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An emotion shifted across his face, gone before she could read it properly. ‘You forget that our marriage ended up being less of a bombshell and more of a welcome celebration.’
‘And I’d like to keep it that way for as long as I can, if you don’t mind,’ she said.
Again something gleamed in his eyes, arresting her focus, not that she needed much to take her focus from Zufar’s face. Everything he did, every breath he took seemed to captivate her in some way.
In all ways.
She wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other.
A discreet cough reminded her the doctor was still in the room.
Zufar was the first to regain himself by standing and sliding his hands into his pockets. ‘You will do as my wife says. Keep the circle of trust small and tight. Report directly to us once you’ve done your tests.’
The doctor executed an elegant bow. ‘Of course. It will be exactly as you wish.’
‘A private jet will be chartered to fly you to Rumadah today. We’re returning to Khalia tonight. You have forty-eight hours to present us with your findings there.’
The doctor bowed again and left. Zufar crossed the suite to the phone and picked it up.
Unable to lie still, Niesha rose and padded to the window. Through the window of their presidential suite in the heart of Paris, the Seine glistened sinuously in the sunshine and the spear of the Eiffel Tower looked almost close enough to touch.
But this time the view didn’t hold as much appeal. Alternate waves of heat and cold surged through her as she wrapped her hands around herself.
‘I suspect I’ll have a fight on my hands if I suggest you return to bed but I have ordered an early lunch for you and you will eat something.’
She rounded on him, her heart pounding. ‘What if I’m not this...this person? What if all of this is a wild coincidence?’
‘It’s not,’ he replied. ‘The pictures alone prove your connection. Besides, you were the only one unaccounted for following the accident. You were most likely presumed dead because no one expected a five-year-old to survive such an incident.’
Another shiver danced down her spine. A moment later, warm hands cupped her shoulders, then drew down her arms.
‘You are the Princess. It’s time you start believing it,’ Zufar commanded, his deep voice sending a different sort of shiver through her.
The small laugh she gave held a touch of hysteria. ‘I don’t know that I can. It all feels so...overwhelming. And so messy for you.’ She gave a pained laugh. ‘Perhaps you would’ve been better off going after Amira, after all.’
His hands tightened fractionally. ‘I’ve found that it’s useless dwelling on things we cannot change.’
Her insides shrank a little that he didn’t issue a firm denial of any desire for his ex-fiancée. Because deep down it was what she’d been selfishly, hungrily angling for.
‘As for things being overwhelming, you proved that you can handle overwhelming when you married me three weeks ago.’ That odd note she’d heard a little while ago pulsed through his voice, but, scrutinising his face, Niesha couldn’t decipher his thoughts.
‘If my name really isn’t Niesha, do I have to change it?’
‘I expect you can do whatever you please. You are the Queen of Khalia. And soon to be confirmed as the rightful heiress to the throne of Rumadah.’
She gasped. ‘But...how will that work?’
For a single moment, his jaw clenched tight, and Niesha was reminded that whatever happened to her would also cause Zufar, and more importantly Khalia, huge upheaval.
The very thing he’d striven to avoid by marrying her.
‘With very careful strategising,’ was all he said before he released her.
Before she could speak, a member of his staff wheeled a trolley onto the grand terrace, where a table had been set for two.
Despite her inner turmoil, Niesha forced herself to finish the vichyssoise starter. She was eating for two, after all.
She saw the gleam of approval in Zufar’s eyes as she tucked away a good portion of pasta with rich creamy sauce and French bread. When she was done eating, she placed her napkin on the table and attempted to enjoy the view.
