by Annie West
Tori’s eyes widened.
How long since Ashraf had prowled the length of the Perth boardroom and her heart had taken off like a rocket? A mere couple of days since he’d blasted her life to smithereens.
The limousine swung past the palace’s monumental main gates and followed a road around the perimeter, eventually pulling in to a more utilitarian entrance.
A uniformed servant opened her door. By the time she’d picked up Oliver and stepped out Bram was urging her inside.
Out of the air-conditioned car, with Oliver warm in her arms, she felt flushed and crumpled. But pride made her stand straight as she was introduced to the palace chamberlain, a tall man in snowy robes.
Gathering her wits, she did what she’d failed to do on meeting Bram, exchanging greetings in Arabic. She knew just enough to understand his wish that she would be comfortable during her stay and to thank him in the same language.
Was that surprise in his eyes? She didn’t have time to find out, for Bram was ushering her into a cool, beautifully tiled hall.
‘Your apartment is here, at the rear of the palace.’
After turning into another hallway, even more lavishly decorated, and through a courtyard filled with the scent of lilies, he opened a door and invited her to precede him.
Tori stopped dead a few paces in.
‘A maid has been assigned to you, and a nanny to help—’ Bram’s words halted as he saw her face. ‘Is the suite not suitable? If not I—’
‘It’s perfectly suitable, thank you.’
Tori dragged her eyes from the domed ceiling with its mosaic tiles depicting an idyllic garden filled with flowers. The glittering background tiles couldn’t be real gold, she told herself. As for the elegant sofas and the beautiful, delicately carved side tables and the pots of colourful orchids... It was impossibly luxurious and gorgeous.
Tori felt simultaneously out of place and desperate to flop down on one of those pale couches and close her eyes.
The sound of water caught her ears and she turned. Tall, arched windows gave on to another courtyard where water sprayed in jets beside a long, inviting pool.
‘There’s a cot in the second bedroom and a range of baby supplies. If anything is missing you just need to ask the maid or pick up the phone. I can personally—’
Tori roused herself from her daze. ‘I’m sure we’ll have everything we need. Thank you, Bram. You’ve been most kind.’
Twenty minutes later she was feeding Oliver, seated in a deeply upholstered chair so comfortable it felt as if her bones melted into it. Her luggage had been unpacked for her. At her side was a frosted glass of juice and an array of mouthwatering pastries brought by a friendly maid.
She was surrounded by luxury, by people eager to please. And yet as she surveyed her sumptuous surroundings Tori wondered if she’d walked into a trap.
A trap devised by a man intent on securing his son at any cost.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘THERE’S ALREADY CONJECTURE about Ms Nilsson.’
‘So soon?’ Ashraf met Bram’s eyes. The rumour mill around the royal court was more efficient than any modern communication software. ‘I should have expected it.’ Yet he’d convinced himself they had more time.
He rolled his head from side to side, feeling the ache in his neck from too many sleepless hours. They faced a full-blown public scandal when the truth of Tori’s and Oliver’s identities were known. Yet he had no regrets. How could he have done anything other than bring Oliver and his mother here?
Bram spread his hands. ‘Once the Minister for the Interior heard you had a female companion—’
‘He manufactured a reason to meet the plane.’ The Minister had been a friend of Ashraf’s father. He’d absorbed the old Sheikh’s disdain for Ashraf and now waited—daily, it seemed—for his new King to take a false step.
Ashraf wasn’t naïve. He knew the powerful men who’d formed his father’s innermost clique still harboured hopes that something would go wrong. That he’d go wrong and then his brother, Karim, would return to take the crown.
That would never happen.
Karim’s reason for rejecting the crown was insurmountable. Karim would return to Za’daq one day, but only to visit. He’d made that clear. Only the two brothers knew the real reason for his refusal to become Sheikh, and Ashraf cared for Karim too much ever to betray that secret. Not even to squash the machinations of those trying to destabilise his rule.
He was more than capable of dealing with them. Life had made him more resilient and determined than those waiting for him to fail. As for being underestimated...they’d learn. Ashraf wouldn’t countenance failure. He’d never been good enough for his old man but he was determined to be the Sheikh his country needed, no matter what the political establishment thought.
‘If it’s any consolation,’ Bram went on, ‘we discovered who leaked the news that you had a travel companion. Someone in the palace administrative team. He’s been dismissed.’
Bram paused, frowning, presumably at the knowledge that it was someone in his own unit who’d breached confidentiality.
‘But this morning I offered him an alternative job, in the outer provinces, coordinating the infant immunisation campaign. It will give him a chance to put his talent for disseminating information to good use.’
Ashraf felt a smile tug his mouth. ‘You think he’ll do well there?’ The rural location would challenge someone used to city life.
Bram spread his hands. ‘I said if he did an outstanding job, meeting all our targets for immunisation over the next three years, I might be able to persuade you not to prosecute him for breach of privacy.’
Ashraf’s smile became a grin. ‘Trust you to turn a problem into an opportunity.’
His old friend was an expert at that—possibly because he’d had so much experience at picking himself up and moving on, no matter what life threw at him.
Bram shrugged. ‘He’s got talent. It would be a shame to waste it. As for fixing problems—that’s what you pay me for.’
‘We need to change your job title from Royal Secretary to Chief Troubleshooter!’
Ashraf would have sacked the palace employee and washed his hands of the man. But then, as his father had enjoyed pointing out, Ashraf was his impulsive son.
Over the years he’d changed that, learning in the military to think strategically as well as quickly. But sometimes his desire for swift action led to complications. Like taking a too-quick security assessment at face value, riding into bandit territory and getting kidnapped...
He rubbed a palm around the back of his neck.
‘The news is contained for now,’ said Bram. ‘No one knows the truth about Ms Nilsson or the boy. Just that they’re here.’
Ashraf nodded. ‘I want it to stay that way as long as possible.’ And it wasn’t just that he needed time to persuade Tori into marriage. ‘We need to suppress the story of how we met. Permanently.’
‘Of course. Admitting you were kidnapped within our borders—’
‘It’s not just that.’ Though such news wouldn’t do his standing any good. ‘She’d be horribly embarrassed if all the world knew just when and where our son was conceived.’
Ashraf’s time with Tori had been a pure blessing in the midst of what he’d imagined would be his final painful hours on earth. He didn’t want the press or his father’s cronies discovering the details and turning them into salacious gossip, so the world could picture Tori giving herself to him in that foul prison filled with the stink of past torture and brutality.
A shiver scudded down his spine and Ashraf’s mouth firmed. If nothing else, he’d save her that.
‘When the time comes the world can know that we met and I fathered a child. But as for anything else—’ He sliced the possibility off with a swift lopping motion.
‘You’re shielding her?’
‘Of course.’
Bram nodded, but Ashraf knew from the speculative gleam in his eyes that he was processing his friend’s protectiveness.
‘We should be able to manage that. The rescue team never saw Ms Nilsson at the camp.’
‘Excellent.’ Ashraf looked at his watch. ‘Have we finished?’ He’d already been delayed for hours. He wanted to see how Tori and Oliver were settling in. Make sure she wasn’t planning to get the next plane out of there.
Not that she’d succeed.
But it wasn’t merely that concerning him. The look she’d sent him at the airport when he’d told her to go with Bram had revealed how much he’d asked of her. For a second she’d looked beseeching. The sight had stunned him as even her moment of panic on the plane hadn’t.
Before today he’d seen Tori shocked, struggling to process the news that he was alive, and he’d seen her battling to hide terror during their kidnap. But her vulnerability in that split second when her gaze had clung had curdled his gut.
It had taken more determination than he’d imagined to watch her walk away before turning calmly to the officials awaiting him.
Ashraf had wanted to lash out at the politician whose judgemental gaze had rested so dismissively on Tori. Who’d inserted himself into the royal schedule solely, Ashraf knew, to make mischief. He’d wanted to turn his back on the high-level meeting that had been arranged in his absence.
But instead Ashraf had quashed the impulse to ignore his regal responsibility and go with Tori and Oliver—his family.
The word snagged the breath in his lungs.
Given his utterly dysfunctional family background, Ashraf had never dwelled on the idea of creating a family of his own. Now he had one. The realisation was arresting, satisfying and disturbing.
The sound of Bram clearing his throat jerked Ashraf’s attention back. ‘Yes? Is there something else?’
‘Nothing.’
For second he could have sworn he saw amusement in his friend’s eyes. But the next moment Bram was frowning at the royal schedule.
‘We’re finished for today, but tomorrow’s timetable is packed. Suddenly half the Cabinet Ministers need to see you urgently.’
Ashraf lifted one eyebrow. ‘I’m sure they do.’ He shook his head, resisting the urge to massage those tight neck muscles again. ‘If only they spent as much energy on public policy as they do trying to undermine me.’
‘Actually, on that... It’s too soon to tell, but you may have had a couple more wins. Two provincial governors have been in contact privately this week, full of enthusiasm about the results of your latest initiatives. They’re hoping to meet you to discuss ideas they have for further implementation.’ Bram paused. ‘It could be that the tide is turning.’
Or it could be that you’ll never be accepted, no matter how hard you work or how sound your policies. You’re an outsider. You always have been. Nothing will change that.
The voice in Ashraf’s head wasn’t new. It had always been there, undercutting his early attempts to be a son his father could be proud of.
With the ease of long practice he ignored it. ‘Let’s hope.’
And he hoped, too, that he could win Tori over. She’d agreed to this visit but persuading her to stay, to accept his proposition, would take all his persuasive skills and more.
* * *
Tori hadn’t answered his knock so he entered her suite, taking in the silence and lengthening shadows. A quick investigation revealed no sign of her or Oliver.
Ashraf frowned. Had she turned tail and left the palace? But that wasn’t like Tori. Nevertheless he felt better seeing her clothes in the wardrobe.
He retraced his steps to the sitting room, then went out into the suite’s private courtyard. A slow smile curved his lips and warmed his belly.
Tori lay on a sun lounger set in dappled shade beside the long pool. A portable cot where Oliver dozed was positioned beside her.
Heat thwacked Ashraf’s chest as he looked at his tiny son. And as for Tori...
His gaze trailed over her silver gilt hair, enticingly loose across her narrow shoulders. Over the open shirt and slinky scarlet bikini that revealed full breasts and a narrow waist. Down lissom bare legs.
His groin stirred as desire smoked across his skin. He wanted Victoria Nilsson. Wanted her naked and eager. Wanted so much more. Everything he discovered about this woman attracted him. Plus, he wanted all that maternal love for his son.
Ashraf drew a deep breath, relieved at the reason for these unusually intense feelings. The need to provide for his son. That explained his determination to have Tori permanently. Ashraf wanted the very best for his boy. That meant Oliver’s mother to love and care for their son. As Ashraf’s mother hadn’t been around to love and care for him.
As if she sensed his scrutiny Tori’s eyelids fluttered open. For a second Ashraf read pleasure in those forget-me-not-blue eyes. Pleasure and welcome. But only for a second.
Too soon she was scrambling to sit up, hauling her shirt closed with one hand, eyes wary.
‘Relax.’
Ashraf sank onto a nearby chair, looking around the courtyard. He needed to concentrate on something other than Tori. He refused to betray the urgency that sang in his blood when she was near.
Yet even with his gaze elsewhere he was aware of her. The soft hitch of her breath, the creak of her chair as she moved, her sweet, tantalising scent.
He forced himself to focus on his surroundings. He hadn’t been in here before. The royal family’s rooms were on the other side of the palace and he’d never investigated the guest apartments. Bram had chosen well. The courtyard was restful and private.
‘Does the apartment suit you? If it’s lacking anything...’
‘Lacking?’ Tori shook her head and that stunning hair spilled around her shoulders. ‘It’s beautiful. More than we need.’
Ashraf dragged his attention back to her face, to the frown lines between her brows. As if she was worried she’d been allocated something to which she wasn’t entitled.
Didn’t Tori realise how much more she’d be entitled to as his wife? Or was she really not concerned with wealth?
Another reminder that she wasn’t like the women he’d known.
‘I’m glad to see you resting. It’s been a turbulent time for you.’
Ashraf congratulated himself on his tact. Far better than blurting out that she looked tired. How she’d managed those months alone with Oliver and starting a new, demanding job...
‘Now, there’s an understatement.’
A ghost of a smile curved her lips and Ashraf felt his tension lessen.
Once more he sensed a fragile understanding and acceptance between them. It was rare. He’d only experienced it before with his brother and Bram, the two men who really knew him and rather than just his reputation.
Deliberately Ashraf settled back and let his eyes rove the tranquil garden. Sweet blossom perfumed the air and from nearby came the chitter of a bird.
How long since he’d taken an evening off?
His gaze turned to the small table beside Tori. A newspaper lay there, and a book. He tilted his head to read the title.
‘You’re learning my language?’ Satisfaction glowed. This was a good sign.
Tori made a deprecating gesture. ‘Trying. A little. It seemed like a good idea.’
‘It’s an excellent idea.’ He beamed and watched her eyes widen. ‘But you don’t need to use a book. I’ll arrange a tutor.’
Instead of thanking him, she frowned. ‘That’s not necessary. I’m only here on a visit.’
So much for seeing this as an indication that she’d decided to stay. Ashraf schooled his features not to reveal emotion, but that didn’t stop the bite of disappointment.
‘You can’t really expect marriage, Ashraf,’ she said when he didn�
�t respond.
Her voice was low but he heard the echo of the arguments she’d put up before. Arguments she thought were reasonable but which meant nothing in the face of his all-consuming need to protect his child.
Impatience grated. How did he make her understand? Make her see the damage that threatened little Oliver if they didn’t work together to protect him?
Ashraf knew Tori’s relationship with her father wasn’t close now, but surely she’d grown up with a mother and father, a sense of belonging. She’d been nurtured and, he guessed, loved.
Oliver would survive with the love of both his parents even if those parents weren’t together. Yet that wasn’t enough for Ashraf. Not when he knew first-hand the isolation of being different. The poisonous rumours. The continual battle to be accepted.
Ashraf would do anything to ensure his son didn’t face that. He didn’t want Oliver merely to survive. He wanted him to thrive.
Ashraf expelled a slow breath, realising there was only one way to convince Tori. He’d planned to seduce her into agreement. But, while that might help, Tori was a woman who thought things through. Who weighed up options and responsibilities. Sexual pleasure wouldn’t be enough. She needed concrete reasons.
The thought of baring those reasons filled him with cold nausea. Even with Bram and Karim the past was a territory he didn’t visit.
‘Family is very important,’ he began.
‘Of course. But Oliver can have that without us marrying.’
‘Not the sort of family he’ll need.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Za’daq is a modern country but it still has traditional roots. Traditional values.’
‘You’re saying we should marry because you’re worried about what people will think?’ Her mouth tightened. ‘You believe public opinion is worth an unhappy marriage?’
‘You assume it will be unhappy?’
Tori spread her hands. ‘We don’t know each other. We probably don’t have anything in common—’
‘We have Oliver.’ That made her pause. ‘And we have more too. Respect.’ Ashraf held her eyes. ‘Liking. Attraction.’
