And if I feel like this, imagine what Rose is feeling.

  Rose was dressed in a sharp black suit and high heels, things he had never seen her wear before. Even with the bump of her belly showing, she looked strong and sharp, though anyone who knew her well would see the vulnerable curve of her lips and the worry in her eyes.

  Fahim realized with a start that he did know Rose well. He might know her the best, but he put that thought away to think of it later.

  When the car pulled to a stop in front of the law firm in downtown Boston, Fahim took Rose's hand before they got out.

  “We're going to win this,” he said. “We will. You just have to be strong for a little longer.”

  She looked at him blankly, and then she smiled.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  He wanted to say more, but Alexis Dane was already waving to them from the law firm's steps. She was a steel-eyed woman, one of the best family law attorneys in the state, and she shook their hands with grave courtesy and real warmth.

  “Pleased to meet you both in person finally,” she said as they made their way in. “Of course I wish it could have been in better circumstances.”

  “How's it look?” asked Rose, and Alexis squeezed her shoulder gently.

  “Not as bad as you're afraid it might,” she said, and then they were there.

  Fahim's first view of Darius Bright went exactly as he had thought it would. He wanted to punch him on sight.

  Bright was dressed as seriously and soberly as a lawyer himself, but he had an expectant and entitled look to him, as if he was a cat who was ready to play a long game with a mouse before finally snapping it up in his jaws. He gave Rose a long look he likely thought was loving, and when Fahim stepped between them, he shrugged as if to say he had all the time in the world.

  Rose, Fahim saw proudly, stood like a statue, as if even noticing Darius was beneath her. She looked as if nothing in the world could hurt her, and Fahim's heart swelled with love for this brave woman.

  The mediator was an older man, a senior partner at the firm hosting the mediation, and he greeted both sides gravely. He was just asking them for their statements of purpose, but Alexis halted things.

  “Before we begin, Fahim would like to disclose certain information we have newly acquired.”

  Bright's lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Both parties know the situation,” she said, and Fahim smiled at her.

  “Yes, but not all parties know what the others know.”

  The mediator shot him a faintly irritated look, which Fahim knew he deserved. Revelations of this sort should be offered before mediation actually occurred, but some things took time, and they had been running out.

  “Go ahead,” the mediator said, and Fahim opened his folder, despite having most of the contents memorized. If he was honest, he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to forget them for a while.

  “These events all took place within the last two years,” he began. “If further identifications are necessary, they can be provided. January twenty-second, Bruce Yang, a sound engineer at the Miramar in Madison, Wisconsin, states that after Ms. Adams was given a bouquet of flowers by a fan, Bright ripped the flowers away from her, shredded them, and shouted that she shouldn't accept flowers from anyone but him.”

  Rose sat as still as stone, while across the table, Bright narrowed his eyes. His lawyer made a note, and Alexis nodded in encouragement. Fahim continued.

  “March third, Sheila Freedman, a make-up artist at the Keel Theater in Birmingham, England, states that Bright stormed into Ms. Adams's dressing room, demanding to know why she had chosen to wear a certain dress, and calling her a number of slurs and foul names for what he deemed inappropriate behavior. The incident ended with a mirror broken, which was attributed to my client's erratic behavior and which she was forced to pay for. Although the witness hadn’t seen the mirror break, she said that when she stepped into the dressing room a moment later, it seemed clear to her that Mr. Bright had thrown several pieces of fruit toward Ms. Adams.”

  Fahim was suddenly reminded of Rose's first day at the palace, when he had said that her jeans weren't acceptable attire for her position. He knew that it wasn't as bad as what Darius had done, but it was bad enough, and he decided then and there that he would never, ever say such a thing again.

  “Look that got blown all out of proportion,” Bright began, but his lawyer shushed him like a stern teacher would a student.

  “Please go on,” she said.

  “May eleventh, Paul Whitaker, a roadie for Rive, states that during sound checks at Allongé in Paris, Bright slapped Ms. Adams for disagreeing with him on a certain technical matter relating to the microphone setup. It was common knowledge among the crew that any questions for Ms. Adams had to go through Bright.”

  That one made Bright squirm, and Fahim fought down an urge to reach across the table and throttle him.

  “We have thirty-four similar incidents,” Fahim said, his voice hard. “All of them have a corroborating witness account, with witnesses who are willing to come out with their statement to the press.”

  “Roadies and makeup girls and sound guys,” Bright sneered. “Who's going to listen to them?”

  Instead of agreeing, his lawyer shook her head.

  “I would like to adjourn this meeting in light of these disclosures,” she said, and Fahim grinned, his lawyer persona dropping just enough to address Darius directly.

  “She's good at her job. She's going to tell you that if you take this further, if you force Rose to take this further, this is going all over the papers, tabloids, and Internet. Win or lose, you lose.”

  Bright stood up suddenly, and for a moment, Fahim thought he was actually going to lunge across the table at Rose. He acted without thinking, springing up and throwing an arm in front of Rose to push her back if necessary, but Bright wasn't even looking at him.

  “You can't do this to me Rose,” he said. “We're special. We're together, I want this—”

  Rose stood as well, Alexis on her other side and ready to pull her back, and out of the corner of his eye, Fahim could see Rose examining Darius, looking at the years she had spent afraid of this man and what he could do. In an instant, that fear was gone, replaced with anger and disgust.

  “I can do exactly this to you,” Rose said, “and I can do it, Darius, because you are absolutely nothing.”

  Bright's face went slack with shock and dismay, and Fahim didn't think he could have hurt him any worse if he had actually punched the man.

  The mediator was demanding decorum in his office, Bright's lawyer was trying to get him to sit down, and Alexis was informing Bright that this would go on the record. In the middle of all that, Rose turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

  Rose was silent in the car, and Fahim sat on his urge to tell her how thoroughly they had won. Bright's lawyer had said that the full custody agreement would be in their lawyer’s inbox within the week, and given the shattered look that Bright had given them, he wasn't going to fight them. There were provisions built in—that if Bright attended anger management classes, showed a good-faith effort to change, visitation would be possible—but Fahim was fairly certain that Bright wouldn't bother.

  It's always that way with bullies, he wanted to tell Rose. Once you proved that they couldn't hurt you any more, they lost whatever presence they had.

  When Rose finally spoke, he didn't expect the words that came out of her mouth.

  “I can't thank you enough,” she said, and Fahim blinked.

  “It was really watching you with your family that did it,” he said cautiously. “Different points of view, witnesses, it all came from that talk about you at the zoo.”

  Rose snorted, shaking her head.

  “Who would have thought that my early felonies would lead to my getting full custody of my baby?” she said, shaking her head. “But I wasn't talking about that.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head.

  “I can't believe how much money you and your family spent on this. It took some serious cash to gather that much testimony in just a few days. From you, from Maryam, from Ziad...”

  “It was what needed to be done, and it was given willingly,” Fahim insisted. “This is something they wanted to do; no one was compelled. Once I told them about this, they were eager to help. They told you so themselves.”

  “I need to call them and thank them again,” Rose said distractedly, and Fahim took her hand.

  “Let it go for now,” he said firmly. “You can thank them later if you must, but truly, they wanted to do it.”

  He realized belatedly that he was holding her hand longer than was seemly, but when he would have pulled back, she hung on, meeting his eyes with hers.

  “I'll never be able to repay you,” she said. “Not even if I had all the money in the world.”

  “I don't want all the money in the world,” he said softly.

  They were silent until the limousine dropped them at Rose's parents’ house. Her parents were out for the day, and the house felt larger in their absence. Fahim watched Rose kick off her heels and pad into the kitchen, where she picked up a granola bar, put it down, poured herself a glass of water and didn't drink it.

  “So what happens now?” asked Rose, and he could tell she had left it open ended for him. He considered for a moment, but there was really no question about what was in his heart.

  “That depends on you.”

  “Me?”

  Fahim nodded, and this time, he didn't hesitate as he crossed the floor to take her hand.

  “Yes. Rose, you must know that I was always going to help you with Darius. No matter what happened between us, I knew that I needed you free of that man. And then?”

  “Then?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “It's up to you,” he said, a slight smile on his face. He had never felt freer. “It depends on what you want. If you want a friend who will be there for you, who wants to help look after your child, who supports you whether you stay in Massachusetts or at the palace, so be it. I will be that friend for you, and I will be grateful for the honor.”

  “And what if I want more?” Rose asked, her voice as shaky as a newborn lamb. Fahim squeezed her hand gently.

  “Then I want to be more, and Rose, I want to be more so badly. I want to be your man, I want you to teach me how to play that violin we found in Tel Aviv. I want to go to sleep next to you every night and wake up next to you every morning. I want to raise your child as my child, and I want them to know their cousins and their family and to love them. I want all of you, Rose. I want you as my lover and my wife, and I want you to want me the same way—”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before Rose threw her arms around him with a muffled cry, sealing her mouth over his in a passionate kiss that took his breath away.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, yes, please. Have me, take me, let me be yours.”

  “Only if you will let me be yours,” he said, grinning at her. The happiness inside him swelled until he could barely believe that it was contained by his skin, in his body, and he lifted her in his arms, dragging her close before simply taking her off her feet.

  He never let his mouth leave hers as he carried her to her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him with a thump. He couldn't get enough of her. He couldn't bear to stop touching, not after he had spent so much time without. She was exactly what he wanted, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he had never, ever thought that he would have her, not for his own. Now the dream that had lived in his heart for so long was answered, and all he wanted was her.

  “Is this all right?” he breathed, hesitating as he knelt over her on the bed. “You’ve had a tiring day…”

  “My love,” Rose said, her voice thrillingly soft and husky, “if you don't have me right now, I swear to you I am going to scream.”

  “Well,” said Fahim with a ghost of a smile, “I don't want that to happen.”

  He reconsidered as he looked down at the woman stretched out on the narrow bed, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with need, her mouth kissed red, and he grinned.

  “I don't want that to happen yet,” he corrected, and then he reached for the buttons of her jacket.

  In his mind, Rose was a wild thing, loose and comfortable in jeans, in simple skirts and blouses. Now, though, removing her suit, it was as if he were freeing her from some kind of captivity and bondage, his fingers quick on the buttons of her shirt and the clasp of her skirt. It seemed to take forever and yet no time at all before she lay beneath him in her underwear, a demure, lacy mocha against her pale skin. From the rise of her belly to her shapely hips to her breasts to her hair to her toes, she was exactly what he wanted, and he was thrilled to see that she was looking back at him with the same boldness.

  “So beautiful,” Fahim murmured, running his hand along the curve of her leg. “I will never get tired of looking at you, my darling.”

  “Don't just look,” Rose murmured huskily. “Please. Touch me, kiss me, love me…”

  “Every day of my life,” Fahim agreed, coming down to settle himself at her side. He cast one possessive arm over her waist as he kissed her, mouthing her throat, her shoulder, the curve of her breast and her side. Everywhere he touched, he raised goose bumps, and Rose went from squirming with need and with pleasure to nearly writhing, her skin so sensitive to him.

  “Not yet,” he murmured, reaching down between her legs. “Not just yet….”

  He stroked her with a gentle, sure touch, thrilling at how her body responded to him, how she gazed at him with something almost dazzled in her eyes. One arm had come up to wrap around his shoulders as if she was afraid that he would somehow slip away, and if he could find any words at all, he would have told her that there was no chance, none in all the world that he would ever leave her, that he would ever let her go after what they had gone through together.

  The need that thundered through her had taken him now as well, and he could only show her with his lips, with his body, and with his hands what he otherwise would have had the words to say. He massaged her thighs lightly before moving higher, caressing her with all the care he had in him. He felt with incredible urgency how she warmed to him and how her body was already opening to welcome him. Her desire was crystal clear in her body's response and how she practically rose up off the mattress, thrusting towards his hand and trying to get more.

  “Please, please,” she whispered. “Don't make me wait, Fahim…”

  “Sometime, I'll do just that,” he murmured, kissing the very corner of her mouth as he worked three fingers in and out of her. “Someday, I'll make you wait for hours on end like this, keeping you on the bare edge of desire, just to see how good it will feel when you topple over…”

  “Not now,” she all but wailed, and Fahim couldn't help laughing at that, because she was right. She was so wonderful, so perfect, so very Rose that he couldn't stand any more delay himself.

  He unbuckled his trousers, lying down on the bed beside her before simply lifting her up over him. She yelped a little at his strength, looking down at him with wide eyes, and he only smiled up at her.

  “I want to see all of you,” he murmured, touching her body with gentle reverence. “I want to see you enjoying yourself.”

  With his hands on her hips, he helped her slide down on him, and together they both gasped when they were finally joined. They breathed together as Rose started to move, slowly at first, and then faster, and Fahim groaned, throwing his head back on her pillow.

  “Rose, Rose, so beautiful, so mine…”

  They were lost in each other for some timeless while, locked in a world where only they existed, and they trembled together, wild and free in a way that they had never felt. Fahim gasped at the pleasure she was giving him while taking the same pleasure for herself, and his body arched up against her, longing and needy.

  They struck the crisis at the same point, that peak only one thing could happen, and her hands landed on his chest, her fingers digging into him as she tried to steady herself.

  “I've got you, I've got you, darling,” Fahim murmured. “I'm right here, and I love you.”

  That was what it took. In a single moment, Rose's body went stiff, tightening around him and bringing him over with her. It was perfect, it was amazing, and the pleasure that shot through him like the boom of a cannon took his breath away as she shouted his name.

  Rose collapsed into a whimpering heap on her side, still shaking in pleasure, and carefully, their bodies still joined, Fahim shifted to his side to cradle her against him. Lazily, newly aware that they could lie like this every day if they wished to, he kissed her face, murmuring soft, sweet things into her ear.

  He found his hand cupped over her round belly, and her hand came up to cover his.

  “This is forever?” she asked, her voice hushed and awed, and Fahim smiled at her.

  “Forever and always,” he said softly.

  21

  Three weeks later, they were back in Yeni, and at breakfast with the whole Khalid family around them. Rose couldn't help remembering another breakfast not that long ago, when she had first started her job.

  I was so unsure then. I had no idea if anyone would like me, I thought I was sure to mess things up, that I could never make this work. I was convinced I was going to accidentally make a mess of everything.

  On the ground, Hasan quacked loudly, making the entire table burst into laughter, and Jamila sat beside him, arranging the plush ducklings that Rose and Fahim had gotten for them in the United States around him as if he were in a pond.

  “Now you're a duck, and these are your babies,” Jamila sang, and Rose shook her head.