Chapter Twelve #2
He shook his head at his brother’s whisper. He had rejected her love because he hadn’t been able to trust it. But it was himself that he hadn’t been able to trust. Trust that he wasn’t the monster that his father had accused him of being.
But he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t terrorize people like his father had.
He didn’t punish people indiscriminately.
He didn’t do mean things, or treat people badly.
He’d clung to that mistrust because it justified his actions in pushing her away.
And all because he was scared. Because he was scared that he might not survive such rejection this time.
Because, he realised, he loved her. He loved her.
With everything in him. From her first touch it was as if his body knew her, wanted her.
That was why he’d been so eager to latch on to her deception rather than her curiosity.
That was why he’d fought so hard to keep her at arm’s length in the villa on the island.
And that was why she deserved for him to face his fears and to be or to become the man she deserved, rather than fear that he wasn’t.
He was so much more than the bad child to Ishmail’s good. He was no longer the sick child instead of the healthy one and he needed to accept that.
He searched his mind, strained his ears for some kind of response from his brother.
But there wasn’t one. Because all along, that voice hadn’t belonged to Ishmail.
He’d been speaking to himself. His conscience.
A very real, a very good, part of himself.
His brother had left this place a long time ago, and conversations they’d shared were nothing more than what Malik had wanted to hear.
He had been guiding himself all this time, not because he needed to know right from wrong, but because he needed compassion and understanding that he didn’t feel that he deserved to give to himself.
Malik’s heart thudded in his chest.
‘I’m not ready,’ he said out loud.
A laugh that was kind echoed in his mind, but no more words were said.
Malik didn’t want to let his brother go.
But the mental voice, himself or his brother, it didn’t matter any more.
It was time. Time that they moved on. That Al Surrahin moved on.
That he moved on. From the limiting thoughts and patterns of the past. Time that he faced the very things that scared him the most.
Ruling as he wanted to rule—not how his brother or father would have done. And loving how he needed to love. And not how he hadn’t been loved in the past. He needed to let himself love Hana in the present. And, he cursed, for the rest of his future.
He slammed his fist down onto the sand, cursing himself.
He’d been such a fool! Such a damn fool.
But that fury drove action, drove determination.
He would do whatever it took to win her back.
Whatever. And just then, the tendril of an idea formed and before he could change his mind, he reached for his satellite phone and called Ehsan.
‘Your Highness, what do you need?’
‘The contact details for that pilot from Omrhain. And, Ehsan?’
‘Yes, Your Highness?’
‘I need you to expedite that meeting between Yara, my brother’s doctors and me.’
‘Yes, Your Highness.’
Hana frowned at Fatima, who had stubbornly refused to move from her position by the bed, watching Hana repack the small bag she’d brought with her to Omrhain.
‘There’s no need to glare at me like that, Fatima, I’m going as quickly as I can.’
Fatima raised a single sceptical brow and harrumphed.
Okay, so perhaps Hana was dragging her heels a little. But she hadn’t quite expected to be called back to Al Surrahin so quickly, certainly not to complete one last official visit on the tour that Malik hadn’t been able to cancel.
Just one last official meet and greet and then you can choose wherever you’d like to go.
The message shouldn’t have hurt. He was giving her more freedom than she expected or deserved, but the jagged tear through her heart wasn’t even close to healing yet.
It would, just…not yet.
She’d barely had time to bid her family farewell, all of whom had been acting a little strange since that dinner a few nights ago.
As if now that she had pulled back emotionally, it had given them the space to come forward to try to meet her half way.
Her father had awkwardly patted the back of her hand and her sister had—so far—kept her jibes to a minimum.
With Hana’s bags packed, Fatima practically dragged her up to the launch pad and thrust her into the back of the helicopter with both hands, before stepping back and moving away from the draught from the rotating blades.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ Hana called out to her in confusion, even though she knew there was no way Fatima could hear her.
Fatima shrugged as if she couldn’t hear or understand her, but the little smile that pulled at the corner of her lips was lost on Hana in the moment.
Leaning back into the seat, she chose to focus on building those emotional walls rather than question the oddity of the situation. She’d soon see her husband and she had to be the wife that he needed her to be, even if she wasn’t the one he wanted.
Her mind bent on such thoughts she didn’t realise where they were—or more pertinently weren’t—heading until the helicopter began to descend far too soon for them to have made it to Al Surrahin. She frowned, peering down at the small island she recognised immediately.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked Danesh through the headset. But he, like Fatima, simply shrugged and ignored her. Hana was about to insist that he take the helicopter back up, when her gaze fixed on a dark figure down below.
She was unable to take her eyes from him, the way that the wind buffeted his hair and clothes, and yet despite it all, not once had he taken his eyes off her as the helicopter set down.
Her heart thundered in her chest, her pulse pounding in time with the whumping from the blades above her.
Malik.
She knew she should move, but just the sight of him, here, had short-circuited her brain. Danesh got out and opened the door for her, helping her out safely and waiting until she was far enough away from the helipad before taking the helicopter back up into the sky. Not that she was aware of that.
All she was aware of was Malik, and the way that he was looking at her. The way that once again her soft, bruised heart was daring to hope again. Step by step she made her way towards him, pulling up just short of his reach.
‘What am I doing here?’ she asked, half terrified of the answer.
Malik shrugged, with a little smile pulling at the lips she had missed so much it had been embarrassing.
‘A little light breaking and entering?’ he replied.
She wanted to meet his smile with hers, but she was worried that if she did, she might cry and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want him to see that.
As if sensed her reticence, his smile dissolved and something like hurt filled his gaze.
Momentarily caught off guard by the easy display of his feelings, she stumbled and immediately his hand reached out to steady her.
The spark of his touch ignited fireworks across her skin that pummelled her heart with tiny little explosions. Oh why did she have to love him so much?
‘I wanted to talk to you. And this was the only place I could think of being. Because it’s where you and I were most at ourselves. No country duties, or family. Just us.’
She nodded, understanding him immediately. He wanted to break it to her gently, where there would be no public fallout for their separation. Her heart fell to the floor, breaking off into little pieces that littered the ground as she followed him into the villa.
She was so absorbed by her feelings that she didn’t realise at first that the villa looked completely different to when she’d last been here.
What had once been half-built, half-decorated rooms were now complete.
A different kind of interior decoration filled the space with rich earthy tones that suited the island so much better.
But there was still the fireplace, still the incredible view from the wrap-around floor-to-ceiling windows.
As if on autopilot she found herself back in front of the fireplace, where she had probably fallen in love with him first. She was torn between wanting to look at him, to drink in his presence, and not wanting to hurt that badly.
But when he came to stand behind her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body press against hers, she couldn’t resist any longer.
She turned and decided she was going mad, because all she could see in his eyes was love. He raised his hand to cup her cheek and she leaned into it, taking whatever small bits of himself he could offer, she was that far gone.
‘I brought you here to explain, to tell you everything, but all I can think of saying now that you’re here is that I love you,’ he said, his words an adamant whisper.
Her heart caught on his words before her mind could catch up.
‘I love you,’ he said again, as if knowing she wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow herself to believe it yet.
It was so close to what she’d always wanted to hear from him that she feared it might all be a dream. A foolish fantasy, cruel and yet perfect. But when he ran his thumb over her cheek, she felt him. She’d heard him. Was this all real?
‘I’m so sorry for pushing you away. And if you give me a second chance, I’ll never do it again.
Ever. But Hana, you are my eyes, you are my moon and my sun, my heart, my soul, and without you I am nothing.
No ruler, no brother, no uncle, no man,’ he said, his chest heaving with the passion she felt in his words.
Could this be real? Could he really mean what he was saying? Her heart soaring as it broke free from the chains of doubt and sadness, she felt near dizzy with joy, with love, that she felt for him, that she felt from him.