A Secret Birthright - By Olivia Gates Page 0,27

her to a suite on the same level as his office. The sitting room overlooked the same view that had stunned her from his windows, from a different viewpoint, with the magic of the capital now shrouded in another dawn. She could barely believe it had been just a day since she’d set foot in Jizaan.

He took her by the shoulders. “I recommend another fourteen-hour sleep marathon. Or at least eight. Don’t wake up sooner on Ryan’s account. I’m keeping him in ICU for twelve more hours.”

“But you said you’d let him out in a few hours!”

“And the concrete numerical value of ‘a few’ is?”

He was teasing her again. But now she knew in her bones Ryan would be all right, she found herself attempting to tease back.

“The world doesn’t know how lucky it is that you decided to use your inexorableness for good. But even though you’ve benevolently steam-rolled me on every decision and I’m now forever in your debt, this—” her gesture encompassed the superbly decorated, all-amenities, expansive suite “—is going too far. Between here and the guest apartment at your place, you’ll spoil Ryan and Rose so much that I might have to find us a new place when we return home.”

Interest flared in his eyes. “Where is home? We never got around to talking about that.”

She almost kicked herself. She’d just given him an opening to delve deeper into her life and everything she wanted kept hidden at all costs.

Panic surged. If she told the truth, he’d put things together sooner rather than later. If she lied, rather than omitted the truth, as she had done so far, apart from when she’d had to lie about Ryan’s father, those same powers of observation would see through her. But she had no choice.

A lie was potentially less catastrophic than the truth.

Feeling it would corrode her on the way out, she opened her mouth to deliver it…and his pager went off.

She almost sagged when he released her from his focus.

Then her breath caught. He was frowning at his pager.

“Is it Ryan?”

He raised his eyes at her question, gave a lock of her hair a playful tug. “No, Gwen. Ryan is fine and will remain fine. It’s just another emergency. Now have mercy on me and sleep. I’m exhausted already and it’ll be a while before I get any rest. Don’t add to my burdens. I’ll know if you’re not sleeping.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned away.

The door closed behind him in seconds. But she still felt his presence surrounding her, making her world secure, and life no longer a setting for anguish and struggles.

She could offer him nothing in return for the gifts he’d showered on her and her own. A chunk of her life wouldn’t suffice. But he’d asked her to make his easier by taking herself off his endless list of worries. Complying with his request was all she had to offer for now.

She found the bedroom, and with a moan, sank into the bed’s luxury, into the depths of thankfulness. For him, for Ryan’s cure. And for being saved by the pager.

She prayed she’d never be forced to lie to him outright again, until he discharged Ryan.

Once he did, she’d run, disappear, and he’d never know.

And she’d never see him again.

The joy that had begun to take root inside her drained. Tears flowed again as she prayed.

Let his obligations keep him away for as long as she had to remain in Jizaan. Let his loss start now.

Only that would save her from sustaining further injuries.

Seven

She should have known.

That anything she hoped for would happen in reverse. With the record of the past years, how had she hoped otherwise?

Apart from Ryan’s healing at a breathtaking rate, blossoming under Fareed’s comprehensive care, everything else was going wrong. Terribly wrong.

For the week they stayed in the center, Fareed was constantly present. She knew this wasn’t true, that he disappeared for hours but he came back so often, in her amplified awareness of him, it felt like he was always there, giving her no respite.

After dreading being in his place, where everything echoed with his feel and was soaked in his presence, she couldn’t wait to go back there. She hoped that with him at work during the day, and hopefully returning home exhausted, she’d see less of him. But for the following four weeks, the opposite again happened. He came home too often, too unpredictably, so she couldn’t brace for his appearance, worsening her condition at every