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‘Your Highness,’ he corrected coldly, without breaking his pace. ‘Follow me.’
The lack of courtesy was surprising even after all that had passed between them. Nonetheless, she had come here with one thing in mind, and she intended to carry out her objective. She scooped up her bag and fell into step behind him, but she had to half run to keep up. He moved away from this pragmatic entranceway and into a corridor—though, really, it was as wide as at least four corridors, and decorated with ancient-looking furniture on both sides, including enormous vases of flowers that were totally unfamiliar to her, exotic and spiky, like something out of a fairy tale. Their fragrance was sweet, and, in her current state, India’s nausea returned with a vengeance.
‘Will you slow down a bit?’ she asked, slowing her own pace accordingly, pressing a hand to her hip.
Khalil stopped walking and turned to look at her, exasperated. But as his eyes scanned her face there was, for a moment, something like concern. Perhaps there was a hint of humanity in the man after all?
‘You are ill?’
‘Well.’ She put her other hand on her hip, glaring at him with undisguised irritation. ‘Let’s see, shall we? I’ve endured a cramped plane trip, a hot taxi ride, a stand-off out the front of your palace with an armed guard who was clearly hostile, and then hours in a room waiting for Your Royal Highness to decide to see me. How do you think I feel?’
If India had been less angry, she might have noticed the blanching of the guards’ faces at her tirade to their Prince, but she was in her own bubble, completely incapable of thinking clearly or acting calmly.
Khalil was used to his guards and didn’t mind their presence in any respect. He paced towards her, his eyes sparking with hers. ‘You arrive unannounced and expect what, India? That I might roll out the red carpet? And what exactly in our interaction gave you any idea I would be glad to see you again?’ He leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘We agreed we would both forget what happened.’
She looked away, wondering if he’d been able to do that so easily. For India, Khalil had been burned into her mind, so she saw him all the time, dreamed of him, woke up reaching for him...
‘Believe me, I don’t particularly relish being here, but you gave me little choice. Had you accepted any of my attempts to contact you, then we could have dealt with this over the phone. You left with me no choice.’
‘On the contrary, I left you with a very clear choice—to stay out of my life.’
Her lips parted and now she saw the guards, their faces carefully blanked of emotion, and embarrassment swept through her. ‘Is there somewhere more private we can speak? I just need a few moments of your time, Your Highness.’ She imbued his title with as much scathing cynicism as she could, easily matching a tone he had employed in the past when speaking to her.
‘I was taking us somewhere more private when you demanded that we stop.’
She compressed her lips. ‘I asked you to slow down; that’s not the same thing.’
It was obvious that Khalil was not used to being contradicted—and she enjoyed that fact. He deserved nothing better than to be strenuously put in his place. If it weren’t for the conversation that was to follow, she could almost have enjoyed the awkwardness of their interaction. But this was just the prelude to what would necessarily follow, and India could see quite clearly that it was not going to be as simple as informing him of her pregnancy. She’d run straight into the lion’s den and she would need to think fast to get out alive.
