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“It is too late to deny it, Rachel. The boy is Rami’s.”
She stared at him. That was what this had been about. It hadn’t been a peace offering. It had been a clever way of getting her to confess that Rami had fathered her baby.
What a fool she’d been to think this man might truly have a heart, or to forget that he was the enemy.
Rachel put her cup and plate on the cart.
“You keep missing the one thing that matters,” she said coldly. “Ethan is mine.”
“He is a prince.”
“He is a little boy. And he has a name.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“You never use his name. You speak of him as if he were a—a thing. A commodity.”
Karim dumped his plate on the cart and shoved the cart away.
“This is ridiculous! Will it make you happy if I call him by the name my brother chose for him? Fine. I’ll do that. I’ll call him—”
Rachel shot to her feet.
“Your brother didn’t name Ethan. I did.”
Karim rose, too. If only he didn’t tower over her. She hated having to look up at him, to give him that seeming authority over her.
“In that case,” Karim said stiffly, “I apologize for him yet again. Apparently, he ignored all his responsibilities.”
“Dammit, stop apologizing for him!”
“It is my duty. I understand that he hurt you, but—”
“Hurt me?” Rachel slapped her hands on her hips. “I hated your brother!”
“And yet,” Karim said coldly, “you slept with him.”
Her cheeks heated.
“You let him put a child in your womb.”
She turned away from him and started up the aisle. Karim went after her, caught her by the shoulder and swung her toward him.
“What kind of woman are you? You hated him. But you slept with him. You let him give you a child.”
Her mouth trembled. If ever she’d wanted to tell the truth, it was now. But she couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t—
“Things—things happen,” she said, knowing just how ugly the answer sounded.
