Mother laughed so loudly that Calla winced. She tapped the volume down a few notches.
“Stop it. Who is it? Some nice boy you met while working at the palace?”
The door to the sitting room swung open, and her skin prickled. It had to be Fatim. She turned to look, and there he was. For a moment her breath disappeared. All she could see, think, and feel was Fatim; his dark chocolate gaze swung her way, and she was utterly consumed by him. Her hand stilled in the air, mid-stitch.
“Hey, there. I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked, strutting her way.
“Not at all. This is perfect timing, actually.” Calla turned back toward her laptop, grinning. “Mother, I’d like you to meet my fiancé. King Fatim of Amatbah.”
Fatim placed a palm on the table beside the laptop as he leaned down behind Calla to enter the camera’s view. His cologne wafted toward her, something masculine and woody. She drew a discrete breath, filling her body with his scent. She never wanted to forget this moment. The closest he’d ever been to her.
“Hello. Nice to meet you.” Fatim nodded. “I trust you’ll be coming to the wedding?”
Calla’s mother sat stunned on the other side of the world, her mouth agape.
“We haven’t quite gotten to that part yet,” Calla said.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush things.” Fatim squeezed her shoulder. A gush of moisture greeted her panties.
“It’s okay, honey.” Shit. The pet name just slipped out. Did he mind? She looked up at him, finding his dark gaze waiting for hers.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” her mother said, her voice a few pitches higher than normal. Bordering on a shriek, really. “This must have been a whirlwind romance! I bet you took one look at my daughter and thought, this is the one, didn’t you?”
Fatim chuckled softly, his warm hand finding Calla’s shoulder again. “It was exactly that way, ma’am. Your daughter is the most gorgeous woman in any room I’ve ever been in.”
Calla’s heart nearly stopped. She tried not to look stricken. “Oh, come on now, Fatim.”
“It’s true.” His hand didn’t waver. When he moved it, she expected the imprint to be branded there. Forever marking her as his.
“I’ve been grooming her for this her whole life, you know,” her mother went on smugly. “It started with the debutante training. As well as the endless hours of Amatbahn classics lessons. Our yearly visits back home were only the icing on the cake. I’ve prepared her for great things.”
Calla tried not to roll her eyes. “That’s true, of course. I just didn’t think that marrying myself off would count as the great accomplishment of my life.”
She knew the barb would provoke a reaction—that was why she’d said it. Her mother narrowed her eyes, no doubt preparing her retort, but Fatim stepped in.
“Not the greatest, of course, but surely it makes the top ten?”
Calla laughed, and her mother dropped the eye daggers. Calla resumed sewing, her stitches becoming almost invisible.
“I’m sure you’re well acquainted with my daughter’s fierce independence,” her mother remarked dryly.
“One of the things I love most about her,” Fatim responded.
A big smile blossomed on her mother’s face. “Aww. Now isn’t that sweet? Let’s see a smooch!”
Panic formed an iron fist in her belly. Shit. They hadn’t talked about what to do in moments like these. It hadn’t even occurred to her that they might need to play the romantic-couple part in front of anyone. Not when the majority of the country would be expecting them to remain modest and humble for the wedding and the upcoming preparations.
“Uh…” Calla began. Fatim’s warm hand moved, and then suddenly he was gripping her chin between thumb and forefinger. He tilted her head back and lowered his mouth to hers. Fragrant heat greeted her, the cologne mingling with the scruff of his beard and the velvet caress of his lips and—Calla’s mind short-circuited. She melted into the kiss, tilting herself up to him, welcoming every last drop of his essence.
“Wasn’t that romantic?” Calla’s mother gushed when Fatim pulled away. “I can just tell you two love each other so much!”
Calla saw stars—honest-to-God stars. She blinked lazily, unable to rip her gaze from Fatim’s face.
If their ruse was going to include more kisses like that, then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.
“I’ll leave you two to chat,” Fatim said, rubbing his hand across the back of Calla’s neck. Her pussy clenched. Holy hell, everything this man did turned her on.
“Oh, wait, Fatim—” she blurted, her mind spinning. She had nothing more to say to him. She just didn’t want him to leave.