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Sayed noticed her interest in the articles and waved at them. “My former fiancée with her palace aid.”
“You’re going to have to stop putting that rather obvious emphasis on his job title if you don’t want the media to label you an elitist.”
Sayed frowned, but Yusuf said, “Miss Amari is right.”
“You are not my public relations specialist,” the emir reminded his bodyguard.
Yusuf didn’t bother to answer, but held out a single pill blister pack. “As we discussed.”
Sayed took it. “Thank you.”
Yusuf nodded before returning to his seat.
Liyah did not watch him go; her focus was stuck on the silver packet in Sayed’s hand.
“How effective is it?” she asked, her memory not very clear on that point.
“Dr. Batsmani said it is considered between eighty and ninety-five percent.”
“Then why am I on this plane? Why didn’t I just take it back in London and be done with it?”
“Five to twenty percent are hardly impossible odds.” Sayed called the cabin attendant over for water with a wave of his hand.
When it arrived, Liyah opened the blister pack with inexplicable reluctance. Her head knew this was absolutely the right thing to do. She hadn’t planned on motherhood at this point in her life, if ever.
If she were pregnant, Liyah would do her best, just as Hena Amari had done. That didn’t mean she craved the opportunity to raise a child alone.
Although, according to Sayed, that was not one of the options she had to worry about.
Some little part of her heart disagreed with her head, telling her to forget the pill. Hadn’t she wondered what kind of sane woman could let a man like Sayed go?
But no woman with honor would want to have him because he was trapped.
Besides, last night had been the first time she’d ever allowed her emotions to rule. And the aftermath had not been a resounding success.
“It has no effectiveness sitting in your hand,” he teased.
She leaned toward him. “Shh…”
“It’s just a pill. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“You know what it’s for,” she whispered.
Humor, rather than the seriousness she would have expected, warmed his dark eyes. “Yes, indeed. I do know.”
“I don’t understand how you’re so cavalier about…” She paused, looking
for a word that wouldn’t practically burn her mouth to say.
“Sex?” he asked, striving for innocent, but too amused to be anywhere close.
She glared at him. “You’re from Zeena Sahra. You went without for three years. You should understand repressed.”
“Suppressed, maybe. It’s not the same. I am not ashamed to share a common physical need with an entire planet of people.”
“It’s different for you, you’re a man.”
“Do you think so?”
