LITMIR.BIZ

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of Rami’s son—because, without question, this was Rami’s son.

      Why wouldn’t she admit it?

      She had everything to gain. She had to know he’d pay whatever price she set for the child.

      Unless the child really mattered to her.

      He supposed that was possible. Not likely, in his experience. His mother, whenever she’d been around, had shown more affection for her poodles than for him or Rami; he had female employees, executives on the fast track, whose kids were virtually being raised by nannies.

      Nothing wrong with that.

      It did children good to grow up with a sense of independence.

      Wasn’t he living proof of that?

      Still, he knew there were other kinds of mothers.

      He saw them on weekends when he ran in Central Park, playing and laughing with their children

      Maybe Rachel had that kind of thing in her.

      Maybe not.

      Maybe it was all an act.

      Either way, he didn’t give a damn.

      Whatever her reason for making this so complicated, he would be the victor. How much she gained from the battle—six figures, seven, the right to visit with the boy from time to time if she wished—depended on how many obstacles she put in his way.

      He really didn’t want a court fight.

      He knew damned well it would end up splashed in the tabloids, on the cable talk shows, on internet blogs. And both he and Alcantar were better off without that kind of publicity.

      Rachel would acquiesce before things went public. He was certain of it. And this, her silence, was the first proof.

      So he waited, watching her without saying a word, until at last she blinked back those unshed tears.

      “Why are you doing this to me?”

      Her voice was whisper-thin. It almost made him feel guilty—until he thought about his duty to his brother.

      “This isn’t about you,” he said, not unkindly. “It’s about Rami.”

      Rachel shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

      Karim narrowed his eyes.

      “No one calls me a liar.”

      “Not even when you lie to yourself?”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      “I’m talking about too little, too late.” Her voice took on strength; she folded her arms in what was fast-becoming a familiar indication of defiance. “Because, Your Highness, if you’d really cared about your brother you’d have been there for him. You’d have made him see that he couldn’t go on drinking and gambling and living the kind of life people like you live, neck-deep in self-indulgence and money and to hell with decency and honor and—”

      She gasped as he reached for her, ignoring the pull of his seat belt and hers, digging his hands into her shoulders as he pulled her toward him.

      “You don’t know a damned thing about what you call ‘people like me,’ and you sure as hell don’t know anything about my brother except what he showed you when he took you to bed.”

      “I know that you’re heartless. To do what you’re doing to Ethan and me and, yes, even to your brother’s memory—”

      “I’m doing this for his memory. For the honor of our people—an honor he never understood.”

      His hands bit into her shoulders. Then he said something under his breath in a language that sounded as hard and unyielding as he was, and flung her from him.

      “Agree to the testing or find yourself a way to fight me in court,” he growled as he started the car. “Those are your choices. The flight east is a long one. I suggest you use the time to come to a decision.”

      They stopped at the security gate. Karim produced his ID; the guard waved them through. Rachel waited until he’d parked. Then she turned toward him.

      “I just want to get one thing straight.” Her voice shook; she cleared her throat, sat straighter, reminded herself that her enemy would surely make the most of any sign of weakness. “You remember that—that moment in the bathroom when—when I seemed to stop fighting you?”

      “No,” he said coldly, “not in any detail. Did you think I would?”

      She felt her face heat but she’d gone too far to back off now.

      “You’d have remembered my knee where it would have done the most good if you hadn’t let go of me.”

      “So that was … What shall I call it? Misdirection?”

      “It was doing whatever I had to do to get you off me!”

      He nodded, his expression suddenly grave. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

      “Believe me, Your Highness, there won’t be a next time.”

      He gave her a long, steady look. Was he laughing at her? Did he think this was a joke?

      Rachel didn’t wait to find out.

      Instead, she undid her seat belt, got out of the car and took Ethan from the baby seat. Karim reached past her, grabbed her suitcase and the diaper bag, then clasped her elbow with his free hand and began walking toward a silver jet with the emblem of a falcon on its fuselage.

      Steps led up to the open cabin door where two men and a woman, all in dark gray suits, stood watching them.

      “My crew,” Karim said.

      His crew.

      His plane.

      His life.

      The sudden reality of what was happening hit Rachel with breath-stealing force. She stumbled; Karim dropped the bags and swept his arm around her waist.

      “Dammit,” he growled.

      The woman rushed down the steps and hurried toward them. She reached for the suitcase and diaper bag but Karim shook his head.

      “Take the child.”

      Rachel pulled back. The woman smiled reassuringly.

      “He’ll be fine with me, ma’am. I’ll take him to the galley. I have diapers ready, food, a little carrier … His Highness saw to everything.”

      Rachel blinked. “He did?”

      “He did,” Karim said briskly. “Go on. Give the baby to Moira, or would you rather run the risk of dropping him?”

      Rachel handed Ethan over. Then she stared at the Sheikh.

      “When did you order all those things?”

      “I had plenty of time to make phone calls while you were packing. There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t take forever to pack.”

      “I didn’t take forever. And are you always so sure of how things will work out? That I was packing at all? Just because you want something doesn’t mean it—” She gasped as he swung her up in his arms. “I can walk!”

      “Yes. So you just demonstrated.”

      He strode to the steps and climbed them. The two men—his pilots, she assumed—snapped to attention.

      Rachel could feel her face burning. Maybe the Sheikh’s crew was accustomed to seeing their lord and master board his plane with a woman in his arms but this kind of dramatic entrance was new to her.

      “I’ll see to those bags, sir,” one of the men said.

      The Sheikh nodded.

      “Fine. I want to get airborne ASAP.”

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