impossible.”
He shook his head. “Craving anything, in my position, would be dangerous. Something easily exploited.”
She arched a pale brow, the expression of utter disbelief plain in her clear blue eyes. His eyes drifted lower again, to the curve of her full breasts, the intoxicating shape of her body.
“Everybody wants something,” she said.
“I’m above such things.”
It was almost impossible to keep himself from making a move toward her. It had been months since he’d been with a woman, time and circumstance not permitting it, and he was starting to feel the effects of his celibacy. But there was no time to deal with it now, and certainly not with her.
Another thing he needed power over. The strong, strange craving that was making its way through him, heating him from the inside out, making him burn. It was as if the Attari sun had penetrated his skin, as if cool blue eyes had the power to cover him in fire.
“High opinion of yourself.”
“I am a sheikh,” he said, “I expect to have a certain amount of power, as is my birthright. I was never the heir, but I have always been a leader. I ask for nothing. I demand it, and it is so.”
A lie. Throughout his life, if he had demanded something that had not fallen into line with his uncle’s vision for him, he had been denied it. Or it had been taken from him, ruthlessly.
He had spent years having any royal arrogance stripped from him, leaving him exposed. A man, simply a man, with no power but what he found inside of himself. No defense beyond the walls he built around his emotions. It had spurred him to make them stronger, to take everything his uncle had taught him and use it as a shield against those who sought to break him.
“I am the final authority,” he said, reinforcing himself.
Her eyes shuttered, going cold and dim. “I see. Was there something you wanted or were you just informing me about the celebration?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice getting rough, his body tightening in reaction to her words. He put his power into mastering it, into overcoming the inconvenient, unnecessary attraction to her that seemed to be intent on taking him over. “I came to issue you an invitation to the proceedings.”
Unsurprisingly, “invitation” had meant that she was required to go. Aden was tucked safely in his bed, back at the palace with both of his nannies standing by.
And she’d had to put on the only dress that fit her and her newly expanded figure, again, and get into Sayid’s limousine. Not that she had a direct complaint with the limo. Under any other circumstance, she would have thought it was really cool to ride in a limo. But his heavy-handed tactics, combined with the disturbingly close confines of the vehicle, were dampening her glee.
The fact that a car the size of this one gave the impression of close quarters said a lot about the disturbing effect Sayid seemed to have on her.
It was all that power, and the unapologetic enjoyment of it. He was so comfortable with it, so clearly in need of it. It made her fear what might happen if it was denied him. If he felt it was threatened.
What lengths would he go to in order to get it back?
Would he find it in the use of his fists against someone weaker than him? In a woman’s pleading? Would he find it in holding the life or death of someone weaker than him in his hands?
Her father had. And while she knew that all men weren’t abusers… men who prized power, men who were so unashamedly dominant, were the ones who set off her internal alarms.
And Sayid was certainly creating a strange effect in her. A kind of restless edginess. Nerves that cramped her stomach and made breathing difficult. A warning from her body, she was certain.
“See the hope they have now?” Sayid’s voice was surprisingly soft.
Chloe looked out the window. It was no wild reverie that gripped the people lining the streets, rather a solemn expression of love for their country. Flowers in people’s hands, a memorial for the fallen sheikh and his wife. A gift for the new prince.
“Yes,” she said, her throat tight.
Sayid sat, his hands folded in his lap. The people outside waved, but Sayid made no move to wave back. Chloe pressed the button on the limousine window and expected to be scolded by Sayid. But he said nothing.
She slipped her hand outside the window and waved. The solemnity broke. Cheers erupted, smiles on the faces of the Attari people who before had looked so bereft. She looked at Sayid, questioning.
“You are the woman who saved their future ruler,” he said. “You are loved.”
“A strange thing to be loved for something you didn’t do.”
“You did save him, though,” Sayid said, his tone strange, as though he was having a revelation even as he spoke. “You carried him. Gave him life. You’re the reason he is.”
“If not me, it would have been someone else.”
“But it was you.”
Yes, it had been. And now the whole thing was tearing her apart slowly, piece by painful piece. Because her plan for her life had been so perfect. And she’d been so happy with it. Now it was altered forever.
She could never again find the same satisfaction in her imaginings of the future. There was a time when the thought of being Dr. Chloe James had filled her with all the satisfaction she could ever ask for from life. When picturing her own classroom filled with students had seemed like the ultimate picture of fulfillment. Spending her days lecturing on what she loved, spending time studying as much as possible even after school, unraveling new theories, either proving or disproving them as they came. There was a time when that had been more than enough.
And now it was muddled. Because to have that, she had to push Aden out of the picture. The thought of it sent a sharp pain through her, a spear lodged in her breast, one she couldn’t seem to pull out.
And the thought of abandoning the dream was painful, too.
There was no simple answer. There was just the reality of being caught between two different worlds. Two different desires.
But of course, she couldn’t stay in Attar. Couldn’t be staff at the palace forever.
Which still gave her her dream, that wonderful fantasy she’d clung to since she was thirteen years old.
Except now it was tarnished. It would never again be the vision of utter contentment and perfection it had once been. Not now that it meant giving up so much.
She was changed. Completely. And she hated it. Resented it with every fiber of her being. Yet, she couldn’t feel any resentment toward Aden. Toward the life that had begun inside of her body.
It was easier to channel it to Sayid. Much easier.
“The people need a symbol,” he said, his tone grave. “I am not that symbol. No hope for the future. You… you bring hope.”
“It’s
