‘I love you.’
‘I want to stay here with you.’
He swore. Anger flooded his body. He ached for her. He felt her everywhere he looked, but she was gone.
He hadn’t been able to catch her; he’d failed her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BEING BACK IN Manhattan was a balm. It was temporary, but it was enough. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, glad the evening—the launch of a new therapy space and classroom funded by her charity—had been a success. And for a brief moment, as she’d walked through the room and smiled and spoken to the assembled guests, she’d almost felt like herself again.
Almost.
It was impossible to forget. It was impossible to feel whole when so much of herself was locked away in a space she couldn’t access. She’d stopped counting the days since she’d left Ishkana. When it had passed ninety, she’d known: it was too long. He wasn’t going to change his mind—he was glad she’d left. He’d forgotten about her. He’d drawn boundaries for their relationship and he was sticking to them with a determination that was innate to him.
Day by day she’d concentrated on Taquul, on taking on a role there, on seeming as though she were fine and focussed on a life that no longer held any appeal for her. She didn’t speak about Ishkana or Amir, not even with her brother, and Malik never asked. At least he’d dropped the matter of her marrying Paris—for now. She went through the motions, day in, day out, breathing, eating, sleeping, smiling, when inside she felt as though she were withering and dying.
She used to try not to think of Amir but that was ludicrous—like trying to stop one’s heart from beating. It was something she did reflexively so now she didn’t even bother to fight it. She accepted that he would always be a part of her, even when he wasn’t. She accepted that she would always look for him, think of him, reach for him—and that she’d never again see him or touch him.
Pain was her constant companion, but so what? She could live with it; she would live with it, because even pain was a reminder of him. And in the meantime, she could still make something of her life. She would always know that he was missing, but she refused to be cowed by that. In time, she’d grow strong again.
Perhaps she was already strong? She’d refused Malik’s attempts to organise her marriage. She’d come to New York when he’d clearly wished her to stay. She was carving out the best life she could. And one day, she’d be happy again. Never complete, but content.
She had to be. There had been too much loss, grief, sadness and death for her to waste her life. She wouldn’t allow herself to indulge in misery.
Her car pulled to a stop outside the prestigious high rise she called home while in the States, her security guard coming to open her door. She ignored the overt presence of guards flanking the door—the apartment was home to many celebrities and powerful politicians; such security measures were normal. Her guards walked her through the lobby. She barely noticed them.
Almost home now, she let the mask slip for a moment, allowing herself to feel her loneliness and solitude without judgement. The elevator doors pinged open and she stepped inside. One of her guards went with her, as was protocol, but before the doors closed another man entered. Unmistakably, he was of a security detail, but not hers.
A second later, the walls seemed to be closing in on her as a second man entered the elevator. Johara couldn’t breathe. Her eyes had stars in them. She pressed her back to the wall of the elevator, sure she was seeing things, or that she’d passed out and conjured Amir from the relics of her soul, because he couldn’t possibly be right in front of her, inside the elevator, here in Manhattan?
His dark eyes glowed with intent, his face a forbidding mask that made her knees tremble and her stomach tighten. She opened her mouth to ask him something—to ask if it was really him—but she couldn’t. No words would form.
‘I’d like a meeting with Her Highness.’ He addressed his comment to her guard.
Her stomach flipped.
The guard looked to her. She could see his doubts—the peace was new. He didn’t want to offend this powerful sheikh, but nor could he consent to this highly improper request.
She had to say something. A thousand questions flooded her. Anger, too. What was he doing here? Why had he come? It had been too long. Too long! Didn’t he see how she’d changed? Couldn’t he tell that inside, behind the beautiful dress and the make-up and the hair, she was like a cut flower left in the sun too long? She angled her face away from his. In the circumstances, his handsome appearance was an insult. How dared he look so good? So virile? So strong and healthy, as though he hadn’t missed a moment’s sleep since she left?
‘I’m tired,’ she said—the words ringing with honesty because they were accurate. She was exhausted.
‘Yes.’ It was quiet. Sympathetic. He could see what she hid from the rest of the world. He could see inside her heart and recognise its brokenness.
She swallowed, hurting so much more now that he was here. The elevator doors closed but the carriage didn’t move. Not until Amir reached across and pressed a button.
‘This is important.’
Resistance fired through her. What she’d said to him, the night she’d left, had been important too. He hadn’t listened. He’d made up his own mind and nothing she’d said could change it. She’d told him she loved him and he’d turned his back on her as though she meant nothing.
‘I’m tired,’ she said again, shaking her head. Her guard moved closer, as though to protect her. Amir stiffened and waved away his own guard. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but she was attuned to every movement he made. She saw the tiny shift of his body, the strengthening of every muscle he possessed.
/> His gaze bore into hers; she knew he registered everything she felt, and she didn’t try to hide it. She returned his stare unflinchingly, because she wanted him to feel what he’d done to her. It was petty but necessary.
A muscle jerked in his jaw and a moment later he nodded, a look of acceptance on his features. ‘Tomorrow, then.’
Her stomach squeezed. Tomorrow felt like a year away. She’d never sleep if she knew he wanted to speak to her. What could he possibly have to say?