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‘Yes, Sariq?’
He latched his gaze to hers and her pulse throbbed through her. Still, he stared, and for so long that she wondered if he had any intention of speaking. She was about to turn away from him anew when his gaze dropped to her stomach and a hint of guilt peppered her mood. She was pregnant with his child, and he’d spent three weeks away from her. Naturally he was curious.
‘I’m fine. The baby’s fine, too. We had a scan two weeks ago.’
‘I know.’
‘You do?’
And then, a smile lifted one corner of his lips, a grudging smile that wasn’t exactly born of happiness. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t involve myself in the medical care of our child?’
Their child. T
his had nothing to do with her.
‘How are you?’
‘This wasn’t included in your report?’
‘Basic health information.’ He shrugged with ingrained arrogance. ‘Nothing more.’
‘What more is there of consequence?’
His brows knitted together. Her tone was unmistakably caustic. ‘You’re happy?’
She couldn’t help the sceptical laugh that burst from her. ‘Really?’
‘Zahrah says you’re settling into your routine well?’
Daisy ignored the prickle of betrayal that shifted inside her. Everyone in this palace reported to Sariq. It shouldn’t surprise her that the servant she’d begun to think of as a friend was doing likewise. ‘My routine involves being pampered around the clock. I don’t imagine many people would struggle with that.’
Frustration, though, weaved through her words.
‘But you do,’ he insisted. ‘You don’t like it.’
Her expression was a grimace. ‘I’m more comfortable doing the pampering than I am being spoiled. I don’t need all this.’ She lifted a hand to her head, where her blonde hair had been braided and styled into an elaborate up-do. ‘I’m not used to it.’
‘You’ll become used to it.’
A mutinous expression crossed her face. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes.’ And then, more softly, ‘You’re aware of the media stories?’
Pain sliced inside her being. She wrenched her face away, unable to meet his eyes. Some of the stories—most, in fact—had been absolutely appalling. ‘Are you wondering how many are true?’
He said a word in his own language that, going by the tone and inflection, was a bitter curse. ‘I am asking how these preposterous stories have affected you. This has nothing to do with me.’
‘You don’t care that I’m a rock star groupie?’
‘I don’t care about any of it.’ But something in his eyes showed that to be a lie. He wasn’t being completely honest to her, and she hated that. She hated that he might have read the headlines and believed them, that he might believe she’d made a habit of sleeping with guests of the hotel. After everything she’d been through with Max, Daisy had made a point of remaining guarded with members of the opposite sex.
The irony of these stories—when she’d been a virgin on her wedding night, and slept with no one since her divorce—filled her with a desire to defend herself. Except Sariq didn’t deserve that. What did it matter if he thought her promiscuous? Who cared? As if he hadn’t had his share of lovers in the past?
There was only one element of the stories that she cared to contradict. ‘You are the father.’
A look of anger slashed his features. ‘I know this.’
She bit down on her lip then, staring out at the desert. ‘We were together two nights, but it was enough for me to see inside your soul, Daisy Al Antarah.’ It was the first time her new name had been spoken aloud to her and it sent a frisson of response shuttling down her spine. ‘I saw you and I wanted you. I seduced you. There was nothing practised about your responses to me. I am aware that I put you in the position of doing something outside your usual comfort zone.’
