Commanded by the sheikh

Aziz couldn’t bear to hear the throb of grief in Olivia’s voice. He sensed her sorrow had more than one cause: the loss of her son, the secret from her father, her mother’s fury, the stupid boy’s rejection of her; all of it had tangled together, choking her, keeping her from truly living.

‘So we went to New York,’ Olivia resumed after a moment, her voice flat now. ‘And I made it all the way to the clinic. All the way to the examining room, even. The whole time I felt as if it were all happening to someone else, almost as if I were watching a film, wondering what was going to happen next. And then the doctor came in—she was very kind—and asked me if I understood what was happening. I’ve never known if she asked that of everyone, or if I just looked particularly terrified.’

‘I imagine,’ Aziz murmured against her hair, ‘It was a terrifying experience.’

‘I told the doctor that I understood, but I couldn’t go through with it. My mother was out in the waiting room and when I came out after just a few minutes she was furious. Furious.’

‘Your mother sounds like a fearsome woman.’

‘I can’t blame her, really. She was doing her best for me—trying to protect me, I suppose, along with our family’s reputation. My father’s career.’ Her voice choked again and she took a few even breaths before she continued. ‘My father has always been such a dreamer. He needs someone like her, I think, although...’ She stopped, and Aziz wondered what she was thinking. Remembering.

‘What happened then?’ he asked after a moment.

‘I told her I wanted to keep the baby. She told me I was wrecking my life. We were at a stand-off for a while, the rest of my first trimester anyway. I remember because I felt him kick for the first time and I still didn’t know what was going to happen to him or me.’

Aziz’s chest hurt as he imagined her with one hand pressed to her gently rounded belly, overwhelmed with both wonder and despair. ‘Oh, Olivia.’

‘My mother wanted me to give him up for adoption. She still insisted on hiding my pregnancy from everyone—she planned to tell people I was recovering from stress and send me to a clinic in America to have the baby.’

It sounded like a selfish, heartless decision and inwardly he railed against the woman who had bullied her daughter in such a way. ‘Is that what you did?’

A small hesitation, a telling pause. ‘Yes,’ she finally said. ‘I gave in eventually, so I went.’

He wondered what she’d chosen not to tell him, but decided not to ask. ‘How long were you there?’

‘Six months. The longest six months of my life in some ways, and the shortest in others. Because I knew I’d have to give him up when it was over. I wasn’t...I wasn’t strong enough to have him on my own. I should have been, but I wasn’t.’

‘You were so young, Olivia.’

‘Yes, but other girls have done it. I could have—I don’t know—applied for benefits or childcare help at university. I could have stood up to my mother and insisted. But I didn’t do any of that. I just felt so numb, so dead inside. I didn’t have the strength.’

His arms tightened around her. ‘Tell me what happened next.’

‘He was born. He was so beautiful...’ She swallowed hard. ‘I held him after he was born. He was so tiny, he fitted right in the crook of my arm. He looked like a little old man.’ She let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. ‘I kept him overnight. I even fed him myself, though the nurses told me it would better if I didn’t. I remember staring down at his face. He kept looking at me with these huge blue eyes when I fed him. He was so alert.’ She drew a shuddering breath. ‘I named him, even though I knew it would be changed. Daniel.’

She pressed her face into Aziz’s chest once more. ‘And then I let him go.’ She drew a quick, sharp breath, her words coming faster, tumbling over themselves. ‘I believe he’s happy now. I pray he is. An American couple adopted him. I met them, and they seemed very nice. Very kind. He’ll be well looked after.’

‘But you didn’t want to give him up.’

‘No.’ She subsided then, still leaning against him, and Aziz wondered if she was even aware that he was holding her—that he wanted to hold her. ‘I never did, but I tried to convince myself it was for the best. I told myself I had university to look forward to, a career as a musician. My mother kept telling me to forget about it, him, because I still had my whole life in front of me. It just didn’t feel that way. It felt like my life had gone. And it was my own fault.’

‘It wasn’t, Olivia. You were young—’

‘So? Does that really make a difference? If you want something badly enough, you should be strong enough to fight for it.’

He didn’t argue with her any more, because he understood how she felt. He knew how you could tell yourself the truth so many times—it’s not my fault my father doesn’t like me; I’m worthy and deserving of love in my own right—and yet you still didn’t believe it. Maybe you never could.

And Olivia, he surmised, had been devastated by this experience. Losing her son. No wonder she hid herself away, longed only for a quiet life. She’d been hurt badly and she didn’t want to try again. Could he blame her? He was the same, and he hadn’t even been as hurt as she had. He hadn’t lost as much.

‘So what happened after?’ he asked. ‘You went to university...’

‘For one term. I don’t remember much about it, actually. I was kind of—numb.’ She eased herself away from him then, and he missed her warmth and softness pressing against him. She scooted across the sofa, her arms folded across her chest, her head bent and her hair hanging down so he couldn’t see the expression on her face.

‘I dropped out after Christmas,’ she continued. ‘And I drifted around for a while. Then my father arranged the housekeeping position. He was trying to help me.’

Again Aziz sensed there was something she wasn’t saying but he had no idea what it was. ‘And you haven’t wanted anything else?’ he said after a moment.

‘No.’ She rose from the sofa and paced restlessly to the window, one slender hand resting on the sill, her back to him. ‘I don’t know why I told you all this. The point of anything between us was that we’d get to keep our secrets, wasn’t it?’

He sat back against the sofa and watched her; her narrow back seemed almost to quiver with tension. ‘Maybe not the point. More like a side benefit.’

‘And yet I just told you mine.’

‘Are you sorry you did?’

She turned to him, one hand still on the sill, her eyes dark and wide. ‘No, I’m not. Which is kind of frightening.’

Yes, Aziz agreed silently, it was. For both of them. Hearing someone’s secrets meant they trusted you to keep them. Not to let them down. And, while he’d promised he wouldn’t hurt her, suddenly it seemed harder now and far more fearsome. He really didn’t want to hurt her, not even a tiny bit. He cared about her, more than he’d expected. More than he wanted to.

‘And this kind of soul-baring certainly isn’t part of any arrangement we might have, is it?’ she asked with a humourless smile. ‘Have I freaked you out?’

‘No, of course not. And, in any case, I said everything was up for discussion,’ Aziz answered as lightly as he could.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘You still want to marry me?’

‘Yes.’ And he knew he meant it, even if nothing had happened quite as he’d expected. Even if he wasn’t sure what a marriage between them would look like now or what he really wanted from it.

She shook her head and turned back to the window. ‘It’s just so crazy,’ she murmured. ‘So, so crazy.’

‘I completely agree. But my father’s will is crazy.’

‘Would you ever have married,’ she asked, ‘If the will hadn’t dictated it?’

He hesitated, not sure what she wanted to hear, and uncertain how much truth to share. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally said, which was, at least, honest.

‘What about an heir? You’ll need one eventually, I suppose?’

‘Yes.’

She tensed then, her fingers curling around the windowsill, knuckles whitening. ‘So this marriage—it would mean children?’

And that, Aziz realised, was a bit of a loaded issue. ‘Yes, Olivia, it would.’ Something he hadn’t mentioned before—hadn’t even thought of, really, except in the abstract. He waited for her to say something, but she just stared out of the window. ‘How do you feel about that?’ he asked after a moment.

‘A baby,’ she murmured, then shook her head again. ‘I—I don’t know.’

‘Do you want more children?’

‘I never thought...’ She lapsed into silence and Aziz just waited. Just like Olivia, he was starting to realise just all a marriage between them would entail. He’d thought he’d understood and accepted it all after having discussed it with Elena; they’d laid out all the relevant points in a twenty-page legal document. He’d accepted that a cold business arrangement was what he wanted for himself, never mind what he needed to fulfil the terms of his father’s will.