Qadir lost his grip on Aimee when they hit the water. The river closed over their heads and his legs became tangled in his thobe. He yanked at his outer clothing, pulling it over his head and letting it float away. Clad in his elegant dress slacks and a white, long-sleeve shirt, he could move more easily.
He twisted around, urgently searching for Aimee. He saw a flash of royal blue. She was sinking to the bottom. He swam toward her, reaching for her extended hands.
She looked up at him when he wrapped his hand around her wrist. Suddenly, with a bright flash, an explosion sent a shockwave through the water, pushing them backwards. He kept a firm grip on her arm, afraid to let her go in case he was unable to find her again. Together, they swam to the surface.
Gasping for breath, he held her close as they watched the flames and a dark plume of smoke rise into the sky. Royal Marine Guard (RMG) boats surrounded the area, and Qadir could see more Guards along the seawall. They both twisted in the water when an RMG boat approached them and stopped. Qadir saw Tarek anxiously leaning over the side.
“Are you two alright?” Tarek called.
Qadir lifted his hand and raised his thumb. Tarek grinned and spoke to the officer navigating the boat. Seconds later, he was boosting Aimee up onto the ladder with Tarek’s help. He climbed up after her, nodding his thanks to his brother. One of the two officers had wrapped an emergency blanket around Aimee and was guiding her to a seat in front of the center console.
“Anderson?” Qadir asked, his gaze on the scene near the retraining wall.
“We won’t know until we search the wreckage and have the waterway dredged. I only saw you two go over the side. I won’t be satisfied until I have Anderson’s body.”
“Find him. What about the man I knocked overboard?”
“We have him. I will interrogate him,” Tarek assured him.
Qadir nodded. The officer tried to hand him an emergency blanket, and he waved it away. His concern was for Aimee. He skirted the center console to the boat’s bow.
Aimee looked up at him and scooted over, giving him room to sit beside her. He sat on the edge and wrapped his arm around her. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.
“I lost my earpiece,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “I lost mine as well. I’m sure Tarek has a whole box of them hidden in his office somewhere.”
“I have to remember to thank him and Abdal for hacking my phone. I’m going to need a new one. I think I lost that, too,” she said, feeling in her pocket.
He threaded his fingers through hers. “I’m not worried about earpieces or phones, just you, habibi,” he murmured, kissing her temple.
“I wanted to tell you what was happening. I didn’t have time or know how to,” she said.
Qadir held her closer, feeling the trembling running through her body. Concerned that she might have been injured and not realize it because of shock, he called out for the officer to head to shore. An ambulance was waiting for them by the time they arrived.
He disembarked and held out his hand to Aimee. The moment she was on the concrete platform, he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the steps to the waiting medical personnel. She tried to protest, but he kissed her into silence.
“Do this for me,” he said.
She sighed and laid back on the gurney. He held her hand while the medical attendant placed a blood pressure cuff around her arm. She closed her eyes. He squeezed her hand in concern.
“I’m okay. I’m just hiding my embarrassment,” she informed him.
The attendant chuckled. “We’ll transport her to the hospital. Would you like to ride with her, sire?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” he said.
Thirty minutes later, he was pacing the private room set aside for the attending physicians outside of the emergency ward while Dr. Fuah attended to Aimee. He had taken a quick shower and changed into clothes brought to him on Tarek’s orders. His brother had remained at the site where divers were searching for Anderson’s body.
He turned when there was a brief knock and the door cracked open. Dr. Fuah smiled at him and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The elderly physician motioned for him to have a seat at the table.
“How is she?” he anxiously inquired.
“She is fine. A few bruises that will heal. I do not believe I have ever met a woman who so frequently finds herself in so much trouble. I would blame you, sire, if not for the fact that she has told me this is pretty much normal activity for her.” He chuckled.
Qadir sank down into his chair and relaxed. “It will not be the norm any longer. If I have to wrap her in silk and keep her tied to my bed, I’ll make sure that she is safe.”
Dr. Fuah chuckled again. “I’ve seen how well that has worked for you. I do think a quieter life would be best, especially in her condition,” he mused.
Qadir frowned. “I thought you said she was fine. What’s wrong? What condition?” he asked, his mind flashing through everything that had happened.
Dr. Fuah smiled. “I think her condition may have occurred during one of the moments you tried to tie her to your bed, sire. I would like to see her in a month. I’ve prescribed some prenatal vitamins for her, and I advise against any more action-packed adventures, norm or not. I imagine you’ll have enough of those in a few years,” he said, rising to his feet.
Qadir stood up, the word ‘prenatal’ playing like a broken record in his head. He gaped at his personal physician, still trying to wrap his head around what the good doctor was telling him.
“Are you saying that Aimee—that we—that she is pregnant?” he choked out.
Dr. Fuah bowed his head. “Yes. I had the test done as a standard precaution, and it came back positive. Congratulations, sire,” he said.
Qadir stood frozen as Dr. Fuah took his leave. He gripped the table as a wave of dizziness swept over him. A child—he and Aimee were expecting a child! A deep laugh slipped from him, and his eyes glimmered with determination. There was no way his father could disagree with his proposal now. Aimee was expecting his heir—the heir to Jawahir. That overrode any political agreement.
Later that evening, Qadir closed the door to their shared bedroom. She had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. A quick look at the time told him it was nearly midnight.
Two guards stood at attention outside their living quarters. Additional guards patrolled the palace. Qadir continued down the corridor to the family living room. Tarek was waiting for him, along with their father. He greeted his father, then looked at Tarek’s grim face.
“What did you find?” he asked.
“One dead—the driver of the boat. One we have in custody,” Tarek replied.
“Anderson,” he demanded.
“Escaped. I’ve ordered roadblocks on all city exits and a search of everyone who tries to get through,” Melik stated.
“Do you think it is possible that he survived?”
Tarek pursed his lips. “There is a strong current in the inlet. It is possible his body was swept out to sea. I will assume he survived until I see his body.”
Qadir walked across the room to the bar and poured himself a drink. He stared down at the dark amber liquid. Frustration gnawed at him, and he looked back at his brother and father.
“Post notices for all fishermen to be on the lookout and make sure all ships leaving the port have been thoroughly searched. Father, I need—”
“I’ve already authorized a red notice on Bronislav and the Coldhouse brothers. I’ve put Tarek in charge of finding the Coldhouse brothers. I will leave Bronislav for you. I will take care of the international fallout,” Melik stated.
Qadir bowed his head in thanks. “Shukran lak ya 'abi,” Thank you, father, he replied. He returned his father’s patient gaze. “Aimee is pregnant.”
He hadn’t intended to tell his father in quite that way.
“That is wonderful news, brother!”
Tarek hugged him tight, and Qadir grunted, his injuries smarting. He grinned anyway, lifted his glass, tapped it against Tarek’s cup, and drained the contents. His eyes were still locked with his father’s. A smile of satisfaction curved his father’s lips.
“I will handle the broken marriage contract,” Qadir began slowly, eyeing his father’s expression hopefully.
Melik shook his head. “That might be difficult to do,” he replied with an amused smile.
Anger and confusion flashed through Qadir. Anger won. After everything he and Aimee had been through, he would not lose her to some antiquated law demanding that Jawahir’s King choose his heir’s bride. He would leave Jawahir before he lost Aimee and their child.
“I will never accept another woman,” he swore.
His father walked over to a small ornate wooden desk inlaid with a 24K gold family crest and picked up an envelope. He turned and held it out to Qadir.
“What is this?” he demanded, taking the envelope.
“The information on your bride that I received two months ago,” his father said.
Qadir placed his glass on the bar. He opened the envelope, drawing out the pictures and paperwork. His breath caught when he saw dozens of photographs of Aimee. The time stamp on them showed they had been taken over the last four years. There were several photos of Aimee that he remembered seeing when he ordered her to be followed.
Confusion swept through him as he read the reports. The word CONFIDENTIAL in capital red letters and UNITED STATES MARSHAL’S SERVICE were stamped across the top. The reports contained everything that had happened to Aimee over the last three years.
“She was working as a stunt double on movies? No wonder she thought jumping off a speeding boat was a good idea,” he mused with a shake of his head.
“That was her idea?” Tarek said with a raised eyebrow.
“Why do you have this?” he asked his father.
Melik sat down in the chair. “Did you think I couldn’t see the change in you when you returned to Jawahir three years ago? I knew something happened. Tarek told me a little. The reports I requested told me more,” he said.
Qadir sat down in the chair across from his father. He was mesmerized by the photos of Aimee. There was one in particular that held him spellbound—she was sitting by herself, her knees drawn up, her chin resting on them. She was staring out at the ocean. In one hand was a magazine with a full-page photo. The photo had been taken six months ago when he had opened a children’s hospital in the Eastern province.
“How did you know she was still alive?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the photo.
“I didn’t until I saw that picture you’re holding. Fate played a hand in my discovery. A young tech was hurrying by one day. The folder in his hand slipped and this photo fell out and landed at my feet. I remembered Aimee from the photos taken when you were together. I recognized her immediately and asked the young man where he got the picture. He explained that it was of an American girl who worked with his cousin. I called in a few favors and received this report a few days before you were kidnapped.”
Qadir studied his father’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded in a hoarse voice.
Melik leaned forward. “I had to be sure first. A reporter overheard one of my conversations with my secretary about Aimee—though I did not name her. The next day, my secretary warned me that news reports were already being released about your upcoming marriage to a mysterious princess. I was planning on telling you about my findings when you returned from your trip.”
“You’re saying that you chose Aimee as Qadir’s bride?” Tarek asked.
Melik nodded and leaned back in his seat. “Of course. I knew Qadir was in love—and the photo proved to me that this mysterious woman who saved his life not once, but twice, would be the perfect bride for a Jawahir prince,” he said with a satisfied smile.
“Did Mother know?” Tarek asked.
Melik’s deep laughter filled the room. “Who do you think told me about Aimee in the first place?”