Page 98 of Shâhzâdeh

She seemed genuinely stunned at my response, and I wasn’t sure what she expected. “Wait, you wouldn’t want your wife to cook you food?”

“Of course I would want my wife to want to cook me food. But my want does not supersede your feelings on the subject.” I had to ensure she understood the only wife I would ever have was her.

“And it’s just… okay?” She was thoroughly confused at my easy agreement and again I had to exercise patience because I understood her life. From what I’d gathered, her childhood had been completely patriarchal so I was sure the idea of service wasn’t something she was interested in.

“Yes. What else would it be?”

“You don’t have questions?” She was wringing her hands now as she tried to understand why I wasn’t angry.

“Of course zhere are questions. I want to know who bothered you so much in your life with preparing food that you now see it as a punishment instead of life skill. A yoke around your neck instead of a simple tool of survival. And when zhe meal is good — comfort and pleasure. But your tone says zhat you see zhe task as a means of subjugation.”

Her chin notched up and I couldn’t see the fire of defiance reignite. “You don’t think that women being told they need to learn how to cook in order to feed their families is just the slightest bit ridiculous?”

“No.” My concise answer seemed to be off putting to her.

Vanya looked completely disappointed in my response and sat her fork down. “No?”

“My mother taught me to cook. She taught my father to cook because he had been a spoiled prince his entire life. I grew up watching him learn a skill he never zhought he would need and then finding joy in it. We never saw it as her job, it was a task zhe family enjoyed. I know how to cook, very well I might add.” I glanced off thoughtfully before muttering to myself about the different ways I was going to kill her ex husband. “Maybe zhat would have been a better activity for today. Preparing a meal for you. We will have to do zhat next time.”

She slow blinked again and I knew I’d shocked her again. “You’re serious?”

I laughed, not to insult her but so that she understood how small of an issue this was to me. “Yes. A certain gender is not a prerequisite to being able to cook. Everyone has to eat.”

“You don’t cook.” It was an accusation. One she levied as though she were attempting to uncover my true feelings.

“I do not. Rarely, because I can afford zhe luxury of having someone to do it for me while I’m attempting to balance zhe multiple billion dollar enterprises I run. It is a business expense. I’m often in between time zones and the last thing I can do when I come home jet lagged and exhausted is zhink about dirtying a kitchen. So my chef does it for me. I understand it is a luxury item, but one I could not function wizout. But if you needed to work late and our babies needed to eat, zhey would not starve. Zheir fazer is more zhan capable of filling zheir tummies,ziba.”

“You’re really jumping the gun aren’t you?” Her face blushed deeply and I could see her discomfort.

“Absolutely not. I see the future with you. And it is bright and filled with the laughter of little voices. I’ll not say and say that I do not want children. I do.”

“You say that like you want a lot. What if I can’t—”

“I grew up an only child. My mozer… she had complications with me that prevented anymore children from being possible. Because of our business, adoption was out of zhe question.” I needed her to understand my position on her and whatever her body could or couldn’t do.

“Because you needed blood relatives?”

“No. Because having a government agency in your business is heavily frowned upon.”

A smile of understanding crossed her face but I could still see the sympathy in her eyes. “Ah. I see. That doesn’t answer the question of how many you want.”

“I want zhe number zhat Allah has in store for me. My desires are one zhing, but His will is another. I do not take zhat lightly.”

“Not the great Xerxes Cannon realizing that there is something out there even bigger than him.” Her full lips were stretched broadly across her face in a smile as she teased me.

I put my hand over my heart and bowed slightly. “I’m a man of many talents, but that talent, that power, comes from knowing that greater is He than me.”

“I hear your multi-religious household peeking out to play.”

“It happens. And it freaks people out. Especially when my cadence changes and I sound less Persian and more like my friends.”

“A man of many faces.” She spoke as though she were completely enthralled with me. Her eyes were softer, glowing as she looked at me.

“I’m a complex yet very simple man, love. If you give me a fair chance, I zhink you will enjoy discovering zhat.” Her face flushed again and I confess it gave me great joy to see her blush. “And I love seeing zhat as well.”

“You like seeing me flustered?”

I tucked a hair behind her ear marveling at how we got to this point so quickly. “I like seeing you less poised, yes.”

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