tongue traced the seam of his mouth gently.
He opened to her, and let her explore, let her take.
Because he was powerless to do anything else.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he whispered.
“No,” she said.
Ana had to admit it, because it was the truth. She didn’t know what she was doing. She’d never kissed a man quite so passionately. She’d never wanted a man with quite so much ferocity.
