Page 40 of His Impossible Heir

At the doorway, she looked around, wanting just one more kiss, or at the very least, a hug from Daniesh. A last glimpse of his crooked smile?

But he wasn’t there. She wasn’t even sure if he was still in the house!

Turning, she trudged out of the house, somehow finding a smile of thanks to the limousine driver who helped her store her suitcase in the trunk.

Daniesh watched Amanda from the window, gripping the glass of scotch so hard that it shattered. The pain of the glass shards in his hand didn’t register since the pain in his chest was so overwhelming. He watched as Amanda argued with one of his guards. She’d said she’d take a cab to the airport, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d leave her to the nebulous security of a taxi driver. Not his Amanda. No, he’d ordered his guards to ensure that she was taken directly to the airport and flown home. She thought she was flying home on a commercial airline, but he’d ordered his pilot to see her safely back to Philadelphia.

There was a short argument but, in the end, she acquiesced to the driver and he felt his shoulders relax slightly. At least she would be safe. Amanda wouldn’t be in his life, but she’d be safe.

Long after she’d stepped into the limousine, he lingered by the window. A part of him wanted to call her back. He wanted to beg her to stay.

But she deserved everything life could offer her. And a man who couldn’t give her children couldn’t be what she wanted.

No, they had never discussed children or a future. But Amanda was too caring, too beautiful, and wonderful to not want children.

And he couldn’t give her that. Eventually, she’d find someone who could give her children. She’d be happy and in love and she’d have children and pets and the world.

A sound behind him made him turn away from the window.

“Your Highness!” his butler gasped, rushing forward. “You are bleeding!”

He was? Daniesh looked down at his chest, wondering if the pain in his chest had created an actual wound. But there wasn’t anything there. What the hell was he talking about?

That’s when he noticed his hand and the shattered glass scattered across the carpet at his feet. “Oh.”

His butler bellowed and Tito rushed into the room. The lead bodyguard assessed the situation and immediately called his team on the radio.

Ten minutes later, Daniesh was in the emergency room, having his hand sutured. He hadn’t sliced any ligaments, but the glass had cut deep into his hand. Twenty stitches later, he was back at the Paris house. What to do now? Amanda would be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean now. Far away from him.

He should go home. He should…? He had work to do, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what work awaited him.

Amanda was gone. That was the only thought that his brain could process. The rest of his life, his world, and his future, faded into a grey haze.

Chapter 13

Amanda forced her legs over the side of the bed to the floor, and just sat there. The debilitating sadness that she’d felt after leaving Daniesh three months ago hadn’t diminished and now it was affecting her health. She’d decorated her bedroom with an iron bedframe and covered the mattress with a colorful quilt. The sheets were a bright, sunny yellow and the curtains echoed the light pink the artist had used in making the quilt. But Amanda didn’t see the cheerful colors. She was too focused on the pain in her heart that wouldn’t go away. She felt miserable and tired, her body sore, and her breasts missed Daniesh’s touch so much that they ached constantly, feeling heavy and swollen.

“Get over it!” she muttered, pushing her hair out of her eyes. She pulled the ragged strands of dark, brown hair around, noticing the split ends and limpness. “And get a freaking haircut!”

She glanced at the clock. Three o’clock in the morning. When was the last time she’d slept through the night?

It had been at least three months ago. Three months of painful loneliness. Three months of just pushing herself through every moment of the day. Three months of losing weight and feeling as if nothing would ever be right again.

“Get over it!” she repeated more firmly, louder this time.

Her phone rang and Amanda forced herself not to look at the caller. It wasn’t Daniesh, so she didn’t care who was calling. Ignoring her cell phone, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. For the first five days after coming home, she hadn’t showered. She’d barely eaten anything as she’d lost herself in her latest plot. It was about three men who may or may not look similar to Sian, Levi and Matteo. The three had opened a detective agency and were solving mysteries all over the world.

Her publisher loved the concept and had asked her to write more. Her publishing house was holding off on releasing the first book until Amanda had more ready to go. Then her publisher would release them one at a time.

There had been a short article about a man arrested in Paris for shooting a tourist by the name of Henry Sullivan. Apparently, Henry had multiple aliases and had stolen money from several people. One of those people had followed the man to Paris and shot him when Sullivan, or Burrows, refused to return the stolen money.

It seemed rather anticlimactic to hear that the case had been solved. Amanda read through the article twice, trying to find some emotion other than just…blah.

Amanda didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. The icy, miserable greyness of winter had slowly shifted to the bright warmth of spring, but Amanda rarely left her house.

Letting the water pour over her face, she tried to find the energy to care about…anything. But she just felt too awful. Her stomach churned most of the time and her heart ached. She read the news every damn day, hoping to read something, anything, about Daniesh, but there were only old gossip stories and a ton of supposition about why he wasn’t attending one economic conference or another.

She finished showering and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt from her alma mater. She turned on the coffee maker, then sat down at her desk and lost herself in the plot. This, she thought as her fingers flew over the keyboard…this was her only reprieve from the debilitating heartache.

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