transcending her nausea. Almost.
She wobbled slightly as she stepped out of her pajama pants then pulled her top over her head. She got into the tub, the water coming over her breasts, the bubbles helping preserve her modesty. As if she really cared. As if Taj hadn’t already seen it all.
“I’m in,” she said.
He turned, the tension in his body obvious, his jaw tight. He knelt down on the floor beside the tub and she rested her head against the back of the tub. She felt Taj’s hand on her neck, his strong fingers slowly kneading away the ache in her muscles. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d gotten.
But then, heartbreak and constant vomiting could do that to a girl.
He put his other hand on her shoulder, working at the knots there. She released a breath, trying to ignore the other kind of tension that was flooding through her while the muscle tension receded.
This was what she craved from him. This caring. This touch that went beyond a need for sex and satisfaction. A touch that gave.
She wanted to stay with him like this forever. And she also wished he’d never shown her this part of himself. Never shown her this fleeting glimpse of how it could be if he loved her.
If only things could be different.
She closed her eyes, and felt a tear roll down her cheek. “I wish things were different.”
I wish things were different.
Her words echoed in him. Mocked him. Tore at his insides. He replayed them over and over as he helped her from the tub, drying her, trying to keep his body disinterested, as he carried her to bed and tucked her back in.
As he walked out into her sitting room and collapsed onto the sofa, his hands were shaking as he forked his fingers through his hair.
She was unhappy. He had known it. Had seen the unease in her from the moment she’d arrived in Rahat and he had not cared. Because he had her. That was all that had mattered to him. That she couldn’t leave him again. That he would be able to keep her.
Keep her? As if she was an exotic pet or a rare collectible? His stomach rebelled at the thought.
She was a woman. The only person he had ever…
It hit him then, like a punch to his jaw.
He loved her. She was the only person he had ever loved. He had, from the moment he’d met her. And what had he done? He had set out to buy her, like an item. Like anything else he hoped to acquire in his life. Because currency, power, that was what he understood, not feelings.
Three years later he understood. Why he had not wanted another woman since he’d met Angelina. Why it had felt so essential to hold her to him when he’d finally found her again.
But at what cost? He had only thought of himself. Had only thought of what it meant to him to have her.
How had he not realized it was a prison sentence to her?
He would rather go through life alone than subject her to it. Than to force her to be with him when she had no desire to be his wife.
She never had.
Fate. She had blamed fate for forcing them together when he had been the one forcing things all along.
She wanted things to be different. And they would be.
“Taj?” Angelina crept out of her darkened bedroom and into her sitting area. Taj was sitting on her couch, still shirtless, the lights off. He appeared oblivious to the fact that the sun had gone down. He was just sitting, looking at his hands.
“Taj,” she said again, moving to sit beside him. “Is everything all right?”
He looked at her, his face lost in shadow. “You are here, and you are safe. How could anything be wrong?”
There was something off about his tone. Something dark in his voice. Gritty.
“I just thought…”
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Better. Actually I feel ready to eat, which is a first for a few days. Either the hormone induced nausea is over, or it’s the eye of the storm.”
“I hope it’s over,” he said, his tone still flat.
“What’s wrong?”
“You asked me, Angelina, if fate had forced us together.”
“I…I remember that.” She wanted to touch him, but something stopped her.
His gaze was distant. “I have the answer now. There is no such thing as fate. Only sheikhs who think they are God. I will not play at a profession so far above myself. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We will not marry.”
Angelina felt like the floor tilted sideways. “What?”
“You ask far too many questions,” he said, standing. “I have made myself, my wishes, very clear. We will not marry at the end of the week. We will not marry.”
“And…where will I go?” she asked, not caring about his anti-question mandate. Because she had questions. Lots and lots of questions. And giving voice to them, needing the answers to them, was the only thing keeping her heart from splintering. “What about our child?”
“I will see our child. I will support our child in every way possible. But I am not holding you here.”
“What changed?”
“I cannot lock us in a situation that would be unendurable for us both.” He turned his back on her, and she felt a sharp stab hit her in the chest. “You may stay here in the palace as long as it suits you. I will not have you move under the present circumstances. It is your choice where you go when you feel able to leave. If you choose to stay in Rahat, a home will be provided for you.”
“And if I choose to leave the country?” she asked, ice coating her words, her body, her heart, offering protection. Shock providing insulation against the pain.
“Visitation will need to be arranged,” he said, his eyes black holes in the darkness of the room. “I will be there when my child is born, make no mistake. You will not shut me out.”
She felt like she was breaking inside. Slowly cracking apart.
But she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t show him. Already, she loved him while he felt…what did he feel? He had been so kind earlier and now this. Now he could cast her off as quickly as he’d brought her into his world.
Already he had too much power. She wouldn’t let him know it.
“I promise, Taj.” She tilted her chin up, called on every bit of strength inside of her and used it. “If you want to see our child, anytime, day or night, you will be able to. I will never keep them from you.”
“Good.”
“Can you please go?”
He nodded once. “I’m on my way out.”
He walked out of the sitting room and she heard the double doors to her segment of rooms close behind him.
Only then did she allow tears to fall.
On the day that would have been her wedding day Angelina took one last look at her suite of rooms in the Rahatan palace, and closed the double doors behind her.
She