Nadir flipped open his laptop, determined to focus on work for the rest of the trip. Once he renounced the throne tomorrow and married Imogen his life could get back to normal. Or as normal as it would be with a wife and a child and why didn’t that notion bother him half as much as it had fourteen months ago?
* * *
Marriage?
The word clunked around in Imogen’s brain for the millionth time like a giant-sized anvil and she hoped to God Nadir was at this very minute coming to his senses and seeing how ridiculous the idea was.
The best solution...
Of course there were other solutions, and she’d looked some up on her phone as she’d waited for his plane to take off. Not that she wanted to head down the shared custody route and she was sure—once he had calmed down and thought rationally—that neither would he. What rich playboy would? Especially once he learned how detrimental having a child would be to his bachelor lifestyle and she had every intention of pointing it out to him. Because, although she didn’t think those things, she knew that once the reality of parenthood set in Nadir would never take his responsibilities seriously. Not with his reputation as a serial dater. No, he wasn’t the faithful type and she’d been serious when she’d told him she wouldn’t marry him.
And he couldn’t force her. No one could do that in this day and age. The worst he could do was to take her to court and fight for custody of Nadeena. And that was... She swallowed heavily, her eyes darting across the aisle to where he was ensconced in work. Could he win? Would a court of law side with his sob story that she had run away with Nadeena?
Not that she had run; she’d simply taken charge of her life. Taken charge without him in it. And he hadn’t wanted to be in it. Or at least that was the message she had taken from his acerbic text.
She still remembered with embarrassing clarity the burst of happiness she had felt when it had pinged into her phone. It had sat there for a full five minutes before she had clicked on it and by then her heart had constructed a full-on fairy tale around what it would say. She had imagined that the text would confirm that he’d had time to think about things and he missed her. That he wanted her in his life. That he wanted their baby. In fact the foolishly sentimental organ in her body had imagined every possible thing he could have written except for what he had.
Imogen, there is a DNA test that can be done while the child is in utero. I have organised an appointment for you at a specialist. If the child is mine I will be in contact.
Devastated by his callousness and influenced by Caro’s dire warnings, Imogen had left. And really, what had been the alternative? To write back to him and plead? Are you sure you don’t want our baby? Are you sure you don’t want me? She did have some pride.
A delicious smell wafted into the cabin and Imogen’s stomach growled as a flight attendant stopped beside her.
‘The chef has prepared an omelette for you, Miss Benson. It’s vegetarian.’
‘Oh.’ How had the chef known she was vegetarian? ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t order this.’
‘Prince Nadir ordered it for you.’
Imogen glanced across at the man she was trying hard to think about rationally. Objectively. Something that was almost impossible, given his startling demands and that kiss...
Kiss? She felt a blush heat her cheeks. That kiss had shattered her equilibrium. As had her response. Given his hateful, overbearing behaviour, she’d like to have been left cold when he had touched her. She’d like to have been able to say she was over her sexual infatuation for him and was completely unmoved. She’d also like to be able to say there was no poverty or no ugly wars in the world either.