Читать книгу Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy - Elizabeth Lane - Страница 16

SAYID RAN, THE SAND HOT even through his shoes. The sun was a punishment, sending heat through his skin and into his body, burning him from the inside out, cleansing him.

He stopped and looked around him. There was nothing visible in any direction, the slight hill behind him concealing the palace from view. And everywhere else… there was simply nothing. Nothing but open space. Red sand. Bleached sky. No walls. No bars.

Even so, it felt as if chains were tightening on his wrists, binding him, squeezing his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe. He had nightmares at night, every night, of the blackness. Of being bound, unable to move. Of waiting. Waiting for the crack of the whip, the blade of a knife, over flesh.

Waiting for pain he couldn’t show he felt. Crushing the agony down, turning it inward so that no one would ever know how close he was to being broken.

He bent at the waist, his hands braced on his knees as he tried to block out that feeling of being trapped, the sense of walls closing in on him. Usually, being out in the Attari desert helped. The vast openness, the sense of unending space relieving the dark claustrophobia that lived inside of him.

This time it didn’t stop. He felt trapped, felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

He sat down, uncaring that the sand burned his legs where his shorts exposed them to the elements, not caring that the sun beat down on him with all the cruelty of a whip.

He felt as if he would burst, his breath coming slow and hard, pressure building inside of him, rage, so strong, so uncontrollable that he had to let it out. Only here. Only with the desert as witness.

Only here could he allow himself to feel the crushing weight of all that had been placed on him at birth. There had been chains on him long before he’d been taken prisoner. Chains put on him, first by his family, by the expectation that came with being the son meant to oversee the military, meant to oversee the protection of a nation. By all he’d been forced to give up, held captive to the life he’d been born into.

But in the end, he kept the chains of his own free will. He had tightened them. In that prison cell, the one that had stolen a year of his life, he had suffered indignity. Had lived in filth, had been stripped naked, every sign of rank and stature stolen. And then the skin had been stripped from his body.

But the harder they had pressed, the stronger he’d made his walls. The greater the weight, the deeper he buried his pain. He was the symbol of the strength of his nation and no matter how hard he was pushed, he knew he could never break.

Knew he could never allow weakness, emotion, to come in and crack the walls. That torture, the captivity, was the time in his life he’d been created for. Was the reason he had been broken, then remade, in his youth.

He had taken beatings already, had already lost all he’d cared about. At the hands of his uncle. The only family involved in his daily life. But it had been necessary.

And then Rashid had died. And another weight had been added to him. More defenses had needed to be built. And the man had been buried deeper still. But it was no longer a refuge, not like it had been during his time with his uncle, or in the enemy prison. Now it threatened to choke him.

In that moment, the need to break free of it, the need to scream into the silence of the desert, to release the tension that was threatening to crush him in its grip, was overwhelming. But he could not. He was too tightly bound.

Now he would have a wife. A child.

A chance he’d thought lost to him. A chance he no longer wanted. Not anymore.

Another woman. Another time. Another baby. One that had never been allowed to take its first breath.

And Sura…

Sayid’s love for her had been unacceptable, his loss of control with her a weakness. And that was why, at sixteen, his uncle had ensured that the woman who held Sayid’s heart had been given to another.

Sayid could remember still, watching the armored car that carried her driving away. Taking her to the home of her future husband.

But she’s pregnant. The baby…

There is no pregnancy now, Sayid. Her father ensured that it was dealt with. And Sura is to be married to another.

Who? Where?

It is not your concern. She is not for you. She never could be. It is not what you were meant for.

He had longed to cut his own heart out in that moment, would have done it, gladly, because the pain would have been preferable to the loss, unending, searing, that he had felt then. He had been on his knees, broken.

Do you see, Sayid? Do you see the power she had? The power it would have given to your enemies? They would have used her against you. You cannot love like that. To feel like that, is to give your power to others.

Kalid had been right. Then, as ever. Had shown him the power such a weakness might give his enemies. And Sayid had taken the final step that day, purging himself of every emotion, leaving nothing more than the ideal he had been born to be. A symbol of the nation. Untouchable. Immovable.

He had given up on the thought of having a wife. Of having a child.

But Chloe would not be his wife. Not truly. And Aden would never be his child. Nothing had changed. Nothing would change.

He stood, carefully closing himself down again, shutting the doors against all the feeling he had just released, against the pain, against the feeling of being in bondage.

And the chains on his soul loosened, a numbness taking their place.

By the time he returned to the palace, he felt nothing again.

“Thankfully, we will be spared the circus that often comes with a royal wedding,” Sayid said, his eyes connecting with hers across the table.

He had requested, with some advance notice even, that she join him for dinner that evening. Everything in her had rebelled against the idea but she really couldn’t afford to follow the feeling. They didn’t have to play like a love-struck couple, but she could hardly seem afraid of him.

More than that, she couldn’t be afraid of him, she wasn’t going to spend her days hiding in the palace, trying to avoid him. She was stronger than that.

She would be stronger than that.

“Why is that?”

“I aim to have the wedding take place quickly, and a celebration so soon after the sheikh’s death would be distasteful.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m too sad to avoid the big wedding.”

“Neither can I.” Though she would be happier to avoid a wedding altogether.

“You have not touched your dinner.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry for a week at least.”

“You have to eat. You’ll get too thin.”

She looked down at her increased figure and back up at him. “Losing baby weight wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”

“You don’t need to lose any weight.”

She looked up at him and realized that his eyes were focused on her breasts. She fought a surge of heat that bloomed at her midsection and spread outward. She should be offended. Instead, she was intrigued.

She couldn’t remember having a man look at her breasts before. The men she interacted with were like her. Focused and driven, with tunnel vision when they were working on solving equations. Yes, there were obviously students and professors at the university who had relationships. Plenty of them. But while they were at school, they were at school.

And she chose to extend that kind of drive, focus and exclusion to the rest of her life. She’d never wanted a relationship and so had never really cared whether or not men looked at her breasts.

It was… interesting. And she really, really should be angry.

She cleared her throat but he didn’t adjust the trajectory of his gaze. “Well, that’s beside the point. The point is that in the space of a few days my life has changed completely.”

Now he looked at her face. “Your life started changing nearly a year ago. And again when Aden was born. This is just an extension of that.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I know.”

It was true. Her life had been taken over when she’d gotten pregnant with Aden. The pregnancy had changed how she felt, how she looked, what she liked. Her body had been foreign to her, a stranger. Naively, she’d held on to the belief that after giving birth everything would be the same again.

She’d been so stupid.

“I’ll never know how it would have been if they were still here,” she said, her tone soft. “Would it have been easier to give him up?”

He shrugged. “Likely. You were confident that they would do a good job raising him.”

She nodded. “I was.”

“And are you confident that I would?”

“Not in the least,” she said, not seeing the point in lying.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’m certain had Rashid and Tamara lived, you would have been fine.”

She wasn’t sure, though. Wasn’t sure if she ever really could have dealt with this the way she imagined she could.

“Probably.”

“It does no good to castigate yourself for things that will never happen.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Naturally,” he said.

“You’re so arrogant.”

He shrugged. “As are you in the right setting. You have complete confidence in your abilities as a scientist, in your thought process and problem solving skills, I imagine.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then I fail to see why I should have anything less than complete confidence in my own domain.”

“It’s because it seems nothing falls outside of your domain,” she said drily.

“I already told you I’m sure you could outtalk me on string theory.”

“Then I’ll stay in my science corner where I reign supreme.” The words gave her some comfort. It really might not be so bad being married to him. She could spend time with Aden and spend time in that gorgeous study he’d had put together for her.

“You are welcome to your corner.”

“Ah, generous,” she said, looking down at her food and thinking that now she might chance a bite. And then she remembered how he’d looked at her breasts. Why had he been looking at her breasts?

She took a bite of rice and chewed while she pondered this new mystery of the universe. She could feel his eyes on her again and heat crept over her skin.

“I am not master of every domain, habibti,” he said, his voice quiet. “You need only to look at the headlines to realize that.”

“That’s just public perception. It’s not necessarily reality.”

“There was an event, shortly after Rashid died, and a diplomat from a neighboring country wanted to speak to me about an upcoming rugby match between our two countries.”

“And?”

“And I told him, quite succinctly, that I didn’t care about sport at the moment, all things considered. He was unhappy, said he would not be encouraging his people to patronize Attar when they were to go on holiday. My response was to tell him to go to hell.”

“Oh.”

“That made for very salacious news, I can tell you. The next time we had an event at the palace, my advisor told me to be nice. Like I was a child.” He laughed, the sound carrying no humor. “No, I am not the master of every domain.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m not either. And, strangely, I even work at proving myself wrong a lot of the time. It’s what a good scientist does. Searches objectively for truth, regardless of their own personal beliefs. I guess a good leader has to be nice to everyone regardless of their own personal mood.”

“I’m not sure I know how to be nice.”

She looked at him, at his coal-dark eyes. “You aren’t that bad, Sayid.”

“Tell me, Chloe, what were you going to do before all of this?”

She was surprised by the question, even more surprised by the genuine curiosity behind it. “I was also due to start student teaching in the fall. And I’m gearing up to write my doctoral dissertation on how matter and energy behave on the molecular scale.” Unlike having her figure stared at, in this, she had some confidence, total understanding. “After that, I had hoped to get a position at a research lab, and then a university as soon as I could manage it.”

“You seem to enjoy doing paperwork.” He said the word as though it was a scourge.

“I love it. But then, I think being a scientist is committing yourself to studying for the rest of your life. And I love that. I always want to learn and grow. I want to find out how it all works.”

“Being a scientist takes a lot of curiosity,” he said, his eyes dropping to her lips. And just like that, the air between them thickened, tightened. Her breasts felt heavy, her entire body languid and restless at the same time, which was simply an impossibility, and yet beneath his dark gaze, it was. “Do you consider yourself curious, Chloe?”

She cleared her throat. “I suppose so.” Their eyes met and held, and she felt something tighten inside of her, her breath catching. “Are you… curious, Sayid?”

She’d known, before she’d spoken, that the words would be layered with double entendre, and yet she’d still spoken them. But the minute she did, she knew it was a mistake. Knew she’d crossed into a zone that was way, way out of her league.

Heat flickered in his dark gaze and she could feel inside of her, burning her. “About certain things,” he said, his voice low. Husky.

She stood up quickly, her chair tilting slightly and knocking into the chair next to it, the sound loud in the cavernous room. “Sorry, sorry.” She tried to straighten them, her cheeks burning, her heart pounding. “I have to go.”

Sayid was faster than she was, his movements smoother. He crossed to her side of the table and caught her arm, drawing her to him, his expression dark. “Why are you running from me?”

“I’m not,” she said, her voice a choked whisper. “I’m full.”

“You hardly touched your dinner,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to push a strand of hair out of her face.

“I’m not that hungry. Stress and all. You know, interesting thing about stress it can actually clog your pores and create—”

“I’m not interested in the side effects of stress,” he said, his tone heavy, rough.

“Well… I’m just… explaining.”

“Why are you running from me?” he asked again, dipping his face lower, his expression fierce. “It’s because you know, isn’t it? You feel it?”

“Feel what?” she asked.

“This… need between us. How everything in me is demanding that I reach out and pull you hard against me. And how everything in you is begging me to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“I think you do.” He lowered his hand and traced her collarbone with his fingertip, sliding it slowly up the side of her neck, along her jawbone.

She shook her head, pulling away from him, from his touch. “No,” she lied, “I don’t.”

She didn’t understand what was happening with her body, why it was betraying her like this. She’d never felt this kind of wild, overpowering attraction for anyone in her life. But if she was going to, it would have been for a nice scientist who had a large collection of dry erase pens and looked good in a lab coat.

It would not be for this rough, uncivilized man who believed he could move people around at his whim. This man who sought to control everything and everyone around him.

Unfortunately, her body hadn’t asked her opinion on who she should find attractive. Because that was most definitely what this was. Scientific, irrefutable evidence of arousal. Increased heart rate, swollen lips, tightening nipples, oh… dear… and yes, wetness between her thighs.

But if there was one thing she knew about attraction it was that it was physical, and she was not a physical creature. Her body was nothing more than a slave to its base, biological urges, but she was a woman who used her mind. A woman who reasoned and made choices based on things that had nothing to do with being in close proximity to a man with high testosterone.

“We may not have to play like this is a love match, but we will show my country that the marriage is real enough and that means you can’t get up and run away during dinner parties.”

“I wasn’t running away,” she bit out.

He slid his thumb over the exposed skin on her arm. “I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you choose to believe or not. I was just ready to go back to my room. And study. Molecules.”

“Then stay,” he said, a challenge laced in his words. “Stay and talk to me.”

The way he said “talk,” didn’t sound as if he wanted to talk at all. She had no experience with situations like this. Had never had the inclination to cultivate any. Now she sort of wished she had some, wished there was some way she could play cool and sophisticated.

But there was simply no way. Not only did she lack experience, but him being so dominant and so very, very male was off-putting to her. Which is what made it all so strange. Because the very things about him that scared her the most were also the things that she seemed to find most attractive.

More compelling evidence as to why her body should not call the shots.

“Fine,” she said. “But I might have an easier time thinking of what to say if you let go of my arm instead of manhandling me like Ardipithecus ramidus.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at her own joke.

“What?”

“Ardipithecus… oh, come on. It’s funny. It’s one of the evolutionary stages of man. No? Nothing?”

“I assume you’re calling me a Neanderthal.”

“Well, sure if you want to oversimplify it.”

He released his hold on her. “You’re implying that I’m uncivilized, and make no mistake, Chloe, it’s very true. I don’t pretend to be otherwise.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“No matter how we feel about each other you and I will have to learn to get along in public, at the very least. We can hardly go to public functions only to end up sniping at each other.”

“True, yeah, you have a point there.”

“And you should refrain from implying that any important heads of State are more closely related to monkeys than men.”

“Says the man who told a diplomat to go to hell.” He treated her to a hard look. “Fine. I promise to reserve those insults for you, and even then, only in private.”

It was strange, because just a few moments ago she’d been thinking about how off-putting she found his masculinity, and yet, now, she was talking to him as though nothing had happened. She’d assumed his being so masculine had bothered her because the strength of men, especially men with power, was something she’d learned to fear.

But no matter how many times she struck out at Sayid verbally, and even the time she’d done so physically, he’d never made a move to hurt her in any way.

She was confident now that he wouldn’t. So what was it that frightened her? Because she was frightened, no question about that.

“Careful, when you say things like that, it sounds a bit like an invitation that I don’t think you’re making,” he said.

And then she realized just what scared her so much. The attraction and the fear were one. For the first time in her life, she was curious about sex in a way that went beyond the intellectual.

She didn’t like it. Not one bit, particularly given the situation and the man who was piquing the curiosity. Detachment was important. It was her protection.

“You’re right about that. I’m not making an invitation,” she bit out, backing away from him. More because of herself than him. Because for a moment part of her had considered telling him that she was issuing an invitation. And then she wanted to sit back and see what he would make of that, because she didn’t know what move she would make after that. She didn’t know enough about the whole sex thing to make the next move.

Not like she didn’t know how sex worked, just that she had no idea how one went about instigating it, particularly with a man like Sayid who had very clearly been there and done that.

It didn’t bear thinking about at all, because she was not going to go near him. Not in that way. Not ever.

“And I would decline if you were.”

The statement hit her right in the feminine ego. Not that she should be surprised by it. Men like Sayid hardly went for slightly chubby gingers who preferred Bunsen burners to boys and who had never even engaged in a good make out session.

“Well… moot. Because I already said I’m not inviting. Nope.”

“Good,” he snapped. Clipped. Hard.

Her cheeks heated, mortification washing over her, and it just served to make her even more angry. She shouldn’t care that he didn’t want to have sex with her, she didn’t want to have sex with him! Well, she wouldn’t have sex with him.

Maybe she sort of wanted to kiss him. At least, she wondered what it would be like to press her mouth to those hard, sculpted lips. To run her fingertip along the line of his jaw.

But that was all. Just idle wondering about a little kiss. Which was completely understandable. And normal. Lots of women probably thought about kissing him. And that, again, came back to biology because it certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality.

“Fine. Well, I’m leaving now. Not running, mind you. Especially since we established that you aren’t after my body.”

“Have a good evening,” he said, lips tight.

“Sure,” she tossed back, turning and stalking out of the room.

As soon as she got into the corridor, she stopped and leaned against the wall, hand on her chest, trying to still the beating of her heart. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, in and out. She felt dizzy.

She had to get a handle on this. And she would. The physical had never mattered to her, and it wouldn’t start mattering now.

It couldn’t.

Sayid needed a cold shower. But he had a call to make first. He paced the length of his office and punched in the speed dial for Alik Vasin.

“Da?”

“Vasin?” Sayid knew his friend’s voice, but wanted to get confirmation anyway. A formality that was necessary when a man did the sort of work Alik did. Or at least, had done. He knew the ex-mercenary wasn’t for hire anymore, not in that capacity. At least, not officially.

Sayid had hired him for his last job of that kind, and an unlikely bond had grown from there. Especially since Alik had been the one to spearhead the mission to get Sayid out of the enemy camp. Since Alik had been the one to find him, to keep looking when everyone else had given up.

“Da.” There was music in the background, a woman speaking a language Sayid couldn’t place, and then the sound of a door closing and the noise ending.

“Thank you for finding him.”

“It is nothing. Easy.”

“For you.” Alik was Sayid’s closest friend. A brother in many ways, more than Rashid had been even.

“For anyone. She was practically in the phone book.”

“She wants to stay.”

“With the boy?”

“Yes.”

Alik let out a short grunt that could have meant approval, disapproval or something completely neutral. “I didn’t figure she would want to stay because of you. And what did you tell her?”

“If I am to keep Rashid’s secret, having her here could be problematic.”

“Yeah, it could be.” There was a pause. “You are avoiding my question which only piques my curiosity. What did you tell her?”

“I asked her to be my wife.”

His friend laughed, genuine, filled with humor. He wasn’t sure how Alik did it. How he had lived through all of the things he had, seen and done the things he’d seen and done, and emerged with a smile. Alik lived fast and hard. Honor falling far behind pleasure on his list of important things in life.

Sayid envied him sometimes. Envied the ease with which the other man lived. That he was able to somehow be invincible, and a man, at the same time.

“That’s a bad idea, comrade. There is nothing worse than a wife.”

“Have you ever had one?”

“No. And not by accident.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I know because there is a blonde in my room tonight, and last weekend there was a brunette. Tomorrow, who knows? You cannot have that if you’re married.”

“Some men do.”

“Then what is the point of making vows? I never made a vow I didn’t keep.”

“You don’t make many vows.”

Alik laughed again. “No. No, I don’t.”

“You made one to me.”

“I did. And I did not make it lightly. You have my loyalty. Whatever you need, consider it done.”

“And you have mine. There will be a wedding. A small one, out of observance for Rashid’s death.”

“You need security,” Alik said.

“Naturally.”

“You want me.”

“Of course.”

“Is this your version of asking me to be best man?”

The corners of Sayid’s mouth twitched, the closest thing to a real smile he’d managed in too many years to count. “Best man with a handgun.”

Sayid heard a door open on the other end of the line, the music, the woman, again. Then finally, Alik responded. “I’ll do it.”

For the second time in her life, Chloe watched her life change through a news story. It was all over the TV. An announcement that interim ruler of Attar, Sheikh Sayid al Kadar, was taking a wife. The hero nanny who had disregarded her own safety to protect the miracle prince.

She felt her jaw go slack as the story played across the screen. As a picture of her flashed onto it. Then a picture of Sayid. She cringed at the sight of herself, squeezed into the only dress she had. She still wasn’t used to her fuller figure, and she could hardly call herself a fan of the look.

The female anchor was making eye contract with the camera, and talking about Chloe. A surreal experience for sure. “The stoic regent of Attar has announced his engagement to the heroine of the people, Chloe James, a part-time nanny and science student from Portland, Oregon. The wedding will be a small affair, appropriate for a nation still in mourning, and will take place a week from Saturday.”

“Ugh.” She groaned and turned the TV off, then turned around to face her whiteboard again. She’d been working an equation as part of her course work for half the morning while Aden lay on a blanket on the floor, kicking his feet in a slow, jerky fashion.

She leaned in and put her pen on the surface, trying to wipe the images on the screen from her mind, which was completely impossible to do. Completely.

She looked back at Aden, tugging her glasses off. “What am I getting myself into?” she asked. She got nothing from him, his blue eyes scanning the room, his fist finding his mouth.

Chloe blew out a breath. “No advice?”

“Why exactly do you need advice?”

She turned and saw Sayid striding toward her with purpose and that maddening self-assurance of his.

“I just saw my engagement announcement on the news,” she said. “Along with the information that our wedding is less than a week away. Imagine my surprise.”

“Why wait?”

“I don’t know. There’s no reason to, I suppose.”

He shook his head once and reached into his pocket, producing a small box and holding it out to her. “I had my family’s jeweler take a gem from the Crown Jewels and set it into a ring for you.”

She flipped open the top of the box. “From the Crown Jewels?” She examined the piece. It was gorgeous, utterly perfect and unique.

A garnet, deep and clear, set into bright yellow gold, fashioned into vines that held the stone in place like a glittering flower.

“This is a little… much, don’t you think?” she asked, touching the jewel with her fingertip. It struck her then, that no one had ever given her a gift. A strange realization, especially when this wasn’t a gift, but a piece of the facade.

It felt like one, though. And not just any gift, something extravagant and beautiful. Something special. The sort of thing her parents never would have done for her because she was simply an afterthought.

It was embarrassing to realize how badly she wanted to put it on. How badly, in that moment, she wanted it to be special. How badly she wanted someone, even if it was Sayid, to think she was special enough to deserve something so incredible.

She closed the lid on the box. On the feeling.

She didn’t need that. Aden was her family. The only family she needed.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Of course. But I don’t need a piece of the Crown Jewels.”

“You do. Because every al Kadar woman is presented with a piece of it for her wedding, and you will be no exception.”

“It’s not a real marriage.”

“So give it back when we divorce.”

She cleared her throat. “And when… when do you think that will be, exactly?”

“When will you be ready to live apart from Aden?”

She shook her head. “I won’t. Not until he’s grown.”

“Then we will be married until then.” He studied her closely. “It is a big commitment for someone your age. For someone whose life is outside of the royal family.”

“Having a baby is always a big commitment. When a woman finds out she’s pregnant… in that instant, her whole life changes. Her whole future changes. That’s all that’s happened to me. Yes, the circumstances are more complicated. And yes, the change happened a little later. But I’m willing to change my expectations of life for him. More than that, I want to.”

“You will be a good mother for him,” he said, his voice steady. Serious. “You will be the mother Tamara would have wanted for him.”

Emotion swelled in her chest, and again she was conscious of the empty space in her that wanted so badly to be filled by another person. She wanted him to take her in his arms, to tell her everything would be fine. To simply hold her up for a while so that it wasn’t only her strength keeping her from falling to her knees.

But she couldn’t afford the weakness. Not when Aden needed her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Now, there is the small matter of lovers,” he said, changing the subject with a shocking swiftness that made her head spin.

“Of what now?”

“Lovers,” he said.

“I mean, I heard you, I just wasn’t sure what you… meant… by it?”

“If I am not in your bed, I will, at some point during our marriage, be in the bed of another woman. I am willing to give up a lot for my country, and to give Aden the best life he can have, but I am not giving up sex for sixteen years.”

She blinked. She supposed asking that of him was completely unreasonable. And yet, there was a small spark of anger, jealousy, inside that started in her stomach and flared up to her chest, making her heart pound hard.

Not so much jealousy in a possessive way. Not because she couldn’t bear the thought of sharing him, which would be silly, all things considered. But because a part of her very much wanted to be the woman in his bed. Wanted to be the one he couldn’t abstain from and, more than anything, be the one to benefit from his experience.

So stupid, Chloe.

The idea of seeing him with other women, of watching them parade through the palace in… tiny nighties with their big fake boobs bobbing up above the necklines for all the staff to see, made her stomach clench tight.

“Just… whatever you do,” she said, “be discreet. I don’t want to be conscious of what’s going on inside your bedroom. You keep it in there, I won’t open the door. To you, you can be getting some, to me, you can be in there all by yourself. And unless I open the door you can be both promiscuous and celibate. It’ll be Schrodinger’s affair.”

“Because it’s impossible to prove unless the door is opened?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the joke.”

“You need to work at cultivating more mainstream humor.”

“That would have killed in Advanced Quantum Field Theory.”

“The same applies to you. When you take a lover, you must use complete discretion. There can be no hint of a scandal for the media. None at all.”

“Um… okay.” She was celibate no matter which side of the door you stood on, and she had been for all of her life, so the idea of taking a lover after her marriage, after becoming a mother, seemed a little out there for her.

But she wasn’t going to admit that, either. The only thing worse than knowing Sayid was getting action with some gorgeous girl, was knowing that she wasn’t getting any action with an equally gorgeous guy. Which had never, ever mattered to her before. Stupid that it seemed to now.

“This is very serious, habibti. If I get caught in a scandal, very few people will care. I am a man in a man’s world, and when it comes to sex, men are forgiven much. Women are not. If anything happens there will be an outcry for me to divorce you. This marriage is about image, and nothing must compromise that. Nothing can be done to damage the way the people see you.”

“Don’t worry. I will be the soul of discretion when engaging in my illicit affairs. No sex on the dining table,” she said, and she felt her cheeks heat. She was trying to play at being sophisticated and worldly, trying to pretend she could stand there discussing just how their extramarital affairs would work without feeling horrifically awkward and embarrassed. It wasn’t working.

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “On the dining table? I think that would be quite uncomfortable anyway.”

She swallowed. “Shows how much you know.”

“I could show you how much I know.”

The words escaped Sayid’s lips without his permission. He should not press this. Should not push her to see how far the attraction could take them. But it was so easy to embrace, the images flashing through his mind, hot and fast.

As hard surfaces went, the dining table didn’t feature in his fantasies. But against the wall? Her legs wrapped around his waist? That he could most certainly work with.

He could strip her of her clothes, of every inhibition. Could knock every fact she knew about the universe out of her head while she cried out her pleasure. And he would take his own in her gladly.

He clenched his teeth, tightening his hands into fists, trying to ignore the raging of his heart, the rush of blood south of his belt. He couldn’t afford to burn off his sexual frustration with Chloe. Couldn’t afford to let passion of any kind erupt between them.

Control was essential, keeping his defenses up, was essential. Always. And most especially with her. Why, he wasn’t certain, but he knew that it was. Sex, the desire for it, for a woman, should not make him shake inside. And yet she did.

Which was why he could never touch her.

“I… that’s okay. I don’t need you to.” Thankfully, Chloe was as wary as he should be. She bent down and scooped Aden into her arms, holding him tight against her chest, using him as a shield.

“As you wish.”

“And I do. Wish it. That way.”

“I have business to take care of before the wedding. I’ll meet you at the coastal palace.”

“Is that where the wedding will be?”

“Yes. A small ceremony on the beach.”

“You have all of this figured out, don’t you?”

He chuckled, no humor behind the sound. There never was with him. No happiness. No lightness. And it made her heart burn. “At this point, there is very little I would claim to have figured out, Chloe James.”