Modern Romance Collection: May 2018 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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to Princess Halina.’
‘Right.’ So it was all happening for him. She was no longer needed. And suddenly Olivia realised she was glad. No, not glad, never that, but relieved, because at least this had happened now and not in months or years, when the prospect of being set aside would have been utterly devastating. Her heart was broken, but it would mend. She would make sure of it. ‘Then all that remains is for me to book my plane ticket to Paris.’ Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, determined not to cry. Not to reveal one shred of heartbreak to Zayed. Not when he so clearly didn’t care at all.
‘I will arrange it for you,’ he said after a brief, tense pause. ‘But first I must ask you to do one last thing.’
‘Which is?’ Olivia asked, although she could guess already.
‘To accompany me to Abkar. Princess Halina wishes to see you, as does Sultan Hassan.’
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against the pain, and then snapped them open again. She could do this. She could survive. ‘Fine,’ she said, her voice as terse as Zayed’s. ‘When do we leave?’
* * *
This felt all wrong. Zayed gazed at Olivia’s pale, heart-shaped face and wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and never let her go. Seeing her walk into the room, standing, recovered, alive, had been almost too much to bear. The last five days had been utter hell, the news from France and Abkar overridden by his fear and concern for Olivia. He’d had hourly reports on her condition from Ammar Abdul, and he hadn’t cared how it had made him look.
But he’d still arrived at this moment and brought Olivia with him. Whatever had been between them was over. He had to put his country first. His duty first. The memory of his father and brother spiralling down to their death, his mother in his arms, they came first. They had to. The news of Hassan’s renewed interest on top of Serrat backing away had felt like an omen, a wake-up call. He had to stop pursuing his own pleasure, his own happiness, and do what was best for Kalidar.
‘We’ll leave tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The visit should be brief.’ He paused, swallowing past the jagged lump that had formed in his throat. ‘You can be in Paris in a few days.’
Zayed didn’t see Olivia until they were boarding the helicopter the next morning. He’d barely slept all night, wanting only to go to her. One last night in her arms, forbidden and sweet. He didn’t, because he knew it wouldn’t be fair to her, or Princess Halina, for that matter. The break needed to be clean, quick and final.
They didn’t speak on the helicopter ride from Rubyhan, or in the armoured car they took through the desert to Abkar. Olivia’s face was turned to the window as the dunes slid by, and after several hours they arrived on the outskirts of Abkar’s capital, the single-storey dwellings giving way to apartment buildings and high rises.
When the palace walls came into view, built of golden stone and interspersed with minarets, she let out a little sigh. ‘It feels like a lifetime,’ she said quietly.
It was a lifetime. A part of him had come to life in the last few weeks, and then died. The grief he felt was for that part of him as much as it was for losing Olivia. He didn’t want to go back to the man he’d been, closed off from emotions, an island of independence and strength. He wanted to need her but he knew he couldn’t.
Staff met them as soon as the car pulled up to the palace’s front entrance. Zayed had barely a glance for Olivia before she was being ushered away, and he was taken to wait on Sultan Hassan in the palace’s throne room.
The Sultan came quickly into the room, unsmiling, and Zayed gave him a brief nod, one head of state to another. The two men stared at each other for a long moment and then Hassan finally spoke.
‘I do not applaud your methods, Prince Zayed, but at least you got my attention.’
‘For that I am glad, Your Majesty.’
‘It is unfortunate that you made such a grievous error.’
Zayed inclined his head. ‘Indeed.’ Part of him wanted to argue about the nature of that error, for Olivia was so much more to him than that, yet he did not. He couldn’t.
‘Under normal circumstances, I would not even receive you,’ Hassan continued. ‘While I understand your reasoning, as well as your intense desire to be restored to your kingdom, Princess Halina is my daughter, and a royal in her own right, and you attempted to treat her with immense disrespect.’
‘I meant none, I assure you, Your Majesty.’
‘Even so.’ Hassan blew out an irritated breath. ‘But the fact remains that the Princess’s circumstances have changed.’
‘Oh?’ Zayed stood alert, a new wariness charging through him. What did Hassan mean?
He made it plain soon enough. ‘Her mother took her to Italy a few weeks ago, to keep her out of the drama unfolding here,’ Hassan said flatly. ‘And it appears in that time that she got into trouble.’
‘Trouble?’
‘She is no longer a virgin,’ Hassan stated, his face set like stone. ‘In fact, she is pregnant with another man’s child.’ Shock ripped through Zayed, leaving him speechless for a few seconds. Hassan smiled grimly. ‘It is not what you expected, I imagine.’
‘I am taken by surprise,’ Zayed admitted carefully.
‘She has been dishonoured and ruined. The only way for her situation to be redeemed is for you to marry her as was originally planned. The child can be passed off as yours.’
Revulsion at such a cold-blooded suggestion made Zayed nearly recoil. ‘And what of the biological father? Has he no interest in his child?’
‘He has no say. He doesn’t know, and I have no intention of him knowing.’
‘Who is he?’
‘That is not your concern.’
‘On the contrary, it is most certainly my concern. You are asking me to raise his child as my own and potentially, if it is a son, to be my heir.’
‘That is the price you must pay for your own misdeed,’ Hassan returned coldly. ‘Did you think I would forgive so easily? If you want my support, if you want to reclaim your kingdom, then you will do this one thing.’
Zayed took a quick, even breath, willing his temper to stay in check. Hassan had always been autocratic, assuming more authority and power than he’d ever truly possessed. Abkar was a small country, smaller even than Kalidar, although it was rich in resources and had a stable economy. But he would not take orders from the man. ‘And what does the Princess think?’
‘It is of no concern.’
‘Even so, I would like to know.’
Hassan shrugged. ‘You may ask her yourself. I will grant you a private audience with her later today.’ His eyes flashed. ‘You will take no liberties, I trust, or this offer will be rescinded.’
‘Of course I will take no liberties.’ Zayed knew he could hardly claim the moral high ground, but he’d forgotten, since his last interview with Hassan years ago, how much he disliked the man. He could be charming when he chose, but underneath that veneer of paternal kindness ran an arrogant, self-serving strain.
Hassan gave him a cold smile. ‘Then we are finished here.’
A muscle ticked in Zayed’s jaw. He realised he was furious—and not because of the other man’s lack of respect for his title and position, the autocratic way he spoke, or the way he talked about his daughter, as if she were nothing more than a stain on his reputation. No, he was angry at this man, furious with him, because of his complete lack of concern for Olivia. She’d considered Hassan like a father. She’d viewed the palace as her home.
‘You have not asked about Miss Taylor,’ Zayed said, his voice low and level.
Hassan