Her words hit him with the force of a punch. In them he could hear where her determination came from. In them he gathered her motivation. And he suddenly understood why she worked so hard to fit in, why she had worked so hard to bring herself up from her modest background.
And it made sense suddenly why she had spoken of her mother with such disdain. It sounded as though the woman had loved someone who had abandoned them entirely, a man who had had other children while refusing to acknowledge her.
It was nothing he could relate to. His place in life had been assured from birth. His blood had assured him entry. His family name a given. A name that stretched back hundreds of years, that brought him reputation, that brought him admiration.
It had been a reputation he hadn’t been deserving of for a great many years, one he was striving to deserve now.
And in contrast, the woman across from him had been given nothing in terms of name and reputation. The woman sitting across from him had had to make her own way entirely. If he’d had to do that he would’ve never been able to transcend the mistakes of his past. But as it was, he had been forgiven. Simply a rebellious wayward royal who’d had too much power, and too much money. A young man who had been far too handsome for his own good, and who had only taken advantage of all that had been naturally afforded him as a result.
He’d had none of her disadvantages, and he’d abused every advantage he had been given.
He felt like saying something to her, and yet he felt advice from him was empty. Still, she had shared with him, and he owed something.
“They say the best revenge is living well,” he said. “And I feel you are doing that already.”
“You can’t deny the fact that I’m staying with royalty. Although not so much right now.”
“Jamal is royalty in his own right.”
“True.”
“But in all sincerity, I think your father was a fool. I think he was a fool to deny a daughter such as you.”
“Are you complimenting me?” She blinked owlishly.
“Do not seem so surprised. I have admiration for your determination and your mind, even if I cannot leave you entirely to your own devices. I was born with privilege. I was born belonging to my family. And I squandered it. I did not deserve it. It was something I took for granted. I would not be surprised if your other siblings have done the same. Someone like you, a daughter like you, should be appreciated. He did not, and so I think he is a fool.”
“How is it that you abused what you were given?” she asked, her voice muted. Her question sounded much more genuine than questions from her did typically. Much more personal, and much less like she was asking as a reporter.
“That I think we will save for tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. And we still didn’t get to my scandal.”
“We’re getting there.” His stomach sank as he said the words, as he realized the truth in them. They were getting to the scandal, and he was starting to realize what he would have to give her as substitution for his lack of knowledge about James Chatsfield. As a substitution for the secret his sister carried. The one he had to keep Sophie away from at all costs.
He realized now where his stories were leading her, where they were leading them both. He had not before this moment, but he did now. The founding of a nation, self-sacrifice being the cornerstone of the monarchy. And the importance of acting with honor above all else. Of being worthy of the birthright he had been given without having to do any work at all.
“For tonight I suggest we get some sleep,” he said.
She stood, and he stopped pacing, pausing to look at her. The glowing of the lanterns overhead was more pronounced now that the light had dimmed further outside, and it was casting a golden sheen over her. And suddenly everything seemed to narrow in on Sophie.
Everything around her faded, the air growing tight. Pulling him nearer to her. Her green eyes glittered in the low light, her hair shimmering. She was temptation personified, sent to test him. While at the same time reminding him of his fatal weaknesses.
How was it one woman could represent both? How was it one woman could make him want to strive forward doing better, sacrificing himself for the greater good, while also inspiring him to drop it all, so that his arms were free to pull her into them? To bring her up against his body, kiss her, claim her, make her his?
He had no answers, he had nothing other than the burning ache in his gut. Nothing at all.
“Would you mind giving me some privacy while I get ready?” she asked.
He had no choice but to give her privacy. If he were in here while she readied herself for bed he doubted he would be able to control himself.
And with Jasmine so freshly on his mind, it seemed a blasphemy. With Leila, her secret and the weight of his responsibility pressing down upon him, he should be able to think of nothing else. Of Christine and their upcoming marriage.
And yet none of it seemed to matter half as much as what he felt when he looked at Sophie. It was a blasphemy. And yet it was one he was not certain he knew how to combat. It was one he was not certain he wanted to combat. It was such a foreign feeling, something lost back in time, something that had been bound up and twisted up in tragedy, in disgrace.
He’d had lovers in the years since he’d decided to take his role as sheikh more seriously. But it had been different. It had been with careful calculation and decision. It’d been at appropriate times, and in appropriate places. It had been nothing like this, this heady rush of heat and need that seemed to transcend reality, that seemed to transcend duty.
No, nothing transcended duty.
He could not afford to disrupt what was happening now. He could not throw away his future, his country’s future, Leila’s future, for the sake of a dalliance with an American journalist who would probably turn the entire thing into a tell-all.
She wouldn’t do that.
He gritted his teeth. He did not trust people easily as a rule, not anymore. Not after the betrayal of his friend Damien. And certainly, Sophie was not who he had originally assumed she was. She was not the cold-blooded tabloid leech, but he doubted she was a kitten, either.
She was a woman who had gotten into her position in life with sheer bloody-mindedness and determination. Underestimating that could be fatal. At least in terms of reputation.
Things were far too precarious for him to upset anything.
And he had an agreement with Christine, he had made her promises, and he could not go back on that.
“Of course I will step outside. Let me know when you are ready for me to return.”
* * *
Never. I will never be ready for you to return. Sophie kept all of that to herself, but she thought it at full volume. If he could somehow read thoughts it would be extremely helpful. Of course, if he could read thoughts he would know just how affected she was by being in close quarters with him. She didn’t like it at all. Not one bit.
She was much more disturbed by him than she could’ve ever imagined she might be.
She waited until he was gone, then went to the place where the bags were sitting, digging through them until she found a pair of silk pajamas. Of course he had made sure she would have overnight things. Because of course he had known they would end up spending