She glanced at Qadir. She couldn’t find that with him, but was it possible with someone else? The congregation sat. Qadir reached over and took her hand in his.
It was just for show, she told herself, even as she desperately wanted it to be real. Just a game. A game that was going to break her heart into so many pieces, she was unlikely to ever find a way to make herself whole again.
Maggie sanded the fender with a piece of fine sandpaper. She wanted the finish perfect, which meant doing the details herself. The work was tedious, but she didn’t mind. Focusing on the car was a kind of mental vacation from the weirdness of her life these days.
She adjusted the mask she wore, wishing it weren’t so hot. But she didn’t want to risk breathing in any of the particles. Not while she was pregnant.
The things I do for you, kid, she thought with a smile.
Someone tapped her arm. She jumped and turned, then jerked off the mask as she recognized King Mukhtar.
“Your Highness,” she said in surprise, setting down the sandpaper and wiping her hands on her coveralls. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
What was she supposed to do? Bow? Curtsy? Offer to shake hands?
“Stealth is important for a monarch,” he said without smiling. “Might I have a moment of your time, Ms. Collins?”
That didn’t sound good, she thought grimly. “Yes, of course. My office is through here.”
She led the way and motioned to a seat. But the king remained standing so she did, as well.
“I will get right to the point,” he said, gazing directly into her eyes. “It is time for you to leave El Deharia. You are far too pretty a distraction for my son.”
Maggie didn’t know what to say. The king’s attitude wasn’t a surprise, but she didn’t think he would be so blunt.
Mukhtar continued before she could think of how to respond.
“I didn’t object to the relationship initially,” he told her. “Times are changing and fresh blood is always a good thing. It is not as if there are an excess of princesses or duchesses around for my sons to marry. While your circumstances are modest, so are Kayleen’s and she is an excellent match for As’ad. However, recent changes in your circumstances have convinced me you are not suitable for Qadir.”
Maggie stiffened, but didn’t back down. He was talking about her pregnancy. She doubted anyone expected a virgin bride, but she’d gone a little to far over the line.
“Qadir needs to be available to find someone suitable. He will not look as long as you are around. Perhaps this sounds harsh to you. Unfortunately I have more to consider than most fathers. I have a country and a responsibility to my people. As does Qadir.”
She’d been willing to offer a protest right up until that last bit. But how was she supposed to ignore the needs of an entire country? The king was right—she didn’t belong.
“I will not ask you to pack your bags immediately,” he told her. “But I would like you to begin making arrangements.”
Maggie found her voice. “I have another three weeks’ worth of work on the car,” she said. “I don’t need to stay to see it finished, but I have a few more things I must do. I’ll stay through the end of the week.”
“Thank you for understanding. It is most unfortunate. Under other circumstances…” He cleared his throat. “I wish you well, child.”
The king left.
Maggie stared after him. Her nature was to stand up for herself, to fight for what she wanted. But how could she? The king had told the truth. She wasn’t right for Qadir and she didn’t belong here. It was time for her to leave.
Chapter Thirteen
“H e is an impossible old man,” Qadir said as he paced the length of his living room. “Impossible.”
“Agreed.” Kateb lounged on one of the sofas, smoking a cigar. “Unfortunately he is the king.”
“Perhaps, but he has no right to interfere.”
“You are his son.”
“A matter of no consequence,” Qadir muttered.
Kateb merely raised his eyebrows.
“It is not his place to say who is to be in my life,” Qadir continued.
“You have much energy over a matter that is very small,” his brother pointed out. “Maggie was merely a convenience. You hired her to act as your girlfriend, Qadir. You were not actually with her. Why are you so angry at our father’s interference?”
Qadir couldn’t answer. “It is the principle of the matter,” he said at last.
“Ah, well then. You must do as you see fit. But to me, the simpler solution is to let her go and find another woman to hire. What do you care who plays your pretend lover? Isn’t one woman as good as the next?”
Qadir turned on his brother. The need to strike out, to punish, was as powerful as it was unexpected. Kateb studied him through a cloud of smoke, his dark gaze deceptively lazy.
“I do not want another woman,” Qadir said. “Maggie suits me.” She understood him. She was easy to talk to. Why would he want to start over with someone else? “She is the only one I want.”
Kateb nodded slowly. “That is more of a problem.”
“You will not leave,” Qadir said imperiously.
Maggie was more than ready to stop being dictated to by men. First Jon, then the king and now Qadir. Of all of them, only the king made her nervous, probably because she didn’t actually know how much power he had. There were still rumors of a dungeon downstairs—a place she didn’t ever want to see.