CHAPTER TWELVE
HIS TRIP TO THE fourteenth precinct came at a perfect time.
Though it had been amazing in many ways, like something out of the ancient fables that he’d grown up hearing, their night in the desert had also left him with a knot of uncertainty. He needed to clear his head and put space between himself and his wife – and the business to the south required his urgent attention, so it wasn’t as though he’d fabricated an escape.
So why had he felt so strange leaving her in the small hours of the morning, three days earlier? He’d watched her sleeping and thought about waking her. About making love to her one last time before he left, as though he could imprint her on himself somehow. If only he loved her often enough, he could carry a small part of her with him.
Odd thoughts that didn’t fit the truth of what they were, yet having spent four nights alone, his body was aching for her in a way that was making all rational thought impossible.
“You had me sent for?”
He blinked, his eyes blinded momentarily by the light that streamed into the parlour. His palace in the South was not large. Not, at least, compared to the principal palace. But it was beautiful and fine and the light fell through the door with a speckled pattern, courtesy of the ancient glass that was set in its frame.
“Yes. Have a seat.” His eyes narrowed as he watched Selena walk across the room. She looked good. Not just good – well. Healthy. And happy. Her skin glowed and her hair shone. Her eyes too, if such a thing were possible.
Out of nowhere he saw Kylie’s eyes, green like a cat’s and huge in her small face.
His gut twisted.
“Something bothers you,” Selena murmured, ignoring his instruction and crossing to him instead, placing a kiss on his cheek before kneeling at his feet. The greeting was one she didn’t need to observe. It was that of a servant to their master. It bothered him. He reached for her hand and tugged on it, encouraging her to stand.
She smiled at him, a smile of warmth and friendship, and took the seat beside him. He didn’t immediately release his grasp on her fingers.
“Yes.”
She studied him thoughtfully; he felt the heat of her gaze on his profile and it only annoyed him more. He stood jerkily, crossing to the other side of the room and pouring a fragrant iced tea. “For you?”
She shook her head, worry etched into her features. “Sheikh Sultan, you must tell me…”
He laughed. “I know you’re cross with me when you use my title.”
She batted her long, curling lashes and shook her head. “I could never be cross with you.”
“Don’t be so certain.”
“What have you done?” She pushed. “Is it the business here? I’ve heard about the gangs…”
“No.” He shook his head. “I have a plan for that.” He thought of the chief of police he was going to relocate from the eighth precinct, confident that the right team would return civic safety to the streets. “This is a personal matter.”
“A personal matter?” Selena pulled a face. “A personal matter for you?”
He expelled a sigh. “It has to do with my … wife.”
“Ah, yes, your wife. Tell me, Khalifa, how come there have been no receptions welcoming her to Argenon? Is that not the usual procedure?”
“I’m giving her a chance to settle in,” he said without meeting Selena’s eyes. And then winced. He had ordered Selena to come to him, though it had meant two flights and a long drive. He owed it to her to be truthful. “I’m worried.”
“What about? She’s your bride. What do you think can happen?”
He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, easing aching muscles. Muscles that he wished in that moment Kylie was touching.
He pushed the thought aside.
“I haven’t told you everything about her.”
“No, you’ve told me precisely nothing about her,” Selena agreed. “And I, one of your oldest friends.”
He nodded slowly. “My wife is Australian,” he said jerkily, the words the beginning of a story he thought perhaps he should have spoken earlier. “And she was not intended to be my bride.”
“But you fell in love?” Selena teased, clasping her hands in front of her neat chest, her eyes sparked by mischief. “And people say you’re not romantic.”
“We did not fall in love,” he said, ignoring the lie that was implied by the words. After all, Kylie claimed to love him. Guilt whipped across his back. “I stole her.”
Selena was very still, suddenly, as his words clapped around the room. She was a staunch advocate for women’s rights, for the advancement of women in Argenon society. “You cannot steal a person, Khalifa. Not if they do not wish to be stolen.”
I wanted so badly to belong; to be a part of a family.
“She wanted to be married,” he said awkwardly. “And was prepared to marry a man she didn’t know. A man I believe would have hurt her badly.”
“So you played the white knight and carried her to your bed? What am I missing? You do not need to marry a woman to save her from a disastrous marriage. You are ruler of the country. Your word is law. You could have prevented the marriage with a single act.”
“Preventing the marriage wasn’t enough.” The words were a low growl. “I found myself wanting to do more. I knew that marrying her would be both an insult and punishment to the man’s pride.”
“And you wanted to hurt him,” Selena murmured, a frown on her face slipping as realization dawned. “Who is the man?”
Khalifa held his face expressionless with great effort. “You know.”
“My God, Khalifa.” She stood uneasily, moving several paces towards the door and back again, her fingers lifting to her lips. “She was the bride intended for Fayez?”
He dipped his head forward in acknowledgement.
“And you married her before he could?”
Khalifa didn’t particularly feel like discussing the details of his behavior. The fact he’d flown halfway around the world to seduce a virgin simply to wave the fact under another man’s nose. He was hardly proud of his actions, though he still felt they were justified. He knew Selena would not agree.
“Yes.”
“He must have been livid.”
“I paid him for the privilege.”
“Fayez doesn’t need money,” Selena moaned. “He’s going to be furious, Khalifa.”
“I am aware of that.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She swallowed, gnawing on her lower lip in a manner that reminded him of Kylie. Then again, what didn’t remind him of his wife these days? “He’s not a man to let this kind of thing go.”
He shrugged. “He seems to have.”
“Seems being the operative word in that sentence.” She ran a finger over her necklace, playing with the jewel at its centre. It had been a gift from Khalifa. For her eighteenth birthday? Nineteenth? He didn’t recall. “Trust me. I know Fayez. He will be biding his time, waiting to hurt you somehow. He will make you regret this.”
“You think he can touch me?”
“I think he is a man without fear, with nothing to lose. I think you need to watch your back, Khal.”
*
Kylie read the email from Mel with a smile on her face.
The weather is disgusting. Rain, rain, rain, as though the sun has finally decided it’s sick of shining altogether. Will I ever see it again? I got waterlogged just walking to work the other day and had to hole up under a bakery awning which, of course, led to a need to buy… and the donuts were out of this world. When you come home, we’ll go there. I’ll fight you for the cream filled cinnamon twists, though.
Kylie’s smile dropped slightly, as her eyes shifted from the iPad to the scenery passing her window. Home.
Such a strange word.
She was Australian; born and bred. So were her parents. And yet something about Argenon had crept into her blood, settled around her heart and given her a new sense of self. A sense of self that was inextricably tied to this land and its people.
The limousine weaved through the streets, and she leaned closer to the window, studying the architecture with a sense of appreciation before sitting back against the leather chair.
Let me know when you’ve found your feet and I’ll come for a visit. I might even bring a donut or two. Lots of love.
She’d love to see Mel again. The very idea made her heart soar. Mel was a huge part of what she loved about Sydney. She blinked back at the emails again and saw a new one swish in, this one from her old boss at Little Minds, Jack Shaw. Curiously, she opened it.
Hey! So, you’ll never guess what! The other day I got to work to find a rather hefty donation sitting in our fundraising account. By ‘rather hefty’ I’m talking SEVEN DIGITS, baby! I have absolutely no idea who the benefactor is – the money was wired in anonymously – but I have confirmed our charity was on all the paperwork. It’s no accident! I’m putting together some thoughts on how best to use the money. And I know it’s cheeky of me to ask, but apart from me, no one knows and loves this place like you do… any chance you’d like to weigh in on the budget I’m drafting up? Feel free to say ‘no’, of course. Hope your new life is everything you’d hoped. JS.X
Kylie’s heart was pounding in her chest.
Was it a coincidence?
Could it possibly have been Khalifa?
She thought of the brief conversation they’d had about the charity and almost completely dismissed the idea. He’d told her that her focus needed to be on Argenon. It was unlikely he’d have gone against that advice and propped up her old workplace.
Still… it was an unprecedented donation.
The mystery sat in her brain like cotton candy, and it was still there when the car pulled to a stop, so that at first she didn’t notice the incredible beauty of the precinct.
But then, her eyes blinked towards the window and she let out a gasp of excitement, her hand lifting to the glass.
The library was one of the oldest buildings in the country, she knew. The ancient walls were made of enormous stones and in some parts there was still lime coating on their edges, giving them a marbled sheen. Over time, changes had been made, more modern gardens had been incorporated and there was signage on one side, advertising the building.
Her door opened and she stepped out without taking her eyes from the impressive façade.
Cameras exploded in her face, and it took Kylie moments to recollect that this was one of her first public outings. That people were more curious than ever about the woman their Sheikh Sultan had married. She stood taller, straighter, her shoulders squared and her face wearing a small, calm smile as she turned to the crowds that had assembled and lifted her hand in a wave.
Aïna had travelled in the limousine behind her. She stepped out and approached Kylie, her manner practiced. Then again, she’d done this before. Kylie hadn’t.
“The curator is waiting,” Aïna said.
“Should I go to the crowds?” Kylie murmured without letting her smile slip by even a hair’s width. “They’re standing in the full sun…”
“Perhaps afterwards. For now, protocol dictates that you will stick to your appointment.”
Kylie, of course, had no idea that she would be in no state to greet them afterwards and so she nodded in agreement. She moved towards the enormous doors, turning once more and giving a final wave before stepping into the building. The temperature dropped appreciably, by at least ten degrees. The floors were marble, the walls dark stone and the ceilings high, so that, Kylie presumed, the hot air had risen to the top, leaving only a cool breeze.
There was a smell she couldn’t place – it wasn’t unpleasant, but, if she’d had to guess, she would have said it was a mix of dust and decomposing pages, of ancient sweat and grit. A wiry old man moved towards them, wearing a ceremonial robe that was a dark grey in colour with beading at the sleeves.
“Welcome, your highness,” he bowed low, speaking in English.
Kylie responded in Argenese, “Thank you for inviting me to your library.”
“My library,” he nodded, a small smile on his aged face. “It is like my library. I have worked here since I was a boy.”
The personal recollection softened Kylie, putting her immediately at ease. “Have you?”
“It has changed a lot since then. Or perhaps it is just that I am now taller.” He winked. “Would you like to begin your tour in the parchment wing?”
Intrigued, Kylie nodded, and fell into step beside him, conscious of Aïna and her maids following behind. The parchment wing was perfectly named – it was brimming with preserved scrolls, most stored between very thin plastic so that they could be handled and read. A few of the more valuable ledgers were held behind thick glass. She leaned over one, and caught a hint of her reflection which almost knocked her breath away. How had she forgotten that she was wearing the damned tiara? And a dress that had probably cost tens of thousands of dollars? She lifted a hand self-consciously to the blonde hair that had been styled into a chignon and tried to ignore the strange sense of being someone else altogether.
The scroll beckoned.
It was a tax account, from what she could tell. Numbers in one column, then corresponding numbers beside with names and a tick or a cross.
“The cross meant expulsion,” the librarian explained.
“Expulsion? What from?”
“The country. Or death.”
He spoke the words so simply but Kylie shivered. How barbaric!
They moved on, and each room offered more fascinating objects for her to study. It was overwhelmingly interesting and beautiful and she knew that she would come back again and again, to enjoy the secrets this building boasted.
“We have prepared a morning tea in the pavilion for your highness, if there is time,” he said as they reached the final room of the library – books from the mid eighteenth century, many of them from Europe.
“Oh, yes,” she nodded without deferring to Aïna. “I’d like that very much. I have so many questions!”
Her enthusiasm brought a communal smile to the group and she suspected it wasn’t particularly regal to enthuse so openly. But how could she not? Millenia of thoughts and wisdoms were crowding around her, filling her with wonder and mystery.
She tilted her head towards Aïna and whispered, “May I freshen up before hand?”
“Of course. There is only one facility for women,” Aïna said. “It is back near the entrance. Come.”
“You don’t need to trouble yourself,” Kylie said with a laugh.
But Aïna shook her head. “Let me show you the way.”
They walked together in a silence befitting the grandeur of what they’d just seen, until they reached the entrance foyer. A small staircase led downwards and there was a golden door on one side.
“I’ll be just a moment,” Kylie murmured, the tiara heavy on her head. She placed one foot on the top step and then a loud noise called her attention. She turned towards it, and had the briefest impression of two dark shapes moving towards her, and something in the eyes of one struck fear in her heart. A piece of fabric was tossed over her head; it smelled metallic. She opened her mouth to cry out but the taste of the material restricted her wind pipes and instead she coughed. Every breath was painful.
What was happening?
Strong arms lifted her as though she weighed nothing and deep in her heart she longed for Khalifa and his arms, knowing that safety lay within his strength.
Khalifa was far away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KHALIFA SURVEYED THE PALACE in the distance as his plane approached it. The natural beauty of Argenon sat sweetly in his soul. Satisfaction settled upon him, but it had more to do with the expanse of sand beneath him and the sun that glistened on the horizon. He was going home. To his palace, and his wife.
His body stirred as he thought of Kylie and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. Had she enjoyed her day? He knew she’d been looking forward to touring the ancient library – he wondered if it lived up to her expectations, knowing that it must have. It had always been one of his favourite places and he couldn’t have explained why but he wanted her to share that sentiment.
The plane pitched a little as it moved determinedly lower and Khalifa’s anticipation increased hungrily. A week away had been too long. He’d needed time and space to think; but not this long.
“Sir,” he looked up as Thaida approached, his expression somber. Khalifa nodded, silently imploring his Principal to continue.
“There’s been an incident.”
Khalifa couldn’t stand statements like this. He had no patience for the vagary of a suggestion that hinted at a groundswell of news. He wanted the bulletin, rather than the hints.
“Yes?” His mind naturally turned to the fourteenth precinct and the arrangements he’d made there. The idea of a return trip being necessary so soon after leaving frustrated him. He wouldn’t leave Kylie this time. He’d bring her with him and show her the caves of Adroïni. She’d love them for their beauty, but also their secrets. The tunnels that smugglers had used to hide their loot. As a child he’d run their lengths and found ancient coins squirreled beneath the sand.
“Your Highness, it is...” Thaida paused, an unusual act for a man as him.
“Yes,” Khalifa prompted with obvious impatience.
“Her Royal Highness,” Thaida said on an exhalation.
“What is it?” Khalifa was instantly tense and alert, every cell in his body vibrating in expectation. “Spit it out, damn it.”
“She was attacked.”
“Attacked?” He stood, simply because he couldn’t sit still. He looked towards the window – the palace was still in the distance. “Attacked? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I have only the briefest security wire, I’m sorry.”
“At the library?” He shook his head. It wasn’t possible, surely? “The library was closed to the public. And her security team… she had …” He closed his eyes, outrage warring with concern. “Is she … how is she?”
“Your Highness, I’m sorry. She’s been taken.”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘taken’?”
“She and Aïna Mistress were moving towards the foyer of the library. The staff of the library were gathered for a morning tea. Her Highness’s security detail had secured the building and were at the main exit, but…”
“No one was with her when it happened?”
“The building was secure,” Thaida pointed out, earning a look of angry rebuke from The Sheikh Sultan.
“You are telling me someone has kidnapped my wife?”
“Yes, sir.”
Khalifa’s blood went from boiling to frozen in the space of a second. He jackknifed away from the seats, moving into the aisle of the plane, his bearing one of fearsome fury.
He is dangerous, Khal. He will not let this go.
Selena’s wise words of counsel flashed into his brain. Though there were many possibilities in play, he knew on some cellular level who was responsible for this. Who would have the gall, the motivation, the rage and stupidity to do something so preposterous.
He told himself she would be fine; that she was far too valuable to be in harm’s way. And with most people, this would be true. But Fayez Haddad was as wild as he was violent and he feared for his wife’s life. He feared for her body. For the first time in his adult life he was terrified and admitting that to himself scared him even more.
His mouth was a grim line in his handsome face. “I want Police Chief Mahmood waiting for me when we land.”
“Yes, sir.” Thaida spun, to make his way to the room of the jet he used as an office.
Though they were only ten minutes from the runway reserved for his private use, it felt like hours. Impatience simmered inside of him. Khalifa strode the length of the plane as it moved lower and lower over Argenon and no one would have dared ask him to be seated for landing. Khalifa, always a brooding force, was downright terrifying in this frame of mind. He radiated a cold, boundless anger and it was so strong that it could have crippled anyone who accidentally threw themselves into its path.
The moment the wheels had touched down he moved to the front exit and stood, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes resolutely focused ahead. His servants formed a team at his back, a swarm of support, but Khalifa didn’t register them. His entire focus was on his wife.
And as he stood there, he made a vow – he would find her. Wherever she was, he would find her… and never leave her again.
*
Sandpaper had been dragged through her veins, over her tongue and behind her eyes. Or perhaps it was sand, just so much of it that it had the same effect. Kylie coughed, and even the simple involuntary gesture hurt. She blinked her eyes, but it didn’t help. The room was dim, and though the metallic smell from the library had abated, there was another odour – one that was equally unpleasant.
She wrinkled her nose as she discerned body odour and old spices.
It took several moments to piece together the hours she’d just spent. Several of them in a state of near unconsciousness, her mind heavy and her body limp, which left her in little doubt of the fact she’d been drugged. What was that chemical that rendered people inert? Perhaps her attackers had used that?
The bag they’d thrown over her head?
She stood and made to step across the room, but her leg pulled awkwardly and she realized she was tethered to the table. It had curly wrought iron legs and a marble table top. It must have weighed a tonne.
With a groan of frustration, she crouched down and began to work at the tether, but it was no good. A padlock had been looped through the chain.
She was a prisoner.
A shiver of fear danced down her spine. She refused to let it spread through her body. Fear would be her undoing. If she was afraid then she would not be able to think clearly and whatever situation she had found her way into would be so much worse.
A groan from the corner of the room called her attention lower. She blinked into the darkness and made a noise of surprise.
“Aïna!” She took a step towards her and swore when the restraint squeezed her ankle once more. “Aïna! Are you okay?” She asked from where she stood.
When her mistress didn’t respond, Kylie crouched down on the floor then lay on her stomach, snake slithering over the dirty concrete until she was close enough to Aïna to see her face. At full extension her fingertips could reach the other woman’s. She held her hand and squeezed it, saying Aïna’s name over and over and over as though it were an incantation.
Which, she supposed, it was. She needed her mistress to wake up. To be there with her.
“Please, Aïna, wake up. I need you.” The words were thick with the emotions Kylie was desperately trying not to feel.
A groan again and Kylie squeezed her fingertips. This time, Aïna squeezed back and made to move, to sit up straighter. It was then that Kylie saw her friend had a bleeding scratch down the side of her face. How had it happened? Had someone done that to her? Or was it when they were being transported?
More memories, this time of being in the back of a car, driving at speed, bumping roads, and then the heat of the sun.
“I’m here, your highness,” Aïna’s voice was as croaky as Kylie’s own, but Kylie sobbed with relief. “Please, do not lie on the floor for me.”
Kylie wrinkled her nose. “You think my lying on the floor is our biggest problem right now?” The joke made them both smile. “Are you tied up?”
“No,” Aïna shook her head and then frowned. “Yes.” Her ankle was bound in a similar fashion to Kylie’s, but she was tied to a support beam in the back of the room. Neither of them could easily reach the other. It was an effective way to stop them from joining together to affect an escape.
Bastards.
Kylie returned to her own chained ankle and wobbled it between her fingers. Curse words spluttered through her brain.
“It’s okay,” she said, reassuring them both. “Someone will come for us.”
Aïna nodded at the same moment the door opened and, instinctively feeling at a disadvantage, Kylie jumped to standing, her expression mutinous.
Shock tore through her at the sight of Fayez Haddad, looking as handsome as he’d been on their wedding day, and a thousand times more terrifying.
“You remember me,” he said in halting English that made her hate him all the more. His voice was slimy and evil. She shuddered.
“Of course I do.”
“You know, then, that I am the man you should have married.”
Every bone in Kylie’s body was revolted by the idea but she knew to keep calm. To avoid inflaming an already perilous situation. “I know you and my husband have history. And I’m sorry. But it has very little to do with me.”
“Do you not think? He used you to get back at me. You are in the very centre of our … dispute.”
Kylie shook her head. “He couldn’t risk our alliance,” she murmured softly. “Our marriage would have been too powerful. It’s his job, his birthright, to defend his Kingdom…”
Fayez’s laugh was horrible. “Is this what you think?” He moved closer to Kylie, and when he lifted a hand to cup her cheek she automatically shirked away from the touch. He noticed, and didn’t like it. He pulled her back to him, more roughly, holding her body against his.
“Do not touch her,” Aïna’s command came from the back of the room but Fayez ignored her.
“Poor, innocent, naïve Kylie. So beautiful and so stupid.” He shook his head. “All these people telling you lies, all your life. Did you never question anything?”
His breath smelled of fish. Nausea rose inside of her. She pulled back from him but he seemed to take that as a challenge. No, he seemed to enjoy it. He grinned, a smile that was wolfish, and he brought his mouth close to her ear.
She felt Aïna tense in the corner – strange that even in that moment, thrumming with emotions, she should be so aware of her servant. “Did you never question why a man like Al Asouri would marry you?”
She didn’t pull away again, though she desperately wanted him not to be touching her. “I know why he married me,” she said softly. “My family.”
“No, Kylie Maha Ishan. Your family is the reason I wanted to marry you. He married you for other reasons.”
“Like what?” She murmured, her eyes skimming the room for something, anything, that could help her. Escape? Incapacitate him? Anything that might prove helpful.
“He does not like me,” he said simply. “In fact, he hates me. For a long time he has looked for a way to hurt me. And he found it. You were the key. In front of all of my family, my family’s friends, you were stolen.” He brought his mouth closer, so that his warm, fishy breath rushed across her flesh. “And I have stolen you back.”
“No,” she shook her head, lifting a knee towards his groin on autopilot. But he was too quick. He gripped her limb and yanked it, off-balancing her so that she fell onto the tabletop. She pushed up but his hand stayed on her leg and her heart pounded with horrible, aching fear.
“Don’t you care that you are nothing more than a pawn to him?”
“That isn’t true,” she said with a quiet stoicism. Wasn’t it? A voice in her head shouted back.
“You see, he once loved a woman, and she loved me. He took her away from me too. That is what he does. But she never loved him again after me, and he’s never recovered.”
I have known love…
Kylie ignored the pain in her heart. Khalifa’s love life was not her issue in that moment, though she knew she would need to process those thoughts later.
“The only reason he married you was to hurt me. That is all he wanted you for.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what she felt but knowing she needed to get control of the situation. Or try to. But she was terrified. The reality of what she’d walked into was swirling around her. “But I am married to him,” she whispered. “It’s done.”
“Ah, but do you think he’ll still want you after I have done what I want with you?” The hand on her leg crept higher, and she kicked her foot.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Oh, I’m going to touch,” he said thickly.
Kylie trembled with fear and he laughed, a horrible sound that turned her blood cold. “I am going to make you scream my name. You were mine. Mine.” He reached to his hip and Kylie froze, half-terrified he might find a weapon there. Instead, he lifted a flagon. He kept a hand on her as he used his teeth to open the lid, and then he brought it to her mouth.
She kept her lips sealed, and turned her head away but he brought his body weight down on top of her. “Drink it,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are too uptight. I don’t want to screw a block of ice.”
Kylie’s eyes locked to Aïna’s, the fear she felt mirrored back to her.
“Get off her!” Aïna said with all the strength she could muster.
“Shut up, bitch!”
And he took advantage of Kylie’s shock to pour the liquid into her mouth. She might have spat it out except he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her until she swallowed the alcohol, needing air and breath.
The taste of fish and scotch swirled in her gut and she almost wretched from the combination. She could feel his arousal pressing into her stomach and she hated him. Hated him with a strength she hadn’t known possible.
“Fayez.” The voice at the door was instant relief. Another man stood, his expression holding a clear warning. “Not now.”
“Yes,” Fayez straightened and his eyes took on a cold hardness. “You are right. There is time for that. You will sit here and think. Think about the situation you find yourself in. And then,” he leaned closer once more, “we will talk.” But before he pulled off her, he poured more of the liquid into her mouth and then, in one last moment of horrible madness, he brought his hand under her skirt, finding the naked flesh at the top of her thighs. “He will no longer want you, Kylie Maha Ishan, after I have had you in my bed.”
He left the room, slamming the door behind him so that Kylie jumped. She turned to Aïna, whose face was pale. Silence sat around them, shock heavy within it.
“Your highness,” Aïna spoke eventually, the words quiet, shaking with outrage and apology. “Are you okay?”
Kylie blinked away tears and nodded, pushing off the table and looking back down at her chain. She chased the loop mentally and then made a small noise of rejoice. “Aïna, look.” Her words were shivering but she didn’t care. She was in shock, that was all. “If I can just lift the table a little, I might be able to unloop the chain. What do you think?”
Aïna shook her head. “It’s too heavy.”
“I’m strong.” Kylie gripped her hands around the marble and pushed at it, groaning as the crippling weight of the thing left it resolutely on the floor.
“Please, madam…”
“No!” Kylie spoke more harshly than she’d intended. “I am not going to sit here and wait to damn well be rescued. Someone might come, Aïna, but they might not. We could be anywhere. I’m going to at least try to do something. Before that bastard comes back.”
Aïna stared at the princess as her hands once more pushed at the table and this time succeeded in lifting it an inch or so off the ground. Aïna stood, excitement giving her enthusiasm now. “Yes, yes, you’re almost there. Just a little higher.”
Kylie bit down on her lip, bracing her body as she pushed at the table top once more and it lifted. At the same time, she pulled her ankle and the chain came with her.
She sobbed with relief, dropping the table back to the ground. It was noisy though and she heard footsteps then voices outside. Fear galvanized her. She ran to Aïna, standing beside her, the chain making a dragging metallic noise against the concrete. “Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “We’re going to get out of here.”
The door clunked as it opened and Kylie stood there, defiance on her features, strength in her body.
“Khalifa!” She tore his name through the air, relief almost making her sag. She reached down for Aïna’s hand and squeezed it.
Khalifa cut the distance easily, and he stood in front of Kylie without touching her. His face was taut, his eyes tormented. “Are you …” he flicked a glance to Aïna. “Are you hurt?”
Kylie’s heart was hurting. Her stomach was churning. Her brain was remonstrating with her. But she shook her head. “I… no.”
“There was a chemical, your highness, that rendered us both unconscious.” Aïna offered.
Nonetheless, he reached for his wife and scooped her up, holding her against his chest and staring down at her face until colour bloomed back into her cheeks. “I can walk,” she said softly.
“I know that.” He took a step and the chain dragged along the ground. He paused, as if seeing it for the first time, and a muscle jerked in his cheek. He reached down and caught it in his hands, holding it beside her. “Come, my lanaria.”
The hallway of the building they had been brought to was deserted and they emerged into the full sunshine of the afternoon. They were somewhere in the desert, though she couldn’t see the palace. Kylie had no concept of where they’d been brought.
Several black cars were there, police cars, and a helicopter hovered in the distance. Kylie had the satisfaction of seeing her captors in one of the police cars, but she didn’t hold Fayez’s gaze for long. The menacing look and the threat he’d made sat around her like a straightjacket.
As if sensing the shift of fear in her, Khalifa held her tighter, carrying her away from the house, into the back of a waiting four wheel drive.
He settled her into a seat first, and then sat beside her, his eyes on her profile. Kylie didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Her emotions were rioting all over the place. Relief at having been rescued, fear at her captivity, worry, doubt, and anger. Anger at herself. Because Fayez had been right. She had been stupid.
Unbelievably stupid and naïve; her whole life! Her whole life! Why had she never questioned her parents’ plan for her? Why hadn’t she fought, tooth and nail, to avoid marriage to a man she didn’t know?
In part, she knew the answer to the last part of that question.
She’d met Khalifa. She’d met him, and she’d believed him when he’d introduced himself as her fiancé. She’d probably fallen halfway into love with him that night on his yacht. What had loomed before her as a responsibility and an obligation was now something she understood she’d looked forward to. From the minute she’d known Khalifa to be her groom, she’d wanted the marriage.
She’d wanted it with all her heart.
But for him?
She shivered again and Khalifa stiffened beside her. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, and closed it again.
“How did you find us?” Kylie’s question was cold. Calm. She was in shock, she supposed. Didn’t that happen?
“My agents tracked you aerially.”
“Aerially?” She pulled a face. “Like something out of James Bond.”
He dismissed the joke. “Kylie… did he … what happened?”
She blinked her eyes shut, confused and exhausted. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Khalifa compressed his lips, staring out of the window with a growing sense of frustration. But Kylie didn’t care. She needed to be on her own. To be away from everyone. To shower. To bathe. To sleep. She felt sick and she felt angry and she felt confused.
*
“How is she?” Khalifa’s eyes didn’t leave his wife’s body. He watched her where she stood on the balcony, bathed in the fullness of the midday sun, her hair loose down her back, the dress flowing and angelic.
“She hasn’t slept,” Capha, Aïna’s second mistress, reported. “Nor has she eaten.”
Khalifa’s gut twisted. His expression was heavy as he studied her, wanting to reach for her, not knowing how to do so. “Leave us. And please ensure we are not disturbed.”
Capha nodded. As she made to exit Kylie’s suite, Khalifa paused her with one last question. “How is Aïna?”
“Insisting she is fine. Ready to return to work.”
Khalifa’s smile was tight. “I want her to rest.” The last thing he needed was anyone who might remind his wife of her trauma.
“Yes, sir.”
Capha bowed low and then walked out of the room, clicking the door shut behind her. Khalifa sighed as he moved to the balcony, pulling the door inwards so that his wife blinked in his direction with surprise. As though she hadn’t realized he’d been watching her for the last ten minutes.
His worries increased.
“Hello,” the word was thick in his mouth. He cleared it and tried again. “Capha tells me you have not slept?”
Kylie blinked, then looked back out at the desert. “Haven’t I?”
“Kylie, we must speak.”
She met his eyes slowly, a frown pulling at her lips. “What about?”
“I want to help you. But I can’t until I understand…”
“Understand what?” She turned away from him again and he fought the impulse to drag her face to his. To make her meet his eyes. Anything other than complete patience and gentleness would not get through to her.
“What happened to you?”
“You know what happened.” The words were so quiet, so soft, that he almost didn’t catch them.
“I know that his men abducted you and drove you to the desert. That you were chained to the furniture like a dog.” Disgust churned his insides at the very idea. “I know that he is a man capable of treating women like objects in the worst kind of way.”
She nodded. She knew that too. “But isn’t that what you do too?”
The question lumbered between them like a dark rock of coal. Khalifa stared at her, uncharacteristically quiet in the face of her observation. “You mean...”
“I mean,” she continued, “the real reason you married me.”
Khalifa scanned his wife’s face, his mind not quite fast enough in that moment to fully comprehend her meaning. In fact, the past was yawning before him, loaded with confusion and wonder, with beliefs and uncertainties. What he had thought at what time, and when he’d started to think otherwise.
He decided to play it safe. “Meaning?”
She arched a brow, and the simple gesture, so scathing, was so refreshingly like Kylie that he felt a twinge of a smile. Totally inappropriate and in no way an indication of amusement so much as a natural response to relief.
“You didn’t marry me because you were worried about a political threat, did you?”
He’d told her that. And now, he wished more than anything, that he hadn’t lied. That he hadn’t manipulated her. That he hadn’t paid money to pressure her into marrying him.
“Your family was once powerful. You know the history.”
“Yes, yes. Ancient history. Since coming to Argenon I’ve seen how respected you are as a leader. How certain your position. And still, I never really questioned why you would have married me.”
Bloody Fayez. Khalifa thought of the man with a rushing sense of fury. “I couldn’t let you marry him. He is a disgusting human.”
“Yes. He is. And I’m glad you saved me from that fate. But you could have done that without marrying me. This had nothing to do with me. If you didn’t hate Fayez, if you hadn’t wanted to avenge the past, you would have left me to my fate. Wouldn’t you?”
The idea now was anaethema to Khalifa. Kylie, married to Fayez? He shuddered at the thought.
“All the while you made me feel like I should be so grateful to you for saving me from that life… and you were using me. Worse, you were putting me in the path of danger. He would never have kidnapped me if you hadn’t taken me from him.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” he pointed out. “If I had not married you, then you would have been his wife, and there would have been no need to kidnap you.”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “I don’t mean that. You could have ended our engagement without making me your wife. The only reason to seduce me in Sydney and marry me was because you wanted to throw it in his face. Am I right?”
Khalifa’s breath was uneven. He stared at his wife, her face pinched, her eyes clouded, and frustration gnawed a hold in his heart. “Initially, yes,” he said after a long pause. “Yes, okay? I wanted to hurt him.”
“And he took from you a woman you loved, and you thought the only way to repay him was to take his fiancé? On his wedding day, in front of everyone he knows? You wanted to hurt him and humiliate him and you used me to do it.”
A muscle jerked in Khalifa’s cheek as he looked towards the mountains. The memory of the perfect night they’d spent at the foot of the range was awkward in his mind, because it was such a contradiction to the darkness he now felt.
“Yes.” How could he lie to her again? Her summation was truthful, after all.
“I can’t believe… God! He was right. I’m such an idiot. A gullible, weak, stupid fool.” She spun away from him and paced to the other side of the balcony. Nausea bit through her. She gripped the railing and dipped her head forward, refusing to give into its sickening control. Needing not to vomit. To have some control over her body.
“You are none of those things.”
“Of course I am! I actually thought I was in love with you! Probably from the first moment we met, when I opened the door and saw you standing there and everything I’d ever known or felt zapped away and left only you. And then when we slept together, my God! Khalifa! That’s all this is! Sex! You were right! And stupid, idiotic fool that I am, I thought we were in love.”
But no one loves me, Kylie thought with a shift of her head, the reality biting through her. No one. Not her parents, for they’d sold her into marriage as Khalifa had insisted all along. Not her husband, who’d used her for his own ends. She was alone in the world.
She sniffed away a sob.
Her words, though exactly what he’d been trying to convince her of for a long time, gave him no satisfaction. He crouched before her, shocked by the change in her face. The hard line of grief that marred her beauty. And yet she was all the more beautiful to him in that moment of haunted brokenness. “We are more than sex,” he conceded.
She shook her head, rejecting the consolation he offered so reluctantly. “I wanted to love and be loved so badly that I imagined the feeling everywhere. I didn’t see that there are other forces just as strong – convenience. Need. Power. Revenge.” She stood straight, her body a taut line. “That’s what you wanted from me, right? Revenge. And I hate that. I hate that you used me… that you let me hope for more, all the while knowing that I was just a means to an end.”
He shook his head, standing and pulling her into his arms at the same time his lips sought hers but she pushed away from him on a sob. “No!” She shoved at his chest, needing to be free from his touch altogether. “Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me.”
Her outburst, completely unprecedented and unexpected, surprised him. He stood perfectly still, watching her from between shuttered eyes.
“Don’t touch me.” It was more tremulous now. She spun away from him, wrapping her arms around her chest. “I can’t bear it.”
Liar, her body taunted, for it was already missing his nearness, craving his touch. But she would no longer let a physical need for him control her. If she took away the sex, the power of sexual attraction, it was easy to see that there was very little between them. Certainly no trust nor truth, and what hope could there be without either?
“Fayez Haddad hurt someone very badly. Someone I cared for.”
“The woman you loved,” she murmured with a small nod of her head.
Silence throbbed between them, heavy and accusatory. And then he nodded.
“Yes. The woman I loved.” He lifted a hand to her shoulder but she jerked away. “You must understand, I have known Selena all my life. And Fayez brutalized her. I came to see only my hatred for him. It came to matter more to me than anything else. I needed to hurt him. To make him pay for what he’d done to her…”
“Why couldn’t you put him in jail?”
“Because I’m not a dictator, azeezi, and Selena would not press charges. She begged me not to pursue the matter and I didn’t. For many years, I let it go.”
“And then you heard about me,” Kylie whispered. She turned around, her eyes clearly showing her betrayal. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth sooner? Why let me continue to believe it was all about some stupid political coup or something?”
A frown dragged his lips downwards, yet he couldn’t answer. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“It changes everything! Marrying me because it might secure your place as ruler of this country, sure. I get that. I understand why that kind of stability would matter. But marrying me because you wanted to take me from him, to hurt him, it’s disgusting. It cheapens me and us, and everything we’ve shared.” She tilted her chin defiantly, staring at him for several long seconds before turning away, her profile autocratic. “You should have respected me enough to tell me the truth. If I’d known…”
“Yes?” He interrupted, impatience, holding him still.
“I would have been different,” she said finally, her eyes sweeping shut. “I presume you no longer need me to play the part of your wife?”
Khalifa’s expression was as tight as a drum. “Meaning?”
“He kidnapped me. He kidnapped Aïna. He threatened… he threatened…” she shook her head, swallowing bile. “You have everything you need to put him in prison for a very long time. And the rest of his family, I presume. You did it. You’ve got your revenge. And now I’d like to go home.” Her voice cracked on the last word but her face remained stoic.
Home.
Home.
Such a simple word with very complex connotations.
“Is that really what you want?”
Was it? To return to Sydney, to her life there, her apartment – an apartment that this man now technically owned, to Mel and the Harbour and her old life? To a life without Khalifa in it? Without these exotic fruits and desert nights?
“Yes.” She forced herself to be brave; to be strong. “I want to pretend this never happened.”
“Kylie…”
“Please, Khalifa. Don’t.” Now she turned to face him, and there was such misery in her features that he lost whatever he had been about to say. “Don’t say anything else. I’ve been a blind fool, but I’m awake now. I’m seeing clearly. And I know what I need to do.”
His eyes were impossible to read, his lips were pressed together and a pulse beat in his throat. He stared at her, and at his sides, his hands were clenched into fists. She felt the tension emanating him, and she understood the relief that he wasn’t expressing. What a neat little bow she had helped him tie things into! Yet still he seemed to hesitate. Perhaps he hadn’t completely thought through the ending of things. What he would do once he’d got his revenge.
“Please, let me go home.”
And that was his undoing. The soft, trembling way she begged him.
Inwardly he groaned, but he felt himself nodding. “Of course, azeezi. If that’s what you want.”