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‘I’m not.’
Disapproval flared in his features but for such a brief moment that it was gone again almost immediately, so she thought she’d imagined it. ‘Come and join me while I eat, then.’
‘A command, Your Highness?’
Silence. Barbed and painful. Her stomach squeezed. ‘If that’s what it takes.’ He looked at her for a moment longer. ‘Two minutes, Daisy.’
He pulled the door shut before his frustration could become apparent. But he was frustrated. In his entire life, he’d never known someone to be so argumentative just for the sake of it. Sariq was used to being obeyed at all times, yet Daisy seemed to enjoy countermanding his words.
And when they were in the RKH? While the country was famously progressive in the region, there was no getting away from the fact it was still patriarchal and mired in many of the ways of the past. Her flagrant flouting of his wishes would raise questions he’d prefer not to have to answer.
Couldn’t she see that their situation required special handling? It was as undesirable to him as it was to her—but what choice did either of them have? She was carrying his child, the heir to the RKH. This marriage, living together as man and wife, was the only solution to that situation.
He had to make her understand the difficulties inherent to her situation without terrifying her. He pressed his back against the door, closing his eyes for a moment, so that he saw his father again and a darkness filled him. He didn’t want to think about what his father might say about this. Sariq was Emir now. The safety and prosperity of the kingdom lay on his shoulders, and his alone.
Alone again, Daisy flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, his command wrapping around her, making breathing difficult. She wasn’t hungry, but she was thirsty—the thought of coffee was deeply motivating—and yet she stayed where she was, an emptiness inside her. And she knew why.
The Sariq of her dreams had been the man she’d fallen into bed with, the man who had bewitched and made her feel alive for the first time since Max. But he was gone, and there was only this Sheikh in his place. All command and duty. The juxtaposition was inherently painful.
She bit down on her lip, not moving, the emptiness like a black hole, carrying mass of its own, weighing her down, holding her to the bed. She lay there for a long time, certainly past the allotted two minutes, and at some point, she heard the door open.
She didn’t realise she’d been crying until he said something, a curse, and crossed to the edge of the bed, sitting down on it heavily and moving his hand to he
r cheek, gently wiping away the moisture there. His expression was grim, his eyes impossible to read, but his fingertips were soft and determined, moving to remove the physical signs of her emotions.
‘I would do anything in the world not to have had to do this,’ he finally said, the words dragged from him.
She knew that to be the truth. This marriage wasn’t what he wanted either. He was as trapped by their baby as she was. ‘I know that.’ She pushed up to sitting, dislodging his touch, lifting her own hands to wipe at the rest of her cheeks.
‘I’m fine.’ She was glad her voice sounded clear. ‘I’ve just been more prone to emotions since I got pregnant. It’s out of my control.’
It didn’t exonerate him. He continued to look at her as though he were fighting a battle with a superhuman force. He hated this. She was openly expressing her disbelief, he was holding his deep inside him, but there was no doubting that both of their lives had been torn open by this pregnancy.
‘What did you want to talk about?’
His jaw clenched. ‘Will you eat something?’
His words were so reminiscent of the version of him she’d known in New York that for a moment she let herself slip back through the cracks of time, cracks that yearning had opened wider. ‘I’d kill for a coffee.’
‘Murder is not necessary,’ he responded immediately. ‘Though I could understand if you felt a little driven to it.’ A joke. A smile teased the corner of her lips but her mouth and heart were too heavy to oblige.
‘Come.’ He stood and her stomach rolled.
She nodded slowly. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’
He hesitated.
‘I’m coming. Honestly.’
A crisp nod. ‘Fine. This preparation is important, Daisy. It’s for your sake, so you know what to expect.’
Anxiety shifted through her. ‘Okay.’
In the bathroom—smaller than the main one she’d passed—she took a moment to freshen up, brushing her hair and teeth, washing her face and applying a little gloss to lips that felt dry courtesy of the aeroplane’s air conditioning. But she worked quickly, aware that time was passing, bringing them closer to the RKH and her future as its queen.
He was in the main living space of the plane, but he wasn’t alone. Six men and three women were sitting with him, each dressed in suits, so that in contrast Sariq in his robe looked impossibly regal and forbidding. When she entered, all eyes turned to her, yet she felt only the slow burn of Sariq’s.
‘Leave us.’
