Innocent In The Sheikh's Palace (Mills & Boon Modern) Read online

  “Your Royal Highness.” The doctor bowed slightly. “Have you met Ms. Meeks?”

  Ms., not Mrs. A small mercy? Akin’s mind raced to the next steps in what he needed to do to recover from this ambush.

  “Not officially. Hannah. And you’re a Royal Highness?” Hannah’s surprise was filled with confusion as she looked between them. When the door clicked closed behind the nurse, Hannah finally began to look concerned.

  “Sheikh Akin Sarraf,” he introduced himself, using his simplified English address to save the doctor bumbling through his full name. He and Hannah were about to become closely acquainted. No use standing on ceremony.

  “The Crown Prince of Baaqi,” the doctor impressed on Hannah.

  “Am I, though?” Akin asked in a light tone that made generals shake in their boots.

  The doctor went white.

  “I don’t understand why we’re both here,” Hannah said in bafflement, glancing warily at the closed door.

  “You will. Have a seat,” Akin said.

  The doctor sank back into his own, hands trembling as he shifted a couple of file folders on his desk.

  Hannah took the arms of a chair and lowered herself into it, but Akin remained on his feet, arms crossed, bracing himself for the bombs that would land in the next few seconds.

  “I presume you found the misplaced sample?” he prompted.

  “What sample?” Hannah blurted, snapping her head around and proving herself not completely lacking in the ability to make a deduction. Her hands took hold of the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles went white. She leaned forward as though ready to leap back onto her feet.

  Dr. Peters drew a shaken breath and sent a deeply remorseful look toward Akin that did not move him one iota. The doctor swallowed.

  “To bring you up to speed, Ms. Meeks, I should tell you that Sheikh Akin’s brother—”

  “The late Crown Prince,” Akin interjected.

  “Yes. Um... Crown Prince Eijaz was a client. Sadly, he succumbed to a lengthy battle with cancer in March. Before he began his treatments, he had us store six sperm samples, in hopes he would survive and marry. He wanted to ensure he could produce an heir.”

  Why Eijaz had chosen a New York clinic would remain a mystery. He had been diagnosed while visiting here, so it might have been an impulse or convenience. The clinic had an excellent reputation, but it was clearly not infallible.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” Hannah said, sounding sincere. “But I’m sure that news has nothing to do with me.” She spoke firmly, rejecting the obvious conclusion the way Akin had fruitlessly tried to do. She was pushing her whole body deep into that chair now, shoulders rounding defensively, hunkering down for the inevitable that she could sense was about to befall her.

  “The royal family recently made the difficult decision to destroy the Prince’s samples. Prince Akin is—” the doctor cleared his throat “—currently the acknowledged heir.”

  At no time had Akin coveted that role, despite all his father’s failings and his brother’s glaring lack of capacity for ruling a country. Akin had long moved past any opinions whatsoever on being “the spare.” He had no feelings beyond grief at being called upon to take up the duties of king.

  He had begun to prepare for the responsibility, though.

  And now he was being relegated to the shadows again. It wasn’t that it stung; it was just so damned cold there. Bleak.

  Hannah was looking at him with a small frown, as though she could see past his hardened expression into the turmoil he worked so hard to ignore.

  “In the course of our task, it was discovered we only had five of the Prince’s samples in our bank,” Dr. Peters continued.

  Hannah brought her attention back to him. Her color had been leaching from her skin through the last minutes. She licked her lips and spoke in a voice that was very careful, as though she was fighting to hold on to her composure.

  “Are you asking me to bring my dogged librarian skills to bear and help you find it?”

  “Please, Ms. Meeks. Let’s not have jokes. This is an extremely serious matter.” The doctor shot Akin a look that was downright terrified. “We had the blood sample you donated last month for our research database. We used it to run a DNA test and can confirm that Prince Eijaz’s sample was used to inseminate you. I’m very sorry.”

  Akin had been expecting exactly this, but it still punched a curse from his lips. The profanity rang loud and clear in the small room. He didn’t apologize. His brain was folding in on itself with the ramifications. He began formulating his best plans of action, seeking a win while protecting his flanks.

  Hannah only gave a disbelieving huff.

  “You’re sorry? Why? I didn’t know the donor’s name and now I do. That will be nice if any health concerns arise in future, but nothing changes. I have the baby I wanted and I’m the furthest thing from sorry for it.”

  Akin had to admire her bravado. It wasn’t true confidence. Her voice quivered. Behind that poise, she understood that reality as she knew it had been altered irrevocably, but she was pretending she still had choices. Autonomy. If he was a man with a heart in the metaphoric sense, he might have found it endearing and called her “cute” for it.

  “When are you due?” Akin asked her.

  She jolted. He realized he was using the tone that snapped young soldiers into following orders.

  Not a single enlisted man would dare refuse to answer him, but she stubbornly set her jaw and sealed her lips, as though refusing to speak would somehow help her keep that baby all to herself.

  “Six weeks,” Dr. Peters provided after a glance into one of the files before him. “December 29. The sex is...a boy. Congratulations.” He threw a smile toward Hannah. “Everything is progressing normally.”

  “What the hell are you doing? I’m your patient,” Hannah interjected with a tap against her breastbone. “I don’t know him.” She pointed at Akin. “I did not give you permission to share my confidential information. I didn’t even want to know the sex. Are you completely abandoning professionalism and embracing full clown car?”

  Apt description, and Akin empathized with her flare of temper. He really did. But he controlled his own as Dr. Peters continued to speak.

  “We understand this is distressful and will be taking responsibility. Our lawyers have been notified and will be in touch to work out fair settlements with both of you.”

  “How charmingly American,” Akin said tersely. “Throw lawyers and money at a problem to make it go away.” The clinic would suffer a higher premium on their future malpractice insurance, but otherwise remain unscathed. If anything, their reputation would benefit. Women would line up for a chance at accidentally carrying royal blood. Whatever was awarded to Akin’s family would be a drop in the bucket of billions they already possessed and would provide no real compensation for all that was about to happen.

  Because he and Hannah faced a lifetime of reckoning with this error.

  “It doesn’t matter how this happened, since it has, but how did it?” Akin asked.

  “We had a flu sweep through the clinic. Hannah’s doctor was sick along with other key staff. Once a woman has prepared for the procedure, we don’t like to ask her to wait. We’re very tightly booked and had an intern—”

  “I get the picture,” Akin cut in, already bored with the perfect storm of incompetence.

  “Whether I’m awarded a settlement or not, I intend to continue paying my instalments.” Hannah set trembling fingers atop her bump. “So there’s no question this baby is completely mine.”

  So cute. Truly.

  “Is she safe to travel?” Akin asked.

  “If the appropriate precautions are taken.” The doctor used a handkerchief to dab the beads of sweat from his brow as he glanced at Hannah. “I have a nurse standing by to accompany you.”

 
; “To go where?” Hannah pinched her arm. “Am I even awake? Did I slip on the ice and I’m in a coma?”

  “Hannah, the Sarraf family is very wealthy and powerful. I recommend you cooperate—” the doctor began, but she cut him off.

  “No,” she said resolutely. She flattened her feet to the floor and thrust her belly into the air as she pushed herself to stand. “I don’t care what your inept intern did or how formidable your deceased client’s family is. This is my baby. Not yours to give away to someone else. Definitely not his. I’m going home. I will drink my cup of chamomile tea and have a nap. When I wake up, I will discover this didn’t even happen.”

  “Prince Eijaz didn’t approve this use of his sperm,” Dr. Peters said in an urgent effort to reason with her. “If you weren’t so far along, we would insist on termination—”

  “Don’t you even.” Hannah had one hand splayed on her belly. She slapped the other onto the doctor’s desk, looking as though she would vault over it and tear out the man’s throat. Her face turned red. Her expression was the most threatening thing Akin had ever seen on a woman. It was a sight to behold and he had to respect her for it.

  “The doctor is wrong,” Akin interjected. “Termination would not be an option. Your son is the next ruler of Baaqi. That wouldn’t change no matter what stage of pregnancy you were in. I would die protecting his life, today or any other day, as is my honor and duty.”

  Hannah straightened and looked at him with confused mistrust. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “You don’t know that, Ms. Meeks,” he said with dry irony. “The future is extremely unpredictable, as our present circumstance demonstrates. Neither of us expected this would be our destiny an hour ago, did we?”

  “My destiny hasn’t changed.”

  “It very much has,” he informed, experiencing an uncharacteristic shred of pity. He might have spared some for himself if he didn’t know what a useless emotion it really was. “Our rulers are born in Baaqi, Ms. Meeks. Therefore, you are coming with me. You may stay as our guest and provide the loving care and guidance you clearly intended to bestow on him as he grows up there, but that is where he will grow up.”

  “Counteroffer. You ask Dr. Peters for a referral to a psychiatrist, because you’re clearly delusional. Goodbye.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  HANNAH WAS SHAKING so hard she could barely walk. She had to set a hand on the wall as she made her way down the hall, feet heavy as lead while her heart raced, and her vision going in and out.

  It didn’t matter who the father was. That was the conclusion she had reached when she had decided to seek artificial insemination. All she’d wanted was a healthy specimen and she had been assured she had one.

  She had been happy not knowing who the father was. It meant the baby was all hers. There wouldn’t be any troublesome interference from a deadbeat father or an interfering mother-in-law. She had had a very special relationship with her grandmother, and she had looked forward to that same unconditional embrace of familial love. The kind that made a home a home. That made life worth living.

  Dear God. The umbrella guy from the SUV had replicated into six more. They were all dressed in flawless dark gray suits with black-and-silver striped ties. One melted through the exit when she appeared. The pair stationed at the door each set out a hand to indicate she couldn’t pass. Two more stood next to the only other doors that led from the reception area. They all looked past her as she appeared.

  Because the prince, or sheikh, or whatever Akin was, had practically stepped on her heels the whole way down the hall. She refused to look at him as she shrugged into her coat, but it didn’t change the fact her heart was hammering so loudly it threatened to knock her over. Or that she felt his presence looming like a cloud that would envelop and smother her.

  “Ms. Meeks will be traveling to Baaqi with us. She will be shown every consideration.” He didn’t touch her but halted close enough behind her shoulder that she felt the warmth off his body, even through her coat.

  “I’m not getting on a plane with you!” Hannah looked to the reception desk, but the waiting area was deserted. What the hell? She thought about shoving her elbow into Akin’s gut and making a run for it—as if his rugby team of bodyguards wouldn’t tackle her.

  “Give your keys and address to Omid. He’ll ensure your things are forwarded.”

  His voice had the most authoritative ring of Do it she’d ever heard, but she had a lifetime’s experience of standing up to chauvinists, misogynists and bullies. She straightened her spine—which only stuck her belly out further—and bluffed a complete lack of intimidation.

  “No.” What was he going to do? Beat her up and risk this precious baby he was sworn to protect?

  “Hannah.” Along with the musical lilt intrinsic to his own language, his English held a crisp British pronunciation, as though he’d learned it at a fancy boarding school. It added an annoying note of condescension to his air of superiority. “You’re a vulnerable woman who is heavily pregnant. You’ve just received very shocking news, so I’m overlooking your insolence, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. You have arrived at the limit I possess. If you want a power struggle, we can engage in one. I will win. That won’t be good for any of us, most especially the baby.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Defer to whatever you decree?” She waved a wild hand.

  “Most people do. It makes everything run more smoothly.”

  The arrogant ass wasn’t even joking.

  “Let’s speak somewhere with more privacy,” he suggested.

  She didn’t move, aware in the back of her head that, much as she wanted to, she couldn’t pretend this wasn’t happening. Tears of panic were hot behind her eyes, but she fought them just as she fought to remain rational. Surely they had options that didn’t include overturning her life?

  “You can follow me to my apartment.” She turned and swept past his door guards but was pulled up short by the snow falling like clumps of mashed potatoes beyond the second set of doors.

  One of the bodyguard clones stood in that soppy mess next to Akin’s SUV, ready to open the door when his boss appeared.

  “You can’t drive in this.” Akin arrived beside her. “Come with me. One of my men will take your car.”

  “I can drive myself. I drove here, didn’t I?” She closed her lips over that. If he said one word about how she had locked herself in her own car...

  “My vehicle is safer. My driver is trained for inclement conditions. You already know I’m chivalrous. I helped you out of your car and walked you in, didn’t I?”

  Worst mistake of her life, relying on him for five seconds.

  “I’m not going to let you talk me into anything,” she warned.

  “But you do understand we’ve been put in a remarkable position. It needs further discussion.” He offered his arm.

  After a final moment of hesitation, she went outside with him, down the steps, and clumsily climbed into the back of his SUV.

  He came in beside her and offered, “Seat warmer?” He pressed a button, then held out his hand. “Keys.”

  It was a relief not to have to drive. She excavated her keys from her bag, letting him relay them out the door before she realized—“I need those to get into my apartment.”

  “They’ll be there before we will.”

  The doors shut and the SUV pulled away. She pondered that comment, looking back to see two of the men climbing into her messy car, moving her laptop case into the back seat. But just as she began to fear she was being a complete ninny and had participated in her own kidnapping, one of the men in the front asked for her address and relayed it to the other men.

  She relaxed a little and glanced at Akin. He was bringing his telephone to his ear, speaking in Arabic.

  She could point to Baaqi on a map, but she didn’t recall much about it beyond it being incredib
ly rich in oil reserves. It was one of those small lynchpin countries that had suffered unrest over the last decade, from both inside and along its borders. Everyone knew who Crown Prince Eijaz was, of course, and not just because he was a photogenic playboy with millions of online followers, forever vacationing with beautiful women while caught up in one sexy scandal after another. No, he was notorious for his petulant social media post a few years ago, when he’d been stranded in the Maldives. It had sparked a meme that was regularly reposted in response to tone-deaf First World problems.

  My avocado toast is scorched.

  Oh, muffin. It’s like the time your private jet broke down in the Maldives.

  She was having a hard time comprehending that that man had fathered her baby. It didn’t fit in her head that her baby’s father was an infamous philanderer and his brother was...? She hadn’t even realized there was another Prince of Baaqi.

  She pulled out her own phone to learn more, but Akin reached out to cover her screen.

  “We’ll keep this between us for now.”

  “I was only going to look something up.” Him. She dropped her phone into her bag.

  It was nice, though, that he thought she had the kind of friends whom she would text Guess what just happened to me? She did have people in her contacts list. She wasn’t the isolated child she had once been. These days she had colleagues who were polite enough to invite her to retirement parties and baby showers. Students brought her a latte when she saved their bacon by sourcing a book or other reference document they needed. She was friendly with some of the authors she worked with, but only with the sort of online chatting that was mostly superficial. Do you have kids? No, but I want one.

  Friendships had never been her strong suit any more than suitors had. Growing up, Hannah had had her grandmother to ease the sting of friends turning on her or dropping away, but after Grammy passed and she’d rented out their bungalow in Syracuse to take her current job at Columbia University, loneliness had become her most steadfast companion.