He was no game player, but if Paddington Children’s Hospital was on the brink of an unwanted closure, he had the means to change that. His pockets were deep. Very deep. But his daughter’s welfare came first. The thought of losing Amira under any circumstances chilled him to his very marrow. Something just as deep-seated told him Robyn was the woman to perform Amira’s surgery, but only after a few more boxes had been ticked. “You will come to Da’har to allay my concerns—”
“Concerns?”
A piercing shot of anger coursed through Idris that she could even dare to suggest he would feel otherwise.
“Yes. Concerns. Shall I spell it out for you? A father’s concerns. Surely, Dr. Kelly, you are not unfamiliar with the love a parent has for a child?”
Robyn went deathly still. She blinked, hiding behind her eyelids a look of pure, unadulterated grief. When she opened them again, her eyes bore little of the light they’d shone with earlier and Idris knew he was at fault for unearthing a deep sorrow. A hollow victory if ever there was one.
“I will have to talk to the board,” she said. “Ensure appropriate replacements can be made...”
“Good.” He gave a curt nod, his tone back to its usual brusque efficiency. It wasn’t as if he could comfort her. Pull her into his arms and tell her whatever it was that had thrown a shadow over her sunlit eyes would one day be better. He was proof that time was not a healer of all wounds.
“Right. Very well, then. When shall we book your flight? Or, if you care to join us, we will be taking the jet back. Is it tomorrow afternoon, Kaisha? Amira’s booked in to see a premiere of some sort tonight—a musical—otherwise we’d be off today.”
* * *
“You’re going to see Princesses and Frogs?” Robyn shoved her dark thoughts away, grateful for the distraction. The highly anticipated musical had been sold out for months and months. She’d been hoping to bring some of her friends from the hospital...well, patients, but they always ended up finding a way into her heart no matter how “doctory” she tried to be.
“Yes. Very nice seats, I’m led to believe. Would you care to join us?”
Robyn barked out an ungainly laugh. “I doubt you’d be able to get extra tickets at this point.”
“It won’t be a problem. We always book out the Royal Dress Circle.”
She cringed as Idris caught her raised eyebrows, even more embarrassed at her reaction to the show of wealth when he finished, “In case Amira would like to bring along a friend or two. As you speak British Sign Language, you could be useful if she needs some additional interpreting along the way. Is there anyone else you’d like to invite along?” She felt his eyes traveling down to her bare ring finger and protectively covered her left hand with her right.
She fidgeted for a minute under his cool gaze, then crossed her arms, in a B-grade show of giving his question a few moments’ consideration. Idris didn’t need to know she was a dedicated singleton. One whose daily torture and pleasure it was to enter Paddington’s and spend day after day surrounded by children knowing she would never have one of her own. Lacerating her heart by getting close to yet another young patient was always a risk. One she’d have to take if it meant saving the hospital that had saved her in her darkest days. Her hands, as they always did, crept down to protect the area where she would have carried a child if things had gone differently. If life had been kind. She blinked. Kind. Idris hadn’t known much kindness at the hands of Mother Nature, either.
“It would be great if I could come along...to meet Amira.” Her brow crinkled as she continued. “In the light of which, I really don’t think it’s necessary to take up your time and resources to go to Da’har.”
“Nonsense. Expense is the least of my problems.” Idris tutted, crossing to the sofa where Robyn was sitting. She watched, wordlessly, as he picked up the crumpled ball that was her raincoat and shook it out. The scarf one of “her” kids had given her fell to the ground. When she bent to pick it up, she conked heads, rather impressively, with Idris.
They rose simultaneously, hands clamped on foreheads. As comedy moments went...this was up there. Except neither of them were laughing.
His eyes...those beautiful near black eyes of his held on to hers as if they were speaking to each other. A silent conversation winging its way, effortlessly, to her very core where she was feeling rather heated and a little bit...giddy.
Da’har was meant to be nice this time of year.
Idris regrouped more quickly than Robyn and all she could do was watch his lips as he spoke.
“If you need a few days to rearrange your schedule...” She watched as his Adam’s apple dipped and resurfaced. Was he feeling it, too? “I’m quite sure the hospital administration will be...flexible...about your hospital duties when they understand the complexities surrounding your upcoming surgery.”
“It’s not the surgery I’m worried about.” Her fingers flew to cover her lips. Gulp. She was really going to have to curtail her out-loud voice.
“Dr. Kelly, I’m not certain how much your administrative team has told you about me, but in order for this surgery to go ahead I’m afraid there are a few hurdles to leap. My daughter is my utmost priority and as much as you want to understand Amira, I need to understand you.”
“Oh, no, no. I don’t go under the microscope.” Not a chance. No one—no matter how sexy, powerful and unnervingly sensual they were—no one opened up her private life for inspection. Case. Closed. She dug her trainers into the thick carpet and gave a shake of the head, wishing she’d commandeered her wild spray of curls into some sort of obedience. “Nonnegotiable.”
“My daughter, my rule book.”
“Ha! Wow.” Despite her best efforts to stem her response, she snorted. “Someone’s a little used to getting what he wants.”
He quirked an eyebrow in response; a ribbon of heat flickered through her belly as she watched his lips part to respond to her, a full octave lower than usual.
“And someone’s going to have to learn to be a bit more flexible to get what she wants.”
Robyn could’ve sworn she saw the hint of a smile on his lips before he continued briskly. “You will, of course, need to meet the team you will work with for the surgery in Da’har before I allow it—”
“Allow it?” Sorry, pal. Sheikh or no sheikh, she and she alone decided whether or not the surgery was green-lit.
“Yes. Allow it,” Idris replied, entirely unaffected by her interior monologue. “I make decisions about Amira and no one else. It’s the job of a parent to protect, is it not?”
Robyn bit down hard enough on the inside of her cheek to draw blood as he continued. She’d never be a parent and, as such, was denied any right of reply. This time her silence drew venom.
* * *
“How else do you recommend I look after my daughter’s welfare?” Idris snapped. He would move heaven and earth for Amira. Retaining control of her medical treatment was paramount. If he had control, he could ensure nothing would happen to her. Loss—the aching, hollowed-out-heart kind of grief he had felt when
