of his sleeve. She tilted her head back to look up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes glittered. “You honor me, my king.”
No one but Kareef could hear the bitter irony beneath her words.
The party guests stepped back with deep, reverent bows as he led Jasmine up on the dais, Umar following behind them. Once they were on the dais, Kareef dropped her hand. He picked up a gold flute from the table.
Instantly, the two hundred guests went silent, waiting breathlessly for their new king to speak.
“I wish to thank my honored host and friend, Umar Hajjar, for his gracious invitation.” He gave his old friend a nod. In response, Umar bowed, elegant in his designer suit. “And I wish to welcome his future bride, Jasmine Kouri, back to her homeland. You grace our shores with your beauty, Miss Kouri.” He held up the flute, looking at the guests with hard eyes as he intoned forcefully, “To the happy couple.”
“To the happy couple,” the guests repeated in awed unison.
Jasmine said nothing. But as they sat down, he could feel the glow of her hatred pushing against him in waves of palpable energy.
Dinner was served, a meal of limitless, endless courses of lamb and fish, of spiced rice and olives and baked aubergines stuffed with meat. Each dish was more elaborate than the last. And through it all, Kareef was aware of Jasmine sitting next to him. She barely ate, even when encouraged by her fiancé. She just gripped her fork and knife tightly. Like weapons.
“You should eat, my dear,” Umar Hajjar chided her from the other side. “It would be unattractive for you to grow too thin.”
Unattractive? Jasmine?
Kareef frowned. Thin or fat, naked or dressed in a burlap sack, any man would want her. He clenched his hands into fists upon the table. He wanted her. Right now. On this table.
No, he told himself fiercely. He wouldn’t touch her. He’d sworn thirteen years ago to leave Jasmine in peace. And she was now engaged to another man—his friend.
Turning to Umar Hajjar, Kareef forced himself to speak normally. “I did not know you were friends.”
“We met in New York last year.” Umar gave her arm a friendly little squeeze. “After my poor wife died, I asked Jasmine many times to marry me. She finally accepted yesterday.”
“Yesterday? And you plan to wed in a few days?” he said evenly. “A swift engagement. There are no…impediments?”
Jasmine looked at Kareef sharply, with an intake of breath. He did not meet her eyes.
Umar shrugged carelessly. “Any wedding can be arranged quickly, if a man does not care about the cost.” He glanced down at Jasmine teasingly. “Beautiful women can be fickle. I’m not going to give this one a chance to change her mind.”
Jasmine looked down at her full plate, her cheeks bright red. She ran tracks through her rice with her fork.
“I would have married her immediately, in New York,” Umar continued, “but Jasmine wished to be reconciled with her family. After my horse wins the Qais Cup, we will move to America for half the year to pursue my next goal—the Triple Crown. And of course I will take over Jasmine’s business in New York. Her only job will be as mother to my four sons. But her connections in America will be useful to me as I…”
He paused when one of his servants bent to whisper in his ear. Abruptly, Umar rose to his feet. “Excuse me. I must take a phone call. With your permission, sire…?”
Kareef gave him a single nod. After he left, as all the guests on the lower floor buzzed loudly with their own discussions, he lowered his head to speak in a low voice to Jasmine alone.
“Does he know?”
Her whole body became strangely still. “Don’t even think about it,” she ground out. “It doesn’t count. It meant nothing.”
“You know you cannot marry him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Jasmine.”
“No! I don’t care if you’re king, I won’t let you ruin my life—again!” Her eyes flashed at him. “I won’t let you ruin my family’s hopes with this wedding—”
“Your family needs the wedding?” he interrupted.
Clenching her jaw, she shook her head. “I won’t let them be crushed by my old scandal again, not when everyone’s still buzzing about my sister!”
“Which sister?”
Staring at him, she exhaled. “You haven’t heard? I thought everyone in Qusay knew.” She gave a sudden humorless laugh. “My youngest sister Nima was at boarding school in Calista. She had a one-night stand with some sailor whose name she can’t even remember. Now she’s pregnant. Pregnant at sixteen.”
The word pregnant floated between them like poisoned air.
Ripping his gaze away, Kareef glanced at her large family, now seated at a lower table. At Umar Hajjar crossing the grass near the tent. At all the guests watching the king surreptitiously beneath the white pavilion. Then he looked back at Jasmine, and it all faded away. He couldn’t see anything but the beauty of her face—the endless darkness of her eyes.
“Nima’s staying in New York now, living in my apartment, trying to wrap her head around the thought that she will soon be a mother.” She blinked back tears. “My baby sister. When she showed up on my doorstep two days ago, I suddenly realized how much time I’d lost. Thirteen years without my family.” Her voice cracked. “No money can replace that.”
“So you got engaged to Umar Hajjar,” he said quietly. He narrowed his eyes. “Do you love him?”
With a sigh, she rubbed her neck. “When my father sent me away thirteen years ago,” she whispered, “he said not to bother coming home again. Not until I was a respectable married woman.”
Kareef set his jaw, furious as he glared at her. “So that’s why you got engaged?” he bit out. “To please your father?”
She looked up at him, hatred suddenly blazing in her eyes.
“What do you care? You washed your hands of me long ago. In a few days I’ll be married and out of your life forever.” She lifted her chin, and her eyes glittered. “So leave me alone. Go get yourself crowned. Sire.”
In all the years he’d known Jasmine, he’d never heard that bitter tone from her lips. But could he blame her? What she’d gone through would make any woman’s soul grow brittle. Her young spirit had been so happy and bright, but he’d crushed that long ago. His hands tightened as he leaned forward over the table.
“But Jasmine,” he said in a low voice, “you have to know that I—”
“Forgive me,” Umar Hajjar interrupted, his voice high and strained. They turned almost guiltily to find him standing behind them. “My children’s nanny was on the phone. There is an emergency. I must go.”
“Oh no!” Jasmine rose to her feet anxiously. “I
