That was never going to happen now.
Tarek would grow up without knowing his father.
Nor would he become Sheikh.
A pang of fear pierced her chest. Would her son be allowed to grow up in safety? What would happen if Karim didn’t take the crown? He’d looked anything but happy about the idea. But if he didn’t and Hassan Shakroun became Sheikh—
‘Safiyah? Are you still there?’
‘Sorry, Rana. I got distracted.’
‘Things didn’t go well?’
‘I’m sure it will work out just fine.’ Safiyah was so used to putting a positive spin on things, protecting her sister as much as possible, that the words emerged automatically.
‘Reading between the lines, it doesn’t sound like it.’ Rana paused, then, ‘Youcantalk to me, you know, Safiyah. I’m not as fragile as I used to be.’
‘I know that.’
These days Rana seemed a different person entirely from the severely depressed young woman she’d once been. It was habit rather than need that fed Safiyah’s protectiveness, yet old ways died hard.
‘But there’s no news yet—nothing to share.’
Other than the fact Karim had asked her to be his wife.
No, not asked. Demanded. Made it a condition of him even considering accepting the sheikhdom.
She couldn’t share that fact. Not till she’d worked out what answer she was going to give.
Marrying Karim seemed impossible. Especially as there’d been not even a hint of warmth when he spoke of it. Instead he’d looked so cold, so brooding…
Shecouldn’tsay yes. The very thought of accepting another marriage of convenience when she’d just escaped one sent shivers scudding down her spine.
Naturally they were shivers of distaste. They couldn’t be anything else.
But if she said no what would happen to Tarek? She’d do whatever it took to see him safe. Of course she would. Yet surely there was some other way. Surely marriage wasn’t essential.
‘Well, if you need to talk I’m just here.’
It struck Safiyah how far Rana had come from the troubled girl she’d been. ‘Thank you, Rana. I’m so lucky to have you.’ Especially as a few short years ago Safiyah had almost lost her. ‘To be honest, I—’
A knock on the door interrupted her. ‘Sorry, there’s someone here. I’ll just see who it is.’
Safiyah swung her bare feet off the bed, retying the belt of her long robe. She glanced at the time. Nine o’clock. Too late for a casual visitor, even if she’d known anyone else in Switzerland. And the special envoy who’d accompanied her from Assara would never dream of simply turning up at her door. He’d ring first.
‘That’s fine. I need to go anyway.’
In the background Safiyah heard yapping. She grinned as she crossed the bedroom and entered the suite’s sitting room, flicking on a lamp as she went.
‘Okay. Give Tarek a hug and kiss from me and tell him I’ll be home soon.’
‘I will. And good luck!’
More yapping, this time more frenzied, and Rana hung up.
Safiyah reached the entrance of her suite and peered through the peephole. Her vision was obscured by a large fist, raised to knock. When it lowered she was looking at a broad chest, straight shoulders and the dark gold flesh of a masculine neck and jaw.
Karim!