His attentions—not to mention his body. He had the finest body Hannah had ever seen on a man. Every muscle defined on his long, lean frame. His jawline was sharp, like cut glass, and his dark eyes were hypnotizing.
Hannah shook her head and forced herself to focus on the ticket in her hands. She didn’t speak much French, but she gathered from the words printed on the paper that he’d secured her a private sleeper berth. She blushed, thinking of sharing it with him, and then again, thinking of how she’d only splurged on a four-person compartment when she purchased the original ticket. Not Kyril. He’d want her to be as safe as possible. He’d want her to have a door to lock behind her, to keep everyone else out.
But why hadn’t he come with her, to ensure her safety? It was so him to buy her a train ticket to Venice to replace the one she’d lost. It wasn’t even the first time he’d plucked her out of a situation like this; the last time it was outside the Museum of Art in the heart of Al-Dashalid’s capital city. The sun had played in his dark hair as he bent toward the ticket window, flashing that signature smile at the woman behind the counter. She hadn’t been able to forget it, that smile. His teeth gleamed white, and his full lips were perfectly framed by his elegantly trimmed beard and mustache. It had been just the same on the train station platform. A shiver of pleasure shimmied down her shoulders and back. The things his mouth could do…
“Something to eat, madam? Dinner service is beginning.”
She looked up into the uniformed waiter’s face. “Oh, yeah. Food—that sounds good.” Her stomach growled. It was hit or miss, these days. Sometimes she was so ravenous it was all she could do not to rip open packages on the way home from the store. Other times, the small life growing in her belly made her want to spit out everything she tasted.
Hannah put her bag on the chair next to her, tucking her ticket into its wide top pocket. It was a little crazy, she knew. The bag was huge and probably a welcome target for pickpockets, but she could carry everything she needed in it, up to and including two changes of clothes. She’d sent a small suitcase ahead to Venice so she wouldn’t have to carry it on the train, one of the perks of planning ahead.
The compartment began to fill around her. A group of four men, bachelors by the looks of them, took a seat at the far end of the car and ordered a round of drinks. Hannah longed for a sip of a sparkling moscato but settled for pasta in a wonderful, light sauce instead. Her dinner arrived, steaming and warm. One by one, the tables filled, and Hannah ordered more rolls. They were delicious and light, and she could not get enough of them.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
The petite woman, about Hannah’s height, appeared at the side of her table while she had a mouthful of roll. Hannah covered her mouth with her hand. “Of course,” she said around the roll, gesturing to the empty seats as she swallowed. “I need a friend,” she said jokingly, and the woman laughed.
“Cecily,” she said, sinking gratefully into the seat across from Hannah. “Traveling alone can be exhausting.”
“At least we get to see Venice.”
Cecily’s eyes lit up. “Is it your first time?”
Hannah took in a deep breath. “To Venice? I’ve never been before. This is only my second time in Europe.”
Cecily picked up the menu and scanned her dinner options. “What kind of trip is it? Are you celebrating something?” Her eyes twinkled. “I can think of lots of reasons a girl might want a solo trip.”
Hannah laughed. “In a way. I’m pregnant.” The words tasted strange on her lips. “And I want to see the world before the baby comes. It’s funny, because my younger sister, Helen, just went off to college—” She shook her head, laughing. “You don’t want to hear about all this.”
“Yes, I do.” Cecily put the menu down onto the table with a thwap. “I’ve been traveling alone for a month. I’m dying for an intimate conversation. Did you look after your sister?”
“Yes,” Hannah admitted. “We lost our parents when I was eighteen. I couldn’t bear to have anyone else take care of her, so I raised her.” She flicked her eyes up to the ceiling. “The moment she’s grown up, I get pregnant. It’s a hot mess.”
“A hot mess in Venice,” joked Cecily.
“Venice and Paris and everywhere else I can fit in. I want to see it all. This might be my last chance for a long time.” Hannah danced in her seat. “I’ve got to live it up.” She didn’t mention that at the end of her trip, Kyril would be waiting for her—waiting for the conversation she didn’t want to have. Yes, he was so hot he made the soles of her shoes melt, but it wasn’t a forever kind of relationship. Hannah knew she wouldn’t make a good wife, not for a sheikh anyway. But a good co-parent? That, she could do. “Tell me about you, Cecily. Take my mind off my swollen feet.”
* * *
Kyril paced his opulent suite in the Gritti Palace hotel, twisted the signet ring he always wore, and watched the street lamps glitter on the Grand Canal.
He’d beaten Hannah to Venice.
It had been simple—a quick trip on his private jet—but now that he was here, ensconced in one of the most beautiful rooms in the city, he could not quiet his thoughts.
Pregnant. She was pregnant.
It had been a complete shock, that recognition.
He’d chased her across Europe for different reasons entirely. For one, he had not been able to stop thinking about the taste of her kisses, or the way her body moved against his in bed, or the way she looked so thoughtfully at everything they saw in Al-Dashalid, from the ornate public fountains to the art exhibit he’d talked his way into, and more. The way she laughed, her smile wide and free. The jewelry she wore, splashes of color against her neck and earlobes, as bright as she was.
He’d never felt that way about anyone else before. No matter what he did, she was never far from his thoughts. He could not shake her off. So it seemed only natural that he would find her again. He was twenty-nine, and it was an ancient law in Al-Dashalid that the ruler, and his heirs after him, must be married by thirty. He couldn’t stomach it, rushing in with someone sight unseen, but with Hannah…
Well, he wanted her by his side.
He wanted to stop the train, scoop her up in his arms, and whisk her away to a place with thick walls, swarming with security. The need to keep her—and their baby—safe burned in his chest, squeezing at his heart. If he'd known…if the train hadn't pulled away before he could act, he never would have let her make the trip alone. Kyril’s hands clenched into fists. The energy was too much to contain. He needed to get a handle on it before she arrived in Venice.
Kyril snatched his phone from where it lay on a marble-topped side table next to the bed and dialed the number of the only person he wanted to speak to, other than Hannah.