“No. I would never have anything to do with someone as calculating and ruthless as you are.”
“You already know me so well, Princess, you’re practically made for me. It certainly seemed that way last night.”
Zufar made a noise of outrage while Galila stomped her foot, blushing deep into her open collar.
“Stop talking about that! There are other women,” Galila insisted. “Pick one.”
“I want you.”
“I won’t do it.”
Karim only swung his attention back toward her brother. “I’ve made it clear what I’m prepared to do to get her.”
“Why? What else do you want?” Zufar flared his nostrils in fury.
Above all, Karim wanted to forestall any speculation about who might be the mysterious man their mother had fallen for. If it became known that Queen Namani’s lover had been his father, King Jamil, the news would not only destroy his mother, but it would rock both kingdoms right down to their foundations. Not to mention what this newly discovered half brother might do with the knowledge.
So Karim only asked, “Is it so remarkable I might want her?”
“You didn’t even introduce yourself. Last night was a setup,” Zufar said.
“Oh, thank you very much,” Galila interjected hotly, but hurt and accusation lingered behind her glossy eyes as she glared at Karim. “I don’t care what you threaten. I’m not some camel you’re trading.”
Karim had given his explanation some thought as he had lain awake last night, having anticipated that Zufar would be a man of intelligence, capable of seeing his sister was being used for reasons that went beyond her obvious charms.
“I’m not the only man who noticed last night that the princess is very beautiful,” he said to Zufar. “She’s unmarried and much is changing in Khalia with you taking your father’s place. An alliance with the sister of the new king could only be an advantage to me.”
“And you think I want to form an alliance with a man of your methods?” Zufar scoffed.
“If I’m married to your sister, yes. I think we will both work toward aligning our countries’ goals. And I believe, in the long run, you’ll appreciate my methods. I’m saving you months of fielding offers from lesser men and having to play politics in refusing them.”
“Such magnanimity,” Zufar said with venom-like sarcasm, adding darkly, “But I can’t refute the logic.”
“Try harder, Zufar,” Galila said scathingly. “Because I won’t marry him and you can’t make me.”
“I’m your king, Galila.” He said it flatly, but not unkindly.
As she tried to stare down her brother, her cross expression slowly faded into something disconcerted. She clearly began to realize what she was up against and grew pale.
“Zufar, you can’t.”
“I am not Mommy and Daddy whom you can manipulate with your crocodile tears. You have stepped way over the line this time. I can’t put this back in the box for you.”
It was tough love in action, something Karim would normally subscribe to, but he sensed genuine distress in the way she reached for a tone of reason, though her voice trembled.
“This isn’t like our parents’ time when everything was arranged and Mommy was promised to Daddy from when she was a girl. We are allowed to marry for love—”
“Did I get the bride I wanted?” Zufar interjected. “The time we are in, Galila, is one where we all have to make sacrifices for the crown of Khalia. You made this bed you’re already half in.” He sent a dark look at Karim. “Whether you were seduced into it or tricked or went there of your own volition.”
Karim didn’t bother explaining that as far as that side of it went, she had been a willing partner. He might not be a man who indulged his passions, but he and Galila certainly hadn’t lacked any. That was the one thing that made him cautious about this arrangement, but that was a worry for a later time, after he got what he wanted.
Which was her.
Even though she looked shattered by his demand for her hand. She visibly shook but found the courage to turn and confront him. “I refuse. Do you understand me?”
“Come,” Karim responded, holding out his hand, almost moved to pity by her anxiety but not enough to change his mind. “It is done.”
“It is not,” she insisted. “I’m going to talk to my father.”
“You should inform him,” Karim agreed. “Do that while I negotiate our marriage contract with your king.”
* * *
Her father offered no help whatsoever. He gave her a halfhearted pat on her cheek, eyes red and weary.
“It’s past time you married. Listen to your brother. He knows what is best for you.”
No, he doesn’t!
Malak didn’t even answer her text. Her friend Amira was gone—seduced into running away with Adir. Galila was jealous of her friend. Amira’s escape might have been dramatic, but at least she wasn’t forced into a marriage she didn’t want.
Galila felt as though she was being kidnapped in slow motion. Even her one trusted ally within the palace, Niesha, had gone from being someone who might cover for her long enough for a getaway to being her queen. Galila wasn’t allowed to see her without an appointment and didn’t have time to make one. A travel case had already been packed for her and Karim was knocking on the door to her apartment while she flittered back and forth in a panic.
“Ready?” The detached question made her long to dismiss him as a robot, but there was something deeply alive about him. He was a lion—all-powerful and predatory, completely unfeeling in what he pursued or how much pain he caused, so long as he could feast on whatever it was he desired.
“I will never forgive you for this,” she said in reply.
“Let’s save our vows for our wedding day.”
“There won’t be one.” She used a glare that unfailingly set a man in his place, but he was impervious, meeting her icy gaze without flinching.
Much to her chagrin, as she maintained the eye contact, she felt the tug of desire all over again. His eyes were such a dark brown they were almost black, velvety and holding far more depth than she initially gave credit for.
The whole time he had been blackmailing her brother and admitting that he had manipulated her last night to capture her hand before anyone else could, she had been thinking about how delicious he had made her feel.
She had thought about him all night, mostly feeling disappointed that they’d been caught and interrupted, not nearly as mortified as her brother had wanted her to feel when he had criticized her behavior.
But the enigmatic stranger who had kissed her was gone. He had turned into this disinterested man who had used her. His complete lack of reaction toward her, his utter indifference, reminded her that all the feelings and attraction had been on her side. That thought carved a hole right next to the ones already leaving a hollow feeling inside her.
Even if it was about time she married, even if she absolutely had to succumb to marriage, it should be to a man who wanted her. Not Zufar’s sister. Not the Princess of Khalia. Not the politically expedient ally. Her.
He ought to at least offer her the adoration her mother had had from their father. No one should expect her to accept this.
And yet, as they walked outside to the cars, a polite round of applause went up.
For appearance’s sake, her brother had announced that their engagement had been kept secret for weeks, so as not to overshadow the coming wedding. If Zufar thought the departing wedding guests believed that, there were several bridges in America he could purchase at an excellent price.
Repulsed as she was by the lie, she didn’t make a scene. Far too late for that. She accepted congratulations with a warm, delighted smile. Let them all think this was as grand a romance as her brother tried to package it.
The better to humiliate Karim when she left him in the dust.
* * *
“Are you really a sheikh?”
Oh, had his fiancée finally chosen to speak to him? He glanced up from his productive hour on his laptop.
She hadn’t cried or begged as they left the palace, which he had half expected. She had thrown waves of cold, silent resentment at him, making it clear that if he hadn’t personally escorted her into the car and then his helicopter, she wouldn’t be here.
As a man highly in demand and averse to theatrics, Karim told himself that receiving the silent treatment was a gift. At the same time, he had to acknowledge her strength of will was more than he had bargained for. He wasn’t someone who thrived on challenge and overcoming conflict. He didn’t shy away from it, either. He met obstacles head on and expected them to get out of his way.
This woman, however, with her royal blood seething with passion, wasn’t cowed by the mere timbre of his voice. On the surface, she appeared soft and delicate, but he was beginning to see the length of steel in her spine.
He hoped like hell that didn’t portend clashes. He had no time for tantrums.
“I am,” he answered mildly.
Her skeptical gaze left the window to scan the interior of the helicopter cabin, then dropped to the clothes he’d changed into for travel. He’d worn a suit for his high-stakes meeting with her brother but wore typical Arab attire as often as possible. Not for religious or political reasons, but because he found it the most comfortable.