A Golden Betrayal

by Barbara Dunlop

  Kalila sat down at a chair next to Ann at the round table for six. There were four tables in the room that Kalila had said was mostly used by the women of the household. So far, Ann had only eaten here with Kalila.

  A server quickly poured Kalila a cup of coffee, placed a white linen napkin in her lap and put a fresh tray of pastries within easy reach.

  “Last night went well?” Kalila asked as the server withdrew.

  Ann scanned Kalila’s expression for salacious curiosity, wondering if she’d guessed that Ann had spent the night with Raif. But Kalila’s features were carefully schooled.

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” Ann said.

  Kalila lowered her voice, leaning a little closer to Ann. “Last time I saw you, you were about to have a conversation with the crown prince.”

  Ann still couldn’t tell if Kalila was trying to subtly ask about her and Raif spending the night together. She decided to play it straight. “He doesn’t know anything more about the Gold Heart.”

  Surprisingly, the answer seemed to satisfy Kalila. “I remember what you said last night. About the man in the room.”

  She had Ann’s attention.

  “Something was definitely up there,” Kalila continued.

  Ann cut into the spinach omelet with the side of her fork. “They were nervous,” she put in. “I don’t believe for a second they were giving us the straight story.”

  “Which means they were hiding something.”

  Ann agreed with a nod. “And bulldog-face in the corner was there to make sure they stuck to the script.”

  “It’s a definite possibility,” Kalila agreed.

  Both women went silent while a fruit plate was placed in front of Kalila.

  “We need to get to the source,” Ann said decisively. She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting here wasting another day waiting for something to happen on its own.

  “What’s the source?” Kalila used a small silver fork to transfer a strawberry from the bone-china plate to her mouth.

  “I’m talking about Amar and Zeke. Or maybe their friends. If we were in America, I’d ask around. They might have bragged to other people, or somebody might have seen something, or heard something.”

  Kalila shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

  “That somebody might know something?” Ann didn’t see why not.

  “That you could talk to anyone who might know them.”

  “You already know where they work. Somebody needs to go there and ask some questions.”

  She found herself wishing Heidi Shaw was around to help them. Maybe she could call the woman’s office and get some tips. This had to be investigating 101. “If Raif and Tariq won’t do it, I will.”

  Kalila’s dark eyes went round. “Amar and Zeke work at the docks, Ann.”

  “I know. Are there bars down there? Maybe diners or restaurants that the other workers frequent?”

  “I have no idea. But that’s not the problem.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Women don’t go to the docks.”

  Well, sure. Ann realized wealthy Rayasian women didn’t hang out at the docks. But with the right outfit, a head scarf and some makeup, surely Ann could blend. She’d seen plenty of women use their scarves as partial veils.

  “I’d dress in plain clothing, something local. I’d blend.”

  “It won’t work,” Kalila insisted.

  “We have to do something.”

  “No, we don’t. You can’t even speak Rayasian,” said Kalila. “Many Rayasians speak English, but many at the docks do not.”

  “Send somebody with me, and I won’t have to.”

  Again, Kalila shook her head. “There is no one to send. No one who wouldn’t immediately tell Raif of your plans.”

  “Your personal maid?” Ann tried. Many of her wealthy friends growing up had garnered the aid of their personal staff members to sneak away overnight or for weekend parties. Their loyalty had been strong.

  Kalila smiled sadly. “I would not put them at such risk. They would be immediately fired and banished from the palace.”

  “Of course,” said Ann. She hadn’t thought of that.

  The women went silent, each taking a few more bites of their breakfast.

  “Why do you care so much?” asked Kalila. “It’s not your statue. It doesn’t affect your life.”

  Ann dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Whoever stole the statue may be working with someone in New York to discredit me or even ruin my life. Raif says that if I don’t find out who they are, they’ll try something else. And he’s right. I’m not interested in the statue. I’m interested in who stole it.”

  It was Kalila’s turn to search Ann’s expression. “You like my cousin.”

  Ann was through tiptoeing around Kalila. The woman had secretly dropped her off in Raif’s suite in a negligee last night, for goodness’ sake. She had to know what was going on.

  She looked into Kalila’s eyes. “I like him very much. Last night—”

  “You do not need to tell me.”

  “But you already know.”

  Kalila hesitated. Then she nodded. “The crown prince may do as he likes.”

  “I don’t have to remain a virgin,” Ann found herself explaining.

  Kalila’s copper skin took on a light blush.

  “It’s different in America,” Ann said.

  “It’s different in Rayas, too.”

  Ann’s stomach clenched in concern for Kalila. “Niles?”

  But Kalila shook her head. Still, the blush grew deeper. “He protected my virginity. He understood.”

  Ann put the pieces together. “But you made out.”

  “We made out.” Kalila’s eyes took on a telling shine, as she obviously fought a fond smile at the memories. “I guess that’s a colloquialism in America, too.”

  “We make out in America,” Ann agreed.

  Kalila toyed with her fork on a blackberry for a moment. “There is one way,” she offered, glancing surreptitiously around the dining room.

  “One way to what?” Ann asked carefully, hoping against hope they weren’t still talking about making out.

  “I can come with you to the docks dressed like I belong,” Kalila said softly. “I speak Rayasian.”

  “You couldn’t,” Ann responded in genuine shock, even while her mind whipped through the enormous possibilities that would come from Kalila’s support. “Could you?”

  * * *

  Raif’s day had been long, filled with interminable meetings and appointments. All of them were long-winded explanations of the pet projects of the petitioners. He had no idea why so many people insisted on laying things out as if he was in grade school. He was going to start giving people marks for brevity, or maybe he’d buy a stopwatch. He was giving serious thought to assigning an aide to do timekeeping.

  All day long, he had battled the urge to search out Ann. Last night, he’d stopped himself from asking her to come back and sleep with him again. He hadn’t wanted to make any assumptions or put any pressure on her. But now he realized his mistake. Instead of spending the day anticipating another glorious night with her, he’d spent it worrying that she’d turn him down.

  She couldn’t turn him down. He wouldn’t let her turn him down. Then again, she wasn’t one of his subjects, and she wouldn’t jump to attention just because he asked. He’d learned that fact very quickly.

  It was nearly six o’clock now, and he was hungry. He’d also kill for a martini or a shot of single malt. But that wasn’t how he’d spend the next hour. Instead of eating and drinking, as he deserved after working so hard all day, he’d spend it with the marquess of Vendich. You’d think a crown prince could get a break in his own country.

  The door to his boardroom opened once again.

  A butler walked in as escort to the marquess, and Raif came to his feet to meet a tall, twentysomething, expensively dressed gentleman.

  “Your Royal Highness,” the butler began, wh
ile Raif half listened and wondered where Ann might be right now. “May I present Niles Hammond Walden-Garv, Marquess of Vendich.”

  Then the butler turned to the marquess. “His Royal Highness, Prince Raif Khouri, House of Bajal.”

  Raif met the marquess halfway to shake hands.

  The man’s shake was firm, almost challenging. And there was a dark determination in his eyes. Raif found himself cataloguing Rayas’s recent interactions with Britain, wondering if something had come off the rails. The marquess seemed to have a purpose.

  “May I speak with you alone?” the marquess asked without preamble.

  Raif looked to the butler and nodded.

  The man left the room, closing the double doors behind him. Raif gestured to two armchairs set at angles beneath a window, then wondered if he ought to put a table between them.

  “I’d prefer to stand,” said the marquess.

  Raif widened his stance and set his jaw, mentally bracing himself. “All right.”

  “I believe I understand how you feel,” said the marquess. “I know that promises were undertaken and plans were made. But I am here to speak with you man to man. And I’m hoping you’ll keep an open mind about what I have to say.”

  “You have me at a disadvantage,” said Raif, his annoyance at his private secretary and his aides percolating inside his head. If this was an adversarial meeting, someone ought to have briefed him in advance.

  “In what way, sir?” asked the marquess.

  “I don’t know why you’re here.”

  The man drew back, astonishment clear on his face. “How can that be?”

  “Incompetent staff,” Raif ventured, growing impatient with everyone involved in this little scenario. He had half a mind to call the meeting off and instead tear the palace apart in search of Ann and sustenance.

  “I’m here about Lila,” said the marquess.

  The answer wasn’t the least bit helpful. “What is Lila?” A British company was Raif’s best guess.

  The man’s stance drooped ever so slightly. “Your cousin Lila.”

  “Kalila?” Raif asked, frowning his disapproval at the nickname. “Are you referring to Her Royal Highness Princess Kalila Khouri?”

  “Of course. Who else?”

  “Her name is not Lila.” Now Raif wanted to throw the marquess out of the palace for insolence alone. But then it hit him. Niles Hammond Walden-Garv. “You are Niles?”

  “I am.”

  “The Niles.”

  “I’m going to say yes to that and assume Lila told you at least part of the story. Though, judging by your expression, she told you enough.”

  “Do not call her that,” Raif ground out.

  The door burst open, and Tariq rushed in. “Raif!” He gasped.

  Raif turned to confront his cousin, his tone cold. “Can I help you?” He was furious with the interruption.

  “It’s Ann and Kalila.” Tariq glanced at Niles then began speaking to Raif in Rayasian. “They’ve been taken.”

  Raif gave his head a quick shake, trying to make sense of Tariq’s words.

  “At the docks,” Tariq added.

  Raif’s stomach turned to ice. “How? Why? Where are they?”

  “Jordan’s men saw them, but only from a distance. They were disguised.”

  “It has to be a mistake.”

  “No mistake,” said Tariq. “Jordan’s men were watching Zeke’s warehouse.”

  “Who in the hell would take the princess to the docks?” Raif roared. But he was already moving toward the door.

  Whoever had aided them was about to be severely punished.

  “It seems they did it alone,” said Tariq, falling into step. “We think they left through the tunnels. Before Jordan’s men could get to them, they were abducted.”

  “Where are they now?” Raif demanded, his anger turning to sickening fear.

  “Jordan’s man is following the car.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Niles said in heavily accented Rayasian.

  Tariq drew back in shock, while Raif glared at Niles.

  “You will not,” said Raif.

  “He speaks Rayasian?” asked Tariq in obvious surprise.

  “Li—Princess Kalila taught me.” Niles ignored Raif’s order and kept pace with them.

  “This is Niles,” Raif growled to Tariq.

  Tariq gave Niles a once-over.

  “He might prove useful,” Tariq said to Raif. “They sure won’t connect him to the palace.”

  “I’m not planning anything remotely covert,” said Raif. “We’re storming the place.”

  In the hallway, a security detail immediately fell in behind him.

  “They’re not going to let you put yourself in danger,” said Tariq, glancing at the six men behind them.

  “They’re not stopping me.” He turned to the men. “Support me in this, or be instantly fired.” There was no force on earth that would keep Raif from getting to Ann.

  Niles spoke to Raif in English, determination dripping from every syllable. “And you’re not stopping me.”

  Raif didn’t have time to worry about the Brit. Ann and Kalila were in peril. “Do whatever you want,” he responded, continuing on his way.

  * * *

  When she regained consciousness, the first thing Ann realized was that she was cold. A second later, she realized her wrists and ankles were bound. She was also wet, lying on a wet, stone floor. Then her brain was filled with the knowledge that something had gone horribly wrong. She was immediately terrified for Kalila.

  Voices around her were harsh and guttural, men speaking to each other in Rayasian. She forced her eyes open, blinking in the dim shaft of light that streamed down a worn stone staircase. She couldn’t tell if it was night or day. The walls were gray stone, and she seemed to be in some kind of a basement.

  She heard a woman whimper beside her and craned her neck to focus on the sound. She tried to speak Kalila’s name, and it was then she realized her mouth was taped shut. It wasn’t until that moment that sheer, stark panic overtook her.

  She struggled to look around, desperate to know that Kalila was all right. Had the kidnappers recognized the princess? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Would they let her go for fear of Raif? Or would they hold her for ransom, or harm her?

  Ann focused on the woman who’d whimpered. She was up on a chair, though she was also bound, and her brown eyes were wide with fear. It wasn’t Kalila. The woman’s skin was white, her hair blond. But there was something oddly familiar about her.

  Kendra? Was it Kendra? What on earth would her assistant be doing in Rayas?

  Ann blinked at the fuzzy image, wondering if she could be hallucinating. She remembered a sting on her neck when the men had first grabbed her. That combined with the woolly taste in her mouth and the sluggishness of her brain convinced her she’d been drugged.

  The voices suddenly rose to an excited pitch. Men shouted. They jumped up and seemed to be running in all directions. A few of them grabbed guns and fired as bright flashlights bounced down the stone staircase.

  Ann could only duck her head and squeeze her eyes shut as the shots and screams and shouts rang out. It was all happening in Rayasian, and she had no idea what was going on. She prayed it was the police come to rescue them.

  Suddenly, strong arms grasped her, lifting her, carrying her. There was more shouting, but the shots had stopped.

  “You’re safe. You’re safe,” came Raif’s gruff voice, as he held her fast against his chest.

  Ann opened her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating again. But it was definitely Raif who carried her up the stairs, out into the humid Rayas night. He took her across a darkened street to a waiting SUV. There, he carefully pulled the tape from her mouth.

  “Kalila?” Ann managed to rasp.

  “Tariq has her.” Raif guided Ann gently into the backseat of the SUV. He shouted some instructions into the distance. She thought she heard Tariq answer, but she couldn’t be sure.


  Then Raif was sliding in beside her. The driver, separated from them by a glass partition, put the vehicle into gear, and they rolled away.

  Relief and remorse combined with the terror that was only just barely ebbing away.

  “You’re safe, Ann,” Raif told her again, pressing her to his chest to hold her with gentle care.

  “I’m—” she managed, but the word sounded frighteningly like a sob.

  “Shh,” he told her, stroking her hair. “We’re going back to the palace.”

  “I’m so sorry. Kalila—”

  “Is fine. We’ve got her. She’s not hurt.” Raif worked on the ropes binding Ann’s hands. When he freed them, the blood rushed back into her fingers, and she gasped from the sting.

  “I...” Ann began again. “We...” She didn’t know what else to say. There was no way to apologize for having put Kalila in such danger.

  Raif freed her feet. His voice went low. “We are going to have a very long talk about this later. But, for now, you’re safe. Nothing else matters. Nothing.”

  He helped her into a sitting position and put his arms around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

  He drew a shaky breath. “But if you ever, ever, ever try anything so colossally stupid again, I’ll punish you myself. And I can do that,” he finished gruffly. “I’m the crown prince.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she managed to say again. “It was my fault. I talked Kalila into it.”

  “Kalila will have to answer for herself.”

  “Oh, please, Raif. No. We were trying— You and Tariq wouldn’t listen. We didn’t know what else—”

  “Tariq’s had Jordan keeping Amar and Zeke under surveillance for days.”

  Ann drew back, gaping at Raif’s implacable face. “What?”

  “Do you think we would ignore a lead?”

  “You told me Elena wasn’t credible.”

  “She wasn’t,” said Raif.

  Ann’s relief and remorse bubbled to anger. “You let me think you’d dropped the lead. Why would you do that?”