“Fooled you.”

  “I'm sorry,” Rose blurted out, and Fahim blinked at her slowly.

  “For…not catching on to my rather bad joke?”

  “No…for…well, if you're here to talk to me, you must have seen the paper. I should have seen this coming, I was just so…I'm sorry I got you and your family involved. I'll do whatever I need to make this right.”

  “Rose—”

  “I will,” Rose insisted, her voice getting higher and faster. “I'll do whatever it takes. I'll write an apology for the newspaper. I'll leave. I'll leave tonight if I have to. I should have known Darius wouldn't let me go without a fight. He doesn't stop, he's relentless, he just keeps—and I won't—”

  She went quiet when Fahim put a hand on her arm. The sudden intimacy of his palm on her bare skin was dizzying, far warmer than it should have been, and Rose caught her breath.

  “Rose. Breathe.”

  When had she gotten out of breath? Obediently, she took a deep breath and then another, and Fahim nodded, pulling his hand away. She found herself wishing that he wouldn't, but then he was talking again.

  “Good. All right. What happened isn't ideal, but believe me, it's not the end of the world. It's not even the end of your job. Your position here at the palace is as safe as it has ever been.”

  “But—”

  “I do not know how things are run where you come from, but my family and I live the standards we want to see in our country. We do not give in to slurs thrown by tabloids or arrogant men who think that they can charm the world with a few well-placed words.”

  Rose swallowed, nodding. There was a small hope swelling in her chest, but she kept it quiet. She didn't think she could afford for it to grow louder.

  “Do you know why Darius is so eager to win you back? Is it because of the child?”

  Rose shook her head, because at least she knew the truth of that one.

  “No, not at all. I doubt Darius cares at all about the baby. He's never wanted to start a family. He likes to be in control, but I also think it's because the press is starting to ask him what's next for Rive after we broke those records with our most recent album.”

  Fahim frowned.

  “And…he doesn't want to do the next album without you?”

  “More like he's afraid he can't,” Rose said with a shrug. “I'm the one who writes all the songs, lyrics and music both. He's a great singer, an incredible front man, but he's not a composer at all.”

  Fahim stared at her, and she braced herself for what had come so often when she spoke of this aspect of her life. She and Darius had been a set, a couple, for so long that no one thought that it was so one-sided.

  “So he's been taking credit for your work all this time?”

  “More like when we've been together so long, they assume that the music must be at least as much his as mine. Though I will say that plenty of people ask when they're going to see his solo work and they never think that I have any to share.”

  Rose couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice, and then she forced a smile, because Fahim wasn't there to listen to her be angry at the music industry.

  “But hey, at least I know that I have all the credit for teaching Jamila how to play ‘Rockabye Baby’ on the guitar. No one's going to take that away from me.”

  Fahim looked unexpectedly fierce at that.

  “Of course not,” he said, his voice stern. “You are an excellent teacher, and your job here is utterly safe. No one is holding you responsible for Bright's behavior. This is your home for as long as you want it.”

  “Home,” Rose echoed uncertainly. “I've been on the road for years now. We've stopped for a few weeks here and there, long enough to record an album or do a collaboration but…that's a lot of hotel rooms.”

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  “I think I make a better guest than someone who's at home. Don't get me wrong, I would never want to impose—I'm the help, I get that.”

  “Don't talk like that.”

  Rose blinked at the sharpness in Fahim's tone.

  “Er, I'm sorry. You guys have been awesome. No one's made me feel unwelcome. It's only—”

  “Do you remember that garden shed that Ziad mentioned?”

  “Um, yes? You said it was kind of awful.”

  “It was more than awful,” Fahim said shortly. “I got locked in it one day. I was just a child, just exploring, and I managed to shut the door behind me so that it locked. You can see how isolated this place is, and back then, well, no cell phones. No intercom, nothing like that.”

  “You were stuck there,” Rose said with a shiver. “When did someone let you out?”

  “The next day,” Fahim said grimly, and Rose stared.

  “You mean no one came for you?”

  “The gardener found me the next morning. You mustn't get the wrong idea. My mother and father were busy people, especially when I was younger. There was a lot going on. I do not blame them, and they were aghast and guilty when they found out. But…”

  He hesitated, and Rose could almost see him wondering whether he had said too much. She could tell that he was not a man who admitted such things easily. Suddenly she wondered if she was the first person he had ever told all of this to. The thought made her heart hurt.

  “It wasn't the dark that terrified me or even the fact that I could hear what I thought were rats. No, the thing that made it the worst night of my life was that I thought that everyone had forgotten me. It made me feel as if I didn't belong, and that no one would notice. It would make no difference that I was gone at all.”

  “Fahim—” Rose whispered, but he shook his head.

  “I hate the thought of you thinking that about yourself,” he said, looking her directly in the eyes. “I hate the idea that you think you could disappear and no one would notice or care. It is not true. It will never be true.”

  Rose's heart squeezed tightly in her chest, and she couldn't do anything but hug this man, who had once been a frightened and lonely boy trapped in a shed, who was now determined not to allow her to feel the same way. For an instant he stiffened, and she thought she had made an enormous error, but then to her relief and somewhat to her surprise, he hugged her back.

  Oh, he gives great hugs. But there was less surprise there than she would have thought. Somehow, she had known in her heart that he would. He was warm and calm, and she thought she had never met anyone who made her feel safer.

  Reluctantly she pulled back, but she couldn't pull back all the way, her hands dropping to rest naturally on his hips.

  “Well,” she said a little self-consciously, and then he kissed her.

  It was like fireworks going off in her head. It was like an earthquake under her feet. It was a rush of heat coursing through her body and the knowledge that she had never, ever wanted to be closer to another human being, not like this.

  Fahim murmured something in Arabic against her lips, and Rose knew instinctively it was only sweetness, only longing. He wanted her just as she wanted him, had wanted him, and her breath caught at how close they were, how much closer they could get…

  A rattle of gravel came from behind them, a step on the path, and the veil of sensuality whipped away as if it had been torn. Rose jumped back, one hand coming up to instinctively cover her lips, and Fahim's head shot up.

  “Rose—”

  “I—I'm so, I didn't mean—”

  Rose couldn't get a complete sentence out, couldn't believe she had just done that. What in the world was she thinking?

  I just read an article in a real newspaper about how Darius doesn't understand why we broke up and how much I meant to him. He's practically waving a flag saying that he's going to get me back. Even if I never see him again, what am I thinking, kissing Fahim?

  Fahim was a decent man, a prince, respectable in a way she would never understand, and Rose…

  Well, she was never going to be free.

  Fahim rose to his feet, but Rose shook her head. She grabbed for her shoes, and a moment later, she was running down the path, away from her humiliation.

  8

  It had been two weeks since that fateful day in the garden, and Rose knew that today, it was all going to be over. Fahim had asked to see her in the library whenever she was done with today's lesson, and she guessed that even as kind as he was, there were limits to what he and his family were willing to tolerate.

  I can't believe Darius is still talking and that people are still listening to his crap. God, why couldn’t he be this persistent when it came to practice and call-ins?

  Every time she turned around, Darius was in the news again, the heartbroken, the jilted, the father-to-be without a child. Rock-star drama was always hot for the press, something that Rose had learned before she was twenty-one, and Darius had learned to play up his wounded good looks years ago.

  “Rose, Rose, listen, I got it!” Jamila exclaimed, and Rose smiled at her.

  “All right, hotshot, let's hear it.”

  Jamila straightened up as Rose had taught her, the tip of her tongue poking between her lips as she strummed carefully on her guitar. There were still errors, of course there would be, but she was already better than she had been the day before and better by far than she had been the day before that. Hasan got the idea quickly and started to bang on his small hand drum, and Jamila relaxed, playing with her brother more often than not.

  When they clanked to a cacophonous conclusion, Rose burst into sincere applause.

  “Very good! Very good, the both of you! I can see how hard you have been working. And we remember how we get better, right?”

  “Practice!” Jamila shouted, and Hasan shouted something that sounded a bit similar. Rose smiled.

  “Fantastic, now we're at the end of the session for the day, but—”

  The door opened, and Sarah came in. Rose knew Imran's wife less well than she knew Laura, but the other woman smiled warmly at her, her own baby daughter cradled in her arms.

  “Are you all done here?” she asked. “I wanted to give the children some time with their cousin.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Rose said, suddenly a little shy. “Children, remember what I said about homework, all right? Listen to the music I left for you, and then try to imitate the beat on whatever you like. It doesn't have to be a drum or a guitar; you can try whistling or tapping or anything, okay? Use your imagination.”

  She turned to Sarah, who was watching her with an amused look.

  “It really is good for them,” Rose said anxiously. “You know, rhythms and things like that. It'll help them avoid getting frustrated with instruments they haven't mastered yet—”

  “Sounds good to me,” Sarah said cheerfully. “I can't carry a tune in a bucket. Rose…it really is all right. You're doing great. Laura talks about it all the time.”

  Though it warmed Rose to hear about Laura's praise, she still packed up her bag and departed as quickly as she could. Fahim was waiting, and given what she thought he might tell her, she didn't want to put off the inevitable.

  There wasn't time to really freshen up after her lesson, so she ended up going straight to the library. A hesitant knock got her a brisk command to enter, and she felt like a dog slinking back to her mess as she entered the grand room.

  The moment the door closed behind her, she realized that Fahim was watching something on his tablet, a frown on his face, and she immediately recognized what it was.

  “Of course I didn't know she was carrying my child,” came Darius's broken voice. “Of course I didn't. She left so quickly that…no. No, I didn't know, and if I had known that she wanted more from me, from what we were doing, I would have turned the world upside down for her. I mean, you all know Rose, the whole world does. She's used to having the world on a string, and when she thought I couldn't give it to her any more—”

  Fahim turned off the video, setting the tablet down on the table with a force that was just short of slamming it down, and Rose swallowed hard, ordering herself to stand up straight. She had to take what was coming to her, and then she needed to figure out what was coming after that.

  She held up her hand flat, warding off what she knew would be fury from Fahim.

  “Look, I'm going to save you the trouble. I have lessons prepared for the children for the next month. They're a little loose, but anyone who is relatively competent with music theory can see them through it. It should last you until you get a new music teacher.”

  Fahim scowled, one finger tapping the wood desk hard.

  “A new music teacher.”

  “Yes. And I'll clear out. You won't hear a peep from me. I just need a few days to—”

  “Rose, sit down.”

  She did as he said automatically, twisting her fingers together. Her cheeks burned as she stared down at her hands in her lap.

  “Rose,” Fahim said, his voice gentler. “Will you look at me?”

  She did, and to her surprise, while there was absolutely a fury banked at the back of his eyes, Fahim looked saddened, almost grieved. He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, and then he folded them on the desk between them.

  “You're not going anywhere, not if you don't want to. No one is going to make you leave.”

  “But—”

  “But this can't continue, you're right. Ziad and I have been talking.”

  Rose stared. “About…me?”

  A ghost of a smile flickered over Fahim's lips.

  “You're the most interesting thing I speak of with my brother,” he informed her gravely. “Otherwise, it's all information about how Laura's pregnancy is progressing and how brilliant his children are. Yes, we were talking about you, and this situation cannot continue as it is.”

  Rose nodded, but Fahim kept talking.

  “We are not in the habit, here at the palace, of rolling over and taking whatever some rock star and the tabloids throws at us. We won't tolerate it when they come after us or the people who are associated with us. The people we choose to associate with and to employ only gain their positions through skill and integrity, and we will not have that slandered.”

  “You still believe that about me?” Rose said, startled. “Did you listen to the interview? He said—”

  “I know what he said,” Fahim said, a disgusted look on his face. “I read the transcript, and I was watching the video as you came in. Believe me when I say that I will not be finishing it. Under no circumstances will he be allowed to spread such lies. I am a lawyer, and believe me, I know a venomous snake when I see one.”

  “And it's not me?”

  Fahim stared at her a long moment before shaking his head. “No, Rose,” he said almost gently. “Never.”

  In that simple word, she could hear his truth, and tears stung her eyes. She had spent so, so long thinking that Darius could convince anyone—even her—of anything. Now it seemed that Fahim believed her immediately, and she didn't know what to do about it.

  “Darius is playing a game,” Fahim said after a tactful pause. “He's getting the press to attack you for him, but that doesn't mean we're going to fall for it.”

  “But what about everyone else?” Rose asked. “There are people who are going to believe him. What could come next, if you're not cutting me loose.”

  There was something wintry sharp in Fahim's eyes at that, there and gone, almost savage, but he was again the civilized and razor-sharp man she had come to know.

  “First, I'm going to file a harassment suit against Darius. He's smart enough to avoid anything that looks too much like slander or libel, but a case can be made for him using the press to hound you. Second, the palace will be releasing a statement of support for you. There's boilerplate for these situations, but it would be best if you could help me write it, and certainly you will have the option to approve what is said before we go to press. That is why I asked you here today—”

  Rose shook her head wildly.

  “No, no, absolutely not,” she said, dizzy and horrified. “You can't.”

  Fahim looked alarmed, half-rising from his chair. When she jumped a little at that, he sat back down abruptly.

  “Please tell me why not.”

  “Because…because that's actually what he wants.”

  Fahim uttered a humorless bark of laughter. “He wants to have the royal family's legal team dropped on his head?”

  “He wants attention. He wants to know he’s getting to me,” Rose said, forcing her voice as level as possible. “You can't…he wants me thinking of him. He wants me aware of how many people are looking at me right now, how many people want me to go back to him, and I…I can't.”

  “Then we won't,” Fahim said immediately. “This is why I wanted to talk to you, to make sure that we were not going to do anything too distressing to you, anything that was too much.”

  He paused, and when Rose half-expected him to tell her it was too much, that she would have to leave after all, he made a noise of consideration.

  “If you say that he wants attention, then we simply do not give it to him. Laura always says that the best way to weather a tantrum is to stay calm and ignore it. So. We instead leave him out of things entirely, and we come out in full support of you and what a fine job you have been doing, how grateful and happy we are to have you.”

  Rose watched as Fahim's gaze turned considering. He rose from his desk, pacing alongside the windows. In his rolled-up shirtsleeves and with his hair rumpled, he was arrestingly attractive, and Rose took a warm and only slightly guilty pleasure in watching him move, the grace and the elegance.

  “Tell me. Where Jamila and Hasan are right now…do you think they would be up to filming a music video?” Rose blinked, and Fahim went on. “Nothing too over the top, but something professional, something that showcases how hard they have been working. How hard you have been working with them.”

  “Well, I think Jamila could do something very cute and simple for sure, if we had just a little more time. Hasan, I don't know…”

  “It wouldn't have to be anything that shows that he's a prodigy, or even talented. Just something that shows how much fun he's having, how much fun they're both having and how you have helped them find out some new things about the world.”