Zafir leaned back against the cushion. “Well, Genie, what brings you to Bah’shar? I seem to remember you refused my invitation once.”
“We were on a dig,” she said, ignoring the jibe. “Across the border. Our camp was overrun and I was taken hostage. I have no idea what happened to the others.”
“Ah, so it was work. Of course. I should have known.”
Work. With her it was always her work. He’d offered her so much more—a life with him as a cherished companion—but she’d refused. He should have known she would do so. He could still remember the look in her eyes when he’d explained why he couldn’t ever marry her.
He’d lived in America long enough to know better, but he’d been convinced she loved him. Convinced that she understood—that she would give up everything and come with him.
Her expression hardened. “Yes. Important work. I—”
“Do not worry,” Zafir said, cutting her off. “I will find out what happened to your people and make sure everyone is well.”
A breath huffed out of her. “Thank you.” She twisted the fabric of the veil between her fingers, her eyes dropping away from his for a moment. “And how is your wife?”
“I’m sure you mean wives,” he said coolly. Yes, he’d had to tell her that his father had arranged a marriage when he was a child and that he was expected to honor the agreement. It had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with duty. She hadn’t understood.
Duty. It was a word he sometimes wished he’d never heard.
Her head snapped up. “Of course,” she said, the tremble of her lips gone in an instant.
He’d wanted to hurt her and he’d succeeded. But now he felt guilty—as if he’d kicked a puppy. “My first wife died,” he said evenly. “I am divorced from the second.”
Genie blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she added.
Zafir shrugged. It was what people always said, and yet he could not accept it without feeling the usual well of loneliness—and guilt—within. He’d been alone most of his life; being married had not changed that. In some ways it had actually made it worse.
Jasmin had died because of him. And Layla? Layla had surely done what she had because of him as well.
Death, it seemed, followed him.
“These things happen,” he said, because he had to say something. “And my second wife would have made a terrible queen, so divorce was not such a bad choice in that case.”
Though he certainly hadn’t divorced Layla for her inability to be a queen.
Genie’s eyes widened. “Qu-queen? But you weren’t…”
“The Crown Prince?” he finished. “No, I was not.”
Once again death had played its part in forcing his life along paths he would not have chosen.
“My brother has been gone for a year now. My father died a month ago. I am now King of Bah’shar.”
She looked stunned. Yes, he could well imagine. It was not what he’d ever expected to do. Not what he’d wanted or studied so hard for. He’d gone for an engineering and architecture degree so he could build things while his older brother prepared to be king. Together they would take Bah’shar into the future, make her bigger, better, more capable than she had been under the rule of their father.
Now he had to do it alone. Always, always alone.
Genie dipped her chin to her chest and swallowed. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear. “I’m sorry for your loss, Zafir. For both your father and your brother.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve taken enough of your time,” she continued. “If you could return me to my camp now, I’d be grateful.”
Resentment flared to life inside him. She’d been the only woman—the only person, really—he’d ever felt close to. The only one who’d ever seemed to stem the tide of loneliness within him. But to her it had meant nothing. Like every other woman he’d ever known, she’d been with him because of what he was, not who he was inside.
She’d seemed different from the others, but the reality was that he’d been too taken with her to see the truth. She was no different than Jasmin or Layla or any of the women he’d ever dated.
He stewed with hate, regret, and, yes, even desire—and she stood there, completely unaffected. He had a sudden urge to punish her, to show her what she’d given up and could never have again. “How grateful?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
He climbed to his feet. She took a step back as he moved toward her. He refused to let it bother him. Once she would have rushed into his arms. Once she would have melted beneath him.
He stopped in front of her. Her head tilted back, her gray eyes searching his. For a moment he could almost think he was somewhere else. Another time, another place.
Zafir couldn’t stop himself from touching her hair. The contact was brief, but her mouth opened, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. Need rocketed through him. Need he forced away.
“And how well do your pickaxes and pottery shards keep you warm at night, habiba? Is it all you thought it would be?”
She glared at him. “You know that’s not the only reason why it didn’t work out between us. You lied to me, Zafir.”
He almost laughed. No one dared to talk to him the way she did—certainly not now that he was king. “I told you the truth, habiba.”
“You should have told me from the beginning.”
“We did not know each other well enough.”
She looked outraged. “You were engaged, Zafir, and you slept with me for six months without ever letting me know that fact. I don’t think knowing each other had anything to do with it! You didn’t want anything to interfere with your ability to get me into bed.”
He couldn’t stop the smirk that crossed his face. “As if that was so difficult, Genie.”
She blushed, and he knew she was remembering their first night together. Their first date. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she hadn’t been experienced either.
“I’d like to go back to my camp now,” she said primly.
“Of course you would,” he said, coming to a decision. “And yet I am afraid this is not possible.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing suddenly. “What do you mean, not possible?”
He almost had fun saying the next part. Almost, but not quite.
“Because I have need of you here.”
Chapter Two
GENIE’S heart dropped to her toes. Next came rising irritation. He was toying with her, punishing her for what happened between them ten years ago. The sex between them had been great, yes, but hers was the only heart that had been affected. She’d been in love with him, and all he’d wanted was to take her to Bah’shar and keep her as a plaything while he married someone else.
Even had he not been engaged she’d been right to break it off between them. He would have prevented her from making something of herself, from pursuing the career she’d always wanted. He would have stifled her freedom and bound her up in a perfumed prison.
She was glad she’d refused to go with him. He hadn’t loved her and would have discarded her as soon as he’d tired of her. It’d been the hardest thing she’d ever done, walking away from him,