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That was objectionable enough. But Tarek found himself watching Anya. At the way she lowered her gaze and threaded her fingers together in her lap, as if she was trying to calm herself down. Or as if her father had not merely made himself look foolish, but had hurt her in some way.
Unacceptable,Tarek thought.
“I wouldn’t call Anya a real doctor,” her father said with a sniff. “There is such a thing as a waste of a medical degree. And for what? To wear pretty dresses and play Cinderella games? What a travesty.”
Nur drew back, appalled. Anya’s chin was set, her gaze still on her hands in her lap.
Tarek found he’d had enough.
“You forget yourself,” he said softly from his place at the head of the table. Though he did not project his voice on the length of it, he knew that the rest of his family heard him.
A stillness fell over the room.
The doctor was staring at Tarek. “I beg your pardon?”
“It is denied,” Tarek retorted. He leaned forward in his chair. “I do not know where it is you imagine you are, but let me enlighten you. This is the kingdom of Alzalam.Mykingdom, which I have bled to defend.” There was a chorus of cheers at that, startling the older man. “You are sitting at my table. The woman you insult will be my wife the day after tomorrow. Men have died for lesser insults.”
There was more murmuring down the length of the table, rumbles of support from his family.
But Anya’s father only blinked at him. “Anya would be the first to tell you that she hasn’t quite lived up to expectations. She was raised to make a difference, not to...”
“Not to what?” Tarek asked.
Dangerously.
He shouldn’t have been doing this, he knew. Not because there was any weakness in a man defending his woman—quite the opposite. A man who did not happily and thoroughly defend his woman, in Tarek’s opinion, was no man at all. But because Anya would likely not thank him for complicating her family affairs.
But it was too late.
“Preston,” said the man’s wife, fluttering helplessly beside him. “You haven’t even touched your food.”
“Don’t insert yourself into things you don’t understand, Charisma,” he replied in a cutting tone that made his wife—and daughter—flinch. “The adults are talking.”
“Dad,” Anya said then, in a fierce undertone. “This is not the time or the place.”
“My daughter is a smart girl,” the doctor said, glaring at Tarek. “I had high hopes that she might lead with her intellect. Make the right choices. But instead, this spectacle.” He shook his head and looked at Anya. Pityingly, Tarek was astonished to note. “I told you what would happen if you joined that traveling aid organization. I even dared to hope that prison might get your head on straight for a change.”
Anya shook her head at him. “You say that as if you were actually aware that I was in a dungeon all that time. I was under the impression you were maintaining plausible deniability so as not to make golf at the club too awkward.”
“Of course I knew you were in prison, Anya,” her father snapped at her. “I can hardly avoid camera crews on my front lawn. What I don’t understand is how you could come out of an experience like that and decide to make your life even less intelligible. What do you intend to do? Sit on a throne as you while your days away? Useless in every regard?”
Tarek did not like the way that Anya flushed at that, flashing a look at her stepmother. He remembered what she’d told him. That her stepmothers were allowed to be pretty and useless while she was meant to be smart. And it was clearly a downgrade to move from one column to the other.
“You will stop speaking, now,” he decreed, and though the older man’s eyes widened as if he planned to sputter out his indignation, he didn’t make a sound. Like the coward he clearly was. “I will not bar you from your daughter’s wedding, but one more word and I will have you deported.”
Nur, sitting across from the Americans, did not applaud. Neither did her husband. But down the table, their other half siblings were not so circumspect.
“Tarek,” Anya murmured. “Please.”
Tarek kept his gaze trained on the man before him. The man who’d put shadows on his bride’s face on what should have been a joyous occasion. More than once.
This was unforgivable as far as he was concerned.
“You and I know the truth, do we not?” Tarek did not look at Nur when she made a soft sound of agreement. Or at Anya, though he could sense her tension. “Your daughter is smart. Far smarter than you, evidently, which I imagine has scared you from the start. You wanted to control her, but you couldn’t. And now look at you. A tiny little rooster of a man, prancing around a palace and acting as if it is his very own barnyard. It is not. I am a king. You are a doctor whose worth lies only in the steadiness of his hands. And your daughter has saved countless lives and will now save more in a different role, because that is real power. Not ego—”
The older man opened his mouth.
Tarek lifted a brow. “I do not make idle threats.”
