by Ella Brooke
Realizing her mistake, Olivia ran her hands down his torso and rubbed her palm against his length. “I trust you to make me feel good, Rami. Would you do that for me now?”
His golden eyes were bright again, sparkling with lust and mirth. He kissed her lips and bit her lower one, always teasing her. Always being there for her, for what she wanted. He smiled and nuzzled her neck, that low rumble coming through his throat:
“Then I’m going to make you feel so good.”
The electricity was arcing through her again, like having touched a live wire. He lifted her then, and instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself from falling. Rami carried her effortlessly to the wall of the sitting room. The suite came with its own baby grand piano and they ended up standing beside it. Correction. Rami was standing, and he had her back pressed firmly up against the wall behind her. She heard the quick zip of his trousers, and it registered vaguely to her that they didn’t have protection. Of course, they were married now, as unconventional an arrangement as it was, and she knew she was clean. The odds that one time would lead to complications were small. Besides, if he left her now, she’d die of need, probably combust right there.
Rami was kissing her again, his lips trailing over her collarbone and then down to the hint of her breasts peeking up from the fabric of her dress. His roaming hands grazed up her thighs and then stopped short at the apex. Her pearl was throbbing between her legs, pulsing in time with the rhythm of her heart.
Her sheikh leaned into her ear and flicked his tongue against her earlobe. She shivered at the onslaught of his talented appendage. “I love hearing you scream, Red. I’m going to make it feel so good. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Rami, please…”
His member was there then, teasing her entrance, the silky skin so like velvet against her most intimate lips. She moaned and bucked against him, urging him in deeper with every motion of her hips. Finally, her sheikh was done with his teasing, and he eased the tip of his length inside of her. She hissed as his warm girth probed into her, slipping in deeper and deeper until she felt filled with all of Rami. Felt complete. She arched her back, pressing her hips against his, and then her sheikh started his ministrations in earnest, his hips bucking and rising to meet her own. His flesh melded into one with hers, his soul touching hers, intermingling.
The pace between them began to crescendo, fast and fervent, and she felt her orgasm rising through her bones, through her muscles, through every atom. The electricity was spiking and when he came first, shooting his seed deep inside of her, Olivia felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck her, as if a million volts were surging through every cell of her body. She threw her head back and screamed, and then let her neck fall limp, her forehead coming to rest against Rami’s shoulder.
His breath devolved into heavy panting in her ears, and then Rami moved to kiss her lips. It was as if he’d run a marathon and maybe they both had, the way things had played out.
“Was that satisfactory, my sweet?”
She opened heavy lidded eyes and stared back at him, even as she tried to summon strength back into her bones and make her body less limp. “I think I enjoyed it.”
“You think?”
She curled her lips back at him in a riotous grin and then kissed his forehead, a move that was long and lingering. “I know. Thank you, Rami. It was amazing.”
“That’s more like it, Red. Now let’s get sleep. I think we’ve both earned it.”
Chapter Eleven
Three Months Later
“You look so different,” Celeste said, and Olivia could hear the censure in her friend’s voice.
Of course, it wasn’t as if her friend was wrong. The camera didn’t lie, and Skype mixed with her computer’s lens was able to reveal a lot. Palace life over the last few months had made her soft, and she’d added at least ten pounds to her already curvy frame. She also somehow felt flushed all the time, although she attributed part of that as a side effect of moving to such a warm climate, one she wasn’t used to. One that seemed to make her glow with a thin sheen of sweat at all times.
Olivia sighed and tried to keep the smile planted on her face. She knew she had let herself go a bit, locked behind the walls of Yomarani’s most ancient castle, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She also seemed to be low on energy lately, and the idea of taking more than a quick walk around the rose garden was too much for her to bear.
“I’m just tired.”
“Is he poisoning you, luv?” she asked, her tone clipped.
“No. Look, I know that Rami just let me have Skype back and that I’ve been unable to contact my family and to leave. I’m not happy about that.”
“You sound like you’re sympathizing with your captor.” Celeste’s icy blue eyes narrowed in concern. “I’ve been working hard to get you out, and you know that I’m still talking with your embassy. Don’t give up on coming home. I will get you home to your family.”
She eyed the guards behind her. Off in the corridor, Gaila was also hovering around. None of those declarations should get back to her husband. Besides, the days at the palace besides her illness or odd physical feelings were lovely. She spent her days strolling through the rose garden and working on sketches and designs of her own imagination. With Monsieur Labelle taking up every day of her life, all day, she hadn’t had the chance to devote time to her art and to her work. Then at night, she and Rami made passionate love, and maybe part of it was the surreal nature of her setting. Maybe some of the Stockholm syndrome had rubbed off on her. It didn’t matter. These Arabian nights were some of the best of her life, and if she were a bit haggard because of the climate, then so be it.
She didn’t want to have word getting back to him that she was thinking of leaving. Truly she wasn’t. It was more like Olivia was waiting for Rami to loosen the reins a bit, to let her contact her family as well or maybe travel back home to Tennessee one day.
For now, though, she didn’t want to ruin the affair growing between her and her sheikh. Since that first night in Dubai, they’d been exceedingly careful, never making love without appropriate protection. There was no way she was ready for a child, and he was so busy planning strategies against the rebels in the north.
“You still look very wan, darling, and I’m not going to rest till you’re sprung. You saved me, and you saved my career. I am not leaving you to some barbarian in Yomarani.”
“Rami isn’t like that. In fact…” she had to stop then.
The threat of nausea was bubbling up in her throat. Rushing off camera, she ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Olivia retched until she felt her throat burn. Then she leaned against the cool porcelain of the toilet, trying to get her head to stop spinning. In the background, she heard Celeste’s frantic shouts.
“Olivia, luv? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help you? Please, you have to let me know if everything is okay. You just ran off. Am I right about the poisoning?”
She grabbed a towel and rubbed at the corners of her mouth. Getting uneasily to her feet, she leaned over the toilet and flushed it and then put a fresh cloth against her neck. Slowly, Olivia walked back to her desk. Gaila was already there, sweeping up under her arm and helping Olivia navigate her way to her computer.
Celeste’s eyes were wide as she regarded Olivia through the screen. “You look piqued. I’m serious, is something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Gaila frowned back at her. “Are you sure? You have been looking flushed lately.”
“Yes, like a glow and…oh my God!” Celeste shrieked on the other end.
“Your God what?” Olivia asked, her head spinning and her heart racing.
“You’re pregnant. I should have known. No wonder you look so tired and worn down.”
Olivia shook her head. “There’s no way. We’ve been so very careful and…oh no!”
Gaila quirked her head at her, as did Celeste. The older woman spoke with a calm, slow cadence
, a contrast to Celeste’s overreactions. “What, my sheikha? What’s wrong?”
She looked between the screen and her handmaid. “In Dubai…there was one night where we were so tired, and it was just the one time. I didn’t think it would matter, and we’ve been so careful since.”
“But you know what they say, pigeon,” Celeste corrected. “One time is all it takes. Maybe that’s what’s happening.”
Gaila eyed her and bowed her head; idly, Olivia wondered if this type of talk made the other woman feel embarrassed or unsure of herself. “Mistress Olivia, if you need a test, then I can procure one for you.”
“This is insane. I haven’t…I can’t…” Olivia sputtered, but now that she thought about it, she realized that she had missed her period. She’d chocked it up to her stress and the change in climate, but now that she really recalled all of it, Olivia realized that she hadn’t menstruated since she’d come to Yomarani. “Oh no!”
Her head spun and she set her face in her hands. “I can’t be pregnant.”
“Luv, you don’t know it yet, but you do need to find out,” Celeste cooed. “Please, don’t panic, but you do need to entertain the possibility.”
Gaila nodded. “I’ll go get a test right now. You just rest.”
“Will you tell Rami what I’m doing?” The words were out of her mouth fast. Still, as close as she had grown to Gaila, as much as she saw the other woman as a mother figure or an older sister, she was still loyal to the sheikh. After all, she’d known Rami his whole life and Olivia only a few months. “Please, I need to figure out what to do.”
Gaila’s face fell, but she nodded. “I know you need time to process whatever is to come. I won’t let anyone know, not before you have the test finished, my sheikha. This I vow.” The older woman squeezed her forearm. “You’ll be okay. I’ll return soon.” With that, she hurried out the door.
Olivia slouched lower in her chair, a low groan escaping her throat. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t have to raise a child with your captor, Olivia. I am going to figure this out. There’s no way I’m going to let my best mate and her baby be trapped behind palace walls. I’ll never allow that,” she finished.
Olivia wasn’t sure what she feared more---her possible pregnancy or her friend’s fervor and machinations.
***
“You’re so very quiet this afternoon. Is everything alright?” Rami frowned back at his bride. She seemed distracted. During their morning walk in the garden, she’d stumbled more than once. Now that they were eating fresh dates and lamb stew, her attention appeared to be elsewhere. She hadn’t said much of anything---a rarity for her---and she was staring off into space. Rami hadn’t seen her this upset since the day Celeste Holmes had been sent away. “My love, can you hear me?”
Her head snapped up quickly and while she did offer him a broad smile, her eyes stayed distant and downcast. Rami knew when someone was putting on appearances. It was always about the eyes. If Olivia wasn’t smiling her usual bright smile and her emerald eyes weren’t lighting up with mirth and amusement, then something was wrong.
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“How do you like the goat?”
“It’s fine.”
“Then that’s great because we’re having lamb, and this is usually your favorite and you definitely know the difference by now. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, stirring her soup half-heartedly with her spoon and keeping her eyes low again. “I just…it’s nothing.”
Alarmed, Rami set his spoon down and eyed her more carefully. “No, it’s definitely something.” Standing up, he walked over to her and, kneeling, set his hands on her shoulders. She smelled of Yomarani now, of the jasmine and exotic oils that Gaila bathed her in, but there was still that hint of vanilla body scrub underneath and that sweet scent that was all her own. It was home now, and he hoped to Allah that Olivia felt that way about him. Stroking her left cheek, Rami added. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“It’s just silly things,” she said, her voice a husk of its usual brightness. “I...have you ever thought about children?”
His frown deepened as he furrowed his brows back at her. He’d thought of children fondly once, but then he’d lost Etana and his daughter in one intensely devastating night, a night that had torn his very heart and soul out until he’d found a spark of love and affection again with Olivia. With his Red. But he hadn’t allowed himself to think of children again, to dwell on it, not when his hopes had been so thoroughly dashed. He feared that if he ever tried that Allah would snatch that from him all over again.
As if the universe were aligned against him.
“Yes, but it’s been a while.”
“Do you want them?”
“Are you pregnant?”
She stiffened. “Not as far as I know, but it occurred to me that as ruler of Yomarani, you do owe it to your people and to your family line to have children someday. I don’t know if I have a choice in that.”
His heart stopped in his throat, but Rami kept stroking her cheek. “Of course you do, and I wouldn’t ask that this soon. Yes, one day the Zaman line must continue. Why are you asking this now?”
“It’s just that everything is so wonderful here, like a fairy tale. I’ve allowed myself to think about this as a vacation or as a fictional escape, like I’m some princess swept away, but I have a life back home. At least I did. You have responsibilities to your people, and I don’t know how I fit into that.”
He squeezed her shoulder with one hand and kissed her forehead.
“I don’t think I’d be a very good mother.”
“Why would you say that?”
She shook her head. “Because one day I still want to set the fashion world on fire. Because I love having you all to myself, and I’m a bit selfish that way. Maybe because my mom and dad divorced when I was three, and the only paternal figures in my life have been Mom’s string of lame boyfriends, and those were the guys she squeezed in while working cases late into the night during her lawyer days. I don’t think I know anything about raising the right family and, as nice as this is, maybe this isn’t for me.”
Rami tried not to let the fury roil through his gut. After all, he’d bent and altered rules to bring her here, manipulated what Waheed had set up. She was his, but a part of her still wasn’t, and he wanted that more than anything. Insisting that it be so or making decrees wouldn’t help him. He knew that now. He knew how stubborn his Red could be and how difficult it would be to force her into anything.
Besides, he didn’t want that, never truly had. He was captivated by Olivia, and he wanted her---all of her---to be his by virtue of her own free will.
“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe for a moment that anyone as full of life, as passionate, would ever make anything less than an ideal and caring mother.”
She sighed and pushed her chair away from the table. Reluctantly, Rami let her. Olivia stood and dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin one last time. “I wish we both believed that.”
Before he could argue the point, Olivia was gone.
***
Two blue lines.
Dear God and oh shit, what am I going to do now?
Two blue lines, so simple, yet there haunting and mocking her from the plastic applicator on the sink. She was pregnant. That one time had been the charm or the curse, depending on your perspective, and now Olivia was with child. Except the one thing she’d never wanted to do was have a child. She didn’t trust herself to be a mother. It wasn’t that she had terrible parents. There were no Jerry Springer stories in her childhood, but her parents were both lawyers, both workaholics. It was inevitable they’d get divorced. They probably tried, but they barely had time for each other, let alone their daughter. Working too much wasn’t too bad. After all, Olivia was a workaholic too. At least she had been while slaving over those long hours for Monsieur Labelle. One day, however crazy all of this wa
s, she wanted to have her own chance in the fashion spotlight. There was no way she could do that with a child and, worse, there was no way she could be the right kind of mom, not the kind a kid deserved or Rami would want. Not when she had nothing but daycare and babysitters while her parents worked seventy-hour weeks.
I don’t know how to do this. I’d be just like my mom…
She just wasn’t ready, and Olivia wasn’t sure that she’d ever be ready. She leaned over the toilet and wretched again, the bile rising up in her throat. Eventually, Olivia stood up on shaking feet. Leaning down, she pulled out a cloth and then let the damp rag dab at her temples. Whatever happened from here on out, she had to figure it out. She had to be strong, even if now she was more trapped in the palace than she could have ever imagined.
There was a small cough from the bathroom’s doorway, and she turned to see Gaila standing there, her face schooled to a neutral expression. The older woman glanced at the test and then nodded. “I see now.”
“You’re going to tell him.”
“Sheikh Zaman has suffered many tragedies in his life, and we’ve talked about this.”
“No, you’ve been oblique about it.”
“Some things are never going to be my place to say. I know he’s a good man, and he’d be an amazing father, if you let him, but I also can see how scared you are. To start a family…it must be a fully willing and accepting choice. You can’t make that kind of choice in this palace. I’ll understand if you need distance.”
“What? But you’ve known Rami his whole life.”
“And I know that he needs a wife and mother for his children who truly wants it. I suspect if you give it a chance, you’ll find the greatest happiness from this arrangement, but it needs to be your choice to make.” Gaila reached into her robes and pulled out a cell phone. “You can Skype again with your friend, and if you need the embassy to send someone, again, that’s your choice. I believe that if you let people have space and make their decisions clearly, then they make the right ones. If you’re going to be the one for Rami, I want you to come to it because you want to and not because Waheed’s strict rules forced your hand. I believe in you, but talk with Ms. Holmes as you must.”