Sighing, Lauren peered through the window and saw the jagged outline of the capital city set against sprawling desert land in the distance. Turreted domes and spires stood out against the sky and she hungrily clutched the sight to herself.
“Aren’t you leaving?” she asked the woman.
“I accompany you to New York,” she said demurely, “and then, return to Behraat.”
Lauren set her glass on the table so fast that the cold water spilled on her fingers.
This was going too far. She’d decided to tolerate the jet because she didn’t want to draw Zafir’s attention by complaining about it. But she drew the line at wasting a qualified nurse’s time.
She had learned from Farrah that women qualified in the medical field were just not enough for the growing demand in the outlying villages of the city where families still refused to let the women see male doctors.
“Please ask whoever’s in charge to take me back to the commercial airport.”
“But the sheikh himself—”
“If he has a problem with this,” Lauren replied, as she stood up and grabbed her handbag, “he can come see me himself.”
The woman gasped.
“You have your wish, habeebti,” came the sudden, soft reply behind her.
Lauren whirled so fast that she was dizzy.
Zafir. The sheer force of his presence was like a blast of toe-curling heat. Her insides plummeted alarmingly.
“You’re also going to wish,” his tone was silky smooth, like velvet cloaking a knife’s edge as he dismissed the nurse with a flick of his head, “we had never met by the time I’m through with you.”
With that veiled threat, he threw a file at her. The contents scattered with a soft whisper that nevertheless felt like a thudding roar. As though even the flimsy paper didn’t dare disobey his command, a sheet flew toward her.
Goose bumps broke out on her skin. She didn’t need to read the paper to know what it said. The red file with her name in capital letters, the small insignia, the seal of the palace physician, was enough.
“Tongue-tied, Lauren?”
Now his voice rang with power, cold ferocity, absolute disgust. Her stomach churned fiercely, her heart racing far too fast and far too loud.
He knew. God, he knew, and he looked so angry. Why? Why was he so angry?
She picked up the papers from the floor, one by one, her movements slow and shaky, her thoughts in a whirl. Slowly, she stood up and faced him.
A white cotton tunic with a Nehru collar hung carelessly over his broad chest, dark hair on golden brown skin peeking through its opening. The very unassuming, casual way of his dressing only served to emphasize how easily he wore his power.
Molten heat uncoiled low in her belly, as instinctual as her breathing.
He gripped her elbow and pulled her toward him. “Explain that file.”
Was his fury because of the truth she had hidden or the fact that she had dared to? Was that a shadow of hurt beneath his anger?
Doubts piled upon her, weakening her. His nearness wrecked her balance, her mind, compelling little pinpricks of guilt.
No, it had been the hardest decision she’d ever made in her life.
She looked into the sharp planes of his aristocratic face, forced herself to keep her tone light—a herculean task with his gaze peeling layers off her. “It goes something like this. A man and a woman have fantastic, mind-blowing sex thinking they are protected by her pill, but the pill fails because the woman is on antibiotics, annndd...” she made a singsong sound, her throat drying up at the lick of molten fury in his gaze, turning the tawny irises to scorching flames “...a few weeks later, the woman is pregnant. Your basic biology in action.”
A curse fell from his mouth—something she had no hope of understanding except that it was nasty and aimed at her, his long fingers digging into her arm.
“Learn to curb that tongue of yours, ya habeebti, or I’ll put it to a more pleasurable activity next time.”
Something hot and twisty and unbearably achy gripped her lower belly, her cheeks burning up. Their gazes met and held, his meaning clear in the dark heat in it. “I’m not going to acknowledge that with a refusal.”
He laughed then and while it etched gorgeous grooves into his cheeks, it lacked any warmth. The luxurious cabin felt chilly. “You think I cannot command you to do my bidding, Lauren? All that lacked until now was intention on my behalf.”
“You’re trying to frighten me.”
“Try me then, habeebti. Try and see how far I can go when I’m pushed, when I’m denied what’s mine.”
She swallowed and took a deep breath. Angering him was not, had never been, her objective. “How did you find out? Did—”