Patience was not a virtue. Not in Zaid's opinion. He equated it with inactivity, unforgivable impassivity and sloth. A useless, fruitless endeavor in which he had neither the time nor desire to indulge. Which made Harper's continued reluctance to let her guard down around him – and her persistent refusal of his help – all the more grating.
Unsurprisingly, she had spent the past two weeks avoiding him. Ever since the night they had dined together. Ever since he had left her at the stone arch entry of her chambers. A memory that diverted all of his blood flow away from his brain, to other, more interesting places.
He wanted her. So badly he could scarcely think of anything else. A hunger he knew she reciprocated, but was reluctant to indulge. He had seen it in her eyes, insatiable lust coupled with insurmountable fear.
But his frustrations with Harper had little to do with sex. He didn't need her for that. Sex was easy, meaningless and uncomplicated. All of the things Harper was not.
He consulted with his watch again, then took the stairs to her suite and let himself in. A now all-too-familiar scent stopped him dead before he had even made it past the living area. A scent he now recognized as her perfume.
Memories swarmed him, reminded him of how good she felt in his arms, how her head fit so nicely against his neck, her hair soft against his chin. He shook it off, focusing instead on the task at hand as he carried himself into her bedroom.
Harper let out a small, surprised gasp when she saw him. "You're not big on privacy, are you?" She tightened a robe around herself. Zaid's gaze lingered, taking in the shape of her figure, the swell of her breasts. "You can't just keep barging in uninvited."
He diverted his gaze north, at the annoyed expression stretched across her face, and matched it with one of his own. "Since when does a man need an invitation into his own home?"
"We made an agreement."
"We made several agreements, rohi. You will need to be more specific."
"My apartment is off limits."
"You were supposed to meet me downstairs half an hour ago," Zaid said. "When you didn't show, I came to find you."
"Well, you've found me. Here I am. So you're free to go...I don't know...take over the world, or whatever it is you do."
"The world will have to wait. You are the only appointment on my agenda this afternoon."
Harper ran a comb through her still damp hair. "I'm flattered. Or would be, if it were anything besides a press conference. Which I shouldn't even have to attend, seeing as how I'm not allowed to say anything."
"The purpose of this press conference is to address our engagement," Zaid said. "Which makes your presence mandatory."
"Then as your fiancée, I'll be ready when I'm ready."
"I don't like being late."
"Do you like being punched in the throat?"
She disappeared into the walk-in closet and began getting dressed.
"You are trying my patience," Zaid called to her.
Though he found he didn't mind. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, captivated by his looks, his wealth, his position of power. They showered him with disingenuous affection, as eager to use him as they were willing to be used by him.
He had grown tired of those women, gotten bored of their thinly veiled attempts at seduction. But there was nothing counterfeit about Harper's ambivalence toward him, in the scorch of her touch, the cold sear of her refusal to oblige him.
News of their engagement had been met with mixed reactions. The press had been falling all over themselves to obtain any and all information about Harper Carillo, who she was, where she had come from. Alim had done his best to make sure their search results yielded no bread crumbs which might lead them to the truth of her condition, her child's true paternity. But until they were given a glimpse of her, they would continue digging, unearthing questions he'd rather remained unanswered.
Harper emerged, dressed in a cream-colored tunic and sand-colored slacks, and slipped into a pair of flats. "Do we really have to do this?"
"Yes," Zaid said. "It is one of the many unfortunate side effects of being royalty. One you need to get used to, as their attention is likely to grow exponentially when we make known your condition."
She blew out a sigh. "Forgive me for saying this, but I'm getting a little sick of hearing how special this baby is. I mean...he's a baby. Shouldn't that be his only job? Being a baby?"
"Perhaps. But you should know by now that normalcy is an unrealistic expectation. As unfair as it may be to balance a nation on the shoulders of an infant, that is the world into which the child will be born."
A swirl of movement fluttered low in Harper's abdomen. She put her hand there and applied gentle pressure, unsure of which one of them she was trying to calm.
She may not have had the same societal expectations as Zaid growing up, but she knew a thing or two about obligation and duty. She knew what it was like to have her needs, and the needs of her family, rest solely on her shoulders. Growing up, she'd had to be faster, smarter, stronger to keep up with everyone else. Being just a kid had never been an option.
But it would be an option for her child. She would see to it.
They ducked into the sedan waiting for them at the front entrance, and Harper turned to Zaid. "What happens if he – assuming the baby is a he – doesn't want to be king?"
It was a legitimate question, one that had been playing on her mind since she'd set foot in Gulzar.
She had agreed to this union, this marriage, on the predication that her child would have options. Opportunities she couldn't afford on her own, but were entitled to him by birth. Opportunities she hadn't the right to deny him.
But now it seemed as though she hadn't opened any doors at all. Instead, she had locked them, all but one. As cold and dark as the iron gate guarding Basmadan. And it was only a matter of time before he would be forced through it.
Zaid straightened his spine. "He has the option to abdicate, as do all those in his position."
"And if that is what he chooses...what then?"
He arched an eyebrow at her. "You're barely into your second trimester," he said. "Don't you think it's early to be talking contingency plans?"
"No, I don't," Harper said sharply. "Things change. People change. And I don't want you coming to me sixteen years from now, upset because he didn't turn out the way you thought he would."
Zaid studied her for a long moment, his expression betraying nothing of what he kept inside. Assuming he kept anything at all. "And what if he does not abdicate?" Zaid asked. "Will you abandon him? Allow your disappointment to fester until there is no longer a relationship between the two of you?"
"Of course not."
"Then what makes you think I would behave that way?"
Because it wasn't his child. She, on the other hand, was acutely aware of the child inside of her. Not in terms of fetal development, of which she was well-versed, but on an emotional level. One she hadn't known existed until she'd felt it for herself. She loved the tiny life growing inside her, more than she had ever imagined she could love anything. More than her heart could process.
Zaid didn't have that connection. Not to her, or to her baby. He was not bound to his promises, as she was hers, had nothing to lose by going back on them. A fact with which she sobered herself every time she became too comfortable in his presence.
She stared mindlessly at the hem of her tunic. "And what happens when you meet someone? Want to have children of your own? What then?"
She thought she had prepared herself enough, but as soon as the words fell out of her mouth, her body filled with dread at the answer. Dread that he would lie. That he wouldn't. That she wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
"I have no intention of taking a mistress," Zaid said, catching her attention. "My father's indiscretions were a constant source of shame for my mother. I will not disrespect you like that."
She shrugged it off, hoping that if she behaved as though it meant nothing, it would mean nothing. "Don't hold yourself back on my account. I have no illusions about this marriage."
"Regardless, that is my decision."
Relief bled out through Harper's chest. She stuffed it down, buried it deep, focused intently on what lay outside of the sedan, on the energetic vibe of the city, rather than the tension that had settled so thickly around them.
She peered out the window, taking in as much as was possible while her mind reeled with possibilities she hadn't the heart to grasp onto. There would be no other women. Because of her. He had said as much.
And God help her, she believed him.
#
Al Bashirah palace, which stood at the heart of central Gulzar, was a world away from the relative serenity of Basmadan. Here, everything moved at a clipped pace, each moment competing with the next in the arid desert heat.
Harper stood as tall as her five foot four inch frame would allow, her focus fixed straight ahead, resting on nothing in particular, as Zaid answered the reporters' questions. About their relationship. Their marriage. Her role and political influence in Gulzar.
Pointed questions that all stemmed from their preoccupation with her past. A preoccupation that bordered on obsessive at this point.
So much for Zaid's theory that things would blow over as they neared the wedding date.
And so she measured her breathing, three beats in, three beats out, and continued to cast her focus forward, pretending she was the epitome of everything she wasn't. Calm. Capable. Worthy of being Zaid's wife and queen.
Wife. Queen.
She almost choked on the words again, still unable to reconcile them. She had devoted half her life to studying medicine. Her identity, the bulk of her self-worth, had been tied up in that one end goal. Being a doctor. Saving lives. Making a meaningful contribution to the world.
But none of it mattered now.
Now she would have to be...something else. A wife. A queen.
Beads of sweat formed at her hairline, slowly inching down the back of her neck, her chest, pooling beneath her breasts. Sweat that had little to do with the unmitigated heat found inland and everything to do with the white-washed flash of photographers' cameras.
It was impossible to hide in this part of the country, she decided. And she had looked, had scoped out every potential exit strategy since they'd squeezed through the pedestrian-filled streets and pulled up to the private gated entrance. Since she'd been led down the endless winding corridors that made up the interior of the palace.
She pulled her shoulders back, stretched herself even taller, and imagined herself immune to their scrutiny. Imagined herself anywhere but here, melting beneath the overbearing Gulzari sun.
Alim sidled up behind her. "Sayeda..."
Harper blinked, the sea of reporters slowly coming into focus as realization dawned on her that one of them had asked her a question.
Moisture gathered on her palms, her fingers shaking as she approached the place where Zaid stood. She was not a public speaker. Had gone out of her way to avoid it, in fact. Yet apparently it was something she must now do.
She cleared her throat and asked the reporter, a tall female near the back, to repeat her question.
"Given your...unconventional history, is it safe to assume you will pursue a less...traditional role as queen consort?"
"I..." Harper stammered, searching for all the phrases and watchwords she'd had drilled into her by her PR coach. But they all seemed to evaporate before they'd even taken shape.
She had only recently given any thought to the role she was to assume, whether or not it constituted a traditional one. Her mother had worked, often sixty-plus hours per week, until her addiction to alcohol had robbed her of her ability to function. And when it did, Harper had picked up the slack. That was the tradition that had been set for her, the vein in which she had continued to live her life. And it wasn't until times such as these that she acknowledged there were other ways of doing things.
She had trouble acknowledging it now.
Zaid stepped in for her. "Miss Carillo's background in medicine makes her uniquely qualified to serve Gulzar outside of the realm of tradition. Most recently she has accepted an offer to serve on the board of trustees for the Royal Medical Centre, and hopes to soon resume her studies there."
His response was met with a dozen question all at once, but Harper could scarcely make out any of them. The only sound that kept resonating were the words Zaid had said. The promises he'd made on her behalf. Promises to which she'd never given her consent, had only heard mere seconds ago.
Alim stepped forward, calling the press conference to an end. Zaid reached for Harper, and she blanched, her demeanor cooling. "What was that all about?" she asked him. "That stuff about me serving on the board? Continuing my studies at the Royal Medical Center?"
"We'll talk about it later."
"We'll talk about it now."
He leaned in close, taking her elbow loosely in his grip. "Not now, and certainly not here."
He guided her through the hallway, flanked by their security detail, each footstep, each passing moment filling her with even more anger, more resentment.
"You had no right," she said. "No right to commit me to those things."
"You should be happy. It's what you wanted."
She stopped, pulling away from him. "You are truly unbelievable, you know that?"
"You're the one who expressed an interest in continuing with your medical studies," Zaid said. "So I made a call. You will serve on the board for a year, acquaint yourself with the facility, its staff, with Gulzar. And then, after the baby is born, if you still wish to pursue medicine, I see no reason why you can't begin your internship."
"I don't recall asking you to do that."
And if she had known, she wouldn't have allowed it.
She would have put up a fight, insisted that whatever strings he had pulled, he go back and un-pull. She had worked hard, harder than most, to get into a good college, to get into medical school, to prove herself. She didn't need someone like Zaid coming in behind her and buying her way in. She could do it on her own.
"It's a state of the art facility," he said, escorting her down the hallway. "One of the best. Better than what you could find in Boston."
She fell silent, her pride at war with her desire. The opportunity to learn at the Royal Medical Centre wasn't something she could pass up. But she hadn't earned her position, her place. It had been given to her, purchased with Zaid's wealth and social status. Accepting it would mean depriving someone else, someone who had worked just as hard as she had. Refusing it required more strength of will than she possessed, or even wanted to possess. It was an impossible situation he hadn't the right to put her in.
They reached the main floor, and Harper caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the windows. The scowl Zaid always accused her of wearing was on full display. She thought back to the number of times her mother had worn the same expression, her features pinched with worry and what Harper now recognized as fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of never being good enough. It weighed her down, left her feeling as though she was sinking.
Alim gave the all-clear, and Zaid gripped her hand, leading her out of the hospital and into the waiting sedan.
"It's a great hospital," Zaid said.
"I know that."
"Then why do I get the feeling I'm about to be punched in the throat?"
She slid a sharp glance in his direction. "I don't expect this to make sense to you, but it's hard for me to appreciate things I haven't earned."
"The only thing you haven't earned is the right to judge my motives," Zaid said. "You expressed an interest in continuing your medical studies. I made sure you were afforded that opportunity."
"I've spent the last eight years working my ass off for that opportunity," Harper said. "I hardly need you to swoop in and hand it to me on some freaking silver platter, like it's some sort of a gift. I put in the work. I earned this. Not you."
"If that is the case, then you have no reason to be angry with me for investing in your potential."
"Investing in my potential? Is that what you call it?"
"You would call it something else?"
She would call it many things. Charity. Nepotism. A pity position that had only been made possible because of Zaid, his enormous wealth and illustrious status. She had seen it time and again, though from the opposite perspective. Twice she had been bumped to the wait list at her first choice college in favor of legacy undergrads whose parents bestowed their thanks in the form of seven-figure donations. Her grades and work ethic had come in second to their entitlement and family connections.
And now Zaid had done the same thing to someone else on her behalf. Had turned what should have been the sweetest of achievements into a bitter failure.
The traffic bottlenecked near the university, and the sedan slowed to a stop. Zaid reached for his mobile.
"What's going on?" Harper asked.
"We may be here for a while. There is an accident a few cars up."
Harper craned her neck, trying to see, but her view was obstructed by pedestrian traffic. She reached for the door handle, and Zaid wrapped his hand around hers. "Stay here."
"No way. Someone might be hurt."
"As well-meaning as that may be, you are my only concern right now."
He exited the sedan and was promptly swallowed by the sea of people. Harper leaned out the window, shielding her eyes against the harsh sun, trying to see what lay ahead. Behind her, the shrill alarm of an emergency vehicle sounded, unable to pass through.
Someone was hurt. And help was unable to get to them.
Irrational though it was, she felt responsible, at least in part. The narrow streets, already heavy with traffic, had been made impassible by the influx of photographers, reporters, and pedestrian traffic. The media frenzy that had followed them since their engagement party. If she hadn't frozen up during the press conference...if she'd never come to Gulzar to begin with...
Blowing out a determined gust of air, Harper threw open the door and stepped out, cutting through the throng of people that had gathered around the accident site. She reached the front of the crowd and froze.
A young boy, no older than mid-teens, lay on the ground, his face twisted in pain, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. A misshapen bike lay discarded beside him.
Harper's heartbeat sounded in her ears, a moment of sheer panic that spanned a lifetime. And then the adrenaline kicked in, her mind switching to autopilot.
She cleared the area around the boy, gleaning as much information as she could using what little Arabic she knew. Then she moved into triage mode, carefully assessing his breathing and cognitive function before fixing her attention on his fractured leg. He would need surgery to stabilize the break, but his pedal pulse was strong.
The paramedics arrived, and she chatted them in as they eased the boy onto a stretcher. And then they were gone, and she was once again lost in the crowd, adrenaline still shooting through her system like a hardwired drug.
A strong hand gripped her at the elbow and she turned to see Zaid staring down at her, murder on his face.
"Get in the car," he said. "Now."