‘That’s the ultimate irony. When the old Sheikh was taken ill he needed a bone marrow donor. Even though he was so sick he still couldn’t bring himself to countermand the suggestion that I get tested for compatibility. That’s when we discovered Iwashis son after all. He’d spent years despising me on the basis of unfounded suspicion. Just because he’d found an old letter that predated my birth, sent to my mother by the man she later ran off with. He assumed—wrongly—that she’d slept with him and conceived me as a result.’
‘Oh, Ashraf.’
She sat up, instinctively covering his clasped hands with one of hers. It was like touching warm but unforgiving steel. All that hate. All that distance between father and son for nothing but pride.
One of those large hands moved and covered hers. Eyes dark as a stormy night captured hers.
‘I want Oliver to have what I never did. A family. Parents together in one place, loving him, caring for him—’
He broke off and Tori wondered with a wobble of distress if Ashraf’s throat had closed as convulsively as hers had. She swallowed, trying to dislodge the choking knot of emotion blocking her larynx as she imagined his childhood.
‘I don’t give a damn what people think of me. But I don’t want him subjected to prejudice because he’s not in my life full-time. Because he’s not seen to belong.’
Her gaze slewed to their precious boy, who’d woken and was now staring at them with lustrous eyes so like Ashraf’s that her chest squeezed.
‘Hedoesbelong. He’s ours.’
But as she spoke Tori’s heart sank. Ashraf was right. Oliver could be legitimised, but to some his birth out of wedlock would for ever leave a taint of scandal.
‘Whether he’s in Australia or Za’daq he’ll attract public interest. It’s inevitable. I want to do everything to protect him from the negatives of that. I want to support him. I want him to feel safe and secure, proud of who he is. Sure right from the start that we’re united and on his side.’
Ashraf’s voice rang with sincerity. Tori wanted that too. She could understand Ashraf’s reasoning now, and her heart ached for the boy he’d been, a victim of circumstances beyond his control, abandoned by both parents.
Part of her wanted to nod and say of course she’d do anything for her son. Yet even as she opened her mouth her own survival instinct kicked in. Everything rebelled at the thought of marrying for appearances’ sake.
Flashes of memory filled her brain. Of her parents’ marriage where whatever tenderness there might once have been had died. All that had remained was a sham, a pretence of a happy family constructed to salvage pride and win votes.
Tori had vowed never to have a marriage like that. Since childhood she’d known she wanted more. She’d promised herself she’d never settle for anything less than love.
‘I...’ She met Ashraf’s gaze and her throat dried. She was torn between determination to do what was best for Oliver and fear that she’d become like her mother, living an unhappy half-life. ‘I need time.’
After what seemed like a full minute he nodded. ‘Of course. I understand.’
But that wasn’t what his eyes said, or the pressure of his hand on hers. He was a determined man. A king. How far would his patience stretch?