For Duty's Sake (8 page)

“Yes.”

“I'm not going to like them, am I?”

“No.” There was no point in sugarcoating it—no matter how much he might like sweet things, but she
wasn't going to feel guilty for trying for some semblance of assurance for her future, either.

She might not be that naive, year on from university woman who believed she could have a one-night stand with the man she loved and come out of it relatively unscathed, but she still had to have some level of hope for her future. His agreement to her conditions would give her that.

He sat back, his mug in one hand, his eyes fixed on her with that patented intensity of his. “I am all ears.”

She took a deep breath and went for broke. “I want a prenup that guarantees me the right to raise our children in the United States in the event you take a lover.”

She waited for the explosion, but none came. He simply sat, sipping his tea in silence and looking completely unperturbed.

“Nothing to say?”

“I assume there is more since you said
conditions
plural, not condition in the singular.”

“Yes.” Was he really as sanguine as he appeared? “I mean it.”

“I assumed you did.”

“You aren't angry.”

“Considering your past, such a condition is hardly a shock.”

“But…” He would never countenance his children being raised outside of Zohra. She finally stuttered as much out loud.

“Naturally not, but since it won't happen, I fail to see why I should become upset over your need for the reassurance on that score.”

He was right, it
was
a reassurance. He might not
maintain fidelity for her sake. However, she was wholly convinced that he would for the good of their children and the sake of the throne he protected so carefully.

Feeling light-headed with relief he'd accepted the first and she would have thought the
hardest
hurdle to overcome, she said, “I am glad you are not offended.”

“I would be, if I believed your request was based on a lack of trust in me personally.”

“You don't?”

“It's obvious that your past has a great deal of bearing on this, as I have said.”

“And you do not think your ongoing relationship with Elsa figures into it all?”

“That was before we were formally engaged.”

“You said you considered us as good as.”

“In one respect that is true, just as in the same respect, a part of me already considers the throne of Zohra mine. However, it will not in actuality be until my father abdicates in my favor or sees his final days on earth.”

“So, you did make a distinction.” She was more thankful to hear that than she would ever admit to him.

“Do you not know me even that well?” he asked, sounding like he was finally feeling the offense she'd expected him to take earlier.

“I thought I did and then I got those pictures.”

He winced. “Point taken.”

“I realize now, I was hopelessly naive in my expectations, but those photos devastated me,” she admitted.

She had no trouble reading his expression for once, it was pure dismay. “You believed I would be celibate once the contract was signed?”

“Yes.” She felt foolish for that belief now. It had been a teen girl's fantasy she'd never reconsidered in the light of adulthood. At least, not until she'd been forced to. “You see,
I was
.”

“When I signed that contract, I was a twenty-four-year-old man. You were a thirteen-year-old girl.”

“Are you saying it would not bother you if I had taken a lover since becoming an adult?”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, no words emerging.

“Smart choice.”

He frowned. “My initial response does not paint me in a favorable light.”

“No doubt.”

“Your other conditions,” he prompted, clearly not wishing to dwell on his unpalatable double standard.

“There are only two more.”

“They are?”

“Your heir is allowed to have a childhood.”

“I had a childhood.”

“Until you were seven, yes I got that.”

“I was not an unhappy child.”

She was convinced that a man of Zahir's strength would have bloomed under any conditions, but she refused to allow her own children to face the same exact sort of childhood he'd been raised with. “This is not a negotiable point.”

“You do realize that saying something like that to me is like waving the red flag to the bull?”

“I didn't—now I do.”

“You wish to rephrase it?”

“No.”

His brow rose in clear surprise.

“I am willing to marry you despite major personal misgivings for the sake of our unborn child. There is no point in doing so if being raised amidst the royal family of Zohra will be a source of unacceptable sacrifice and potential unhappiness for him.”

“I told you, I was not unhappy.”

“And I'm telling you, that heir to the throne, or a youngest daughter, it doesn't matter to me. My children will have the chance at a true childhood.”

“As defined by you?”

“Ultimately, yes, but I am open to discussion on issues of importance to you.”

“I will enjoy the challenge.”

“Of course you will.”

“Your final condition?”

This should be an easy one for him to accept, considering his own circumstances. “None of our children will have their marriages arranged for them.”

“I acknowledge you are not as pleased with our arrangement as you were in the past, but that is no reason to dismiss centuries of tradition.” A full measure of offense laced his voice and drew his spine ramrod straight.

“It's a tradition that should have disappeared with the Dark Ages.”

“I disagree.” If anything, his tone became more clipped. “The practice of arranging marriages is still common in the Middle East, parts of Asia and Eastern Europe. Just because you were raised in a different culture does not mean one is superior to the other.”

“Your brothers are both happier because their
marriages came about because of love rather than a contract.”

“And my parents fell deeply in love after marrying because
their
parents arranged it.”

“The risk of it not working out is too big.”

“Love is no guarantee of happiness.” He sighed. “Surely your parents' own marriage is enough to prove that to you, but if not—merely consider the divorce rate of your adopted country.”

“I'm really surprised this is such a sticking point for you.” This was the one condition she had believed he would accept without argument. “I would have thought that your own present circumstance enough to convince you.”

“You were wrong.” He said nothing more, simply staring at her with a bone-deep determination that she had no doubt carried sway at any table of negotiation.

But she couldn't back down about this. Zahir would never have been forced into marriage with her if not for that stupid contract. He would never have shown any interest in her and she would never have demanded that night in his bed.

The guilt she felt for doing so now was a big enough burden to carry. She couldn't bear to think of her own children having to submit to those kinds of circumstances.

She took a fortifying sip of tea, but he spoke before she got a chance to further her case. “I will offer this compromise.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear what his supreme skills at negotiations would come up with.

“We will not force our children into an agreement.”

“That's hardly a compromise. No one forced, or even cajoled you, for that matter. You signed that stupid contract out of duty and a sense of personal obligation.”

“And I am not the one regretting that choice.”

“You would be if Elsa hadn't slept around. You'd be wishing you could marry her right now.”

“And if I had married her, even if she had been sexually faithful, I would have tied myself to a callous gold digger.” He sounded like he considered that salvation from a fate worse than death. “The contract has been nothing but a boon in my life.”

“That's why you looked at Amir with such envy at his wedding.”

The shock on Zahir's features lasted less than two seconds, but it was enough for Angele to know he had not believed anyone had realized he harbored those feelings. “I expect to enjoy a relationship as fulfilling with you.”

“I thought you made it a practice never to tell an outright falsehood.”

“Eventually,” he added, as if the word were pulled from him with rusty pliers.

She almost smiled. He was so intent on doing his duty, he would even create a hope for the future that had no basis in their current reality.

“But you do not believe love has any place in an agreement such as ours.”

“We are getting off topic.”

“Yes, we are. No arranged marriages for our children.”

“I will agree not to press an arrangement on our
children, but will not refuse to exercise my authority in conducting a negotiation on their behalf should they wish for me to do so.”

She had a feeling that was as good as she was going to get on this point. “You absolutely promise to abide by the spirit, not simply the outlined terms on this point?”

“You are not a competing business or political interest. Believe it, or not, I do know the difference when it comes to family.” Which was not a yes, but might actually be something even better.

It was acknowledgment that she, and their children, fell in a different category than other entities in his life. She might not have his love, but she would have a unique place in his life.

That would have to be enough.

A
NGELE
woke to the sound of Zahir talking in rapid-fire Arabic in the other room. He'd insisted she lie down while he took care of having dinner delivered.

A glance at the alarm clock beside her bed showed that a little over two hours had passed, startling her. She hadn't been sleeping well since returning from Zohra and had been positive she would not fall asleep when she'd acquiesced to Zahir's concern.

The man was far more adept at hovering than she would ever have suspected.

He didn't sound like a concerned husband-to-be right now, though; he sounded like a man who was brainstorming spin on the announcement of her pregnancy.

She surged to her feet, thankful the dizziness that had plagued her off and on for the past weeks was not showing itself. The need to pee, however, was. And no matter how urgently she wanted to speak with Zahir, it took precedence. She made a quick trip to the bathroom before going to find her stubborn fiancé.

His robes of office nowhere to be seen, his suit jacket and tie lying over the back of a nearby chair, Zahir sat on the sofa. An open laptop was on the coffee table in
front of him, the screen showing a website dedicated to the care and feeding of pregnant women.

The indulgent smile that caused slipped right off her face as his words registered. He was still discussing how best to announce Angele's pregnancy, but now she knew who he was talking to. His father.

He'd told his father
. Which meant her parents would know soon, if they didn't know already.

Her knees going weak, she stumbled to sit on the sofa.

Zahir jerked to face her, his expression going concerned in a moment. He hung up faster than she'd ever heard him end a conversation with the man who was both father and king.

“Are you well?” He leaned toward her, examining her with all the intent of doctor on a house call. “I thought you would be better after a rest, but you are looking peaked.”

“Thank you,” she said with pure sarcasm. “Every woman wants to hear she looks like death warmed over.”

“But I am concerned.”

“Not so worried you hesitated to tell your father about my pregnancy though you knew I didn't want you to.”

“It is a blessed event. Naturally I told him.”

“That's not the way you reacted in the car.” He hadn't seemed even remotely blessed then.

“I saw the potential problems first. It is in my nature.” His tone was pure shrug even though his shoulders remained immobile.

She used to tease him about that trait. Right now, she found it more frustrating than funny. “We also
agreed in the car that we would wait to announce my pregnancy.”

“Actually we were out of the limo when you expressed your opinion in that direction.”

She made a sound of pure frustration at his attempt to tease around the issue. “You didn't argue with me.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, praying her earlier nausea would not return. “Silence is an implication of agreement.”

“Clearly it is not.”

“You knew I would assume you would wait to tell our families until we had spoken further about it.”

“I did not tell your family.”

“You think your father hesitated to share the news with King Malik and my father?”

Zahir shrugged, looking far from repentant. “It is good news worth sharing.”

“You are a manipulator.”

“I prefer master of circumstances.”

“Call it what you like, I won't be tricked that way again.”

“I did not trick you. I avoided unnecessary conflict so as to prevent further upset.”

“I am upset now.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to wait to tell
anyone
.” She glared. “And I heard you—it's not just your family. You want to tell the world.”

“I explained my viewpoint earlier.”

“And that's it? We disagree and you do whatever you please?”

“Would it make you feel better if I claimed otherwise?”

“It would make me feel better if you said it and meant it.”

“It will not always be as I wish it.”

“Oh, really?”

“You left Zohra, did you not?”

“You're saying you would not have prevented me if you had been able to?” She made no attempt to temper her skepticism.

“You gave me no such opportunity.”

“So?”

“So, you are intelligent and resourceful. I will not always get my way.”

“I need to know that you won't act without thought to my feelings. I don't want a marriage based on a series of one-upmanship competitions.”

“We are not children.”

“Agreed.”

“I did consider your feelings.”

“And yet you still called your father with the news.”

“Waiting to do so would only cause you further stress and upset. Prolonging a thing of this magnitude only invites more complications as it becomes more likely the opportunity to act on your own timetable will be taken away.”

“No one knew I was pregnant until I told you.”

“You have not been examined by a doctor?” he asked with clear censure.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course, I have and everything is normal and as it should be.”

“Good. I will expect the family physician to conduct his own exam however.”

“I wouldn't expect anything else.”

“So, this doctor knows that you carry my child.”

“She knows I am pregnant, not who the father is and she is bound by laws of confidentiality.”

“And you claim you are not naive.”

“This isn't Zohra, Zahir. Dr. Shirley has no reason to believe the father of my child is a person of interest to the media. I'm hardly one of the glitterati myself.”

“Perhaps that was once true, but things have changed since Amir's wedding.”

That was putting it mildly. “You mean the very public courtship you were supposedly engaged in?”

“Supposedly?”
he prompted, sounding none-too-pleased.

“I left Zohra six weeks ago. Today is the first time I have heard from you.”

“I sent daily gifts for the past few weeks.”

“Without a single phone call.”

“This did not please you.”

“Of course it didn't, but it didn't surprise me, either.”

“I cannot claim the same. Your actions after our single night together astounded me.”

“I told you my plans.”

“I thought you were doubting the existence of passion between us.”

“And when you gave me proof it existed, you assumed I would go forward with the plans to marry?” she asked, unable to hide her disbelief at his assumptions.

“Yes.”

“You only hear what you want to hear.”

“It is a failing.”

“But not one you are often accused of.”

“This is true.”

“Yet, you don't deny it.”

“How can I? Clearly, in this instance, I did hear what I deemed probable and acceptable.”

“Lina walked away from the marriage arranged for her with your brother. What's improbable about that?”

“You are not Lina.”

“No, I am not. She was raised with a much stricter sense of responsibility to her family's position.”

“Lina was not in love with my brother.”

Angele could not argue that point. Lina and Amir had barely known each other, despite growing up in the same circles.

“I see you do not deny loving me.”

“What would be the point?”

“In the car, you intimated your feelings were not involved with your decision to marry me. It is only natural then to question if they have changed.”

“My feelings for you were not a deciding factor in my decision to marry you. Our child's future was.”

“Do you still love me?” he asked bluntly.

“Does it matter?”

“I prefer to know.”

He'd been honest with her to this point, she could offer no less. “Yes, but I consider my love a detriment to this situation, if you must know.”

“But of course it is not. Surely our life together will be eased because of it.”

“You think I'll let you have your way because I love you?” she asked suspiciously.

“I am not that foolish, but it is my hope you will be content in our marriage because of it.”

More likely it would cause her nothing but pain, but admitting that was just one step on the open and honest communication highway, her pride wasn't about to let her take.

The buzzer sounded and Angele gave Zahir a look meant to maim. “Two guesses who that is and the first one does not count.”

“Dinner,” he said with smug assurance.

She hoped he was right, because she was so not up to playing happy families with her parents right now. She was still annoyed with her father for not giving her a heads-up on Zahir's plan to publicly court her. Angele had zero doubts Cemal had been in the know on that score, if not a major instigator.

And while her mother had said she'd forgiven Angele for breaking the contract, initially Lou-Belia had been hurt and very angry. They were talking again, but things were still a little stilted between them.

Zahir's bodyguard answered the summons from the doorman and then dispatched one of the security detail to retrieve their dinner.

One brow raised, Zahir smiled.

“Don't be so smug. They'll show up sooner than later.”

“And you do not wish to see them? To share the happy news in person?”

“What part of
I don't want to tell anyone
isn't sticking with you, Zahir?”

He frowned, his eyes dark with disapproval. “It seems to me, you are the one regretting the advent of our child.”

She opened her mouth to reply that of course she regretted becoming pregnant, but snapped it shut again on the words. Words, once spoken, could never be unsaid.

And she would never say such a thing about her baby, no matter the change in circumstances it brought to her life. The truth was, Angele had spent more years believing she would one day marry Zahir than the few months determined not to do so.

It was time to put her big girl panties on and deal with it. She was going to be Princess Angele bin Faruq al Zohra, and one day—God willing far into the future—she would be queen.

“No matter what the complications, I do not regret this baby.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “But I'm not up to presenting pure joy and celebration for my parents' sake, either. At the very least, I'm fighting a constant battle with nausea and an on-again-off-again vertigo that is truly disturbing.”

He nodded, his handsome face set in lines of concentration. “I have been researching how best to treat morning sickness that has the poor manners not to confine itself to mornings.”

“I've tried ginger and soda crackers. It helps a little, but I'm still not holding my food down.”

“There are other options I read about. And according to our family physician, Vitamin B6 apparently helps a large percentage of women who suffer morning sickness.
He also recommends acupressure wristbands used for antinausea as the result of motion sickness.”

“I'm not sure I can hold a vitamin down long enough to do any good.”

“There is also a combination medication that can be administered orally, or in a prepared hypodermic, but it can make you tired.”

While that wouldn't thrill her, it had to be better than being sick. “I'll survive.”

“It would make it difficult for you to do your job.”

“Today was my last day.” She'd given a month's notice soon after confirmation she was pregnant.

Shock widened his eyes. “You've already worked out your notice?”

“Yes.”

“I expected argument about the need for you to leave your job.”

“No.”

“I see.”

There would have been no point. It would be ridiculous for an editorial assistant to come to work with a bodyguard detail and she wasn't kidding herself. Angele knew that as soon as Zahir was made aware that she carried his child, security around her was going to be a 24/7 reality.

Besides, once they were married, she'd no doubt they could and would visit the States often, but no way could she continue to live here.

“You reconciled yourself quickly to your changed circumstances,” he mused.

“I had a lot of years to plan what our eventual marriage would require.”

“This is true.” He looked lost in thought for several moments and then asked, “So, you do not refuse to live in Zohra?”

“I only said that for the press release. While I will not pretend to have been raised there, or stifle who I am for the sake of conformity, I love Zohra. But I told you I wouldn't allow you to be blamed.”

“I was very angry when I read that press release. I do not think I have ever been angrier in all my life.” He said it so dispassionately that it would have been easy to dismiss his words as overkill.

Except for the look in his eyes. The color of molten metal, they shimmered with remembered rage at odds with the rest of his calm exterior. She was beginning to realize that for all her hero worship of the man, she didn't know Zahir as well as she thought she had.

Seeing even a remnant of that furious reaction shocked her to her core and something told her it shouldn't. That she should have realized he would never see her defection the way she intended it to be taken.

Regardless, she wasn't completely buying the story he'd never been so mad. “Not even when you realized your former lover with a seriously questionable reputation was threatening to out your liaison to the press?”

The slightest movement that could have been a wince showed on his features when Angele said the words
seriously questionable reputation
, but other than that, Zahir didn't show any further emotion to the words. Certainly he didn't exhibit that latent anger he had in regard to Angele's actions.