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“You wanted your father brought home and I did that.”
“I wish you hadn’t,” I say with a shake of my head. “You know how much I regret asking that of you.”
“I offered it willingly.”
“Which just underscores my point – you need our marriage to work. You were willing to take a big gamble for the sake of this marriage and the heirs you hoped would result.”
“Yes.”
His agreement thunders through me.
“Why does that anger you?” He pushes. “Why is it bad that our marriage makes such perfect sense?”
I strangle back a sob. “I don’t want to be a part of a marriage that makes sense.”
“You’d rather be a part of a marriage that makes no sense?”
I glare at him. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“Tonight was just…proof of how messed up this all is. Everything about us is fake. For show. For other people. My father, your people. Nothing’s real. And I want real. I want truth.”
I don’t realise it until I’ve thrown the words at him but of course there’s a challenge there, an invitation. His lips crush down on mine, breaking me apart with their perfection and need. His tongue lashes mine, his body pressing me back onto the desk, so I feel every inch of him against me, his kiss stirring me to need everything he can give me.
“Is this not truth?” He demands into my mouth, pressing his hips forward so I feel his arousal and groan, because he’s not wrong. There is truth in this, there is rightness here, but it’s not enough.
“It’s just sex,” I groan, pushing at his chest, my eyes fighting him, needing him to understand. “Sex is not enough.”
His chest moves with the intensity of his breathing, his cheeks are slashed with dark colour.
“What will be enough for you, habibti?”
“If you have to ask, it just shows how impossible any of this is.”
“I’m not a damned mind reader, so tell me!”
“I want everything! I want this to be real, okay? I want to be your wife because you want me. Not me, a Hassan. Not me, a baby incubator. Me, Amy, a woman you choose to have at your side. A woman you desire, sure, but more importantly, a woman you respect. A woman you love.” My voice cracks, but having started this I know I need to finish. “I hoped, for a time, that maybe, just maybe, that was possible. But it’s not, is it? Not after what my dad did to you. How could you ever love me, Zahir? How can you ever not hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” he says sharply, frowning, trying to unwrap my statement. “And I’ve already told you that almost from the first moment we met I have been able to separate you from your father’s acts.”
My heart stammers then leaps, hope an unconquerable optimist. I hold my breath. But too much time passes. He doesn’t say anything else. There are no other assurances. He doesn’t have to say it, I hear the words anyway. He doesn’t love me, and never will.
Chapter 18
Zahir
I AM FILLED WITH A BLINDING light. Love? That’s not part of this! It never was. Amy’s words are like tiny bombs exploding through me. I have never sought her love. I don’t want it. I don’t want love to be any part of what we’re doing.
I like her.
And she’s wrong, I do respect her.
But my only love is for my kingdom, my people. It’s the only way I know how to rule.
“Are you saying you’re in love with me?”
It’s the wrong thing to ask, obviously. Her heard jerks backwards, her eyes glinting in her face.
