It waspast ten o’clock at night when the doors to the lounge room were opened. He half expected it to be another domestic, coming to clear the untouched dinner tray. He barely looked towards the door, but when he caught a glimpse of her pale blonde hair his gut twisted and he turned fully, allowing his eyes a chance to drink in the sight of her. It had been five very long days, and he hadn’t realised how badly he’d craved this.
“Ella.” Her name left him on a whoosh, but she didn’t react. Her face was pinched, her skin paler than usual.
“Elon.” He noticed she didn’t use his title. There was no teasing, no baiting, no innocent flirtation.
She swept into the room dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white singlet top. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
“I wouldn’t have left without seeing you, except I didn’t know how to reach you, nor how long you’d be gone.”
On the surface, it was an explanation, but he felt every single barb, just as she’d intended. The blame, the anger, the hurt. And he deserved them all.
“My chief of staff knew how to contact me.”
“I didn’t.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “A mistake I won’t make again.”
Her only response was to stare at him.
He felt the ice coming from her in waves and ached to counter it with heat and flame, but it wasn’t the time for that.
“In any event, it doesn’t matter. The jet is on standby to take us home now.”
Her eyes flashed with something like fear. “I’m not coming back.”
Something lurched inside of him. He refused to acknowledge it. “You are my fiancé.”
“No, Elon.” She lifted her bare hand. He pulled the ring from his pocket – Anya had handed it to him – and stalked towards her. She shook her head, halting him in his progress. “I won’t marry you.”
“We’ve discussed this at length. Any child of mine will be raised in Salim.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will be, but not by me.” Her eyes sparkled with the sudden onset of tears. “I’m not pregnant, Elon.”
He stared at her, completely unprepared for that announcement. He had been convinced that she would have conceived as a result of their frequent love-making.
“So there’s no need for this farcical marriage, no need to saddle yourself with someone like me for the rest of your life. No need to do the honourable thing and make an honest woman out of me.” She tilted her face towards his. “Everyone thinks I’m a frivolous, promiscuous party girl, this will simply underscore their perception. So you’re off the hook.”
His heart slammed into his ribs as he turned away from her, pacing towards the windows.
“I wish you’d simply called me,” she said quietly. “I could have told you this over the phone and saved you all the trouble of coming here.”
He nodded once, a jerk of his head, then turned to face her. “I wanted to see you.”
He saw her tense and wished she wouldn’t do that.
“The fact you’re not pregnant now changes nothing.” He thought quickly. “I still need a wife, and eventually heirs. I have seen for myself how suited you are to the role as my Sheikha. I can think of no one better suited, in fact. Come back and marry me, as we planned, Ella.”
“We didn’t plan.” He could hear tears in her voice. “You stated, I accepted, but now you’re in my country, and I don’t have to listen to you.”
An ache spread low in his gut but despite that, he couldn’t help responding, “Did you ever listen to me?”
She shook her head. When she walked across the room, he saw her hands were shaking. “Another reason I’d have been a terrible wife for a man like you.”
“No, you’re wrong. You’re the perfect wife for me. You are everything I’ve ever wanted – smart, beautiful, kind, passionate, interested in my country and people. I would be lucky to have you at my side.”
Her eyes flared wide and she stared at him for so long he wondered if she’d even heard him.
“But you don’t love me.”