The Chatsfield: Series 2

“Oh, yeah, big-time. In fact, because of that building interest, I came into the possession of something rather interesting.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “What do you have?”

“More than a decade ago one of the princesses died in a terrible accident. It was big news at the time, but you would probably barely remember it. Anyway, the guy she was with was part of a pretty rich family. And apparently they have a recording of the last conversation the sheikh had with his sister. I mean, the alleged last conversation the sheikh had with his sister. We don’t really want to invite lawsuits.”

She thought of Zayn’s pain when he had spoken of Jasmine, when he had spoken of his faults in it. What if they released this tape? What if they resurrected all of that pain, all of that agony he had already gone through, and all of that soul crushing guilt he carried with him every day?

“Yes,” she said, her voice wooden, “I am familiar with that. With the tragedy, not with the invitation of lawsuits.” Her words sounded distant, as though they were being spoken by a stranger.

“It’s pretty juicy stuff. Here, I’ll play a little bit for you.”

She started to protest, but then she heard Zayn’s voice coming through the receiver. He was shouting, a tone she had never heard him use before. Swearing, words she had never heard him use before. Telling her to go, telling her to get out of his life. Forever.

The audio recording stopped, and so did her heart. Colin, on the other hand, kept talking.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Damien Coltrane’s father. Damien was the driver in the accident that killed the princess. It turns out that when his son’s body was removed from the wreckage, he had a tape recorder on him. And on that was this little encounter with Al-Ahmar. Coltrane is pretty angry at the sheikh, which shouldn’t be too tough to imagine. And he doesn’t figure Mr. Al-Ahmar deserves his nuptials to go off without a hitch. Not after Damien’s death. Which, of course, Mr. Coltrane feels our sheikh was responsible for. And as you can hear on the tape, it seems like he certainly sent the two of them out in a hurry. Anyway, I think the public is going to eat this up. It’ll go nicely with your wedding piece. I’d like for you to incorporate it.”

“I don’t... No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“Exactly what I said. No, I will not incorporate that into my story. It’s distasteful. She died. He grieved. He is still grieving. They all are. That is his last conversation with her, and you just want to play it to create a little bit of public titillation. I don’t want any part of that.”

“You don’t have a choice, Sophie. You have to have a part in it or you won’t have a job. Anyway, I need a story. Because it turns out one of our competitors is about to break something huge.”

“What?” Her voice was thin, crackling.

“Sheikha Leila Al-Ahmar is pregnant with a royal bastard. No one even knows who the father is. Now if I knew that, I could skip the story about the sheikh. But sadly, all I have is an old audiotape.”

Suddenly it all came together, all of the pieces. Why he was so protective of Leila, and why he had been threatening James Chatsfield with an early death in that alley weeks ago. It wasn’t only that James had slept with Leila, he had gotten her pregnant. The princess was pregnant with a Chatsfield baby. And that was the scandal. The scandal that Zayn could not give her, the scandal that she needed. For Isabelle... But right now, for Zayn, most of all.

“I know who the father is.”

“You do? How?”

“I...I’ve gotten close with the sheikh. And I know. But it will cost you that audiotape. You don’t release it. That’s my price. You sell the tape to me in exchange for the name of Leila Al-Ahmar’s child’s father.”

“That’s a steep price.” He was angry, but he was treading carefully.

“It might be. But trust me, the public will care a whole lot more about this than they will about resurrecting an old accident. This will be nothing but fascinating, you revealing a final argument between the sheikh and his sister is potentially upsetting. You could face backlash. This is relevant, and the news is all about relevance. Unless you’re solving some great mystery of the past, an argument that happened sixteen years ago isn’t exactly news.”

“Fine, you have it. The tape is yours. I’ll put it in the mail.”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t release the tape, anyway. I’m not that naive.”

“You’re naive enough to think that my promise would mean much.”

“Oh, I’m not. But I’m also not above blackmailing you.” She swallowed hard. “I know you’re cheating on your wife.” She’d heard him order flowers for women with several different names, and she had a feeling most of them were not sources. Sources tended to prefer money over blossoms, as money was a little bit less temporary. “I have no problem letting your wife know about it, and I’m pretty sure she would take you for everything. Seeing as she came into the marriage with a whole lot more money than you, I’m betting that prenup is pretty airtight.” She was playing hardball, and bluffing in addition. She hated the hard edge in her voice, hated what she was having to do. But when you made deals with the devil you had to be aware of that fact. If she was going to give up this information, she had to be certain that it would protect Zayn from harm.

Because the paternity of Leila’s child would be revealed. There would be no hiding it forever. Yes, she was bringing it out in the open early, but the moment the story broke James would know that he was the father. He wouldn’t need a newspaper to tell him that. The big secret would be out as soon as the sun rose in New York, but she had the last piece, and with that last piece she would protect Zayn.

Because he was already broken. Because he did not need to relive those final ugly words.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sophie. I think I underestimated you. I didn’t think you had the balls to make it in this business. Apparently I was wrong.”

“I don’t really take that as a compliment. But then, I don’t really care if you compliment me. All I care about is the tape.”

“Yours. We have a deal. Now, you tell me the name of the Al-Ahmar princess’s baby daddy.”

“All right, the father of Leila Al-Ahmar’s baby is James Chatsfield.”

Colin swore. “Now that was worth the price.”

“I told you it was. I’m done talking to you now. Make sure I have the tape.” She hung up the phone and then turned, freezing when her eyes locked with a very angry dark gaze of Zayn Al-Ahmar.

Her phone slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor, the screen shattering, sending glass in every direction.

He took a step toward her, the glass crunching beneath his shoe. “What have you done?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, to defend herself. And suddenly, as clear as anything, she knew she couldn’t. Because it was better that he thought this. If not, she would continue to be a duty to him, one that lasted into his marriage. And she really would become her mother. A woman who lingered in the background, who shaped her entire life after a man she could never have.

And on the heels of that, she realized she already had been her mother for her whole life. She had judged her mother, thought her pathetic, for staying in one place waiting for her father to come back. Sophie had done exactly the same thing, for the same man. She had simply decided to go to him instead.

But she was done with all of that. She had to ask for better for herself. She had to ask for better for Zayn.

This was part of protecting him. Removing herself from his life completely, so that neither of them would ever be tempted. So that neither of them would linger, ghosts in each other’s lives, never able to touch each other, never able to speak to each other. Never able to do anything but ache.

No, this was for the best. It was better to end it now. Better to end it forever.

“That was my boss. I told him who the father of Leila’s baby is.”

The words ripped through her like a bullet, tearing her insides apart. Twisting them, tearing them, so that nothing could ever be put back like it was.

It was what she needed to do. And she hated it. She had to lie to him, to save them both.

His expression contorted. “How did you know?”

She tried to look neutral, even while her entire world fell down around her. While her body screamed in pain. “I pay attention.”

“Why would you do this? Because I didn’t cast aside my fiancée and offer to make you a queen? Is that why? Are you punishing me because I would not make you royalty?” He growled. “And after—you vengeful shrew.”

She thrust her chin upward, trying to hold back tears, trying to look defiant. “No, that’s not it. It’s much, much simpler than that,” she said, her voice breaking. “A scandal. You promised me a scandal. And you did not deliver.”

“The hell I didn’t,” he growled, advancing on her. “I told you everything.”

“But it wasn’t the scandal I wanted. I told you, I needed to find out what happened with James Chatsfield. I needed a scandal about the Chatsfields. Well, I found it. And it isn’t personal. But I had to do this for Isabelle. I told you, from the beginning.”

He turned away from her. “You did.”

Her chest broke apart, a flood of pain roaring through her. “Zayn...”

He held up a hand. “Do not speak to me. The only purpose of keeping you here was to prevent that secret from getting out. And it is now too late. I want you out. I do not want to see you again. I will send a servant to help you collect your things, I will send a car for you and I will arrange for your flights back to New York. We will have no need to speak after this.”

And with that, he strode from the room, leaving her more alone than she had ever thought possible.

She dropped to her knees, desperately sweeping the glass from her phone screen up with her hands, not quite sure what she thought she would accomplish. There was no fixing it. There was no fixing any of this. It was broken. Broken into too many pieces to ever be reassembled. To ever be healed.

She picked up the phone, stared at the hollow place where it had been lit up, stared at everything she had broken. She hurled it across the room, and broke the rest of it. She leaned forward, her forehead touching the ground, a sob escaping her lips followed by a wrenching cry.

Finally she had wanted everything. Finally she had asked for everything.

And just as she had always feared, it was out of reach to her. Because Zayn could not choose her, Zayn could never choose her.

The bastard child of a rich man who had never wanted her would hardly ever grow up to be a princess.

She had been right all along. Fairy tales simply weren’t for girls like her.

And they never would be.

But Isabelle would be protected. In the end, she had accomplished what she had set out to do. She had brought scandal onto the Chatsfields. She had brought her friend salvation.

And in the process, she had lost her heart.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ZAYN CALLED HIMSELF a hundred kinds of fool after Sophie left. He poured himself a drink, intent on washing away the pain in his lungs, the pain in his chest. That he feared he would not be able to.

He would have to call Leila, he would have to call his mother. He would have to warn them what was about to happen. And worse, he would have to admit his fault in it. This was his doing, as it had been when Jasmine had died. He did this, he exposed them to these sorts of things, because of who he trusted.

“No.” He spoke the words out loud to the room, as if that would make them magically be true. As if it would make Sophie the woman he had believed her to be, and not the woman she had proven herself to be.

He could not believe she had betrayed him. Not really.

She had asked him to want more for himself, more than a marriage that was simply for his country. She had made him believe he might find that. With her.

This was why he shouldn’t want more. Because the moment he did...the moment he did, he ruined everything.

He had brought her into his home, he had given her the tools she needed to destroy them.

But why? He still didn’t know why. Didn’t know what Isabelle needed, or why Sophie had felt compelled to do this. And he needed answers, dammit. He needed them.

He took another drink. And his chest burned, but not from the alcohol.

What was it that she had said to him? That duty without love was empty. Well, his actions had certainly proven empty in the end where she was concerned. And he had thought...he had felt things for her. He had given up so much for her.

And though he wanted to lock her in a dungeon for what she’d done...he could not wholly regret the change in himself.

Yes, Sophie had turned out to be false, but she had also given him hope, hope in something that had turned out to be a lie, but he wondered now what was possible. And he feared it was too late to turn back.

Too late to want less.

“Damn you, Sophie,” he said. How could she have done this? Made him believe. Made him love.

And yet...had she really betrayed him? He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t fathom that—the woman he’d held in the tent, the woman he’d kissed in the rain, the woman who’d told him it wasn’t his fault. That he was more than the tragedy he’d always blamed on himself.

There was no reason for her to do those things. None at all. And there was a part of him that couldn’t believe she’d done it for a story. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

He picked up his phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voice mail, unsurprising, really, since she was likely to still be flying. He hung up, his mind racing. He had doubts. And he had to know. He had to know for sure.

Colin Fairfax. That was who he needed on the line. Colin Fairfax was responsible for this, and he would answer for it.

He pressed the intercom. “Connect me to Colin Fairfax. New York Herald.”

In a few moments, the phone was ringing, and a man answered. “Fairfax.”

“I need to speak with you about Sophie,” he said.

“Who is this?” Fairfax asked, his voice sounding concerned.

“Do I need an introduction?” Zayn asked. “I should have thought you would expect a call from me.”

“Sheikh Al-Ahmar.” And now his voice had crossed over into terrified. “I mailed Sophie the tape already. As promised. And whatever she does with it after is not my business. She said she’d destroy it, that’s the deal. But she’s the person you want to deal with. Not me.”

Zayn’s mind was racing, trying to piece together what Fairfax was saying, unwilling to look like he wasn’t in the know. “What else might Sophie do with it?” he asked, thinking this line of questioning might be best to find out what he needed.

“Sell it to another media company. But I’d sue the hell out of her for it. Anyway, that wasn’t what she wanted. She said she wanted the tape destroyed, and in exchange she told me the thing about Leila. But the story about the pregnancy was already broken. It’s not slander to fill in the details.”

“I don’t want to sue you,” Zayn growled. “I want to tear your limbs from your body. But it will have to wait.”

“Sheikh...”

“You have lost your chance to apologize. Or explain. Be very hopeful that I do not change my mind about acting on my desires.”

He hung up the phone, trying to sort through the implications of what Fairfax had just let slip. There was a tape. It pertained to him. Sophie had made a deal so she could destroy it, and that was why she had told him about Leila.

Heart pounding, he stood and was walking out of his study before he even realized what he was doing.

She had not betrayed him. Sophie had not betrayed him. He had known it, deep in his soul he had known it.

But he had sent her away. In a rage. He had said he would not see her again, and with Jasmine, those words had been prophetic.

Terror, anger, pain, gripped his stomach. Echoes from the past tearing through him.

He had to go to her now.

Because he had already lost one person he loved with nothing but venom hanging between them when she’d breathed her last.

He would be damned if that happened again.

* * *

She hadn’t thought to bargain for her job. Oh, well, you couldn’t have everything. Sophie ran across the street, and made it onto the last block that she had to walk to get to her apartment, her arms aching from holding the box that contained all of her possessions. Well, not all of her possessions, just all of the possessions that had been in her desk—her shared desk—at the Herald.

Colin was playing hardball. Which, he said, a person like her should appreciate. Too bad she wasn’t the kind of person he thought she was. Too bad she was just heartbroken.

She imagined that wedding coverage would start soon. She needed to find a very fluffy blanket to hide under until it all passed. She imagined not even a fluffy blanket would be able to insulate her from that kind of pain. But she couldn’t watch Zayn pledge himself to another woman.

Christine would fall in love with him, that was a certainty. Because how could she not?

“But I loved him first.” She said the words angrily, defiantly, as she continued to walk down the street.

She was the one who had known he wasn’t just stone. She was the one who knew he was flesh and blood. A beating heart.

There was someone standing in front of her building, a tall man, dressed in a suit. She slowed her walk, her eyes pinned to him. His posture was familiar, the way he stood was familiar, everything about him was familiar. But that was impossible. It couldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be here.

He lifted his head, and his eyes locked with hers, and even at this distance, she knew. She stopped, and the box slipped from her fingertips, falling to the sidewalk. A little ladybug planter that had been inside popped out the top of the box and landed on its back on the cement. She looked at it for a moment, but only a moment. Then her eyes went back to the man who was now walking toward her.

“Zayn?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I thought you said we were never going to speak again.” He had said they wouldn’t see each other. He had said they wouldn’t speak. Oh, how she had needed him to keep that promise. Because she couldn’t look at him again, not without having her heart torn to pieces. And it had already been torn to pieces, barely smashed back together on the flight home, just in the interest of keeping her breathing, and now he was going to destroy it again.

“That was before I realized I had unanswered questions. And I will do what I must to have them all answered.”

“I don’t think I can answer all of your questions.”

“You’re going to. I’m going to start now. Who is Isabelle Harrington to you? Why did you need this scandal for her? What was so important that you came from New York to Surhaadi on the promise of a stranger?”

There was no harm in saying so now. Or maybe there was. Or maybe there had never been. She couldn’t tell anymore. All she knew was that she was tired, tired of dishonesty. Tired of the dull pain in her chest. Tired of how unfair life was.

“Isabelle was the only person who made friends with me when I went to college. She didn’t mind that I was younger, she didn’t mind that I had come from nothing, that my family name wasn’t important. She got me my job at the Herald—I lost that today, by the way—and she needed me.”

“Why?”

“Because I made my boss mad.”

“No, why did Isabelle need you? Why does it require you to get a scandal attached to the Chatsfield name. Because that’s why you did this, isn’t it? I need to know.”

“Yes, I did it for her. Spencer...Spencer Chatsfield. He’s harassing her about buying The Harrington, right out from under her. The hotel is everything to her. And if you knew what Spencer had done to her...Spencer hurt her. Badly. And now he wants to take this from her, too. I swore I wouldn’t let it happen. I swore to her I would help her with the tools I had, the tools that she gave to me. My job. You can understand why I needed to do this. Why I would go with you, why I would skulk around in an alley. Because I needed to. Because I owe Isabelle so much.”

He nodded gravely, and closed the distance between them, tugging her into his arms and kissing her hard, deep on the mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back, her foot brushing the ladybug planter to the side as she moved in closer.

When they parted, she blinked, breathing hard. “Why would you do that?”

“A scandal is going to hit the paper today. I am sorry if it adversely affects your friend, but I cannot be sorry if it varies the headline about my sister.”

“What have you done, Zayn?”

“I’m going to make an announcement later today that my wedding has been canceled.”

“You canceled your wedding? Permanently...or is this just a way for you to protect Leila?”

“It is certainly a pleasant side effect. But I actually called off the wedding some days ago. Just before you left. Before we last spoke.”

“What?” she asked, her lips numb, her fingers icy. “You did what?”

“I called off the wedding.”

“I’m glad,” she said, reaching to pick up the box from the pavement. Standing up, she stiffened her spine, looking straight ahead, her heart hammering, fingers stiff around the edges of the box. “Because you deserve better than that. You do. You deserve so much more than a loveless marriage. You both do.”

“You were right about that,” he said, his voice rough. “I was punishing myself, using Christine as...part of that. It was unfair of me. And you were brave. You asked for everything from life. While I was still protecting myself. Still paying penance for the sins of my past. I was going to make everyone else pay with me. I was going to make Christine pay. I was going to bind us both to an unhappy union. I realized that I could not do that. Not to her. Not to me.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you kissed me. I thought you hated me. For what I had done.”

“You did it for a friend. You did it to protect someone you love. Part of me knew it had to be something like this. Because I know you. I know you didn’t just do it to hurt me, or to further your career. I know you didn’t do it lightly. I knew the woman that I love wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You...you love me?”

“Yes. In spite of myself. In spite of all this. I do. And it makes me want. It makes me want things I didn’t think I ever would. It makes me want more. More than an endless, blank desert of life stretching out before me. It makes me want color. Laughter. It makes me want you.”

“I can’t believe you ended your engagement for me... I...I...”

“Sophie, I have to tell you...I called Colin Fairfax. He mentioned a trade. A tape. I know you didn’t do this simply to get a scandal. I know there was more. And it isn’t only because of what he said, but because I knew in my gut, in my heart, that you were the woman I fell for out in the desert. I knew that was truly who you were and I think I would have come for you no matter what.”

“Really?”

“I have a bad habit of kidnapping you.”

She laughed, a sniffly, watery sound.

“Sophie....what was the tape? I need to know.”

She wanted to protect him from this. Didn’t want to do anything to destroy the moment, but she owed him honesty. Because she refused to hide herself from him. Refused to hide anything from him.

“I feel like...I do need to tell you this,” she said, the words coming out slowly. “Because I want you to know something. Because I want you to understand that as much as I love Isabelle...I wouldn’t have told about Leila and James if I didn’t have to. Because I love you, Zayn. I love you more than anything or anyone. I would have chosen you. I would have chosen your family. It’s more than just a trade, it’s all of that. And since you know about the recording...I need you to know that.”