He clenched his jaw. “You are not a prisoner. You are my guest. Your every comfort is assured.”
“And what if I want to talk to people? Have things to do besides watch television all day? I’m a businesswoman, Rashid. I don’t sit around my home and do nothing all day.”
“I will find a companion for you.”
She sighed heavily. And then she went back to dabbing the cuts on the back of her hand. His anger flared hot again.
“You could have hurt yourself far worse than you did,” he growled. “Did you even consider the baby when you behaved so foolishly?”
Her head snapped up, guilt flashing in her gaze. “I’ve already admitted it was a mistake. And yes, I considered what I was doing before I acted. But I didn’t expect the glass to shatter everywhere like that. I threw the tray from a distance, but I guess I threw it harder than I thought.”
She’d thrown the tray. At the window. She could have been seriously hurt, the foolish woman. But she sat there looking contrite and dejected—and yes, defiant, too—and he wanted to shake her. And tell her he was sorry.
Now where had that come from? He had nothing to apologize for.
Don’t I?
He had brought her to Kyr against her will, but what choice did he have? She could be pregnant with his child. Until he knew for certain, he was not about to let her stay in America, living alone and working. What if something happened? What if her store was robbed or someone broke into her apartment?
He’d seen how flimsy her door locks were. Oh, she thought they were state-of-the-art, no doubt, but he’d hired some of the best lock pickers in existence when he’d been building his business from scratch. He’d wanted to test his security, and he knew how easily locks could be breached.
If someone wanted to get to her, they could. And if it became known that she might carry an heir to the throne of Kyr? He shuddered to think of it.
“You will not do anything so foolish again, Miss Sloane.”
“I don’t intend to—but I also don’t want a companion. I want my freedom to come and go from this room, to talk to whomever I want to. And I want to talk to you from time to time. If there’s a baby, then I want to know its father as something more than an arrogant stranger. And if there isn’t, then I’ll go home and forget I ever met you.”
Rashid stood stiffly and stared down at her sitting there like some sort of tiny potentate. She had nerve, this woman. But it was absolutely out of the question. He wanted nothing to do with her. If she was pregnant, he’d deal with it when the time came—he could hardly think the word wife—but for now she was safely stowed away and he could go about business and forget she existed.
“You may come and go if that is what you wish. But you will have a servant to guide you, and you will do what you are told. You will not wear that clothing, Miss Sloane. You will dress as a Kyrian woman and you will be respectful.”
Her chin lifted again. “I am always respectful of those who are respectful of me. But I refuse to be swathed head to toe in black robes—”
His anger was swift as he cut her off. “Once more, you make dangerous assumptions about us. I will send a seamstress to you and you may choose your own colors. This is nonnegotiable.”
Her mouth flattened for the barest moment. And then her lips were lush and pink again as she nibbled the bottom one. “And am I to see you, too? Have conversations with you that aren’t about what I’m wearing or where I plan to live?”