The grand ballroom of Al Bashirah palace, the largest of the royal palaces in Gulzar, sparkled, lit up by camera flashes and the glitz of fine jewelry adorned with precious stones. Harper fingered her own addition to the visual cacophony, a three-tiered onyx and diamond-studded choker Zaid had presented her with only moments before they had arrived at the charity gala. The piece, unmistakably antique, had been artfully restored. Another selection from his mother's, Queen Samarah's, private collection of royal jewels. One of only a handful of pieces King Tahir hadn't destroyed or had reset after her passing. It was by far the rarest and most precious piece in attendance.
Zaid slipped an arm around Harper's waist and pulled her close, pressing his cheek against hers, his breath tickling her skin as he spoke. "You are the talk of the party."
Harper frowned, suddenly aware that it was, in fact, possible to be more self-conscious than she was already.
Oh, there had been talk, all right.
There had been plenty of talk.
She had heard the whispers, felt the stares. A hundred pairs of eyes marching down her spine like an army of fire ants.
She exhaled, pushing all the air out of her lungs. "I am not the talk of anyone," she said coolly. Pulling away to face him, she fingered the necklace. "This is."
Even though she hadn't grown up in Gulzar, hadn't known anything about it, really, until she'd accepted Zaid's proposal, the underlying significance of the necklace wasn't lost on her. An assertion of her new position in Gulzar.
No doubt there would be talk of it for years to come.
Then there were the other rumors. The ones that had begun circulating now that she could no longer conceal her rounded midsection. The dress Lunah had picked out for her – a long-sleeved black and white number with a beaded art deco design on front – had done its best to create the illusion of a waist, but fashion had its limits. Soon Harper would be reduced to hiding her baby bump behind oversized handbags and potted plants, like some daytime soap star.
Zaid took her hand in his, pulling it away from her necklace. She hadn't realized she had still been fingering it.
"If it's too tight, I can loosen it for you."
But it wasn't the choker that had stolen her breath, cut off her air supply, deprived her brain of the oxygen necessary to process cognitive thought. It was Zaid. Her proximity to him. His hand on hers, the contact electric.
She had tried to forget. Had pushed it out of her mind. The way her body surged when he was around. The way she craved him when he wasn't.
It had been two weeks, almost to the day, since the last time he had touched her. Since he had whispered in her ear all of the ways in which he wanted to take her, make her his. Only his.
She jerked her hand back, singed by the memory. "The necklace is fine." She turned her back to him once more. "Though a charity function hardly seems the place to debut such a rare item."
"The necklace isn't the only thing I wish to debut," he said, tracing the clasp, his fingertips barely grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, "but rather you, as my wife. My Queen."
Harper's breath caught. A steady rhythm, like that of tribal drums, sounded in her ears. Her heart pounding in response to Zaid's words.
His voice was low and rough, thick with lust. He dropped his hand to her hip and tightened his hold on her. She relaxed into him and felt his body stir, awakening her own.
It was unfair, the way he possessed her so entirely. The way her body conformed to his will at the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch.
She whipped around to face him and their eyes locked, held together by an invisible, magnetic force.
The same intensity that had prickled her skin the first time she met him was even more palpable now that she had experienced him. Now that she knew what he was capable of, the ways in which he could drive her to the brink of pleasure, only to pull her back and hold her there – seemingly forever – before she fell over the edge.
Making love with Zaid went beyond physical pleasure. Beyond anything she had ever known. He had savored her, taken her into himself and held her there, as though she were more precious to him than the air he breathed, the sun itself.
Music rose around them, slipping into a vibrant waltz. Zaid took her hand and pulled her forward.
She gave in, letting him guide her through the crowd. "I don't know any of the dances."
He quickened his pace, bypassing the dance floor. "We're not dancing."
Harper struggled to keep up, her long, tiered skirt tangling with her three-inch heels as she teetered behind him on the polished marble tile. Zaid tightened his grip on her hand, leading her through a series of rooms until the music had been reduced to a series of muffled beats and the crowd had dwindled to nil.
Harper looked around, taking in the space. They were in what had to be an office. One that appeared to be rarely used. A massive desk made of dark wood intricately detailed with gold leaf sat in the center of the room, barren except for a small reading lamp and an unblemished leather blotter. A pair of oversized leather club chairs flanked the desk. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, most of them empty, made from the same dark wood. The only furniture in the room.
"I don't think we're allowed in here," Harper said, momentarily forgetting that the room in which they had secluded themselves – along with the rest of Al Bashirah – was part of Zaid's estate.
Zaid locked the door behind him. "We are allowed to go anywhere we like. Do anything we like."
Harper tensed, taking in a deep breath and holding it. His eyes, deep like pools of moonlight, were laden with desire. He closed the distance between them, moving swiftly as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto the desk.
She bit out a surprised moan, instinctively gripping his shoulders as he shoved her skirt up over her hips.
Warmth pooled low in her gut. She closed her eyes, biting the bottom of her lip as his fingers brushed the barely-there fabric between her legs.
She let her knees fall open, allowing him access, and he ran a finger along the inside of her panties.
"Zaid..." Her voice came out a breathy whimper, cut off by his mouth on hers. Warm and hungry, wasting no time on pleasantries.
Zaid grabbed the thin straps of fabric at her hips and dragged them down. Then, slowly, he pushed one finger inside of her, his control bowing to his need as she tightened around him.
His stomach clenched, his chest seized with an intense sensation, making it hard to breathe. He kissed her again, hard, taking from her what he needed. Letting her consume him.
He needed her in a way that terrified him. A way he had never let himself need anyone. But he was too intoxicated by her to care.
He was addicted to her in a way that went beyond all reason. That made him want to betray all he'd ever known. His family. His country. All that was important to him. Made him want to throw everything to ruin.
Zaid understood now. In a way he had never thought himself capable. Harper had that same hold over him. A power that twisted him, bound him to her. There was nothing he would not do, nothing he would not sacrifice, nothing he would not betray if it meant he could be with her, like this. Forever.
They broke apart, their breathing ragged. She curled her fingers around his neck and shifted, lifting her hips toward him, her eyes steady on his. "What's wrong? Zaid?"
He couldn't tell her. Couldn't let her know the hold she had on him. The ways in which he seemed to change when he was around her. The strength that bled out of him every time they touched. How she made him weak.
She could never know.
No one could ever know.
So he kissed her again, silencing both of them, if only for the moment. His hands roamed under her dress, steadying her hips as she unbuttoned his pants, wrapped her hand around him, began stroking him...
He cursed. The feel of her hand on his erection so intense he thought he might finish before they had even begun, his self-control eroding to that of a fifteen-year-old boy. Like he had never been touched before.
He pulled back, the need inside him wild as he steadied himself. "Wait, rohi..."
She tightened her grip around him. "I don't want to wait," she said. "I want you to make love to me. Here. Now."
He set his jaw, refusing to let his body give in to the lure of pleasure, demanding he pace himself.
She touched his face, her palm swept against his cheek. A caress like he had never known before. Not hot with lust, but warm and soft. Tender.
Then she looked at him, her brown eyes dilated almost black, and he felt himself slipping, falling more deeply under her spell. He wanted to lose himself in her, over and over again, not just for now, but for always.
But there was no always for them. There never had been. Deep down, he’d always known it.
She searched his eyes for something she wouldn't find in them. Emotion...feeling...the things he held back from her, didn't dare let show through.
"Zaid..." She swallowed. Hard. "I..."
He held his breath, knowing the words that would come next. She couldn't love him. He wouldn't allow it. Couldn't bear the thought of it. Love was not something he did, was not what he was built for. Was not something he could ever reciprocate, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was too far gone, too badly broken, for something as fragile as love.
For someone as precious as Harper.
She looked down, unable to finish her sentence, and finally he could breathe again. The beat of his heart flooded his chest, air entering and leaving his body on autopilot.. He tightened his grip on her hips and kissed her again, harder this time, hoping it would distract her, conceal the void that lay behind his eyes. That lay in the core of him.
She pushed him away, her fingers curled into his shirt collar, her grip so tight she was trembling. Desperately clinging onto the last sliver of control she had.
She shook her head. "Not like this. It can't be like this. Not while you're..."
Her words faltered, but he didn't need them. Empty. Angry. Devoid of any emotion. She had seen through him to the hollow places underneath, a feat that left him vulnerable, scared.
He clenched his jaw, focused on his breathing, the pounding of his heart.
"Harper..."
"I need you to be here. With me. Only me."
She cupped his face again, and he jerked away as though he had burned him. An involuntary response, one he couldn't have denied even if he had wanted to.
But there was no place for unproductive emotion in his life. There never had been. She knew this. He had been nothing but up front with her from the moment they entered into their marriage contract.
He had willingly bestowed upon her all he could, given her child his rightful inheritance as the next heir to the throne of Gulzar. But he couldn't oblige her in this. Couldn't give her what she wanted, what she needed, emotionally. He had nothing to give.
And he refused to lie. Refused to pretend otherwise. Even for a moment.
She blanched, the hand that had been gripping his shirt collar falling limply away, the emotion in her eyes dimming as resignation overtook her. But instead of pushing him away, she pulled him to her, kissed him again, as fiercely and hungrily as he had kissed her.
Zaid's thoughts swam in a foggy haze of lust and uncertainty and overwhelming emotion. He took over the kiss, her lips parting beneath his, granting him access, and he deepened the kiss. Every moment laced with a hollow pleasure that seared him inside. The kiss was bitter and dry, and tasted like heartbreak. His or Harper's, he couldn't be sure.
There wasn't enough air. No air at all, actually. He was drowning. A feeling he knew all too well, one he thought he had become immune to long ago. His soul ached, longed for a peace that wasn't within his grasp. Not anymore. Not ever again.
And he was hollow, haunted by the same emptiness that had plagued him as a child. Unable to get enough, to ever really be complete.
He had found something in Harper, something he hadn't known was missing. A sensation unlike any he'd felt before. It had crept into him as he'd held her, taking up residence in the deepest, darkest parts of him, filling him with hope.
Stupid, pointless hope.
It choked him, left him with a hunger, a craving for the lightness that came in the moments when their bodies touched, moved together in unison.
A moment that could never happen again. Would never happen again. Not if he could help it.
Not now that he knew its power.
She gripped him again, guiding him to where she needed him most, and he pulled away, bracing against the desk as he gasped for air, fighting against the a current that threatened to pull him under, hold him there until there was nothing left.
He pushed away from the desk and dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"What's wrong?" Harper asked, panting. Her cheeks were flushed, mouth swollen and stained pink where he had just kissed her. He wanted to do it again. Wanted to do more. So much more.
Even if more would surely be the end of him.
He turned from her, afraid of what might happen if he didn't. It was no secret his masochistic tendencies knew no bounds, but he wouldn't use her like this. Wouldn't allow her to be the instrument he used to pry the anger out of him.
No matter how badly he wanted to.
"Zaid..."
He stuffed his shirt into the waistband of his slacks and reached for his jacket, ignoring the tremor in his hands. His whole body shook with frustration and insatiable need, the monster that lived inside of him raging. "We should return to the party."
Harper's breathing came in quick bursts. "But...what...why..." She swallowed audibly. "Did I do something? Hurt you in some way?"
Zaid threw a look back at her. "Don't be ridiculous. How could you have possibly hurt me?"
She didn't know, exactly. But there was a lingering feeling that she had done something, said something that had triggered this change in him. Had taken him away from her. She shrugged. "I don't know...it's just...we were...and then you were..."
Gone. Standing in front of her, but as far away as he had ever been. No more here with her now than he had been the past two weeks.
He turned from her again as he shrugged into his jacket. "There are a thousand people in the ballroom waiting for us. Important people, the most influential people in Gulzar. But instead of ruling my country, I'm here, having sex with some woman."
Harper froze, her body rigid. "Having sex with some woman?" she echoed. "That's what this is? That's what I am?"
She slid off the desk and bent down to pick her panties up off the floor, suddenly very aware she wasn't wearing them. She felt naked despite the dress, the necklace, the makeup that lined her eyes, painted her skin.
Zaid had stripped her bare, and she had allowed it. Had given him access to her insecurities, her vulnerabilities, the parts of her for which she had no protection. And he had discarded them, just like the bikini briefs she'd plucked off the floor.
"I didn't ask you to drag me up here," she said, surprised at how strong her voice sounded. She didn't feel particularly strong. Quite the opposite, actually. She felt small, unimportant, worthless. And she wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but with him.
"I didn't mean it like that," he began, outstretching a hand to help her up. She refused it, grasping the corner of the desk instead.
She no longer cared what he meant or how he meant it. The meanings of his words changed like the desert heat. The mouth that had seared her with his kiss, branded her, marked her as his and his alone, was the same mouth that had uttered such cold, hurtful words.
Zaid blew out a frustrated sigh. "What did you think this was?"
"I don't know," she said. "Some might consider it making love with your wife."
Making love.
Her words seemed to roll across him like ice water, making him stand up straighter, making his body tense.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Zaid said.
"I want you to be honest with me. With yourself."
"I have been honest with you. I have been nothing but honest with you. You know what this was, long before we–"
"Before we made love?"
"Don't say it like that."
"How else am I supposed to say it, Zaid?" Harper asked. "What, is that not crude enough for you? Would you rather I refer to it as you screwing your whore?"
Anger flashed in Zaid's eyes.
"It's true, though, isn't it? You've been pushing me away ever since.”
"Harper, please–"
"I know we're not supposed to talk about it," she said. "That's the first rule of really great sex, right? You don't talk about really great sex. But it wasn't just sex, Zaid. You and I both know that."
"What did you think would happen?" Zaid asked. "That we would fall passionately into bed one night and then live happily ever after?"
"It wasn't just one night."
Zaid shook his head. "You are too old and too smart to be naive enough to think sex is anything more than a biological function."
"Or maybe you're too ignorant, too frightened to admit it was more than that."
She drew closer to him and placed her hand on his chest, touching her palm to the place where his heart beat, taking in every stir of movement. "I know you felt something. I know you did."
He pushed her hand away and straightened his jacket. "I've made it no secret that I'm attracted to you, to the point where it's hard to think about anything else when you're around. But there is no deeper meaning, nor will there ever be. Those are emotions I'm incapable of feeling. For you, or anyone else."
Grief tore at her eyes, scratched at her throat, seized her chest and buckled her knees. Because she had done something unforgivable. She had fallen in love with Zaid. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
She backed away from him, stuffing her panties into her clutch as she made her way to the door.
"Harper–" Zaid said.
"No. I need to get out of here."
She threw open the door and took off down the winding hallway, as quickly as her heels and dress would allow. Stupid heels. Stupid dress.
Stupid Harper, for thinking she could ever be enough. That Zaid could ever feel for her anything but pity.
She backtracked through the labyrinth of corridors that made up Al Bashirah, with Zaid following close behind, their footsteps echoing in the large, stone chamber.
"You can't leave," Zaid called after her. "We have guests waiting."
"They're your guests. Not mine."
Nothing in Gulzar had been hers. Not really. It had all been Zaid's. His inheritance. His estate. His vendetta. But not hers. Never hers.
The tears came before she could stop them. Before she could lock them away. She reached the ballroom and skirted the edge of the dance floor, finally spotting Alim by the door.
He snapped to attention when he saw her. "Sheikha?"
She kept her eyes diverted, refused to look at him, to show her face. She was ashamed of the tears, embarrassed by them.
"Please have the car brought around," she said. "I would like to return to Basmadan."
He nodded, then said something quietly into his earpiece. He motioned for her to follow him, then guided her through a small hallway, toward the rear of the palace, avoiding the reporters and photographers that had gathered outside the main entrance. The limo pulled around, and she moved to get inside, pausing when a warm hand grasped hers.
Zaid.
She looked up at him, her shame and embarrassment overshadowed by her shock that he had followed her.
His grip on her hand was firm, but gentle. "Don't go," he said. "Stay. Stay with me."
"Why?" she asked. "Why should I?"
Zaid's expression turned darker, almost sorrowful. Weighted down by words he couldn't say. Not now. Not ever. Not to her.
Especially not to her.
Zaid's grip on Harper's hand loosened. She clung tightly to his fingertips. "Zaid..." She swallowed, determined that her own words would not be lost. "Tell me."
There came a moment in which he was bound to her. To her, and not to his duty, that incomprehensible guilt. A moment that spanned two beats of her heart, but could have lasted forever.
And ended with a small, sad shake of his head.
He let go of her hand, then turned to her security detail and said spoke to him in Arabic. Words she didn't understand jumbled with a few she did. Wife. Home. Basmadan. Sending her away while he stayed behind.
She lowered herself into the limo feeling broken, completely numb, and watched through the tinted glass as he turned from her and made his way back inside.