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Hafiz’s eyes closed wearily for a brief moment. “For the last time, the sultan chooses the next in line for the throne. My father chose my brother. And, no, I don’t have any freedom in this matter, even though I will never rule. In my case, I have less.”
She didn’t want to hear that. Thick emotions already clogged her aching throat. “You should never have agreed to marry this woman,” she said as her voice wobbled.
He turned his attention back to her. “I gave my consent,” he said gently. “I can’t take it back.”
What about the promises he made to her? The ones he made first. The ones about how they would be together. Didn’t those promises matter? Didn’t she matter?
“Why did you agree in the first place?” She held the plastic bag to her chest. She would rather hold on to something solid and strong like Hafiz until the emotional storm passed, which would still leave her feeling battered and stinging with pain, but he would prevent her from breaking. “You should have refused.”
“I couldn’t this time.” Hafiz winced the moment he revealed too much. He pressed his lips into a straight line.
Lacey stared at him with open suspicion. “This time?” she echoed. “How long have you been looking for a wife?”
“Could we not discuss this here?” he bit out tersely. “Let’s go back to the apartment.” He guided her to the elevator, keeping a firm hand on her arm as she still weaved from the unpleasant shock. He pressed the call button, and she watched as if her life depended on it, but her brain couldn’t register the simple, everyday action.
“Marry,” she repeated and shook her head. “I don’t believe this. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am telling you.” He kept his eyes on the descending lighted floor numbers.
“Now. After everything is settled.” She couldn’t be bothered to hide the accusation in her voice.
He spared a glance at her. “Not quite, but it is official as of this morning. I wanted to tell you before you found out from another source.”
That explained the missing newspapers. “How considerate.” She felt his start of surprise from her bitter sarcasm, but she didn’t care. Hafiz was getting married. To someone else. The knowledge stabbed at her heart. It was a wonder she didn’t break from the piercing force. “When is the wedding taking place?”
“After Eid.” His answer was almost swallowed by the clank and thump of the arriving elevator.
Eid. That holiday came after the month of Ramadan, if she recalled correctly. She remembered something being mentioned in the paper about that coming soon. “Three months?” she made a guess.
He held the sliding metal doors open for her. “More or less.”
Lacey walked into the elevator compartment, her head spinning. Three months. She only had three months with Hafiz.
What was she thinking? She had no more time left. Oh, God. She wasn’t strong enough to handle this. She was going to shatter from the pain. Hafiz was an engaged man. Off-limits. And she never had any warning.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry as she instinctively pressed the burgeoning wails and sobs into silence until they were ready to burst from her skin. “You should have told me you were looking for a wife.”
“I wasn’t. I have no interest in getting married. I held it off for as long as possible.”
Lacey reeled back in shock. Hafiz had no interest in marriage? At all? Not even to her? If that was the case, then what had the past six months been about?
“My parents were looking for a wife for me,” he clarified sternly.
“But you knew they were,” she argued. “You knew this was going to happen.”
Hafiz said nothing and pressed the top floor button several times as the elevator doors slowly shut.
Winning that point of the argument was a hollow victory. “How long have they been looking?” A part of her wanted to know, the other part wanted to deny that any of this was happening.
He stood silently, his jaw tightly clenched. A muscle twitched in his cheek. Lacey thought for a moment he didn’t hear her and was about to repeat the question when he finally answered. “A couple of years.”
“A...couple of years?” She couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. Lacey folded her arms across her chest. “From the time that you knew me, from the very first time you propositioned me, you were also on the marriage market? And not once did you find the chance to tell me?”
Why would he? Lacey thought bitterly. He hadn’t considered her to be in the running. She was just a bit of fun on the side. A temporary distraction. Oh, she was a fool.
“Marriage negotiations are delicate and complex,” he explained as impatience roughened his words. “It could have taken even longer to find a suitable match.”
Suitable. She sneered at the term. It was a code word for the right bloodline and the right upbringing from the right family. Not a blue-eyed American who was also an unemployed nightclub musician.
Oh, and suitable meant someone who was pure and virginal. She mustn’t forget that.
The injustice of it all flared to new heights. “Not once did you tell me, and yet I dropped my entire life to be with you.” Her voice raised another octave. “I moved to the far-off corners of the earth, to this hell—”
“The Sultanate of Rudaynah is not hell.” His low growl was similar to that of a wild cat ready to pounce.
“—And exist solely for you and your pleasure! And you don’t have the decency to tell me that you’re getting married?” Her eyes narrowed into a withering glare.
He gestured with his hands. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” She thought now was as good a time as any to rant. She was ready to punctuate her tantrum by throwing her shopping bag at his sinfully gorgeous face. “Calm down! No, I will not calm down. The man I love, the man I sacrificed everything for is throwing it all away right back into my face,” she hissed, her cheeks hot with fury. “Believe me, this is not a time to calm down.”
Hafiz was suddenly in front of her. He made a grab for her, but she raised her hands, warding him off. Lacey fought the urge to burrow her head into his shoulder and weep.
“I am not throwing you away, damn it. How could I?” he asked as his bronze eyes silently pleaded for understanding. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Lacey looked away and tilted her head against the corner. She needed something to lean against anyway as her knees were incapable of supporting her. A buzzing filled her head. She took short, even breaths of the stifling air and blinked back the dark spots.
As the elevator made its slow, rocky ascent, Lacey realized that Hafiz must be equally unnerved by the turn of the events. He had cursed. Another first for the day. Hafiz never, ever cursed. But then, he always controlled the situation and his environment with the same iron will he used over his temper.
Over himself, really. The man never drank alcohol or gambled. He did not live in excess. His sculpted muscles were that of an athlete in training. He barely slept, too busy working to improve the living conditions of Rudaynah. When he wasn’t fulfilling his royal and patriotic duties, he met every family obligation. Even marry his parent’s choice.
The only time he went wild, the only time he allowed his control to slip, was when they were in bed. Lacey winced, and the first scalding teardrop fell.
Tears streamed out of her eyes and burned jagged lines down her hot cheeks. Why had she thought Hafiz was considering a future with her? Not once did he mention the possibility of happily-ever-after. Never did the word “marriage” ever cross his lips.
But the dream had been harbored deep in her heart, secretly growing. It had been incredibly naïve and wrong to think all she had to do was be patient. She thought that if she came here and slowly entered the culture, she would eventually stand publicly by Hafiz’s side as his wife.
Only that dream died the moment Hafiz pledged himself to another. She gasped as the words plunged into her heart. The surrounding blackness she had been fighting back swiftly invaded her mind.
Pledged to another...
The buzzing grew louder and almost masked Hafiz’s shout of alarm.
* * *
“Lacey!” Hafiz caught her as she slid down the wall. He plucked off her scarf, and her head lolled to one side. He supported her head with his shoulder and noted that her unnaturally pale face was sticky with sweat. He patted her clammy cheek with his hand. “Lacey,” he repeated, trying to rouse her.
Her eyelashes fluttered. “So hot.”
He gathered her in his arms. The ill-fitting black gown bunched around her slender figure. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised, holding her tighter. And he would, he vowed to himself, until his last breath. No matter what she thought, he would never cast her aside.
The elevator finally stopped on the penthouse floor. He searched her features, vaguely aware how her curly long hair hung defiantly like a copper flag and her bare legs dangled from the crook of his elbow, exposing her ivory skin for the world to see. If they were caught in this compromising embrace, so be it. Lacey’s safety and comfort were always top priority, but now it was more essential than his next heartbeat, Hafiz decided as he stepped out of the elevator and onto the open-air hallway to the apartment.
The sun was setting. Dark reds and rich purples washed the sky as evening prayers were sung from a nearby loudspeaker. Hafiz kept his eyes out for any potential trouble, but he saw no one strolling the grounds or outside the condominiums across the courtyard. But from the domestic sounds emitting from the neighbors’ homes on the other floors, the situation could change in an instant.
Carrying Lacey to her front door at a brisk pace, Hafiz noted he wasn’t even breathing hard from lifting her. She weighed barely anything. He glanced down at her face and the fragility struck him like a fist.
Not for the first time did he wonder if moving Lacey to Rudaynah had been the best decision for her. Life in hiding had taken its toll. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Or did he not want to see it?
Lacey stirred as if she was acutely aware of his perusal. “I’m fine,” she murmured and tentatively ran her tongue over her parched lips.
“No, you’re not.” He leaned heavily against the doorbell and waited at the iron grille door until the American servant wearing a loose T-shirt and cargo pants came to the door.
“Your Highness! What happened?” Glenn asked as he unlocked the door bolts with economical movements. His craggy face showed no alarm, but his watchful eyes were alert. His body, lean from many years of military training, vibrated with readiness to act on the first command from his employer.
“It’s all right. She fainted from the heat.” Hafiz kicked off his sandals at the door and moved past the older man. “I’ll get her into the shower. Have your wife prepare something very cold and sweet for her to drink.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.” Glenn raked his hand over his bristly gray hair. “She said—”
“It’s all right,” he repeated, calling over his shoulder as he made way to the master bedroom. “Lacey has always had a problem following directions.”
“I’m not dead, you know,” Lacey said with her eyes closed. “I can hear every word.”
“Good, because I do not want you venturing outside again without Glenn,” Hafiz said as he stepped into the large room where he spent many hours exploring Lacey’s body and revealing the darkest recesses of his heart. This time the sumptuous silks and oversized pillows didn’t stir his hot blood. He wanted to tuck Lacey between the colorful sheets and not let her out of bed until she regained her vibrancy. “He is your bodyguard and—”
“He is to play the role of my next of kin if any questions are asked because single women are not allowed to travel alone in this country,” Lacey ended in a monotone. She let out a slow, stuttering sigh that seemed to originate from somewhere deep inside her. “I know.”
“Then, don’t let it happen again.” He pushed the bathroom door open with his bare foot. Slapping the light switch outside the door with the palm of his hand, he entered the windowless room now flooding with light.
“It won’t.”
The determination in her voice made him hesitate. He cautiously watched her face as he set her down gently, sliding her feminine curves along his length. For once her expression showed nothing. Her eyes veiled her feelings. Usually her eyes would darken with righteous indignation, glow with rapturous delight and twinkle with every emotion in between. The sudden change in her behavior troubled him.
He wanted to hold her close until he could read her thoughts, but Lacey had other ideas as she moved away from him. “Can you stand on your own?” he asked.
“Yes.” She took another step back and shucked off her cloth boots. The movements lacked her usual energy.
He kept one hand outstretched in case he had to catch her as he started the shower full blast. Hafiz turned his attention on Lacey and quickly divested her of her black caftan.
“Lacey!” His startled hoarse cry echoed in the small room. The sight of her barely-there peach lingerie was a shocking contrast against the conservative cloth. Hafiz’s body reacted immediately. The heavy black material dropped from his fists and flopped on the wet floor.
“What?” She inspected her arms and legs. “What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat, wishing he could also clear the sharp arousal tightening his body. “You’re supposed to wear several layers of clothes under the caftan.” He unhooked the front closure of her bra, his knuckles grazing her breast. He saw the tremor in his hands. He was acting like a callow youth.
“Are you kidding?” She skimmed the high-cut panties down her legs and kicked them aside. “I would boil alive.”
His gaze traveled as the peach satin landed on the black fabric. The searing image branded in his mind. The way he would look at women in the shapeless caftan was forever changed. He swallowed roughly as he controlled his baser instinct. “What if you had gotten caught?”
“No one would have found out. You are the only person who has shown enough nerve to get that close.” She arched her eyebrow in disapproval.
And he was going to keep it that way. “Here, get under the water.” He pulled her to the showerhead.
“Oh! Ow!” Lacey squealed in dismay as the icy cold spray hit her body. She jumped back and rubbed her hands over her arms. “This is so cold.”
“You’ll get used to it in just a minute,” he replied as he always did to her comments on the lack of heated water. The familiarity calmed him while her beaded nipples made his brain sluggish.
“You can leave now,” she said through chattering teeth. She looked away from him and tested the temperature by dipping her foot in the cold water.
He leaned against the door and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want you passing out in the shower.”
“I won’t. Now go before your royal gown gets soaked.” She shooed him away with her hands.
She had a point. The bathroom, already hot as a sauna, was in the traditional Rudaynahi design, with the exception of a European commode. The concrete floor had a drain and was also to be used as the shower floor. Since there was no plastic curtain or glass shower door, the water was already spraying every inch of the bathroom.
“If you’re sure,” Hafiz said and flashed a wicked smile. “But I can just as easily take it off.”
She glared back at him. “I’m sure.”
His smile turned wry at her ungracious rejection. He shouldn’t have made the offer. He knew that but went for it anyway. “I’ll be outside,” Hafiz said. Lacey didn’t respond as she stuck her head fully under the spray.
He stepped out of the bathroom and almost collided with the housekeeper who carried a small tray into the bedroom. The tall frosty glass of juice rattled against a plate of figs and dates.
“How is she doing?” Annette asked as she set the tray on the bedside table. “Do we need to call a doctor?”
“No, she’s not sick.” The uncertain look of the older woman irritated him. If he truly felt Lacey needed medical care, he would call the American doctor who’d already discovered that cashing in favors from a prince was worth more than any currency in a country that relied heavily on the bartering system.
The physician was brilliant and up to date on medicine. Hafiz had seen that firsthand when Lacey arrived in the country and had drunk water that had not been purified. That week had been torture, and Hafiz was insistent that she was given the best care, no matter what. Hafiz would never place secrecy above Lacey’s well-being, and it stung to have someone silently questioning his priorities.
“She’s overheated,” he explained, keeping the defensiveness out of his voice. “The shower is already doing wonders.”
“We threw away the newspapers like you requested, but we never thought Lacey would leave to get one.” The woman twisted the pleat of her yellow sundress with nervous hands and slid a worried glance at the closed bathroom door.
“It’s no one’s fault,” he said. No one’s but his own. He should have prepared Lacey for the possibility of his wedding, but he’d held on to the hope that his intended bride would have declined the offer. “Please, find something light for her to wear.”
“Of course.” The housekeeper gratefully accepted the task and opened the doors to the armoire, revealing gossamer-thin cotton in every color of the rainbow.
Hafiz walked into the simply appointed drawing room and tried to recapture the peace he always felt whenever he stepped into this home. Decorated with an eclectic mix of wood tables carved in the severe Rudaynahi style and chunky upholstered sofas from the Western world, Lacey had managed to add her upbeat personality with tribal throw rugs and colorful paintings from local artisans.
The apartment was more than a home. It was a haven. It was the only place he felt both passion and peace. The only place in the world he experienced unconditional love.
Hafiz walked slowly to the grand piano that sat in the middle of the room and under the carefully positioned spotlight. It had been incredibly difficult shipping the instrument into the country. Flying in a piano tuner every couple of months was no easy feat, but seeing Lacey’s joy and listening to her soulful music made it all worthwhile.
He fingered the sheet music scattered on the polished black wood. The woman had the talent to become a successful recording artist. Hafiz had told her enough times, but she always shook her head in disagreement. Music was a big part of her, but she didn’t want to be consumed with the ladder of success like her parents, who were still striving for their big break. She didn’t have the desire.
But she stored up all her passion for him. Did that make him feel less guilty in whisking her to his country? The edges of the sheet music crinkled under his fingertips. Because she had no interest in pursuing a career? Because she didn’t have family ties?
Hafiz pondered the question as he walked to the doors leading to the balcony that overlooked the Persian Gulf. He admitted that it made it easier to ask her to drop everything and follow him. To stay in the apartment and wait for him. Not once had she complained or shown resentment until today.
And she had every right. He had risked everything for more time with Lacey. The relationship they had was forbidden. And now, as of today, it was impossible.
Only Hafiz didn’t allow that word in his vocabulary, and he wasn’t willing to let the idea invade his life with Lacey.
“What are you still doing here?” Lacey asked at the doorway on the other side of the long room.
Hafiz turned around. Lacey’s wet hair was slicked back into a copper waterfall. She had changed into a pink cotton caftan that clung to her damp skin. Gold threads were woven into the fabric and sparkled like stars.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, silently watching the housekeeper duck into the kitchen.
“Much. You’re free to go.” She walked toward the front door.
“Lacey, we need to talk.”
“No kidding, but I don’t want to right now.” She gripped the thick door handle. “You have had years to think about this. I have had less than an hour.”
“Lacey—” He crossed the room and stood in front of her, prepared to take the brunt of her anger and soak up her tears.
“I want you to go.” She flung open the door.
Hafiz’s shoulders flexed with tension. Every instinct told him to stay, but he knew what she said made sense. It was strange to have her as the calm one and he filled with impetuous emotions. He didn’t like the role reversal.
Hafiz agreed with a sharp nod. “I will be here tomorrow after work.” He leaned down to brush her cheek with a gentle kiss.
She turned her head abruptly. “Don’t.” Her eyes focused on the hallway outside the iron grille.
His heart stopped. Lacey had never rejected his touch. “What are you saying?” he asked in a low voice as his lungs shriveled, unable to take in the next breath.
The muscles in her throat jerked. “You shouldn’t touch me.” The words were a mere whisper. “The moment you became engaged, the moment you chose another woman, we no longer exist.”
Hafiz grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t mean that,” he said, staring at her intensely. As if he could change her mind through his sheer willpower.
“Yes, I do.”
He swallowed down the rising fear. “Obviously, you are still suffering from your collapse.” The tip of his thumb caressed the angry line of her bottom lip.
Lacey yanked away from his touch. “I’m thinking quite clearly. You made your choice.” She took a step back behind the door, shielding herself from him. “And this is mine.”
“You are going to regret those words. You can’t send me away.” He stepped toward her, ready to prove it.
Lacey’s glare was so cold it could have frozen the desert air seeping into the apartment. “Do you want me to cause a scene in front of this complex to get you to leave?”
Her threat surprised Hafiz. That wasn’t like her. She knew his weak spots but had always protected him. Now she was so angry, she was becoming a dangerous woman.
Would she try to hurt him because he was getting married? No, not Lacey. She was loyal to him...but when she thought she didn’t have any competition. How could he convince her that this marriage was in name only?
He decided to change his strategy. “I will return,” he said, shoving his feet into his sandals. The expensive leather threatened to snap under his angry motions. “And you will be here waiting for me.”
Defiance flared in her blue eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do. You have no right.”
“You still belong to me, Lacey,” he announced as he left. “Nothing and no one will change that.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE WHITE ROBES slapped angrily against Hafiz’s legs as he stormed into his office. He would rather be anywhere else but here. Although the palace’s murky shadows descending on the spartan rooms were good companions to his dark mood this evening.
“Your Highness.” His private secretary clumsily hung up the phone. The withered old man bowed low, his fragile bones creaking. “His Majesty wishes to speak to you.”
Hafiz set his jaw as dread seeped inside him. The day couldn’t get any worse. The sultan didn’t command appointments from his eldest offspring unless there was or would be an unpleasant event.
“When did he make this request?”
“Ten minutes ago, Your Highness,” the elderly man answered, his focus on the threadbare Persian rug. “I called your cell phone and left several messages.”
Of course. He had turned off his phone so he wouldn’t bend to the overwhelming need to call Lacey. His show of confidence that she would follow his orders was going to cost him in more ways than one. Hafiz wanted to roar with frustration, but he needed to stay calm and focused for the sultan.
Hafiz turned and checked his appearance in the gilt-edged mirror. He didn’t see anything Sultan Yusuf would find offensive, but the ruler didn’t need to hunt long for something to disapprove about his son. Unable to delay the inevitable, Hafiz set his shoulders back and strode to the palace offices.