Chapter 39
I wake up, put on a robe, and rush to the entrance of the tent, unable to believe that we’re really here.
His controlling manner has its advantages; he even had a small suitcase packed for me.
Outside, the heat of the sun hits my face, and I feel alive, despite my body being exhausted from a nearly sleepless night.
I have no experience with romantic relationships, but I think we are one step away from becoming addicted to sex.
I go back inside the tent and come face-to-face with Kamal, gloriously naked, standing and watching me.
“Why are you smiling?” he asks. “It seems like you’re hiding a secret, my fiancée.”
I step closer to him. “I’m a woman. I keep all the secrets of the world.”
He lifts me in his arms and heads to the bathroom. As he carries me, he whispers in my ear, “Tell me some of them while I fuck you in front of the mirror, Madeline. I want to see our reflection when I make you come.”
“Why haven’t you told your mother about us yet?” he asks when we’re enjoying the delicious breakfast that has been served.
“She knows, in a way. Not about the engagement or the baby but about us,” I reply.
“And she doesn’t approve,” he states more than asks, so I don’t feel obligated to deny it.
“My mother isn’t like yours, Kamal. She loathes anything that deviates from her world’s standards.”
“Tell me more about it,” he says.
“I was raised to be perfect, and it destroyed my self-esteem because nothing I did was ever good enough.”
“In what way?”
“Everything. It’s not like there was a specific episode but rather memories of a lifetime.
According to her, my clothes were always inadequate.
I didn’t know how to sit properly or even hold a conversation.
That was when I was a child. As a teenager, which is already a difficult period for anyone, I became even more introverted.
I’m not shy at all, but I learned to police myself so much that I forgot how to make friends. ”
“Why?”
“There were so many you can’ts that they triggered my stress, and when I get too anxious” —I lower my eyes because I’m embarrassed—”my dyslexia gets worse.”
“It’s hardly noticeable.”
“I mix up words, don’t I?”
“Only a few, and only when you’re very agitated.”
“Now it happens even when I get excited or happy. Before, it was only when I was under too much stress, which meant my whole life.”
“Did your mother correct you?”
“Not just correct. If we had a party to go, there were dozens of instructions for me to be careful not to embarrass myself by saying something wrong. I ended up choosing silence to avoid the risk of upsetting her, but that didn’t help because she complained that I wasn’t paying attention to potential boyfriends.
She said I needed to compensate for my deficiencies with beauty and charm. ”
I see his mouth tense, and by now I know him well enough to recognize that he’s restraining himself from saying something.
“Now maybe you understand why I haven’t told her about the baby yet. I might be acting like a fool, but I didn’t feel like sharing our child with my parents just yet.”
“Is that the only reason?” he asks, and I lie because I don’t want to tell him that she even disapproved the color of his skin.
I’m not just embarrassed by my mother being the way she is. If I’m honest, most of the time, I’m disgusted by her.
“They will come to the wedding, however,” he says.
“I believe so. My father’s situation is . . . um . . . complicated.”
“More than complicated,” he says with his usual sincerity. “There’s a good chance he’ll be arrested, Madeline. I had all the information about him brought to me.”
“You did?”
“He’s the father of my future wife. Of course I did.”
“And what did you find out?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. We were living in a bubble. I only became aware of the bankruptcy when my mother told me that I couldn’t stay in the London apartment for long because the bank would take it. There’s nothing left. Even the bank accounts are frozen.”
“Are they in need of anything?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, but I don’t think so. My father has been lying for years. I have no idea what’s going on in that house.”
“Do you want—”
“No!” I almost shout, horrified because I know exactly what he’s going to say. “Thank you, but no. I’m not with you for your money.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But many people will think that.”
He excuses himself from the table and stands up, looking annoyed. I know the reason. Kamal likes to have everything under control, even something that is none of his business, like my father’s situation.
I know they are not destitute. What my mother is complaining about is having to cut back on most luxuries. But perhaps it’s time for her to face the real world.
I follow him to the entrance of the tent. He has his back to me, and the rigid muscles on his shoulders show tension.
“You’re angry,” I say.
He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “Compromising is harder than I thought.”
“Really?” I ask, stepping in front of him to look at his face.
“Especially when it involves you.”
I’m very tempted to explain why I don’t want help.
However, the last conversation I had with my mother, in which she insulted Kamal, then tried to convince me to ask him for financial help, makes me feel too ashamed, and I don’t want to offend him by repeating what she said.
“Why do you care about my parents’ situation? ”
Nothing in his expression reflects the warmth that led me to paradise here in the oasis. The Kamal looking at me now is the same cold man who told me in London that he doesn’t stay with a partner for long to avoid creating unrealistic expectations.
His statement only proves that he’s miles away from me right now.
“Because I don’t want anything to hinder the development of my heir. If you’re worried, it will affect the pregnancy.”
I take a step back, as if I have been physically attacked.
His heir.
That’s all he cares about.
How could I have been so stupid as to delude myself into thinking he cared about me?
“Is that the only reason?” I ask with a thread of hope, but when his gray eyes meet mine, I know I won’t like what I’m about to hear before his words even come out.
“For what other reason would it be, Madeline?”
I swallow hard and look away from his eyes to hide that I’m hurt. “You’re right, Your Excellency. For what other reason would it be?”