Page 95 of High Treason
The prince and Kord exited the room with Dr. Carlson.
“I need to speak to my sisters before they see her. To tell them the truth about her condition,” the prince said. “But first, Doctor, I have questions. In the medication that you prescribed for my mother, is there an antidepressant? I believe it would help.”
“She’s receiving a small dose, but I can increase it.”
“Is the pain medication administered intravenously?” the prince said.
“Yes. Would you like for her to have it now?”
“I can’t bear to see her suffer. Please, the full strength.”
“I’ll order it.” The doctor glanced at his watch. “She can be transported to ICU in about twenty minutes or so.”
Monica and Ali arrived, with Ali carrying a magnificent display of roses. Kord hoped Princess Gharam was coherent enough to enjoy them. He glanced at Monica, so glad she was here to help the sisters through what lay ahead. She had a way of lifting his spirits, as though challenging him in a single look to be a better man. Prince Omar left Kord with the doctor and approached Fatima and Yasmine.
“Do you speak English?” Dr. Carlson said to Kord.
“How can I help?” Wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken for Middle Eastern.
“The prince needs to understand his mother’s deteriorating health. Boosting her morale is commendable, but it will take a miracle to put the cancer into remission.”
“Yes, sir. We’re here to support him.”
“Thank you. Your English is excellent.”
The sound of soft weeping indicated Fatima and Yasmine were aware of their mother’s condition.
A few minutes later, Prince Omar left his sisters in Monica’s care and approached Kord.
“I saw you with the doctor in my absence,” Prince Omar said. “What else did he have to say?” His words held the same sadness as when his wife and son were kidnapped—the same grief and the same refusal of acceptance.
“To help you through this. Prince Omar, I believe no one has the right to take away a fighting spirit. Princess Gharam is a strong woman.”
“I’ll give her your message.” He summoned Ali and lifted the flowers from his hands, then gestured to Fatima and Yasmine. “Come, let’s see our mother.”
MONICA STROLLEDto a remote corner of the waiting area. To think. To process. Her priorities were vested in the mission with Prince Omar and his sisters. They were hurting, and her compassionate side wanted to fix it. Impossible. The regrettable decline of Princess Gharam implied she’d never leave the hospital.
The bodyguards and staff at the Saud home supported the prince. She could see it in their eyes and their resigned faces. They mourned the unfortunate diagnosis too.
Monica feared whoever had taken Parvin Shah’s place might take advantage of preoccupied bodyguards and strike again.
She must stay alert, not be distracted. Seeing Lori distressed her, but mending their friendship had to wait.
Kord took a seat beside her. “The prince has been hit with too many tragedies this week.”
“I respect Prince Omar and see him as a man with many burdens.” She paused. “Although I don’t understand his willingness toput people in danger. Fatima and Yasmine have their own dreams and problems, and I care about them.” She looked into his eyes and a chill raced up her arms. Please, she didn’t need to fall for a man again. Except she was cratering.
“Princess Gharam will do whatever her son asks,” Kord said.
“Because she loves him, or is it the male dominance thing?” She drew in a quick breath. “I’m sorry. Doesn’t matter.”
“It’s okay. She loves him and her daughters.”
The frightening chill of attraction again. “Is Malik on schedule to head home?”
“He is. Never budged from his story.”
“Guilty or protecting someone?”
