Apparently even Angele’s patience had worn thin with the young woman because there was clearly no reply. The receptionist looked up and then flinched, her face blanching as she must have realized he could hear every word she’d spoken.
“Uh … Angele said she’ll be down soon. You can … you should probably wait for her over there.” The young woman waved toward some chairs by the window on the far side of the large lobby. Zahir nodded stiffly and led his security detail to the other side of the lobby.
“Hello, Zahir.”
He turned at the sound of Angele’s voice, his smile of greeting sliding right into a concerned frown.
Her usually honey-gold skin was wan and she had circles under her eyes not hidden by her makeup. She also looked like she’d lost weight; her pale cheeks were hollow.
“Are you well?” he asked and then could have bitten his own tongue. He knew better than to make queries of this type in a public place.
“I’m fine.” She smoothed her hand down the front of her sheath dress.
The color of eggplant, the dark purple was usually a complimentary color for her, but today it only served to enhance the washed-out tone of her skin. Nevertheless, she wore it with stylish élan, her accessories and hair as well put together as any of the models her magazine photographed.
Regardless, she really had no business being at work if she was not feeling well. She needed to be home in bed, being pampered and coddled. His plans for the evening took a sudden shift.
“It is good to see you.” Bowing slightly, he offered her the bouquet of yellow jasmine.
She simply shook her head, making no effort to take the flowers. “I’m cleared to leave. Did you have a destination in mind for this conversation?”
There was something off about Angele’s attitude, but he had no time to ponder it as she turned and began walking toward the front doors. He handed the flowers off to one of the security guards to deal with. And then, he caught up to Angele with his longer strides and they exited the building together.
His limousine waited by the curb. She headed toward it without hesitation. Bemused by her assertive and frankly, unexpectedly cooperative behavior, he followed.
They were in the limo when she turned to him and asked, “Where are we going?”
“We have reservations at Chez Alene.” But he did not think they should keep them.
“My favorite restaurant.”
“I am aware.”
“My mother?” she asked.
“Ultimately, yes.”
“Ultimately?”
“Uncle Malik believed I needed assistance in my plan to woo you.”
“Let me guess, he had the queen compile a dossier.” There was nothing in Angele’s tone to indicate how she felt about that, one way or the other.
“Yes.”
She nodded, making no comment on the fact they had known each other their whole lives and a dossier of that type should not be necessary.
“You gave away the flowers I sent you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Might I inquire why?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she had done with the jewelry, or the designer bags and shoes he’d had her mother pick out for her.
“Why did you send them?”
“You deserved a proper wooing after my years of neglect.” “Duty then.”
He opened his mouth to deny it, but could he without dishonesty? Not completely. “Perhaps, to an extent. However, they were also a reminder that you were in my thoughts even separated by the miles.”
“Poetic.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I am a man of my culture.”
“You’re a pragmatist with a terrifying ability to gauge human nature and use your observations to best effect.”
“You do not believe me sincere?”
“I believe you were thinking of me, but we both know the reason for that, and it didn’t have a thing to do with some romantic longing to see me.”
“Define romance. Our last night together was not so forgettable.”
Her hand settled against her stomach and she frowned. “No, it really wasn’t.” “That bothers you.”
She sighed, looking out the tinted windows at the traffic surrounding them. “It doesn’t matter.” “I assure you, it does.” “No, it really doesn’t.” “I know you think—”
“Look, let’s just stop this politically motivated seduction, all right?” Despite her confident words—if possible, she looked even more fragile and out of sorts than before. “It’s a waste of both our time and your efforts.”
“You are so certain I cannot sway your mind?” “You don’t need to. If you agree to certain conditions, I will marry you.”
ZAHIR waited for Angele to take the words back, or at the very least, enumerate these said conditions. But she simply stared off into space, breathing shallowly.
“This is unexpected,” he said finally when it became apparent she had nothing else to add.
In fact, he was so stunned his usually facile brain had the speed of cold honey in processing her immediate capitulation.
“Disappointed?”
Oddly he was. And not a little bit wary as well.
“I am aware you love me,” he said, feeling his way in a blind negotiation he had not expected in any form at this stage. “I still believed your pride too wounded to make our reconciliation an easy one.”
She laughed humorlessly. “You believe I’m agreeing to marry you because I love you?”
“Why else?” The prospect she had suddenly decided to submit to duty was not the comfortable thought it should be.
“We didn’t use condoms that night.”
His brow wrinkled as he tried to catch her point.
“So?”
“So.” She rolled her eyes and waved at her stomach as if that was answer enough.
His brain had no trouble catching up this time and the implication stole all the air from his lungs.
“Surely you were on the pill, or some other form of birth control. You planned the night well ahead of time.” He’d been certain of that during their night together and even more convinced after seeing her letters to the kings and polished press release she’d left behind.
“Yes, I planned it. No, I didn’t go on the pill as part of my preparations.” Self-loathing laced her voice. “I should have … I realize that now.”
“Why the hell not?” he demanded, his voice raised in a way he never allowed.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t rational. I know that, but I thought … one night. I was a virgin, disgustingly naive. I wouldn’t get pregnant.” She frowned. “I thought you’d use condoms.”
He ignored the last statement and concentrated on the ones that came before it. “You are too smart for that.”
She glared at him and then seemed to deflate. “Yes, I am. There’s no excuse. I really just thought … I don’t know. I’ve