Fated Lovers (Sold To The Sheikh 2)

ONE

Mia tried her best to cushion the blow. “Well,” she said, as they drove away from Rami’s parents’ mansion, “you know there are worse things than being adopted. I mean, I was adopted, and look how well I turned out.” She smiled at him weakly. Not well enough for your mom to approve of me, but I get the impression she probably wouldn’t have approved of me anyway.

“Right, yeah,” Rami replied, barely even glancing at her. Mia couldn’t help but wonder how much of his shock stemmed from the revelation that Rami had been adopted, and how much was due to the fact that his mother had rejected Mia. Is it that bad to be adopted? Mia had never thought so; she didn’t even remember her birth parents and had never had more than a passing curiosity about them—at least until she had met Rami, and they had spent months trying to get her pregnant.

Now she was pregnant, and it should have been nothing but rest and relaxation and growing a baby from that point forward. Instead, as they drove back to Rami’s place, Mia found herself looking at the engagement ring he had given her, and wondered if his love for her would endure in the face of his mother’s ultimatum.

She followed him into the house, her mind spinning with the import of everything that had happened. “Do you want to watch TV?” she asked. Rami’s head turned in a snap to look at her, and Mia felt a pang of guilt at the realization that she had startled him out of what were obviously very deep thoughts.

“I’m going to get some work done,” Rami said, giving her a weak smile. “You should get some rest on the couch.” He walked up to her quickly and gave her a brief kiss on the lips, letting his hand move down to press lightly against her abdomen.

“If you want to talk about anything—about what your mom said…” Mia bit her bottom lip and tried to meet Rami’s gaze. He smiled again, his eyes tired and dull, and kissed her on the forehead before turning away.

“I just need to clear my head, get some work done,” Rami told her, retreating into the hallway that led to his office. Mia sighed and sank down onto the couch, trying not to worry too much about the man she had come to love.

She told herself that he would be all right within a few days; Rami had always seemed to be the more resilient of the two of them. How many times had she been utterly devastated at the thought that she might not be capable of having children—while Rami had been confident all the while that it would eventually work out for them? He was right, too. At least about me getting pregnant. When we least expected it and weren’t even trying, it happened. But hoping for the best didn’t seem to be an option in their current situation.

Mia turned on the TV and pretended to watch it, all the while going over and over their predicament. Rami would come around, he had to. He was the strong one, the one who believed that everything would work out. Yeah, but he doesn’t really have much of a choice when it comes to his parents’ approval, does he? Mia worried at her bottom lip, remembering the look on Rami’s mother’s face when he announced that Mia was carrying his child, and that he intended to marry her.

Rami was a prince, and the fact that he was adopted somehow seemed to be both more and less important than that. What it’s going to come down to, Mia is that he will have to decide between leaving you—and keeping his money, his title, name and family—or making the decision to stay with you, and in doing so lose everything. Mia wondered if Rami’s mother would let him keep or at least care for his own child. Mia was well aware that the money he had paid her, while more than enough to take care of herself and her mother, wouldn’t last the child’s lifetime.

“Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself,” Mia said, changing absent-mindedly from one channel to the next. It didn’t really matter which TV show she put on; it wasn’t as though she was in the right frame of mind to absorb what was on the screen. “Maybe it was just an initial reaction. Maybe his mom will get used to the idea, and eventually tell him that it’s okay.” Mia shook her head at the sheer optimism of that idea. Rami’s mother might eventually come to terms with the fact that he’d impregnated someone, but Mia didn’t think that the woman would ever be okay with her son—her adopted son, but her son nonetheless—marrying a commoner who from a no-name family without wealth or connections.

“If she wanted him to marry well, she should have just arranged it herself,” Mia said to no one at all, knowing she sounded petulant and uncaring. Rami wasn’t there to be upset by her words; he might as well have been a million miles away, off in his office, taking care of work. Mia wished that she had something to occupy herself with other than TV. Even her old job, where she had been underpaid and underappreciated, would have given her plenty to think about outside of her current crisis.

“He’ll snap out of it,” Mia told herself firmly, taking a deep breath and reaching one hand down to cup the slight, firm bulge at her abdomen, the evidence of the baby growing inside of her. Her stomach gnawed and she couldn’t tell whether it was hunger or worry—but sighing, she pulled herself up from the couch, reasoning that whichever it was, it couldn’t hurt to eat something.

TWO

“I don’t understand,” said Rami, pacing back and forth in front of Mia. “I’ve been a good son to them.” He shook his head, turning to look at her. Mia nodded, at a loss for something to say and feeling guilty that her own mother had so approved of their engagement. Of course she approved. What’s not to like about a wealthy man who’s madly in love with your daughter?

“I know it must be difficult for you,” Mia said quietly.

“It’s not even that it’s difficult,” Rami countered. “I just don’t get—I mean—why didn’t either of them ever tell me I was adopted until now?” He threw his hands up in the air. “And what could possibly be wrong with you? Especially if I’m not—not really…” Mia’s heart twisted inside of her.

“You are really her son,” Mia said firmly. “If you weren’t really her son in her eyes, do you really think she would care one bit who you married?” Mia raised an eyebrow.

“But then, what is it about you that she doesn’t like?” Rami let his hands drop to his sides and resumed pacing. “Why should it matter if you’re a commoner? Even if I wasn’t adopted, it’s not like I’d ever be in the line to the throne—not really, anyway.” Rami shook his head violently. “I don’t have to marry some heiress or into some other royal family, so why should she care who it is?”

Mia smiled wryly. “I obviously don’t know your mother very well,” she said, hesitantly. “But it seems to me—just from the little bit you’ve said, and from meeting her—that she’s very…conscious…of your family’s image.” Mia swallowed against the tight feeling in her throat. “And I mean, in that sense, I guess…”

“You think it makes sense that she doesn’t want to see her son happy?” Rami snapped, then fell silent. Mia thought he must have realized how sharply he had spoken to her. “I’m not mad at you, Mia. I’m sorry.” He stopped and approached the couch where she was sitting, kneeling in front of her. “I’m just so frustrated. Why can’t she just be happy for me?”

“I don’t know, darling,” Mia said. “I wish I had some clue for you.” Rami nodded. He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing them lightly.

“Maybe I should speak to my sister,” Rami said. “Or my father—though he’s never been one for these kinds of conversations.” Mia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I think you should give it some time,” she suggested. “I’m sure your mom was really, really shocked to hear that you were engaged and that you were going to have a child all at once, you know?” Mia shrugged. “I think maybe if you let her have some space to absorb it, she might end up being more reasonable.?