The Billionaire's Legacy Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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walked around the statue, examining it with wide-eyed fascination. When she reached the front of it, her fingers caressed the words carved in stone. ‘What does this mean?’
‘It translates loosely as Cherished One.’
A small smile lifted her mouth, one tinged with sadness a part of him recognised and commiserated with. ‘Every inch of this place is unbelievably breathtaking, almost like a fairy tale.’
Rahim tried to hide his bitterness as he answered. ‘That was the purpose behind the design. My mother wanted a fairy-tale palace. My father made sure she got exactly what she wanted.’
‘It is truly beautiful. A magical place.’ Her words were genuine, and Rahim saw her soft smile as she traced her fingers over the words once more. ‘Your father must have loved her very much if he moved heaven and earth to give her what she wanted?’
The seething sadness and underlying anger he felt when he thought about his father rose higher. ‘I guess you could say that.’
Allegra paused in her examination of the statue and glanced at him. ‘Oh? You didn’t see it that way?’
He shrugged. ‘Some would see it as love, I guess. Others might see it as an obsession that was detrimental in the long run.’
‘And you’re one of those who believe in the latter?’
Words he didn’t want to say locked in his throat. But the moment seemed to take over, the urge to share, to unburden surging from nowhere and catapulting the words from him.
‘Come with me.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Where?’
Rahim shook his head. ‘It’ll only take a moment.’ He caught her hand, his gut tensing at the sizzling contact.
His footsteps slowed as he reached the double doors that led to the north wing. Throwing it open, he flicked on the light and watched it bathe the plum and gold decor. Like elsewhere in the palace, the sweeping marble staircase was the centrepiece, designed for a princess to descend in grace and elegance.
‘Wow, I really can’t get over this place.’
Rahim, beginning to doubt his sanity in exposing himself to such disturbing memories, only nodded.
Perhaps alerted to his altered mood, Allegra completed the full admiring circle and faced him. ‘Why did you bring me here, Rahim?’
He let himself glance at the stairs. ‘You know why this wing is closed?’
‘No, there was no mention of it in the book...’
‘Of course not. That book is made for believers in fairy tales.’ She frowned at his thick cynicism, but didn’t interrupt. Only watched him as Rahim was assailed with the sudden need to pace.
‘My mother was rushing down those stairs to show my father a new ornament she’d bought when she tripped and fell. She suffered a concussion and a broken ankle and fell into a brief coma.’
He barely heard Allegra’s murmur of horror, caught up in the memory of those harrowing days and the real fear struck into his heart when he’d seen just how love could weaken a strong and noble man, a man he’d hitherto thought invincible.
‘Overnight, my father became a useless mess, neglecting everything and everyone, including his own confused and frightened son, as he’d mounted a vigil at my mother’s bedside.’
‘How long was she ill for?’
‘She was in hospital for six days. During that time I was allowed to visit her only once for five minutes. My father was terrified she could get an infection, despite the doctor’s assurances otherwise. He shut the whole world out, completely. The times when he was forced to partake in affairs of state, he would go through the motions with almost zombie-like animation. I heard some of his aides whispering about his mental state more than a few times in that week.’
‘But your mother got better?’
He whirled away from her, from the stairs that symbolised so many things he wanted to forget.
‘She came home. And aside from my father closing the north wing so he didn’t have to see where she fell, yes, things got better. But things were never the same.’
‘Because you witnessed the depth of your parents’ love?’ Allegra ventured, a gentle but haunting understanding on her face as she stared at him.
‘No. I saw the destructiveness of my father’s obsession.’
Rahim’s eyes had been wrenched wide open to the debilitating effects of love. The emotion he’d basked in and taken for granted had suddenly been what he’d feared would be his own and his beloved homeland’s eventual downfall.
‘But even then I hoped I was wrong. That what I’d witnessed from my father that week had been a temporary aberration.’ Because surely his father’s love was supposed to envelope his son and every single one of his subjects, not just his beloved wife? And that love should empower him to be a better ruler and father, not a hollowed-out wraith the moment it was threatened?
‘What happened?’ she asked from behind him.
‘My mother died four years later and my father proved to me just how much worse things could get.’
One hand slid over his bicep, pressing, surprising him with its strength. Surprising him with how much he wanted it to remain there. ‘You must have both been devastated.’
‘My father’s life ended that day.’ Khalil Al-Hadi had stopped living the moment his wife and unborn second child had died. ‘And as soon as I was able, I moved to Washington, DC.’ It was the place he’d forced himself to call home. The place he’d used the next fifteen years to forget his father and his homeland.
At first, Rahim hadn’t wanted to believe what was playing out before his very eyes. But with each day, he’d seen his reality alter alarmingly and his life slip into a frightening hell that triggered unfortunate reactions in him. By the time he’d realised his attempts were futile, that his father could see no further than his absolute grief, Rahim’s hedonistic lifestyle had become an addiction he hadn’t wanted to shake. He’d seen no reason to put the brakes on the heady freedom that came with little or no responsibility with matters concerning Dar-Aman. After all, if his father couldn’t be bothered to take an interest in what Rahim did, Rahim would reciprocate by cutting himself off totally from his homeland.
He rubbed absently at the pain lodged beneath his collarbone, his soul mourning just how effective his self-imposed exile had been. So much so he hadn’t known how bad things got...how badly his people had been neglected.
‘There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?’
His mouth twisted in a caricature of a smile as he turned to face her. He stared into her clear blue eyes, wondering what it would feel like to drown in them. Collecting himself, he stalled for time. ‘There always is, habibi, as I believe there is for you too. But this is where I cop out and say I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead.’
‘Or this is where you show a chink in your armour that says you’re human.’
‘Why would I want to display such a flaw?’
‘Aren’t heroes with flaws the ones who always win the girl in the end? Or am I misquoting popular fiction?’
‘We’re not fictional characters, Allegra,’ he stated matter-of-factly. ‘Blind obsession can be harmful to the giver and the receiver. I prefer to live in reality, no matter how unpalatable it can be at times.’
His observation blew away the last of the lingering wistfulness in her eyes. He watched, fascinated, as her practical façade slid into place. ‘You’re right, we’re not living in a fairy tale. Shall we continue with the tour?’
Like a true diplomat, she made the right noises, and admired the rich frescoes and endless rows of jaw-dropping chandeliers