When she’d realized it meant wedding, which painted an image of Zafir with a young, biddable bride, it felt as if her heart would be ripped out of her chest. Until she realized what the staff was speculating about.
Lauren was carrying the sheikh’s child but there was to be no wedding. Because, of course, a Westerner like her could never be a proper sheikha. She was only suitable for one thing.
“This time, I will take what I want.”
Those words haunted her in the pitch-dark of the night when she lay in her luxurious bed, restless in her overheated skin. When she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. When she admitted that, if he came to her, if his powerfully naked body joined her on the cool sheets, that compelling gaze captivating hers, she would beg him for his wicked words, his rough hands, his utter possession.
But the glimpse of pain before he had become cruelly cold again—it haunted her, made her curious about him.
Her only source, however, was Farrah, who had begrudgingly begun uttering monosyllabic responses to Lauren’s questions, a vast improvement over the glares and silent nods of the past two weeks.
Lauren took the bull by the horns as Farrah checked her pulse. “How long will you be angry with me?”
Farrah sighed, her forehead creased in a delicate frown. “It was your decision to make. But I failed Zafir. I’ve known him all my life, I know what he...” She studied Lauren, weighing her words. “But I’ve never seen him like this. The palace staff are afraid to look him in the eye, some won’t even enter the same room. Even Arif finds Zafir hard to handle nowadays, I hear.”
Lauren felt a perverse satisfaction at the thought of upsetting Zafir’s old mentor. It was Arif who had discovered the truth of her pregnancy. With hindsight, she resented him less for telling the truth and more for knowing her private affairs. “Good. Everyone is learning what a jerk your sheikh is.”
She thought Farrah would explode at her, instead, a grin split her mouth, and relief shuddered through Lauren. Farrah had come to mean so much to her already and not because she was the only one who spoke her mind. “You should talk to him, get to know him. It might relieve the tension between you two, and the staff, too.”
“How?” The word rang around them with all her frustration packed into it. “How will I ask him anything if he doesn’t even see me? For all his proclamations about wanting the best for the baby, he hasn’t inquired once.”
“I report to him every night, with orders to contact him immediately if you even feel a twinge of discomfort.”
Okay, so he was keeping tabs on her. “Can you help me convince the guards to escort me to his suite?”
Even before she completed the sentence, Farrah shook her head. “That’s forbidden and...scandalous.”
“Because there’s no scandal surrounding me already?” she said, unable to staunch the bitterness that crept into her words. “Because all of Behraat hasn’t already decided that I’m the sheikh’s Western plaything?”
Except he hadn’t played with her, despite the threats he had made. God, how much more twisted and perverse could she get about him?
The tightening of Farrah’s mouth was enough to confirm Lauren’s suspicions. “No one who has seen Zafir with you would assume anything, but...” Sighing, Farrah looked at her. “The Zafir I know would never take away a woman’s freedom. If you’d known Tariq, you would see how different Zafir is, especially, when it comes to women.”
But only she’d hidden an important truth from him.
Lauren slid down into the velvet recliner. Little niggles of doubt shaking her will lose.
Had she fallen into the very trap she had been intent on avoiding? Put herself first and not her child? Had she reacted only out of hurt and jealousy?
Had Zafir been right, after all?
Burying her head in her hands, she groaned. It had been wrong to take away his right to know.
She had to apologize, make him understand she had never meant to cut him out of the child’s life. She had to swallow her insecurities, move past her vulnerability when it came to him.
And accept that Zafir wanted to be a part of her child’s life. Much as she wished she never had to lay eyes on him ever again.
* * *
That evening, Lauren felt refreshed after a brisk walk in the lush private gardens, sealed off from the outer world by an eight-foot red brick wall.
Two guards always flanked her, even over the little distance she went. And she didn’t believe it was for protection as Farrah had tried to convince her, as if Lauren was of value to anyone.
More like surveillance, because His Royal Highness didn’t trust her.
She entered the sitting area and stilled.