Marriage Behind the Fa?ade by Lynn Raye Harris Page B

mother—and she despised Sydney, not for any other reason than because she was a foreigner who had married her son.
    No wonder he’d been reluctant to bring her to Jahfar. But she couldn’t let him do this, couldn’t allow there to be hard feelings between mother and son on her account. Not when there was no reason for it.
    “Tell her the truth, Malik,” Sydney said, stepping away from the circle of his arm. She had to play this cool. Collected. She could feel Malik’s disapproval as she went and poured a cup of coffee for herself.
    Malik’s mother stopped and turned to her son. “Tell me what?”
    Malik looked furious. And not with his mother this time. “Now is not the occasion,” he growled.
    “When would you suggest is a better time?” Sydney asked. “Tell her what she wants to hear. Don’t torture her.”
    Malik’s mother looked from her son to Sydney. She was a small woman, slim and graceful, with the same hawklike eyes as her sons. She looked fierce, proud. Also like her sons, Sydney thought.
    “Malik?”
    He didn’t look at his mother. Instead, he was looking at her. Glaring at her. “Sydney and I are discussing a divorce.”
    It wasn’t quite what she’d wanted him to say, but it was enough. It certainly had the desired effect, as his mother seemed to visibly melt with relief.
    “Very sensible of you,” she said. She turned to where Sydney stood with her coffee. “I’m happy to see that you do have some sense after all. You must know you don’t belong here.”
    Sydney tilted her chin up. “I know it very well.”
    She’d once hoped against hope that it wasn’t true, but she knew she didn’t belong in Malik’s life. She’d had a year to figure it out. And even if she hadn’t, the last couple of days had driven the message home with sonorous finality. Sydney Reed was not meant to be a prince’s wife.
    Malik’s mother nodded before sweeping from the room in a cloud of perfumed silk. Malik did not follow. He stood there, scowling. Sydney pulled out a seat and sank down into it.
    She felt remarkably calm somehow. As if she’d faced the deadly storm and come out on the other side stronger for it. And yet, there was a slight tremor in her hand as she set her cup down.
    “There is no need to glare at me, Malik. She was going to find out eventually.”
    “Yes, but when I wanted her to.”
    He was coldly furious, she realized. Her sense of having survived the storm began to ebb. “Why keep it a secret from everyone? It’s not like we’re trying to make this relationship work. We’re coexisting for a purpose. I don’t want to pretend this is something it isn’t.”
    She didn’t want any false hope, any magical thinking that would have her starting to believe there was something more between them. Her heart couldn’t take it. A shiver slid across her skin, left goose bumps in its wake.
    Because, yes, that was a problem. Being here with him, living with him, being inundated with memories—she was in danger of wanting too much, of believing there was a chance he could love her in return.
    Love her in return?
    Sydney shoved that thought away with all her might. She would not go there, would not dwell on the past and her feelings then. She did not love Malik. Not anymore. She couldn’t.
    How could she, when their conversations lately had proven she’d never really known him at all?
    “Once you have finished your breakfast,” Malik said softly—too softly, “you will need to pack your things.”
    The coffee cup arrested halfway to her mouth. Her heart dropped into her toes. “You’re sending me away?”
    He looked almost cruel. “That would not please you, would it?”
    “Well, um, it would mess up the, uh, the divorce,” she said lamely, her heart thudding a million miles a minute.
    “Never fear, Sydney. You will get your precious divorce.” The last word was hard, cold. Bitter. “But I have business that is long overdue in my sheikhdom. We are traveling to Al Na’ir