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She attempted a smile, to thank her for her reassurance. She could see for herself it came out a grimace.

Thankfully, Hasnaa didn’t notice her forced attempt as she fussed around her, adjusting her outfit. It was the first time that Sabrina had availed herself of Hasnaa’s services. And only because Adham had demanded it.

He wanted her to be his princess tonight. To look the part, that was. She felt obligated to meet his demand. To honor the pact that her father had made. She wouldn’t give Adham a chance to say a Grant didn’t uphold her end of a deal. Even if she herself felt there was nothing more to uphold, felt mired in a nightmare she’d never wake up from. A prison her father and Adham had conspired to throw her into.

She’d felt desperation before, with each loss in her life. But each time, she’d forged on, because there had always been something to strive for, someone else who mattered. Someone who’d been there for her, too.

When her mother died when she was twelve, she turned her grief into more love for her father, even though it wasn’t easy being his daughter, especially after his bereavement made him even more ultra-protective of her. Then years passed and she realized the hardest part of being his daughter had nothing to do with his actions and everything to do with who he was.

She realized the magnitude of the problem when she entered college. She lost count of the men who pursued her for her father’s assets. To make things worse, her father, in his attempts to protect her from opportunists, started supplying one suitable bachelor after another. She considered those men not much better than the vultures, since they also wanted to acquire her because of her father’s assets, if in a merger rather than a takeover.

So she told him that she wasn’t interested in marriage, but in graduate studies and a career.

After years of pursuing her with insistence that marriage didn’t preclude a career, Thomas gave up, leaving her to her plans. She now realized he only did because he’d plunged into depression and debt. Then, just after she obtained her degrees, he had his heart attack.

But all through her dread and desperation, she’d been strong for him. Then he’d died. But Adham had been there, and she wasn’t alone. She had him. Or so she’d thought. She was alone. She had no one. Certainly not Adham.

She gazed at her reflection in the gold-framed, full-length mirror. It felt like she was looking at herself inside a gilded cage. Completing the picture of captive luxury was one of the outfits he’d sent her. They’d all been beyond breathtaking. Not that she’d appreciated their exquisiteness. She hadn’t chosen the outfit she was wearing now, discerning that it would best suit her as Hasnaa had implied. She’d dragged it haphazardly off the rack.

She looked at it now, seeing it for the first time. A ravishing red outfit that blended all the ornate lushness of Adham’s native Khumayran culture with stunning modern twists.

The sarilike, handmade, intricately worked and embroidered creation and its dupatta—what Hasnaa was now busily securing over her “wild curls”—were a masterpiece. A dream of silk, georgette and organza worked in fine gold threads, semiprecious stones, sequins, cutwork, mirror, pearl and crystal work.

To top it all off was one of the sets of jewelry he’d sent her. Hasnaa had chosen for her what she deemed went best with her outfit, a set consisting of two necklaces—a choker and a longer piece that framed her cleavage to maximum effect—earrings that reached to her shoulders, and bangles that covered half of her right forearm. Each piece had carefully cut and polished multicolored gemstones embedded into delicate twenty-four karat gold.

And to think she’d thought he was being indulgent when she’d found the enormous collection lining that extensive dressing room. She’d felt uncomfortable, accepting all that, even from the husband who could afford endless luxuries. She hadn’t wanted the shadow of materialistic considerations between them. But she’d reluctantly conceded