‘Then tell Hazin from me that from this day forward if he chooses to live a reckless life then it shall be without his deep, royal pocket. There shall be no security, no royal jet, no chauffeur—no one to catch him as he falls from grace.’

  ‘I shall be there for him,’ Ilyas said. ‘And,’ he added, ‘I hope to return with my future bride. You won’t approve of her, but I don’t need your approval.’ He gave his father a black smile. ‘Know that from this day forward it is you who needs my approval.’

  It was done.

  There was no going back and Ilyas nodded to the guards as he made his way out.

  ‘Your Highness...’ Mahmoud had to run to catch up with him. ‘You cannot threaten a coup and then leave the country.’

  ‘No coup.’ Ilyas shook his head. ‘There is no need for that yet. As I said to my father, it will be a gentle transition. Perhaps you and the elders might delicately suggest to him the same. Failing that, there shall be a coup. I shan’t ask if I have you onside. I do not ask you to disrespect our king—yet.’

  He gave the old man his first ever smile from a leader and walked away.

  Ilyas knew that he had Mahmoud onside.

  For, yes, he had planned this day for many years.

  Decades in fact.

  He was disciplined and had bided his time until he could properly see it through.

  He had just never factored into his grand plans having a wife by his side.

  And certainly not one called Maggie.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MAGGIE HAD SPENT the last few months disproving her theory that you could never get sick of chocolate.

  Her long-held belief was wrong.

  The taste was too sweet and the very scent of it had started to make her stomach curl.

  Flo had been the one who had told her she was pregnant.

  Maggie would have happily remained in la-la land for a few more weeks, and had put her vomiting down to a bug she had brought home from her trip.

  Except she had been borrowing Flo’s sofa at the time.

  And, given that Flo was a practising midwife, her friend’s confident diagnosis had been rather hard to ignore.

  Maggie had tried to!

  She had found a flat that offered a little more privacy than Maggie was used to. While she would be sharing the bathroom and kitchen with four others, there was a little room with a sofa and bed and there were locks on that door.

  After a year of travelling and a lifetime of shared lounge rooms, there was finally a glimmer of privacy and peace.

  Flo had helped her move in.

  It was tiny and seriously needed a fresh coat of paint, but they had prettied it up with pictures on the walls and thrown a few rugs over the couch.

  Next to Maggie’s bed there was a built-in shelf, and she decided that this would be the spot where she placed her favourite things, as she always did when she started again in a new home.

  There was a gorgeous photo of herself and her mum taken the Christmas before she had died, which she carefully placed in the centre of the shelf.

  Beside that she put an empty bottle of expensive perfume—it had been a present from Paul and Kelly when she had been their bridesmaid and was far too pretty to throw out.

  And there was another lovely photo of herself and Flo on Maggie’s twenty-first birthday when Flo had organised a surprise party at the café.

  Yes, these were her favourite things but there was a new addition to the shelf—a little glass bottle that Maggie had carefully chosen and had bought just yesterday.

  It was filled with the sand she had saved from her time in the desert.

  That night, with everything unpacked and put away, Flo had produced a bottle of sparkling wine to toast Maggie in her new home.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Maggie had said, and had shaken her head.

  ‘I thought you might say that!’

  ‘Please leave it.’

  ‘Maggie, what is that going to achieve? Even if it’s just to put my mind at ease, please take a test.’

  Flo had produced from her purse a pregnancy testing kit and, on the first night in her new home, Maggie had had it confirmed that she was pregnant.

  Of course, she had already suspected. Deep down, she had known it was true, but she’d had no idea what to do, so she had ignored it as best she could.

  ‘How?’ Maggie had asked, and there had been rare tears in her eyes as she’d looked around her tiny living space. Flo had understood that she wasn’t asking how it had happened, more how she was going to support a baby on her own.

  ‘You’ll find a way,’ Flo said with conviction. ‘You always do.’

  She would manage, Maggie thought, and closed her eyes, remembering Kumu’s words that day, when she’d told her that when in Ilyas’s world she didn’t have to.

  She would barely manage, Maggie knew.

  Yes, she might have had a promotion, but a café manager’s wage in London wasn’t going to change her world and she had no idea how long she’d be able to work into pregnancy.

  And after?

  She wasn’t exactly tripping over relatives who wanted to mind the baby while she went back to work.

  It was daunting.

  ‘Could you think about telling the baby’s father?’ Flo had gently broached the subject, because at that point Maggie had said nothing about Ilyas.

  ‘I can’t tell him.’

  ‘He has responsibilities,’ Flo had said.

  ‘Absolutely he does,’ Maggie had agreed. ‘He’s going to be king.’

  Flo had been shocked.

  In fact, she had opened the wine!

  ‘What do you think he’d do if he knew?’ Flo had asked over and over again, but the answer was always the same.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Maggie had said, over and over. And then she’d made up her mind. ‘I don’t want him to know.’

  Maggie had been too scared of the ramifications if he did.

  Now, nearly six months into her pregnancy, Maggie woke before her alarm and looked at the little glass bottle that she had since moved from the shelf to her bedside table.

  Every morning when she awoke, he was the person that came first to mind and he continued to dance through her thoughts as she went about her day.

  She had managed.

  Better than that, with more than a little help from her wonderful friends, Maggie had a future in place.

  She had started a course in bookkeeping with the hope of being able to work from home for a while once the baby arrived. Kerry and Paul’s son was about to move from his cot to a bed and so that was taken care of. As well as that, she was working every hour possible to save up what she could.

  Maggie had found a flat that was a little more baby friendly and in two weeks’ time she would be moving.

  Again.

  Yes, she had plans in place, and the future looked far more secure than it had in those first weeks after she had found out.

  Now that she could finally breathe a little easier, her absolute certainty that Ilyas must never know faded.

  Her first scan had looked like a blob of grey on grey and Maggie had simply headed straight into work afterwards, still unable to reconcile herself to the fact that she was going to have a baby.

  But her second scan, yesterday, had changed all of that.

  There was a nose and eyes and fingers and toes and a complete little person on the screen.

  ‘I don’t want to know the sex,’ Maggie had said, but her tiny baby had taken that decision out of her hands and had waved for the camera.

  Maggie was having a boy.

  He was a he and already she loved him.

  It had been a long night, one of immense soul-searching, and one during which Maggie had done her level best to push her own feelings aside and focus on Ilyas and their son.

  She had no family.

  None.

  And if she didn’t at least try to tell Ilyas, she would be all her son had.

  Maggie had always wanted to know about her father.

  At night, in various care homes, she would fall asleep dreaming of aunts and uncles and cousins that were surely out there somewhere...

  Ilyas was so remote, so unreadable that she could not gauge how he would take it.

  That morning, she had lain there, feeling her baby fluttering in her tummy and, needing advice, Maggie had texted Flo.

  Can you stop by the café on your way to work? I have something to ask you.

  * * *

  Maggie smiled as her friend came into the café. Flo’s blonde hair was tied up and Maggie knew she was on her way to a late shift at the hospital. She didn’t need to take her friend’s order since it was carved in stone—hot chocolate and a pain au chocolat.

  ‘Take your lunch when you’re ready,’ Paul called.

  ‘Thanks,’ Maggie replied, and decided to just take the next customer’s order since she had been patiently waiting.

  ‘Can I have a mint hot chocolate, please?’ the lady said. ‘To go.’

  ‘Sure.’ Maggie nodded.

  ‘What’s the cake of the day?’

  ‘Dark chocolate and ginger,’ Maggie said. ‘And I can vouch that it is amazing!’

  Yes, her love of chocolate had returned!

  She took the lady’s order and handed over the change, and it was only then, when the lady held out her hand, that Maggie noticed the white stick that she held in the other and that she was, in fact, blind.

  ‘Enjoy,’ Maggie said, placing the money in her palm and then, once she had put it away, handing her the cake and the cup.

  Paul had already made up her and Flo’s lunches and they soon sat down to their delights as the lady made her way out.

  ‘I didn’t realise she was blind when I served her,’ Maggie admitted as she watched her skilfully negotiate the glass door.

  Flo looked up from adding sugar to her already sweet hot chocolate and watched the lady leave.

  How Flo got away with it, Maggie would never know. She was tiny, even though she ate like a horse and had never set foot in a gym. As well as that she was blonde and gorgeous.

  And an utter dating disaster!

  Flo attracted bastards more than anyone Maggie had ever met.

  Her china-blue eyes seemed to draw them in like moths to a flame.

  ‘She wasn’t born blind,’ Flo declared.

  ‘Sorry?’ Maggie checked.

  ‘If someone is born blind they don’t know to know to turn their head towards voices or lift their face to the sun,’ Flo explained, ‘because they’ve never seen light or colour. Whereas, if someone loses their sight later on, they’ve already got the responses.’

  ‘Oh!’ Maggie said, as she poured some cream onto her cake. ‘You know the most amazing things!’

  ‘Oh, I do. I see that you’ve got your appetite back!’

  ‘I have,’ Maggie agreed, and she took a breath, wondering what Flo’s reaction would be when she told her why she’d asked her to drop by.

  But Flo thought she had already worked things out.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Flo oh, so, casually said. ‘How would you like me to deliver your baby?’

  Maggie blinked. She had been half expecting Flo to offer to be her support person, but Maggie was even struggling with the thought of that.

  ‘It would be wonderful,’ Flo enthused.

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Maggie shook her head, appalled at the very thought. ‘No way!’

  ‘But you can’t be on your own.’

  ‘I’d prefer to be,’ Maggie said.

  Yet her heart did a thump as she felt the baby move again. A deft kick followed by a ripple as if little hummingbirds were fluttering in her stomach.

  She didn’t want to be on her own.

  But it wasn’t Flo that she wanted there.

  It was Ilyas.

  ‘I thought that was why you asked me here.’ Flo slumped.

  ‘I asked you here because I’m thinking that I need to tell Ilyas,’ Maggie said. ‘I keep being all self-righteous and telling myself it’s for the sake of the baby, or that he deserves to know, but the truth is I want him to know and I want the chance to speak to him again.’ She took a breath. ‘Even if he cares nothing for me.’

  If he cared one iota, surely he’d have made some effort to contact her.

  Surely?

  Yet he hadn’t.

  And no matter how she examined it, there truly was no excuse, not even that he had no idea where she lived.

  He was beyond powerful.

  Ilyas could have found her if he’d so chosen.

  ‘Well, it can’t come as a complete surprise to him,’ Flo said, being practical. ‘You used no protection.’

  ‘We were in the hammam,’ Maggie pointed out.

  Yes, Flo had leached out as many details as she possibly could!

  ‘Standing up!’ Flo rolled her eyes. ‘Please don’t tell me you thought that that would stop you getting pregnant?’

  ‘I meant that there weren’t exactly condoms handy!’ Only that surely wasn’t true. She thought of Ilyas in the tent, reaching over to one of many little wooden boxes, and she was certain there would be a supply easily accessible all around the hammam. That was, after all, its purpose. She thought about that velvet rope again, and then blushed at Flo’s knowing look.

  Somehow protection hadn’t mattered at the time.

  Neither had given it a second’s thought.

  ‘How do you think he’ll take it?’ Flo asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Maggie admitted, and then she thought back. ‘He’s not exactly open. He thinks being cynical is an asset.’

  ‘You’re like that too.’

  ‘At times I can be,’ Maggie agreed, ‘though I cover it well. I’m still a walk in the park compared to him.’ Maggie sighed. ‘But sometimes...’ She thought about his smile and those rare bursts of laughter. How, when lying chatting with him on cushions or beneath the stars, how open he had been at times and how close to him she had felt.

  And then she looked at the glass door and thought about the woman who had just walked through it.

  No one would really know she was blind because she had once known the sun.

  Just as Maggie had been born knowing love.

  Oh, they were long-ago memories, and there were so many forgotten moments, but they came to her at times. Often when she was most fearful. That love she had known with Ilyas could turn a desert abode into a circus tent for a moment, and the thought of her mother’s smile or laughter could still soothe her.

  Because she had known love.

  Ilyas hadn’t.

  He had been born to a world without love.

  ‘I don’t know how to contact him,’ Maggie fretted. ‘I don’t know if I should try to call or write.’

  Flo screwed up her nose at both those ideas but then she brightened. ‘His brother’s at Dion’s tonight.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because Prince Hazin gets kicked out of there every Friday. It’s the reason they’re so popular now!’

  Flo knew where all the rich and beautiful gathered!

  Dion’s was a bar set within a very plush hotel. It had once been a place to gather for pre-theatre drinks. It was old-fashioned but lately had become oddly trendy—a sort of retro, fifties-style bar that now had people lining up to get in.

  ‘You’ve spoken to him before,’ Flo said. ‘Why don’t you go there tonight and tell Hazin that you need to speak with his brother?’

  ‘Oh, so I just walk in and tap him on the shoulder?’ Maggie said dryly. ‘I doubt he’ll even remember me. And, anyway, I’ll never get in.’

  Dion’s was terribly exclusive and a playground for the seriously rich, but Flo knew one of the doormen and she knew what it took to get in.

  ‘Dress up!’ Flo said. ‘Wear black and leave your hair down and show some of that fabulous new cleavage. No one will be looking at your stomach!’ She waved away the exclusive entry requirements as if they were nothing more than a slight irritation but Maggie remained hesitant and shook her head.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can—I’ll come with you.’

  ‘You’re working.’

  ‘I can be there by ten, unless I’m in with a delivery.’

  ‘I’ll never get in on my own.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to wait outside till I get there—I wouldn’t leave you mid-second-stage labour.’ Flo smiled and gathered her bag. ‘I’m an amazing midwife, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.’

  And then she was gone, leaving Maggie with her head spinning.

  She had wanted to talk to Flo about the possibility of letting Ilyas know.

  Now she had an actual chance to.

  Tonight.

  * * *

  Maggie showered and as she ran the soap over her stomach she felt the swell of the little life within. If nothing came of tonight, at least she could later say that she’d tried to make contact.

  And so she dried off and took for ever trying to sort out her hair. Flo had said to wear it down, but it was too wild for that and too freshly washed to wear up.

  In the end, she smoothed it as best she could and settled for down.

  It had been for ever since she had bothered with make-up but, given that it was Dion’s she was trying to get into, Maggie gave it a good go.

  She put on an ivory foundation that made her look as if she should be heading out to haunt houses instead of meeting a prince in a cocktail bar, but a dash of rouge took care of that. She put on a neutral eye shadow but added eyeliner and lashings of mascara.

  It was actually fun to dress up.

  In fact, it had been too long since she had.

  A year of backpacking had put paid to stilettos, and even before that Maggie had never really been one for painting the town red.

  She painted her lips red tonight, though.

  Flo wouldn’t recognise her, Maggie thought, let alone Hazin.

  Her one little black dress wasn’t really designed for a pregnant woman, but she squeezed herself into it and arranged her rather spectacular cleavage. There wasn’t loads but she had started with so little that it was certainly a change. Then Maggie topped the look off with stilettos and teetered to the mirror.

  There was something missing...

  Maggie wasn’t sure what it was because she tried a necklace but that was too much, and she tried a little wrap to cover her very white arms, but that just looked stupid.

 

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