He loved her. She was the only person he had ever loved. He had, from the moment he’d met her. And what had he done? He had set out to buy her, like an item. Like anything else he hoped to acquire in his life. Because currency, power, that was what he understood, not feelings.
Three years later he understood. Why he had not wanted another woman since he’d met Angelina. Why it had felt so essential to hold her to him when he’d finally found her again.
But at what cost? He had only thought of himself. Had only thought of what it meant to him to have her.
How had he not realized it was a prison sentence to her?
He would rather go through life alone than subject her to it. Than to force her to be with him when she had no desire to be his wife.
She never had.
Fate. She had blamed fate for forcing them together when he had been the one forcing things all along.
She wanted things to be different. And they would be.
“Taj?” Angelina crept out of her darkened bedroom and into her sitting area. Taj was sitting on her couch, still shirtless, the lights off. He appeared oblivious to the fact that the sun had gone down. He was just sitting, looking at his hands.
“Taj,” she said again, moving to sit beside him. “Is everything all right?”
He looked at her, his face lost in shadow. “You are here, and you are safe. How could anything be wrong?”
There was something off about his tone. Something dark in his voice. Gritty.
“I just thought…”
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Better. Actually I feel ready to eat, which is a first for a few days. Either the hormone induced nausea is over, or it’s the eye of the storm.”
“I hope it’s over,” he said, his tone still flat.
“What’s wrong?”
“You asked me, Angelina, if fate had forced us together.”
“I…I remember that.” She wanted to touch him, but something stopped her.
His gaze was distant. “I have the answer now. There is no such thing as fate. Only sheikhs who think they are God. I will not play at a profession so far above myself. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We will not marry.”
Angelina felt like the floor tilted sideways. “What?”
“You ask far too many questions,” he said, standing. “I have made myself, my wishes, very clear. We will not marry at the end of the week. We will not marry.”
“And…where will I go?” she asked, not caring about his anti-question mandate. Because she had questions. Lots and lots of questions. And giving voice to them, needing the answers to them, was the only thing keeping her heart from splintering. “What about our child?”
“I will see our child. I will support our child in every way possible. But I am not holding you here.”
“What changed?”
“I cannot lock us in a situation that would be unendurable for us both.” He turned his back on her, and she felt a sharp stab hit her in the chest. “You may stay here in the palace as long as it suits you. I will not have you move under the present circumstances. It is your choice where you go when you feel able to leave. If you choose to stay in Rahat, a home will be provided for you.”
“And if I choose to leave the country?” she asked, ice coating her words, her body, her heart, offering protection. Shock providing insulation against the pain.
“Visitation will need to be arranged,” he said, his eyes black holes in the darkness of the room. “I will be there when my child is born, make no mistake. You will not shut me out.”
She felt like she was breaking inside. Slowly cracking apart.
But she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t show him. Already, she loved him while he felt…what did he feel? He had been so kind earlier and now this. Now he could cast her off as quickly as he’d brought her into his world.
Already he had too much power. She wouldn’t let him know it.
“I promise, Taj.” She tilted her chin up, called on every bit of strength inside of her and used it. “If you want to see our child, anytime, day or night, you will be able to. I will never keep them from you.”
“Good.”