The Sheikh's Pregnant Lover (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid 1) - Page 10

“Kyril, I’m going to miss the—”

His tone broached no argument. “Come with me.”

Hannah followed him back to his room, where he pulled on a clean pair of boxers and lounge pants that slung low across his hips. Kyril caught her staring just once. The bed was so close that it hurt him not to tip her backward into the tangle of blankets and tug off the pretty black dress she was planning to wear on the boat that would carry her away from him. He sucked in a sharp breath and took her hand, leading her back out to the sofa and guiding her to the seat.

They looked out at the inky darkness of the Grand Canal, and Kyril gathered his thoughts.

One thing at a time.

“If you don’t fly…” Hannah shifted in the seat beside him, one moment pressing closer, the next straightening her back. “How did you get to the Middle East?”

Hannah chewed at the inside of her cheek. “It’s not that I’ve never flown. The first time I traveled, when we met…” Her voice trailed off, and Kyril found himself plunged into a vivid memory of his lips on her collarbone. “I took a strong sleeping pill. I only fly if I’m pretty…disconnected from the whole scene?”

“Are you afraid of heights?” She’d stood next to him on an ancient outpost overlooking the capital city and hadn’t seemed to flinch.

“No, my—” A sad smile flickered across her features. “My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was eighteen.”

Kyril took her hand, his heart aching for her. “God, Hannah, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” He could hardly imagine his own father departing the planet, much less in such a tragic accident.

“It’s—well, it’ll never be all right, but I’ve come to terms with it.” She turned to face him, leaning in a fraction of an inch. “It does make flying difficult. And with the baby, I couldn’t rely on sedatives, so to get to Europe, I took my first cruise.” Her teeth flashed white in the dim light of the suite. “That was an experience. It was almost worth the extra time it took.”

He squeezed her hand, wishing he could hold her close the rest of the night. “I understand.”

Hannah looked back out at the Canal. “Anyway. I’ll miss my boat if I don’t—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kyril said, a fiery conviction uncurling in his chest. “Don’t worry about any of it. You shouldn’t spend a single moment worrying about your safety or the baby’s. I will handle it. You won’t have to be alone.” He stood up. Where had he left his phone? In his bedroom. He pulled Hannah up by the hand. “Go back to bed. I’ll make other arrangements.” His mind spun into overdrive, sorting out the task at hand.

“No.” Hannah put a hand to his chest. “You don’t have to do this, Kyril. I can continue my tour and come to Al-Dashalid when it’s all over. We can talk about this—this baby thing then.”

He took her hand from his chest and raised it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “I won’t hear of it. Do you understand? I won’t hear of it.” He led her back to her bedroom. “Rest until morning. I’ll make it right for all of us.”

Hannah hesitated, and he braced himself for resistance.

Then she yawned, shaking her head. “If I weren’t so tired—”

“Rest.”

He herded her into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Then he hovered for a moment. He heard two twin thumps, one after the other—her shoes hitting the carpet. Kyril held his breath, listening. The smooth compression of her weight on the mattress. He allowed himself to exhale.

Then he was in motion, heading for his bedroom, heading for his phone. He stopped only to put on a T-shirt, then snatched it up from the table. He rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes and dialed.

Abir picked up on the first ring.

“Sir?”

“Still awake?”

Abir chuckled. “I’d say so.”

“Bring your computer and come over. I have plans to make.”

7

“Unbelievable,” Hannah breathed as she stepped from the gangplank to the smooth hardwood floor of the largest private vessel she’d ever set foot on. It seemed nearly as large as the cruise ship she’d traveled to Europe on, though she knew it couldn’t be. “Or is it totally believable?”

Kyril turned from a hushed conversation with Abir. “Beg your pardon?”

Hannah tightened her grip on his elbow. “I was just commenting on how you this yacht is and—” Something large and white caught her attention from the corner of her eye. “Is that a speedboat?” It was on its own private rig on the back of the yacht, ready at any moment to be dipped into the sparkling waters of the Adriatic.

Tags: Leslie North Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Billionaire Romance
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