I cupped his face and made him focus on me. He was still agitated, but I risked a kiss. I pressed my lips to his, and he made a sound of desperation and kissed me back.
“I wish I could throw you over my shoulder and hold you captive.”
I gave him a wry smile, “They don’t allow that anymore.” I kissed him again, and this time he responded with his hands on my cheeks, “Besides, that is exactly what I am afraid of. I’m not ready to give up my independence.”
“Will you ever?”
Chapter Three
Amir left me alone in the suite for a few hours. I don’t know where he went or what he did. When he returned, I was in bed. Our fight left me weary, and I took a nap. Without words, he angrily ravished me, bruising me with his need. It was as if he needed to physically make sure I felt his anguish. When he’d worn us both out, he made slow, tender, desperate love to me. I think we both cried. I was torn and confused and unable to process any of the ramifications that came with agreeing to marry such a powerful man. Especially a man who lived on the other side of the planet and wished to keep me as his alone—and as the mother to his children.
I never once wanted kids and even being married was something I found sort of archaic. My dream had always been to be my own woman and live the single life until I met Mr. Right. Or perhaps never marry or have children and be independent my entire existence. The thought of that now still intrigued me.
I could easily get into the dream of being alone, childless, and pursuing my career as a litigator in corporate law. If I even entertained the thought of marrying Amir and running off to the land of sand and sun, I cringed internally. This told me volumes about where my heart really was.
I also felt awash with sadness at the thought that I would lose him, and as I still warred with my two conflicting sides, he slid from my body and went to take a shower. When he returned, he was dressed fully in one of his nicest suits. I began to climb out of the bed to get ready to go out, and he halted me.
“I am returning to Abu Dhabi tonight. When you are ready to belong to me in the way I wish—you know how to reach me.”
“Amir! No!” I wailed and again tears fell.
“I will open an account for you to draw from. Anything you need for the baby. If you need more, just send me a note and it is yours.”
“I don’t care about the money, Amir. Can’t we talk about this? Amir? Please! I love you. I can’t lose you!”
He glared at me and pulsed his jaw. “Julie, you cannot have part of me as you wish. It is all or nothing, my love. I will be waiting for you. My heart belongs to you, and if me leaving and remaining faithful to you is what it will take, then I shall prove this to you.”
“Amir, no! I trust you. That isn’t what I meant! Amir, stop.”
He turned with his hand on the door. “The suite will be paid for until next weekend. Feel free to stay.”
He set his case down and came back to me. He brushed away some of my tears, but I was sobbing uncontrollably at this point.
“You are the love of my life, Julie, but I am unwilling to dance this dance with you. You are mine, and until you offer yourself to me as such—fully giving me your life—surrendering this stubborn, iron will of yours—I am unwilling to play at being half in and out of your life.”
“But—but—the baby?” I gulped out between sniffs.
“The baby is yours, my love. You know I am a king, and I have my own country. I cannot live here and dwell with you—pretending you still have your independence. This is a game I am unwilling to play. You should never ask it of me. I’ve been cavalier with my affections. I am to be your husband and your leader or I will be nothing to you. Julie, I am insulted by your insensitivity to my station in life.”
My mouth fell open in an odd mix of shock mixed with a feeling of a chastised child. He was right. I still didn’t know what to do. He gave me an ironic half grin and stood to leave. I still had no words. He left, and I cried for hours. I was angry and confused and tired. I heard the elevator outside ding and for the briefest of moments, I thought he’d returned. But it wasn’t him, and soon the suite was dark except for the light that filtered in from the city below.
I decided to stay in bed, naked and smelling of him. The insides of my thighs were sticky, and whenever I moved in the bed, his scent would waft up and invade my perceptions. I did love him. I had no doubts about that fact. I grappled with a need to run to him and apologize. I had visions of kneeling before him and surrendering fully to his demands as he’d asked, but I could only fantasize about doing so.
I stayed in the suite only one more day. I languished in and out of depression and ordered one meal from room service. His favorite of Irish stew and new potatoes. I’d found it amusing something so foreign, simple, and oddly enough, inexpensive to prepare, would be the number one pick for an Arabian King. I cried through the entire meal.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night, and by dawn I left the hotel high-rise and went back to my apartment. Along with my now-cold body, apparently he’d also been able to offer me sleep.
Insomniac Julie was back in force. I kicked open the door to my apartment and a wave of loneliness washed over me. The reality of my life came crashing in around me too and I sagged onto the couch and stared at the wall of degrees and plaques of accomplishments. Little good any of them would do now. None of them signified love or belonging.
Oh Amir, I miss you so much.
Chapter Four
I thought for sure I would hear from Amir in the following week, but there was no sign he existed. I hated how domineering he was, or dominant, or what was it that irked me? Was it simply because he was a man of his word and was unwavering when he made up his mind? Wasn’t that something to be admired and not condemned?
I was that kind of woman, after all. Maybe we were both too strong for our own good? With these thoughts came the revelation that it was me who would have to surrender. Amir never would. It was a pride thing, and even though I fully understood his side of it and how he felt—part of me even agreed with him—I still wasn’t ready to give up on what I’d worked so hard to achieve.
I was a strong and dominant female. I was intelligent, and I knew if given the opportunity, and with some experience behind me, I could run an entire conglomerate. I even had visions of perhaps going into politics. If Amir weren’t an Arab and from a country where women are maligned and never allowed to rule, I could possibly hammer out a partnership with him. A co-rule kind of deal. I knew I deserved as much and was plenty capable of delivering. I was not a submissive female, and I probably never would kneel at someone else’s feet.