Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Sheikh's Desert Duty\Nine Months to Redeem Him\Fonseca's Fury\The Russian's Ultimatum (15 page)

She watched his face as he became Zayn. Nothing more.

And then she was caught up in the same storm, everything ripped from her as pleasure took over, as she joined with him at the summit, caught in a storm that consumed them both.

She held him close after, listened to him breathe, felt his muscles tremble beneath her fingers.

And with every bit of confidence she had, a confidence that was now placed in herself, in who she really was, and not just in her ability to fool people into thinking she was something they wanted to see, she knew what she wanted. She knew what she needed. She knew how she felt.

“I love you.”

CHAPTER NINE

Z
AYN
STRUGGLED
TO
catch his breath, the weight of Sophie on his chest suddenly so great he couldn't breathe.

He pulled away from her, rolling out of the bed, cursing himself in every language he knew, cursing his own weakness. He had sworn not to touch her again, and now he had. And now this. A wave of shame washed over him, a sick feeling that slid through his stomach like tar, coating everything it touched.

If it were only him. If he were all that mattered, he would break his engagement. He would keep her forever. But there was Surhaadi. And Christine. And Leila.

And, most of all, Sophie. Who deserved something better. Something other than him.

“Don't do this, Sophie. Please.” He didn't know why he was pleading with her, he should have done all this bargaining with himself, he should have done it before he ever touched her, before he ever touched her for the first time. But he had given in so easily, and then he had given in again.

“Don't do what?” She sat up, her green eyes rounded.

“You know exactly what. Don't bring feelings into this. There is no place for them.”

“This is the only place for them. I told you, I've spent far too long hiding to start doing it again now.” She flung the covers away from her body, revealing her soft pale skin, skin he had just tasted, just touched. Skin he had no right to look upon, a representation of trust he had no right to.

He wished that she would hide again, because looking at her like this was like staring into the sun. Too intense, too bright, a light that was too clean and pure for him to possibly process.

“Are you really going to do this?” she asked.

“Am I going to do what?”

“Are you going to marry her? Are you really going to marry her for your country?”

“Why wouldn't I?” He pressed down hard on the wound in his chest that seemed to be flowing freely, stopped the bleeding. He shut it all down, redirected the walls that she had demolished only moments ago.

“You can't live like this. You can't live your life for everyone else.”

“Yes, I can. It's what I should do. It's what I was always meant to do, but it's what I was too cowardly to do when I was a young man. But I do it now, I am determined to continue to do it. And a couple of brief moments of insanity are hardly going to change that. When Christine arrives here, I will confess what I have done. And for every moment hereafter I will be faithful to her. I will be faithful to my country.”

“That is no reason to take a wife. It is no reason to pledge fidelity to somebody. Because you want to show faith to your country? What about love?”

“What is love?” he growled, rage rising up inside of him, and he couldn't quite figure out why. Why this was affecting him so deeply. Why did it hurt like he was being stabbed with a pike straight to the heart. “What does it matter, anyway? I've never seen it do any good. I've never seen it help a damn thing. Jasmine loved Damien. Do you suppose Leila loves James Chatsfield? Do you suppose it will do her any good?” He knew he was betraying too much, but he could not hold it back right now, could not stem the tide of anger that was pouring from him.

Dimly, he realized that he was raging against something far bigger than Sophie, that he was pouring it all out onto her petite frame, and yet he could not hold it back.

“What does love have to do with anything? What bearing does it have on the world, on the things I must concern myself with? Love cannot come into it. It is only duty.”

“What is duty without love? An obligation. It is empty.”

“It's only empty if you don't act on it. I am acting. I am doing what I must.”

“Do something for yourself.”

“Myself? I do not deserve anything. I had my years of debauchery, of serving me. It is over. And it is for the best.”

“Do you know, Zayn? I lived for that moment in my mind, when I would go up to my father and tell him the mistake he made. I directed my entire life for that moment. I stayed in New York because of that moment. Because I was going to claim what had been lost to me. I selected the school I went to for that reason. I worked hard for that reason. I took this job as a journalist for that reason. And suddenly I just...I don't care. I built my entire life around that. Around a triumphant moment in front of a man who doesn't care that I exist. I would give it all up for you. To be here, to stay here. I was going to stand before my father and ask him to choose me now that I was worthy. I'm standing in front of you and I know I'm not worthy. I'm not a princess, I can't help you. I can't help your country. But I love you. I'm not waiting until I feel like I'm worthy, I'm just asking. Because what's the point of being afraid? What's the point of trying to contort myself into something I'm not even sure I want to be? I can't be a princess, but I can love you. And that's what I'm bringing.” She spread her hands wide, totally exposed, totally open. It terrified him to see it. Because she was so unprotected, and he would be the one to take advantage of that. He would be the one to wound her. “This is all I have. But I will give it all to you.”

“I cannot accept it.” His throat was so tight, it was nearly closed. “I can make no other decision but the one that has already been made. I have promised myself to Christine, and I must keep that promise.” It was becoming harder and harder to remember why. But he knew that he must, because it served his country, because it didn't serve himself. Because it would keep eyes on him while Leila figured out what to do with her pregnancy. Those reasons. He knew all of the reasons. And he could not forget them.

She nodded slowly, tears glistening in her green eyes. “Okay.”

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulled her to him. “You are not alone. I swear to you, I will take care of you.”

* * *

Sophie looked at Zayn, her heart burning. She knew he was offering everything he could. At least, he was offering what he wasn't afraid to offer. He was clinging to the idea of duty, because duty was important, she knew that. But she knew there were other ways. And she knew that for whatever reason, he was keeping himself from seeing them.

She needed to turn away from him. She needed to leave. But it was impossible. When he was offering to care for her, when he was there, bronzed, strong and naked. Everything she had ever wanted. A fantasy she had never had before. All of him, all of this. She'd had a goal, she had a dream, but it had been so narrow. So limited. Now, suddenly, she saw all of the possibilities, all of the things that she could want, and they were still out of reach. And even though she knew this would end, even though he was promising an end, she knew she wasn't strong enough to leave now. Not while there was still some time.

So she stood, waiting for him to tell her to go. Because until he told her to go, she wasn't going to move.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her into contact with his body. “I will take care of you.” His words were intense, steady, a promise she knew he intended to keep. Another duty he was adding to his list. “No matter how far we are from each other, no matter how the years distance us, I will make sure you lack for nothing.”

For a moment she simply let his words wash over her, a balm she hadn't realized her soul had needed.

She said nothing, instead she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. She didn't want any more words to pass between them tonight. She simply wanted to be held. She simply wanted to be with him.

He picked her up, and brought her back to bed. And for the rest of the night she thought of nothing but the moment.

* * *

When Zayn woke up the next morning to an empty bed, he was certain of two things. Sophie loved him. And he desperately craved that love. He didn't know if he was equal to it. If he could return it in the way she deserved, but there was no limit to how much he wanted it.

So many years of wanting nothing for himself, and now that he did, he could think of little else.

Except for Christine.

Sophie was right. They would make each other miserable in the end because while they would both fulfill their function, they would never meet their deepest purpose.

Because when Sophie had said she loved him, he'd felt something shift deep inside him. It had changed him.

It had exposed his weaknesses. Brought them out into the light of day. Sophie didn't let him hide. She made him face the truth, face himself. And he knew he could do the same for her.

But not for Christine.

Duty without love is void.

It would be so for both of them. An empty, wasteland of duty, dry as the desert heat.

But for a moment, when Sophie had spoken those words, he had imagined a future that did not stretch out before him, dull, lifeless and bleak. An endless stretch of time that would mean so little. Married to a woman whose face he could scarcely picture. Whose voice he couldn't conjure up. Whose lips he had never tasted, whose body he didn't want. Was he truly going to have children with her? Was he going to bind her to him knowing that all she would ever be was a political means to an end?

Could he truly consign himself and Christine to a lifetime of dry, empty duty?

He had been using Christine all this time. Using her to ensure his stability, using her to ensure the stability of his family. And certainly, she was using him, too, but there had to be more. He suddenly wanted more for them both.

And he knew no matter what, he could not marry her. Not now. Regardless of what happened with Sophie, and he still didn't know what might, he couldn't promise himself to Christine now.

His heart raged as he reached for his phone. His decision was made. It was not in line with his duty. It was not the most honorable.

But it was right.

CHAPTER TEN

S
OPHIE
WENT
BACK
to her room the next morning before Zayn woke up. She had no desire to repeat the scene that they'd played out in the tent in the desert. And she figured he would be in much the same mind-set today as he'd been then. Possibly worse. Seeing as she had pronounced her love for him and he had rejected it. Well, he hadn't rejected it entirely, he hadn't sent her away, rather he had offered to take care of her. And in some ways she found that even worse.

Things that had made sense last night now seemed mostly embarrassing in the cold light of day. But then, pride wasn't the most important thing. The fact that she had tried was. Because she had to. Because it had been worth all of the potential humiliation to finally demand that somebody want her for who she was.

She heard her phone vibrating on the table and she crossed the room, catching her boss's name on the screen as she bent down to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Sophie, we haven't spoken in a while.”

Probably because she meant less than nothing to him. She was as low on the totem pole as it got, and there was no reason for him to call and check in with her when he had no interest. “I know.”

“I hope that things have been going well there. I hope that you have some good buzz about the wedding.”

“Oh, yes, great stuff about the wedding.” Just thinking about the wedding made her want to shove something sharp beneath her fingernails. “I've had a look at the menu, I've spoken to the coordinator and I even know which designer the bride is wearing. And I may be able to talk my way into getting a sneak peek of the gown. The future
sheikha
hasn't arrived yet, but when she does...”

“There's been a lot of curiosity swirling around the royal family because of this whole shindig.”

“Oh, has there?” It stood to reason, it was probably why Zayn's protective instincts were in such overdrive. Though she had a feeling he was just that way all the time.

“Oh, yeah, big-time. In fact, because of that building interest, I came into the possession of something rather interesting.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “What do you have?”

“More than a decade ago one of the princesses died in a terrible accident. It was big news at the time, but you would probably barely remember it. Anyway, the guy she was with was part of a pretty rich family. And apparently they have a recording of the last conversation the sheikh had with his sister. I mean, the alleged last conversation the sheikh had with his sister. We don't really want to invite lawsuits.”

She thought of Zayn's pain when he had spoken of Jasmine, when he had spoken of his faults in it. What if they released this tape? What if they resurrected all of that pain, all of that agony he had already gone through, and all of that soul crushing guilt he carried with him every day?

“Yes,” she said, her voice wooden, “I am familiar with that. With the tragedy, not with the invitation of lawsuits.” Her words sounded distant, as though they were being spoken by a stranger.

“It's pretty juicy stuff. Here, I'll play a little bit for you.”

She started to protest, but then she heard Zayn's voice coming through the receiver. He was shouting, a tone she had never heard him use before. Swearing, words she had never heard him use before. Telling her to go, telling her to get out of his life. Forever.

The audio recording stopped, and so did her heart. Colin, on the other hand, kept talking.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Damien Coltrane's father. Damien was the driver in the accident that killed the princess. It turns out that when his son's body was removed from the wreckage, he had a tape recorder on him. And on that was this little encounter with Al-Ahmar. Coltrane is pretty angry at the sheikh, which shouldn't be too tough to imagine. And he doesn't figure Mr. Al-Ahmar deserves his nuptials to go off without a hitch. Not after Damien's death. Which, of course, Mr. Coltrane feels our sheikh was responsible for. And as you can hear on the tape, it seems like he certainly sent the two of them out in a hurry. Anyway, I think the public is going to eat this up. It'll go nicely with your wedding piece. I'd like for you to incorporate it.”

“I don't... No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“Exactly what I said. No, I will not incorporate that into my story. It's distasteful. She died. He grieved. He is still grieving. They all are. That is his last conversation with her, and you just want to play it to create a little bit of public titillation. I don't want any part of that.”

“You don't have a choice, Sophie. You have to have a part in it or you won't have a job. Anyway, I need a story. Because it turns out one of our competitors is about to break something huge.”

“What?” Her voice was thin, crackling.

“Sheikha Leila Al-Ahmar is pregnant with a royal bastard. No one even knows who the father is. Now if I knew that, I could skip the story about the sheikh. But sadly, all I have is an old audiotape.”

Suddenly it all came together, all of the pieces. Why he was so protective of Leila, and why he had been threatening James Chatsfield with an early death in that alley weeks ago. It wasn't only that James had slept with Leila, he had gotten her pregnant. The princess was pregnant with a Chatsfield baby. And that was the scandal. The scandal that Zayn could not give her, the scandal that she needed. For Isabelle... But right now, for Zayn, most of all.

“I know who the father is.”

“You do? How?”

“I...I've gotten close with the sheikh. And I know. But it will cost you that audiotape. You don't release it. That's my price. You sell the tape to me in exchange for the name of Leila Al-Ahmar's child's father.”

“That's a steep price.” He was angry, but he was treading carefully.

“It might be. But trust me, the public will care a whole lot more about this than they will about resurrecting an old accident. This will be nothing but fascinating, you revealing a final argument between the sheikh and his sister is potentially upsetting. You could face backlash. This is relevant, and the news is all about relevance. Unless you're solving some great mystery of the past, an argument that happened sixteen years ago isn't exactly news.”

“Fine, you have it. The tape is yours. I'll put it in the mail.”

“Promise me. Promise me you won't release the tape, anyway. I'm not that naive.”

“You're naive enough to think that my promise would mean much.”

“Oh, I'm not. But I'm also not above blackmailing you.” She swallowed hard. “I know you're cheating on your wife.” She'd heard him order flowers for women with several different names, and she had a feeling most of them were not sources. Sources tended to prefer money over blossoms, as money was a little bit less temporary. “I have no problem letting your wife know about it, and I'm pretty sure she would take you for everything. Seeing as she came into the marriage with a whole lot more money than you, I'm betting that prenup is pretty airtight.” She was playing hardball, and bluffing in addition. She hated the hard edge in her voice, hated what she was having to do. But when you made deals with the devil you had to be aware of that fact. If she was going to give up this information, she had to be certain that it would protect Zayn from harm.

Because the paternity of Leila's child would be revealed. There would be no hiding it forever. Yes, she was bringing it out in the open early, but the moment the story broke James would know that he was the father. He wouldn't need a newspaper to tell him that. The big secret would be out as soon as the sun rose in New York, but she had the last piece, and with that last piece she would protect Zayn.

Because he was already broken. Because he did not need to relive those final ugly words.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sophie. I think I underestimated you. I didn't think you had the balls to make it in this business. Apparently I was wrong.”

“I don't really take that as a compliment. But then, I don't really care if you compliment me. All I care about is the tape.”

“Yours. We have a deal. Now, you tell me the name of the Al-Ahmar princess's baby daddy.”

“All right, the father of Leila Al-Ahmar's baby is James Chatsfield.”

Colin swore. “Now that was worth the price.”

“I told you it was. I'm done talking to you now. Make sure I have the tape.” She hung up the phone and then turned, freezing when her eyes locked with a very angry dark gaze of Zayn Al-Ahmar.

Her phone slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor, the screen shattering, sending glass in every direction.

He took a step toward her, the glass crunching beneath his shoe. “What have you done?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, to defend herself. And suddenly, as clear as anything, she knew she couldn't. Because it was better that he thought this. If not, she would continue to be a duty to him, one that lasted into his marriage. And she really would become her mother. A woman who lingered in the background, who shaped her entire life after a man she could never have.

And on the heels of that, she realized she already had been her mother for her whole life. She had judged her mother, thought her pathetic, for staying in one place waiting for her father to come back. Sophie had done exactly the same thing, for the same man. She had simply decided to go to him instead.

But she was done with all of that. She had to ask for better for herself. She had to ask for better for Zayn.

This was part of protecting him. Removing herself from his life completely, so that neither of them would ever be tempted. So that neither of them would linger, ghosts in each other's lives, never able to touch each other, never able to speak to each other. Never able to do anything but ache.

No, this was for the best. It was better to end it now. Better to end it forever.

“That was my boss. I told him who the father of Leila's baby is.”

The words ripped through her like a bullet, tearing her insides apart. Twisting them, tearing them, so that nothing could ever be put back like it was.

It was what she needed to do. And she hated it. She had to lie to him, to save them both.

His expression contorted. “How did you know?”

She tried to look neutral, even while her entire world fell down around her. While her body screamed in pain. “I pay attention.”

“Why would you do this? Because I didn't cast aside my fiancée and offer to make you a queen? Is that why? Are you punishing me because I would not make you royalty?” He growled. “And after—you vengeful shrew.”

She thrust her chin upward, trying to hold back tears, trying to look defiant. “No, that's not it. It's much, much simpler than that,” she said, her voice breaking. “A scandal. You promised me a scandal. And you did not deliver.”

“The hell I didn't,” he growled, advancing on her. “I told you everything.”

“But it wasn't the scandal I wanted. I told you, I needed to find out what happened with James Chatsfield. I needed a scandal about the Chatsfields. Well, I found it. And it isn't personal. But I had to do this for Isabelle. I told you, from the beginning.”

He turned away from her. “You did.”

Her chest broke apart, a flood of pain roaring through her. “Zayn...”

He held up a hand. “Do not speak to me. The only purpose of keeping you here was to prevent that secret from getting out. And it is now too late. I want you out. I do not want to see you again. I will send a servant to help you collect your things, I will send a car for you and I will arrange for your flights back to New York. We will have no need to speak after this.”

And with that, he strode from the room, leaving her more alone than she had ever thought possible.

She dropped to her knees, desperately sweeping the glass from her phone screen up with her hands, not quite sure what she thought she would accomplish. There was no fixing it. There was no fixing any of this. It was broken. Broken into too many pieces to ever be reassembled. To ever be healed.

She picked up the phone, stared at the hollow place where it had been lit up, stared at everything she had broken. She hurled it across the room, and broke the rest of it. She leaned forward, her forehead touching the ground, a sob escaping her lips followed by a wrenching cry.

Finally she had wanted everything. Finally she had asked for everything.

And just as she had always feared, it was out of reach to her. Because Zayn could not choose her, Zayn could never choose her.

The bastard child of a rich man who had never wanted her would hardly ever grow up to be a princess.

She had been right all along. Fairy tales simply weren't for girls like her.

And they never would be.

But Isabelle would be protected. In the end, she had accomplished what she had set out to do. She had brought scandal onto the Chatsfields. She had brought her friend salvation.

And in the process, she had lost her heart.