Chapter 23
“What happened, Maddie? I was worried when I woke up and saw your text,” Zoe says as soon as I answer the phone.
“It’s the kind of topic that shouldn’t be discussed over the phone unless it’s a video call.”
“I can talk.”
“I can’t. I’m still in Turkey, at Kamal’s palace. He’s sleeping, so we don’t have much time because he said we’d go out this morning to sightsee.”
“‘We’ as in both of you? It’s Sunday—it’s your day off in theory. Am I correct in supposing your plan worked, then? Are you two together?”
“Oh, Zoe, you have no idea. I got myself into a huge mess.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We were careless.”
“What do you mean, careless?” From the panic in her voice, I know she understands.
“Exactly what you’re thinking. We didn’t use protection one time. Now Kamal is saying that if I’m pregnant, we’ll have to get married. But I take birth control pills to regulate my cycle, so I think it’ll be fine.”
“Madeline, stop. You’re not making any sense. Slow down. You’re anxious and mixing up some words.”
“We forgot the condom one of the times we made love.”
I tell her everything that happened after that. About when we were at the restaurant—the awkward conversation—and what Kamal said would happen in case of pregnancy.
“You don’t have to do this, Maddie. Christos and I will take care of you.”
“And raise a child without a father? Not that I’m concerned about what others will think, but is it fair to prevent my child from having a relationship with their father?
Kamal told me he spends most of his time in Sintarah.
Besides, he said the child would have a target on their back for being his kid.
As a Sheikh, he is threatened often. Someone has attempted to attack him before. ”
“Oh my God!”
“I’m terrified, Zoe. I don’t want to get married. We don’t love each other. We don’t even know each other, actually. Even if I hadn’t set the end of this weekend as our deadline, which is already longer than I talked to you about before, our relationship wouldn’t last anyway.”
“We’re not in the Middle Ages, Maddie. Sheikh or not, the final decision will always be yours. Nobody can force you into a marriage. I just thought that . . .”
“What?”
“From our previous conversations, I thought you liked Kamal. So the idea of marrying him shouldn’t be so scary.”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Now I know why women leave with their hearts broken after only a month.
He’s very captivating. Fascinating, actually.
Still, that’s not enough for a marriage.
We don’t know anything about each other.
Kamal is closed off. He’s never tried to get to know me or talk to me about himself or his family. All we have together is . . .”
“Good sex?”
“Way beyond good. Physical attraction isn’t love, though. It’s not even passion.”
“You’re right. However, until you find out whether you’re pregnant or not, you need to calm down. Let’s try to put things into perspective. The pill may work, and in that case, you’re worrying for nothing. If you’re really expecting a baby, you have me. Everything will be fine, Maddie.”
“Thank you. I’d feel even more lost without you. How long should I wait to get a blood test to be sure if I’m pregnant?”
“Within fifteen days you can get a blood test to be sure. Doctors say it’s seven to twelve days. But to spare yourself from going crazy wondering if it’s a false negative, it’s better to wait two weeks.”
“I’ll be very anxious until then.”
“I will be too, Maddie. Like I said, though, you’re not without options. I’ll always be by your side. Nobody can force you to do or be anything, regardless of what Kamal told you.”
“I love you, cousin. I’m sorry for ruining your Sunday, but I needed to talk to you to keep myself from going crazy.”
“You didn’t ruin it. Let me know when you’re back in London, okay?”
I end the call feeling a bit calmer. However, when I turn around, Kamal is by the bedroom door, watching me.
Did he overhear the call?
I escaped to the guest bedroom, which should have been mine, but I never got a chance to use it.
He’s wearing a black robe and looks more handsome than ever, with his hair tousled from sleep. Despite that, the awareness is evident in his posture. His attentive eyes study my face.
“Good morning,” I say awkwardly.
It’s amazing that even after so much physical intimacy, I still feel out of place waking up in his house wearing nothing but a nightgown.
He doesn’t answer but comes to me. Without saying anything, he pulls me into a kiss.
I close my eyes and lose myself in that warm, experienced, and seductive mouth. Tomorrow, I’ll be back in the real world, but today I can allow myself to enjoy this.
“Why did you come here?” he asks when we part.
“I was talking to my cousin.”
“Christos’s wife?”
“Yes. I, um, told her about our talk yesterday. About the possibility of a baby, I mean.”
“You’re scared.”
“You know I am.”
“What scares you the most, Madeline?”
I take a step back. “Do we need to talk about this now? We’ll be back in London tomorrow morning, and this whole thing may not even materialize. I’d rather go sightseeing instead of talking.”
He studies me for so long that I think he’ll say no, then he finally agrees. “Okay. What do you want to do?”
“Can you tell me a little about your family?” I ask.
We’ve just had lunch at a wonderful restaurant, also owned by Qasim, and now Kamal’s taking me on a cruise in the Bosporus Strait, on his cousin’s yacht.
The day is delightful, and the warmth of the sun against my skin makes me feel alive.
“What do you want to know?
I have my profile to him, but I can feel him looking at me. He’s been doing that all day, as if trying to read my every thought.
“Everything.”
“My father died seven years ago from a heart attack, and I stepped in as Sheikh of my country. I have two brothers, whom you’ve already met, and three younger sisters. My mother is still alive and never remarried.”
“Just five? Is that all?” I ask, and then I’m mortified by my indiscretion. “I’m sorry, I just thought that in your culture, the men would have several wives.”
He turns me around to face him. “Does that worry you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. I’m talking about the possibility of us getting married. Are you worried that I’ll have multiple wives in the future?”
“No. Why should I? We’re not getting married.”
He looks at me, and I’m sure he knows I’m lying. It’s obvious that after he brought up the possibility of marriage, the question crossed my mind.
I can’t imagine sharing my husband with other women, regardless of religion.
“Never, under any circumstances, try playing poker, Madeline. You’re a terrible liar,” he says, lowering his voice to whisper in my ear.
I shiver, excited by his proximity. I avoid touching him when we’re not in the bedroom. Kamal, however, keeps his hands on me at all times.
“I don’t think I could handle that,” I confess. “Many wives sharing my husband. I know it’s mandatory for your people.”
“It’s not mandatory; it’s a prerogative. We can marry up to four wives if we wish, but there is nothing forcing us to do so. However, historically, there has never been a Sheikh in Sintarah who married more than one woman at the same time.”
“Oh!”
“Surprised?”
“Yes. Very. I thought it was what all men desired.”
“Many, perhaps, but not the men in my family. Besides, the women in my Emirate are jealous and strong-willed.”
I smile, thinking about the chaos it must be to handle a marriage with multiple wives. I don’t have to set foot in Sintarah to sympathize with the women from his country.
“You never thought of getting married?” I ask.
His almost-smiling expression turns serious. “For love, you mean?”
“I don’t know. Or for duty. I suppose men in your position must be pressured to start a family.”
“Yes, but I’ve never allowed my role as head of government to determine my personal life.”
“So this is the first time the idea of marriage has crossed your mind?” My stomach clenches in anticipation of him confirming that committing to each other because of a baby would be a mistake.
Kamal likes his lifestyle. What was the expression Zoe used?
Jumping from branch to branch, enjoying multiple partners.
He takes a step back after my question. “I was engaged once. She was promised to me at birth. It was what my father wanted.”
“You didn’t love her?”
“No, but I would have married her anyway. It was an alliance our families made.”
“And what happened? Why didn’t you get married?”
He looks at the sea behind me, his face devoid of emotion. “She killed herself.”
I stare at him, shocked. From the little I’ve read, just like in my religion, suicide is a sin for them. But before I can say anything, he leaves.