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“Let me help.”
“You can’t be getting sick too,” Calla warned, a tone to her voice that he wasn’t used to receiving. “You have too many responsibilities to be laid up right now.”
Fatim didn’t argue—she was right. Still, he rushed over to his children and pressed a kiss to their foreheads.
“Rest up, little ones,” he said softly and then let himself out of the room.
10
Fatim spent the rest of the evening strangely satisfied. Like he’d really accomplished something. The feeling only intensified as he ran through various meetings with tribal leaders, secure in the knowledge that he not only had an amazing woman back at the palace to watch over his children, but that she was his wife. Being married could still lead to productivity. This was the sweet spot of his plan.
He wrapped up business close to ten p.m. and headed to the dining room. He poked his head into the kitchen to alert the cook that he was ready for dinner. As he sat in his seat, looking out at the empty dining room table, anxiety gnawed at him. He wanted to check in with Calla and the kids first. See how they were doing. Maybe Calla hadn’t even eaten. He popped his head into the kitchen, told the cook to double the food and have it delivered to his room, and then hurried toward the bedrooms. He found Calla in the children’s room, eyes closed as she sat slumped in a chair.
He crept quietly toward the beds, not wanting to disturb her. The dress she’d worn to the parent-teacher conference earlier had a big stain on the front. The children were asleep. Fatim watched them for a few moments before gently squeezing Calla’s shoulder.
She didn’t stir. Fatim squeezed her shoulder again and then brushed his knuckles against her cheek.
Nothing.
The sight of her sleeping, chest rising and falling gently, stole his breath. He watched her for another moment before trying again.
“Calla,” he whispered, running his knuckles over her heart-shaped jawline. She was beautiful. There was no doubt about it. Beautiful, and he wanted to kiss her again.
It happened before he could control it, like earlier in the car. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She was cashmere and heat, her lips a delicacy. Calla stirred finally, eyes fluttering open.
“Oh,” she whispered, their lips just inches apart. “Hi.”
He smiled, pulling back. “Sorry if I overstepped. You wouldn’t wake up.” He swallowed back the swell of desire urging him to go further. “I had to resort to drastic measures.”
She touched her lips, then straightened in the chair. She looked over at the children.
“I’m so happy they finally slept,” she whispered. “They tossed and turned for a long while.” Her gaze fell, then she swore softly. “I didn’t realize I’d stained this dress.”
“We’ll take care of it,” he assured her, grasping her hands. He urged her to stand. “Have you eaten?”
She shook her head. “I’m starving.”
“I’m having dinner delivered to my room now.”
Calla hesitated, looking back at the children.
“Let them sleep,” he said softly. “We’ll check in on them before we go to bed.”
His own words shuddered through him. It sounded like he was implying that she’d spend the night in his room, which he hadn’t necessarily intended…but he wasn’t against it either.
Calla smiled as he led her out of the bedroom. He shut the door behind them, grasping her hand as he led the way to his bedroom just across the hall. It wasn’t necessary to hold hands…but it felt nice. It felt right.
Inside his room, a palace employee was just setting up dinner on the large, round table by the door. Calla’s eyes lit up, and together they dug into a feast of pita and quinoa and exquisitely roasted beef tenderloin.
Once they were dabbing their mouths with napkins, Fatim said, “You should go take a shower. You’ve been with the children all day.”
She frowned. “Are you sure? I feel like it’s my job to be in there with them.”
He leveled her with a look. “Yes, well, as their father it’s also my job. You take a shower. I’ll handle the rest. Promise.”
Calla sent him a grateful look and let herself out of the bedroom. Fatim made his way back to the children’s bedroom, easing onto the chaise longue by their beds. With sick kids, it would be better for him to sleep here tonight. As he settled in, something silky soft grazed his hand. He tugged a scarf from the crease of the cushions. Pressing it to his face, he realized he knew the scent. Knew it well.
Calla.
