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Hafiz let out a bark of humorless laughter. “Of course.”
“Then, what’s the problem?” She moved slowly as she stood. Her arms and legs felt limp and shaky. She lurched as she stepped on the hem of her insufferable caftan. “Say that you won’t get married.”
He looked away. “I can’t.” Regret tinged his voice.
Lacey wanted to stamp her foot and demand a better answer, but she knew she wouldn’t get it. Not with his shuttered expression and the regal tilt of his stubborn chin. “It’s not like you’re the crown prince,” she argued, “although I don’t understand that since you’re the oldest son. But this means you have more freedom.”
Hafiz’s eyes closed wearily for a brief moment. “For the last time, the sultan chooses the next in line for the throne. My father chose my brother. And, no, I don’t have any freedom in this matter, even though I will never rule. In my case, I have less.”
She didn’t want to hear that. Thick emotions already clogged her aching throat. “You should never have agreed to marry this woman,” she said as her voice wobbled.
He turned his attention back to her. “I gave my consent,” he said gently. “I can’t take it back.”
What about the promises he made to her? The ones he made first. The ones about how they would be together. Didn’t those promises matter? Didn’t she matter?
“Why did you agree in the first place?” She held the plastic bag to her chest. She would rather hold on to something solid and strong like Hafiz until the emotional storm passed, which would still leave her feeling battered and stinging with pain, but he would prevent her from breaking. “You should have refused.”
“I couldn’t this time.” Hafiz winced the moment he revealed too much. He pressed his lips into a straight line.
Lacey stared at him with open suspicion. “This time?” she echoed. “How long have you been looking for a wife?”
“Could we not discuss this here?” he bit out tersely. “Let’s go back to the apartment.” He guided her to the elevator, keeping a firm hand on her arm as she still weaved from the unpleasant shock. He pressed the call button, and she watched as if her life depended on it, but her brain couldn’t register the simple, everyday action.
“Marry,” she repeated and shook her head. “I don’t believe this. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am telling you.” He kept his eyes on the descending lighted floor numbers.
“Now. After everything is settled.” She couldn’t be bothered to hide the accusation in her voice.
He spared a glance at her. “Not quite, but it is official as of this morning. I wanted to tell you before you found out from another source.”
That explained the missing newspapers. “How considerate.” She felt his start of surprise from her bitter sarcasm, but she didn’t care. Hafiz was getting married. To someone else. The knowledge stabbed at her heart. It was a wonder she didn’t break from the piercing force. “When is the wedding taking place?”
“After Eid.” His answer was almost swallowed by the clank and thump of the arriving elevator.
Eid. That holiday came after the month of Ramadan, if she recalled correctly. She remembered something being mentioned in the paper about that coming soon. “Three months?” she made a guess.
He held the sliding metal doors open for her. “More or less.”
Lacey walked into the elevator compartment, her head spinning. Three months. She only had three months with Hafiz.
What was she thinking? She had no more time left. Oh, God. She wasn’t strong enough to handle this. She was going to shatter from the pain. Hafiz was an engaged man. Off-limits. And she never had any warning.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry as she instinctively pressed the burgeoning wails and sobs into silence until they were ready to burst from her skin. “You should have told me you were looking for a wife.”
“I wasn’t. I have no interest in getting married. I held it off for as long as possible.”
Lacey reeled back in shock. Hafiz had no interest in marriage? At all? Not even to her? If that was the case, then what had the past six months been about?
