The Sheikh’s Pregnant Lover (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid Book 1) Read online

“We should choose based on which products have the best safety ratings.”

  “Of course we should.” Hannah glanced up from the phone’s screen. “It’s a good idea. Of course we want the baby to be safe.” She pursed her lips. “But this crib has a fine safety rating. It’s highly rated. See?”

  “Look at these reviews.” Kyril clicked down to the negative review section of the website. “These people are adamant. It’s not a good crib.”

  “Fine,” Hannah said with a sigh. “Let’s look at the gray one.”

  On and on, through cribs and bouncers and bassinets, Kyril found nothing but mixed reviews. By the time he happened upon the negative review section of a swaddle blanket, he dropped the phone to his lap in frustration.

  “Don’t do that.” Hannah picked up the phone and scrolled back up to the photo of the blankets. “All of these things—even the furniture—have good reviews, overwhelmingly. Some of the negative ones might just be outliers. Or user error. We can’t discount that.”

  “I won’t take the risk on our child,” Kyril said firmly. “Maybe I should call someone in. Hire professionals to handle the nursery after all.”

  “What?” Hannah heaved herself up on one elbow. “That’s—no. We can’t do that.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because—” Exasperated, she ran a hand through her hair. “Because everyone’s life comes with risks. There’s no way to ensure that this baby never scrapes a knee or breaks an arm. You must see that.”

  “I see that safety is my highest priority. Is it yours?”

  She glared at him. “The people who designed these nurseries are the professionals. You brought magazines full of high-end, five-star safety rated furniture, Kyril. The Internet is full of people who want to make trouble and leave bad reviews.” She huffed away from him, frowning. “And I can’t believe you said that.”

  Hannah shook her head a little, and with a pang he realized it was about more than the furniture. Hannah’s life had come with risks and hardships he couldn’t imagine. Losing her parents? It must be awful, especially now, as she was about to become a parent herself.

  “I’m sorry.” He put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently. “You’ll have the final say.”

  Hannah’s shoulders slumped. “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll have professionals put together some good options. To cover all the bases. You can choose from those.”

  She leaned her head back against the pillow and tossed the magazine on her lap onto the side table. “Fine.”

  “I have to finish a conversation with Rami—it should only take a few minutes. Do you want to wait by the pool?”

  “No,” Hannah said flatly. “I’m tired.”

  She was angry, but as Kyril left the bedroom, he was more satisfied than sorry. He’d given her choices that worked for him. It was his right.

  15

  The boxes just kept coming.

  And coming.

  And coming.

  Hannah put a smile on and tried to bury her guilt so deep she couldn’t feel it, but it was hard. All those years she’d raised Helen on the tightest budget imaginable. Even a few dollars extra each paycheck would have let the knot at the back of her shoulders loosen. It would have been life changing. She’d have given anything to have boxes of the finest clothes delivered to their tiny apartment.

  She was living her dream, but it didn’t feel very dreamlike.

  After Kyril had come back to the bedroom, they’d forged a truce. Hannah had chosen from the best-rated items, and Kyril had the final say. It was amazing how many white cribs came with five-star ratings, but he was meticulous. It warmed her heart to see him fussing over it.

  In a way.

  It would have been easier if she’d been able to choose what she liked, and try as she might to dissolve it, that resentment still boiled at the pit of her gut. It was a low-level boil, like water that wasn’t quite ready for noodles, but it was there nonetheless. He’d taken control of all her plans in Venice. He’d planned their wedding ceremony without any of her input. He’d ordered food for her, more than once.

  Forget it, she told herself sternly as the last of the boxes was placed in a neat row at the back of the nursery. There were more than she’d anticipated.

  Alone with her boxes, Hannah ran her hands over the smooth cardboard of each one. She’d brought a pair of scissors to cut them open, and she felt a sweet anticipation for all of it. Kyril’s money, she reminded herself, would give her a new kind of freedom—even if it didn’t feel like that. This time, raising a child wouldn’t come with any financial cares. She could have anything she needed. It wouldn’t be like the childhood she’d given her sister. Though, come to think of it, that had been a nice childhood, too.

  Halfway through opening the boxes and cooing over all the baby items inside, she found it.

  “There you are,” Hannah said to the box, then looked over her shoulder. Hameen, the head of her detail, must be down the hall.

  She opened the package.

  It was an empty mobile, with strings for attaching your own decorations.

  Hannah’s heart leapt.

  So she couldn’t choose the furniture. So what? This would be her contribution.

  She rushed the mobile and all its attendant parts back to the bedroom and dug out a shoebox from their massive walk-in closet. Hannah laid all of it out on the bed and opened the lid.

  There.

  All her ornaments, collected from her—admittedly truncated—world tour. A miniature beer stein from Germany, and a model of a Venetian gondola. A whitewashed charm from Santorini. A gleaming ship’s wheel from the cruise ship. A model of the Eiffel Tower, from Paris.

  She’d been longing for a DIY nursery like the kind she’d seen in the magazines, behind all the photos of the perfect ones. All the crafts.

  She beamed down at the ornaments and picked up the gondola to attach first.

  Hannah was satisfied. She could still have this.

  * * *

  On Saturday, Kyril woke Hannah up early, out of a dream in which she’d lost all the pieces of the mobile and had to start over. It was true—she hadn’t been satisfied with the arrangement yesterday and wanted to make sure all the pieces balanced each other—but the situation wasn’t nearly so desperate as the one in her dream. Plus, she’d branched out from the mobile and had some embroidery supplies sent in. It was a project she’d seen online—something framed and so adorable it squeezed Hannah’s heart.

  “Wake up, darling.”

  Hannah stretched, grumbling into her pillow. “Not yet.”

  “Wake up,” Kyril insisted, laughing. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Hannah pushed herself up on her elbows, then fell back dramatically against the pillow, her hair falling over her face. “What is it?” If it was another movie marathon, she could handle that. But otherwise…

  “We’re leaving.”

  She pushed her hair out of her face and sat up. “What? Where? I thought you were busy.”

  Kyril took her hand. “I am busy. But you—” He nodded toward the craft supplies overtaking every inch of the desk over on the side wall. There was even embroidery thread tangled in the sheets with Hannah. “You’ve been busy, too. Too busy. All this planning and…” Kyril surveyed the knotted threads. “…crafting. We need a break together.”

  It was music to Hannah’s ears. They could use a break together. Somewhere spontaneous. Her heart glowed at the memory of their first honeymoon—those long, lazy days on the yacht, the way Kyril’s body relaxed after a few hours in the sun. Maybe they could have more of that.

  “I’ll hop online this morning to make plans…just as soon as I have a chance to pee.” She leaned forward and kissed him, then hopped out of bed, taking an extra moment to catch her balance. Kyril caught her by the arm, concern etching his face. “I’m just waking up,” Hannah chided. “It’s okay.”

  “Everything’s planned,” Kyril said, stopping her on her way to the opu
lent bathroom in their suite.

  That little phrase stopped her in her tracks, and she turned to face Kyril, suddenly aware of her rumpled sleep set. “All planned? Already? I thought—”

  He got up from the bed and followed her, running his own hands through her hair. Kyril’s touch normally would have soothed Hannah, but in this moment she found it annoying.

  “Let me do this for you.” Well, if his touch wasn’t going to calm her, his voice might. That smooth, rich tone…she couldn’t get enough of it. “I’ve booked the arrangements through a travel agent so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “I like worrying about things. I’m really good at planning trips, Kyril. I—” The words poured out one by one. She sounded so ungrateful. “I got the wrong impression. I thought it was going to be a more…spontaneous thing. I thought maybe we’d plan it together.”

  His hands paused, and he looked into her eyes. “Think of it this way. You’ve been tired lately, and when we go on this vacation, everything will already be prepared for us. All we need to do is show up.”

  “Still…”

  “You need to get away from the palace,” Kyril said firmly.

  It annoyed her. The declaration. The…arrogance. It woke her up.

  “You know,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I can make that decision for myself.” She stood as tall as she could despite a tightness in her lower back. “And I can plan where I want to vacation, too.”

  “My darling.” His quiet confidence stilled her lips. “It’s a lot of pressure, living here. I know that. I don’t expect it to be easy for you. And all this work?” He motioned again at her craft projects. “I know it’s keeping you up at night. It’s the perfect time to get away and recharge.”

  “It’s not recharging if everything is regimented by someone else.” She was tired. There was no getting around it. But that didn’t mean she was helpless. “I wanted to go to Athens. If I’m going anywhere, it’ll be Athens.”

  “Athens will always be waiting for us,” said Kyril, and then he bent to cover her mouth with his, a kiss so deeply passionate that it took her breath away. When they finally came up for air, she was centered…if a little lightheaded with a ringing want for him.

  “Come with me,” coaxed Kyril. “You’ll enjoy it. You know you will.”

  Hannah took a deep breath. “I’ll enjoy it if I’m allowed to make plans. If you’re not going to give me some leeway, I’ll stay here.”

  His face settled into seriousness. “It might be…restful to take advantage of this break in the schedule.”

  Hannah stretched. There would be other battles to win. And this one…she was too tired for this one. “You’re right.”

  “Tell me that again.” Kyril grinned, displaying his cut cheekbones in a way that made Hannah’s core heat.

  “Well, you are.” She pressed her forehead against his chest and sighed. “I’ve been very tired. And stressed. And I was wishing for a little…escape.”

  Kyril held her close, and all that was left of her irritation dissolved under his palms. They would be alone, and that was all that really mattered. Yes, Hannah would have loved to open a few brochures, visit a few websites, and whip up an itinerary that would put any travel agent’s to shame. But she was pregnant and overwhelmed, and as much as she didn’t want him to, Kyril had the right solution.

  “It’ll be worth it,” he said into her ear. The whisper of his breath against that delicate shell sent shivers racing down her spine.

  “How much time do we have before we leave?”

  “It’s a private jet.” His eyes burned into her in the dim light of the room. “We can leave as soon…or as late…as you want.”

  “I just need a shower.” Hannah took his hand and turned it over, revealing his palm. Kyril’s hands boasted a fine layer of callouses from all the time he spent in the gym, and she had to admit…she appreciated it.

  “I can make that worth it, too.”

  16

  Hannah got one thing she wished for: more time on the yacht. After a long, sensual turn in the shower, they’d taken a car to the port and left Al-Dashalid behind, sailing for Rome.

  They lazed on the boat until they arrived, and Hannah appreciated every moment of Kyril’s handsome body in the sun. She hadn’t noticed the tension in her shoulders until Kyril rubbed it away their first day on the Mediterranean. It was delicious. Delectable.

  Until it came back.

  She’d planned to go to Rome at the end of her trip, circling back through southern Italy. She was going to board another cruise ship there for the trip back to the States. Hannah even had the original itinerary, tucked away in her bag. As if she’d ever get rid of those precious documents.

  But the itinerary wasn’t to be.

  Kyril held her hand through many of the most magnificent sights in Rome. Each one had been specially curated, and he’d gone the extra mile to get behind-the-scenes tours. They took a private tour of St. Peter’s Basilica and attended an exclusive dinner while the Colosseum towered above them. Kyril hired a local expert to guide them through the Forum nearby, and Hannah’s blood sang with the history that shimmered and shone around her. Some of the columns had stood for thousands of years. Thousands. How many other women had walked in their shadows?

  And still, her heart ached for everything she was missing.

  Kyril wouldn’t plan a day trip to hike the foothills outside of Rome because the hike would be too taxing. He dismissed the idea of visiting the Tarpeian Rock outright because the steep cliff was too dangerous. He left no time in the schedule at all for a swim with ocean creatures, even if led by a guide, because it would be both too taxing and too dangerous.

  It was nice, Hannah admitted, to take a more relaxed approach to the vacation. But she still longed for everything she missed. The planning. The mad rush to see everything before time ran out. She lived for that anticipation, and Kyril had stripped most of it away in the name of safety.

  Being away from the palace was enough, she told herself firmly from the sofa. After a morning wandering the heated cobblestone streets of Rome, Kyril had insisted on coming back to the yacht to rest. He’d retreated to the small but well-appointed office off the main suite to make some phone calls, and as she forced herself into some semblance of relaxation, Hannah heard a frustrated grumble from the office.

  “Unbelievable. I was specific—”

  That was something interesting. She got up and padded over to the office door. Kyril leaned against the desk, frowning. “Is everything all right?”

  “I was double-checking the itinerary for this afternoon,” Kyril said shortly. “The agent booked us a specialty wine tasting.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was very clear about the kinds of activities—”

  Hannah’s heart leapt. “So we have a vacancy in the schedule?”

  “I’ll find something else to take its place.”

  “I’ll do it.” It was a bold move, snatching his phone out of his hand, but she did it anyway. “This is my afternoon to plan, understood?” She made her way out of the office with a big smile on her face. Kyril raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t stop her.

  Until it was time to get in the Jeep.

  “This isn’t something you should be doing,” he said, eyeing the vehicle with a skeptical expression. “Your condition—”

  “My condition is really my body, Kyril, and riding in a Jeep is going to be fine.”

  “I don’t like it.” He shook his head. “Come on, Hannah. I’ll pay the driver and we can find something to do in the city.”

  “No.” Hannah didn’t hesitate. She slid into the backseat of the Jeep and motioned to the driver, who had been standing a short distance away so Kyril could have a discussion with his wife. “I’m going.” She looked determinedly up toward the hills and the rocky path they’d drive. “You can come with me, or you can stay behind, but Kyril?”

  He raised his chin, acknowledging her silently.

  “You can’t sto
p me.”

  He stared at her, eyes narrowed, and then climbed in beside her. “You’re not going alone, then.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon rattling through the Roman hills, looking out over history. At the end of the tour, Kyril hopped out of the Jeep and offered Hannah his hand.

  “What’s that I see on your face?” she said. “Are you smiling?”

  He shrugged. “It was an extraordinary tour.”

  Hannah wrapped an arm around his waist as they walked back toward the city. “See? I know what I’m doing.”

  * * *

  The yacht whisked Hannah and Kyril back to Al-Dashalid, and Hannah soaked up every moment of the travel. She was sun-tired and satisfied, and for once she didn’t mind curling up on the sofa.

  “You look so comfortable,” Kyril said, taking a seat near her feet.

  “I am comfortable. This getaway has been wonderful.” Hannah let the memories play out before her eyes.

  “I have something for you,” Kyril said with a grin, and handed her a business card.

  It had a woman’s name on it, and a telephone number. The card was expensive card stock and the printing was elegant, but otherwise, it gave no indication of who she was.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your personal travel agent.” Kyril rubbed his palms together. “She’s waiting for your call to plan next month’s getaway.”

  Hannah stared down at the card.

  “I want you to have time to relax,” Kyril continued. “The agent has a list of approved activities and destinations, all according to my specifications. I’ve spoken to her about the wine tasting, and she assured me that she will take exquisite care to accommodate your pregnancy and your safety.”

  She was speechless. That didn’t stop Kyril.

  “You’ll still be able to travel, but without the stress of planning and safety considerations. And I know you’ll be safe, even if you choose to travel without me.” Kyril’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t foresee that, but you might want a girls’ weekend with Adira, or—”