When the call came, she rose and headed to the conference room. Lights mounted on powerful cameras and TV lenses erupted when she entered the room, and for the first time, she was glad of the bodyguards standing on alert nearby.
Tears threatened again but she swallowed hard and unfolded her piece of paper.
‘Thank you for coming. And thank you to every single Ja’ahrian who has made me feel welcome since my arrival. I’ve fallen in love with this beautiful country and been proud to call it my home.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But I also realise that I’ve been very unfair to you. My father’s and my less than stellar pasts should not be the burden of the people. My mistakes should not be the cause of your unhappiness. So from this moment, I renounce my position as your Sultana. I should not have taken the position in the first place, not without baring my heart and showing you the whole truth. But I hope you will still accept your Sultan’s child when he or she is born. Our baby is innocent in all this. Please don’t let him or her pay for my mistakes. The same goes for your Sultan, Zaid Al-Ameen. He deserves better than me. But most of all he deserves your love, your respect and your understanding. I leave him in your tender care. Shukraan, Ja’ahr.’
She stepped off the podium and let the bodyguards steer her away from the barrage of questions that exploded through the room. She managed to hold it together until she was safely behind closed doors. Then she hugged her arms around her body and sobbed. When there were no more tears left, she trudged to her dressing room. She was folding her black dress into the small pile on the centre island when a white-faced Nashwa rushed in.
Esme smiled sadly. ‘Can you find a suitcase for me? I can’t seem to find one anywhere. An overnight bag will do.’ She’d never got round to giving up her flat in London. She could slot back into being Esme Scott as if she’d never left.
‘But...where are you going, Your Highness?’ Nashwa shrieked. ‘And what you said on the TV...’
‘I’m sorry you had to find out that way. But I really need the bag. Please?’
Nashwa stared at her for long seconds before she plugged her fist in her mouth and fled the room. On automatic, Esme resumed gathering her things. Half an hour later, when it was clear Nashwa wasn’t going to return, Esme looked through her shelves and took down the biggest handbag she could find. She was stuffing the meagre belongings into it when the bedroom door slammed back on its hinges.
A moment later, Zaid stood framed in the door of her dressing room.
‘What did you do, habiba?’ he breathed raggedly. ‘What the hell did you do?’
The sight of him. Oh, God. He looked terrible, thick stubble bracing his jaw. He’d suffered. Because of her. And still she trembled from head to toe with the purely selfish need to rush into his arms, clasp herself to his wonderful strength. But she h
eld herself still. ‘It was the right thing to do,’ she murmured.
Fists clenched tight, he crossed the room in five quick strides. ‘No, it wasn’t, you fool! Are you going to try and leave me every time my back is turned?’
‘Don’t shout at me. Not after pulling another disappearing act on me.’
He took another step closer, bringing his bristling, glorious body within touching distance. ‘I’ll do whatever I want when you act like...like...’ He clawed a hand through his hair. ‘Like the noblest sacrificial lamb to an undeserving bastard.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘What?’
‘What you said on TV was—’
‘All true.’
He cupped her jaw oh-so-gently. ‘No, jamila, not all true. What happened was unfortunate and wrong. But your father was the one who took his money. Not you. You were still a child, caught on the end of her father’s puppet strings. A father who, I’m guessing, liked to dangle the threat of leaving you very often?’
Pain ripped through her as she nodded. ‘I only spent the school holidays with him but even then he threatened me with foster care if I didn’t toe his line.’
‘And the fear of losing what is right in front of you is even worse than missing what you no longer have, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. So much more.’ Her voice broke and a sob ripped free.
His thumbs caressed her cheeks. ‘Shh, habiba. Don’t cry. It pains me to see your tears.’
‘Why? You walked away from me. You were furious with me.’
‘Yes, but I was never far away from you. I can never be. I started off being angry with you because a loss of life is personal to me. I also lost sight of the fact that I was a child once too. I know what the pain of losing a parent feels like. After losing your mother, you lived in constant threat of losing your remaining parent, even if you’d have been better off without him.’
She nodded. ‘One time, when I was sixteen, I woke up one morning in our hotel, and Jeffrey was gone. No note, nothing. I’d refused to help him land a mark the night before. He was livid. I was in a strange country and terrified. He capitalised on that. I promised myself the moment I turned eighteen that I would walk away from him. I wish I’d stayed away from Bryan too.’
He nodded, his face set. ‘I know. But there’s something you don’t know. I had Atkins investigated.’
She frowned. ‘And?’
‘He suffered from severe depression and had attempted suicide more than once.’
Her heart squeezed. ‘That doesn’t make it any better.’