‘But the sentiments are not.’ He sighed angrily. ‘We were at war a long time. You might be ready to forget that but our people won’t. There’s been too much loss. Too much hurt. It’s going to take time and you, a princess of Taquul, cannot simply do as you wish.’
‘Of course I can.’ She held his gaze levelly, her expression firm. ‘I refuse to be bound by a war that has ended, by a war that was started a century ago. I refuse to hate a man I hadn’t even met until a few weeks ago. I love him—and you cannot, will not, change my mind or my heart.’
Malik glared at her with a mix of outrage and disbelief. ‘I forbid it. I forbid any of this. You will marry Paris and that’s the end of it.’ He stared at her for several more seconds then turned, stalking towards the door. He slammed it behind him; she didn’t so much as flinch.
Amir told himself he wouldn’t ask about her. This day wasn’t about Johara. It wasn’t about him. This was an event marking six months of hard-fought-for peace, a meeting with Malik Qadir, to show the world that the two leaders were intent on progressing matters. It hadn’t been smooth sailing, but each little outbreak had been quickly quelled. All-out war had been avoided.
‘Let me stand by your side. Let them see us united.’
He heard her voice often. Her promises. Her offer. Her desire.
‘I love you.’
He wouldn’t ask about her.
Within minutes, this would be over. A handshake in front of the media, and then they’d slip into their separate cars, go in separate directions, lead separate lives. Because they were Qadir and Haddad and that was what they did.
Malik had her eyes.
Amir felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. But hadn’t it been that way since she’d left?
The documents were signed—more trade agreements, a relaxation on sanctions, the beginning of an economic alliance that would strengthen both countries. The business was concluded.
‘Leave us.’ Amir surveyed the room, encompassing Taquul and Ishkana aides in his directive.
Malik gave a single nod to show his agreement.
There was the scraping of chairs, the sound of feet against tiles, the noise as the door opened to the corridor beyond, and then they were alone; silence fell once more.
‘The agreement is in order.’ Malik’s voice was firm. ‘Our people will benefit from this.’
Amir nodded. He wouldn’t ask about her.
‘And it is timely too,’ Malik said, standing, extending his hand to bring the meeting to an end.
If he was going to ask, it would need to be now. How is she? The words ran through his head, demanding an answer. He needed to know as he needed to breathe. Nothing more—just how is she? Was she happy?
So much of his own happiness depended on that.
‘My attention can now be given over to the details of my sister’s marriage.’ Malik said the words simply, without any hint of malice. He couldn’t have known that his statement was an instrument of intense pain to Amir. He kept his face neutral, but his body was tense, like a snake ready to strike.
‘Marriage?’
‘Yes.’ Simple, with a smile. No ulterior motive. ‘You met her fiancé, Paris.’
Amir nodded, standing, his chest constricting. ‘Yes, of course. When is the wedding to take place?’
‘Next week.’ He held his hand out for Amir to shake. Amir stared at Malik’s hand for several seconds, a frown on his face. He wanted to say so much! He wanted to ask questions, to know everything.
But he didn’t have any right to ask.
‘Wish...her well from me.’
A week came and went. Amir kept busy. He worked twenty-hour days, involving himself in every single ministerial portfolio. Very little went on that concerned his people of which he was not aware. He reviewed education initiatives, went through medical funding with a fine-tooth comb, oversaw high-level military meetings, and all the while he refused to pay attention to the days that were passing. He wouldn’t think about Johara.
He didn’t deserve to think of her.
She had offered herself to him—her heart, her love, her service to his country—she had given him everything she had to give and he had told her to go. He’d told her to have a happy life. And that was what she was doing—with Paris.