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He would be like that with her, but he’d always resent her. He’d always look at her as the woman who’d failed him. Particularly if Goran plunged their country into a civil war that a wife who could conceive might have prevented!
And what of their intimacy? What of this hunger that flared between them? Would he extinguish it easily? Satiate himself with another?
She groaned and sank to the floor, giving in, just for a moment, to the desperation that was thick inside of her.
There was no alternative – none. No matter how long she spent analyzing the problem, nothing would fix this. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but at some point, she stood, and dusted her clothes off.
She had to leave. And immediately, before she did something foolish like break down and tell Raffa the truth. She had to go. For if she told him, and he asked her to stay regardless, she would. And that would be so very wrong, for both of them.
“Aysha?” She called from the door to her room, looking for her servant. She appeared after a few moments.
“What is it, your highness? Are you well?” Aysha asked with a slight frown.
“I’ve just had some news about a friend. I have to leave for America – at once. Would you have a jet prepared and send word to my husband?” Her voice cracked. “I’ll only be gone a few days; I’d appreciate it if you would let him know.”
“His highness might wish…”
“His highness had a busy day of meetings,” she demurred. “There’s no sense bothering him over something so trivial.”
“Very well,” Aysha bowed low. “I’ll pack a suitcase and then we’ll leave.”
“Thank you.”
True to her word, Aysha took care of the practicalities, and then they were off, a limousine ride to the airport, and a smooth flight to Seattle via a refueling stop in London.
Chloe had lived in close proximity to Aysha for almost three years, and she hated knowing that she would never see the woman again, as she hated the necessity of lying to her. She told herself, again and again, This is the right thing to do, repeating the incantation inside her mind until those words were all she heard, all she could focus on.
“I need to use the restroom,” Chloe murmured, nodding towards a toilet stall in the busy airport. “I won’t be long.” She walked away before Aysha could say something. And though her security detail was following her, Chloe had the advantage. She’d used this airport many times, and she knew that the bathrooms had two access points. She walked in, and before they entered to see which stall she chose, she slipped out the other doors.
The airport was frantic; it was not hard to be lost in the commotion. None of it was very hard, in the end. In one day, Chloe had ended her marriage – but her heart would never be the same again.
Raffa nodded at something the German ambassador had said, and the intrusion of Fahir was unwelcome.
“I said I am not to be disturbed,” he said, without looking up.
But when his eyes met Fahir’s something like apprehension began to un
furl inside of him. For his servant’s face was very pale, his expression taut.
“Excuse me,” he said to the ambassador, standing and crossing the room. In hushed tones, he implored Fahir: “Is it my father?”
“No, sir. His excellency’s condition is unchanged. But…”
“What?” Raffa had a sixth sense that something was badly, badly wrong, and he needed it to be assuaged.
“It’s Her Highness, sir.”
Raffa’s chest caved inwards. He felt as though he’d been winded. “What is it? Is she hurt?”
Fahir’s expression was stricken.
“Damn it,” Raffa demanded. “Tell me at once.”
“She is not hurt. At least, not that I know of. Sir, she’s…”
“Yes? For God’s sake, Fahir, tell me.”
The servant nodded. “She’s missing.”
