“Give me an example. I'm not familiar with your culture or your way of life.” She stroked the steed's muzzle, appearing content with the contact.
“Without getting too explicit, I don't want multiple wives. All my brothers who are of age have at least two, some as many as four.” It just wasn't his preference. What his brothers did was their own business, and while he didn't want it for himself, that didn't mean he judged his brothers for their way of life.
She straightened, stepping away from the stall door. “Four wives? Wait, how many brothers do you have?”
“Eight. And nine sisters.”
Sessily's mouth dropped open in shock. “Eighteen children, including you?”
“My father has several wives. It's common here, just like it's common in other cultures to only have one wife. The Emir wants to make sure he has an heir of his choosing to pass the kingdom down to. More children means more choices.”
“So you might one day become the Emir? If he chooses you?”
He laughed and coaxed her into a slow stroll. “He would never choose me.”
“Why not?” Sessily paced at his side, paying more attention to him than the horses.
“For the reasons I just stated. He needs someone who will carry on traditions. Someone willing to follow in his footsteps.”
“And you go your own way,” she said, repeating him “which takes you out of the running.”
“Yes.” Vaguely amused at her curiosity, he led her along the many stalls, petting a few of the horses who stuck their necks out to reach him. The way Sessily ran the pad of her finger along her lower lip struck him as thoughtful, contemplative. “Something on your mind?”
“Oh, I was just wondering why you're content to let him choose another. Isn't that the desire of heirs, to want to rule when it's time?” She slanted a sidelong look at him.
He met her eyes, sliding a hand into his pocket. “Some heirs, not me. I have no desire to become Emir.”
“Why not?”
“Many reasons, not the least of them the politics one has to play when they accept that title. I have other, more important things to do with my time.”
“I'm intrigued by that. Your decision, I mean.”
“Trust me, if you had to deal with the politics and the clandestine situations that come up, you wouldn't want to be anywhere near it.” Those were not half the reasons, but the ones that sounded best in his mind. He did not relish being hounded every second of every day by lobbyists who wanted this or wanted that, and the jealousy of his brothers. There was always animosity within the ranks after a new Emir was chosen, and a body could never truly trust those closest to them, even if they shared the same blood. It would be a lifetime of watching over his shoulder, of never knowing when a strike might come.
He preferred to hunt, rather than be the hunted.
“It sounds like you have made up your mind for good on the matter,” she said next.
“I have. Long ago.” At the juncture of barns, he paused to let her decide whether she wanted to pet the horses here, or keep walking down the other long row of stalls.
Sessily smiled at him, one of those sweet smiles that did strange things to his heart.
She said, “You have made what appears to be an excellent life for yourself here, away from all that. Our stables and homestead are not half so luxurious.”
He laughed. “It suits me. I like to travel, so I am not here as much as I could be. You've told me very little about your family and your business.”
She glanced ahead, strolling forward with her hands clasped behind her back. “I have one sister, Iris. My mother passed away some years back, and my father travels extensively for the business. He made sure I knew my way around the stables though, so I'm the one who oversees the day to day running of it.”
“And is that the life you envisioned for yourself?”
“Yes and no. I love the horses, though I wish I could travel more with my father, see the world.”
“I've never seen you at any of the big events.” The ones that attracted the elite like bees to honey. Anyone who wanted to be noticed or mingle with some of the most powerful people in the world showed up to at least one of the balls each year.
“This is my coming out, I guess you could say,” she replied with a quiet laugh. “My father or one of his other businessmen attended these things.”
“Pavel,” he said, testing her surname on his tongue. “I do not recall ever meeting your father, unfortunately. Which is typical with how many people can sometimes show up at an event.”
Sessily slanted a startled look aside. “I never told you my last name.”
Indeed. He'd had one of his men do a little extracurricular research. “I know.”
Stopping to face him, she cocked her chin, apparently indignant. “Did you look me up?”
“Of course.” He rocked back and forth on his boot soles, enjoying the flash of fire he saw in her eyes. “Didn't you do the same to me?”
Flustered, she stammered through a few incoherent noises before saying, “No. I didn't.”
“Then you should have. Going home with a stranger and everything.”
Her expression turned...displeased. Ahsan tried not to smile.
“What else did you look up?”
“There wasn't much to look up, considering I couldn't find anything to do with stables or your parents or other news.”
She gasped in outrage. “Maybe I don't want people snooping around.”
He arched a brow. She didn't want people snooping around, yet she'd just put him through the ringer with question after question? He didn't need to even say those words aloud; Sessily picked up on her own hypocrisy and blushed.
“It's always a wise idea to look into a person's background, especially if you're about to invite them into your personal domain.” He meant to make her think about it, to take the warning more seriously next time. It wasn't just his position in the Royal Elite that made him wary and slightly paranoid. He'd lost brothers to questionable deaths that likely revolved around murder. Digging up information was easy in the age of the internet and word of mouth. It wouldn't have been much trouble for her to do a quick background check on him before they departed Dubai.
“I'll make sure to do that if I ever go home with an almost-stranger again.” Temper cooling, she resumed walking, a distracted look on her face.
“I hope you do.”
“I notice that you didn't hesitate to still bring me here even though you couldn't find much about my family.”
“I like mysteries.”
She laughed, some of the tension easing from her posture. “I'm hardly a mystery. Just not of the caliber of people you're used to running with, I think.”
“On the contrary, you're exactly the kind of people I prefer to run with.” He preferred those who spoke their mind and got straight to the heart of a matter. The games that went on in the circles of the elite could only amuse him for so long.
From an empty stall, a sudden flurry of movement drew his eye. Four kittens, no more than six weeks old, bumbled out. Playing, oblivious to their presence for the moment.
“Oh, look how adorable!” Sessily, apparently forgetting all about her annoyance, crouched down and crooned to the babies.
One kitten popped up in surprise, another ran back into the stall on unsteady legs, and a third raced pell-mell in the other direction. The fourth plopped onto its haunches and stared up at her with owl-like, wide eyes.
Amused beyond reason, he bent to scoop up the escaping kitten and cuddled it against his chest. They were tame and used to people, just a little rambunctious as kittens tended to be.
Sessily managed to get her hands on the sitting kitten and stood, holding it up near her throat. “They're adorable. Not very old, either.”
“About five weeks, give or take a few days.” He regarded the softer lines of Sessily's face, the adoring look in her eyes, and thought about what it would be like to wake up to that in the morning. To see her
tousled, cheeks flushed from sleep.
“Ahsan?”
“Hm?” He came back to the present when he realized she'd been talking to him. “What?”
“I asked if it was all right for me to come down and visit the horses and kittens.”
“Any time you like. While you're at it, you should give all these kittens names. They don't have any yet.” He just wanted to see what she would come up with.
“This one is precious, so I'll call her Precious.” Sessily held up the fluffy tabby and smiled at Ahsan.
He groaned. This might be a big mistake. “You don't even know if it's a girl yet.”
“And the one you're holding is Whitey.”
“Sessily, seriously? You're horrible at naming animals.” Whitey? He wasn't calling either cat Precious or Whitey. A man had to put his foot down at some point.
“Are you a name snob?” she asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Choose something else.” He set the fluffy white kitten down and watched it scramble back to the empty stall. Searching his pockets, he brought out his phone, keys and a small red apple. Setting his phone and his keys atop a nearby trunk with a flat lid, he fished out a knife next and quartered the fruit.
“But I like those names, they're fitting.”
“I'm not calling that cat Precious.” And that was that. He handed off two slices to Sessily, and turned to offer two horses a slice of apple each. The steeds nickered with interest, ears pricked forward, and lipped the treat off his palm.
After setting the tabby down, Sessily chose two horses to give the apple slices to. “You invited me to name them, so I'm naming them. Live with it.”
He laughed. “These are my stables, in case you've forgotten. I make the rules, and I can change them any time. Choose different names.”
Before anyone could say anything else, an employee hailed him from the far end of the stable. He glanced at Sessily. “Will you be all right here for a moment?”
“Of course. I'll be waiting, take your time.” She smiled as if the intrusion was not a problem at all.
“Excellent. Think up new names in the meantime.” He winked and strode the other way, intent on finishing his business as soon as possible. Like a burning brand, he could feel her gaze bore into his back, watching him walk away.
As if she could do any less.
Chapter Five
Sessily helped herself to the impressive sight of Ahsan's retreating back. Broad and strong, with muscles flexing under the snug fit of the tee shirt, it was a back she could easily imagine running her hands over.
Turning her mind from intimate musings, she rubbed her forehead with her fingers and took a deep breath.
She hadn't expected their conversation to take such a drastic turn. His admission that he'd checked her background had almost sent her into a fit of panic. Sessily thought he was going to casually say he knew exactly why she was here, and who had sent her. For long moments, she'd nearly lost control of her temper and ranted at him. Fear was the culprit of her swing in emotion, for the stakes were high if she failed to accomplish her mission or if Ahsan figured out her game.
A game she was coming to loathe more and more with every passing second. Ahsan might be arrogant and blunt and self-serving, but she thought she detected a more complicated man beneath the outer trappings. It was the way he bluntly warned her to be more cautious about strangers, the way he handled the kitten with such tender hands, and the fond way he sometimes greeted his horses. This was a man who truly cared about animals and their well being. People, too, or at least certain people. His employees treated him with respect and were eager to please and, as far as she had seen, his entire household worked together like a well oiled machine.
All her inner warnings that Ahsan might be like his brother held less weight in the face of these personal glimpses. Bashir had been cold as ice from the outset, a man who looked at a person with calculation over the best way to use them.
Stroking the muzzle of a sleek black mare, Sessily considered her options. Ahsan had told her what Bashir wanted to know: he wasn't interested in the title of Emir and appeared to have no plans to challenge Bashir for the title of Crown Prince. That was the crux of her spying, the ultimate knowledge that should set herself and her sister free.
She wouldn't have to resort to murder to save Iris, and she was deeply grateful for that. Whether she could commit the act was a question she didn't want to answer. Bashir said she would if she knew a knife was at Iris's throat and there was no other way.
Kill or be responsible for her sister's death. Do or die. Did she have it in her?
The chime of Ahsan's phone snapped her out of her reverie. Glancing down, she was able to see the message on the lit up screen whether she wanted to read it or not.
Have 5 new women. Send them to you or Bashir?
Sessily gasped. She immediately thought of the 'harem' from the night before, the women standing single file, prepared to do Bashir's bidding. Her mind raced with possibilities. Could Ahsan be working with his brother in the trafficking rings while pretending to dismantle them? He would have inside knowledge, information to make himself look like a savior if he waited until they were done in one area, then 'busted' the ring he'd known existed all along and moved on to another place in the world.
The thought made her sick.
Niggling doubt ate at her. The man she'd spent the morning with did not seem like the type to enjoy the kidnapping, blackmail and abuse of women and children. He'd told her with his own mouth that he detested any kind of abuse—yet wouldn't that be the perfect cover story? What person would openly admit being involved in such a thing?
By the time she glanced down at his phone, the message was gone. She'd not gotten a good look at who the sender was, unfortunately, and she wasn't sure she was brave enough to pick his phone up to search it with so many people around. There could be more incriminating texts, which might or might not answer her questions.
Have 5 new women. The words haunted her. And the sender clearly wanted to know where to send them. To Ahsan, or Bashir? Why else would someone be asking that question unless they had a new batch of freshly harvested flesh to trade?
But if Ahsan and Bashir were working together, then why had Bashir sent her here? As a test of loyalty? Was this all a grand game, where bored Royal brothers made bets over the psychology of an innocent woman?
That's paranoia talking, Sessily. It's too complicated, too much trouble, she argued with herself.
Distraught, unsure what to believe or who to trust, she left the cell phone and his keys where they lay. Backtracking to the juncture in the stalls, she found the double doors and retreated to the palace.
She needed time to think. To sort.
What bothered her most of all was that she didn't want Ahsan to be that man. She wanted him to be what he appeared on the surface: upstanding, compassionate, honest and willing to sacrifice much for the safety of others. Even more frightening, she had the urge to confide in him. Tell him of Bashir's plans and plots. To see if he could save her like he'd supposedly saved those women last night.
It could turn out to be the best or worst decision she'd ever made.
. . .
Disappearing women annoyed him. Stalking back to the palace after finding Sessily missing from the stables, he considered her actions. Had she become bored waiting? He hadn't been gone that long. Longer than he'd planned, yes, but colicky horses worth a small fortune deserved forty-five minutes of his time. He didn't want any of his animals dying if he was there to prevent it.
His phone chimed and he dug it out of his pocket while skirting the gardens and the pool. Another text from Leander. Well? He had to scroll back to see the previous message to find out what Leander was asking.
Five more women. His brethren were onto something and had rescued another group before they could fall into Bashir's—or someone else's—hands. Excellent. He thumbed out a return text, muttering Arabic curses over how many times he had to correct sp
elling. His fingers were too big, the screen too small.
You're funny. Bashir would like you to do his dirty work for him. Leander's sarcasm over sending the women to his brother, after last night's episode, amused him. Send them here until we know more.
Sliding the phone away, confident Leander, Chayton, Mattias and Sander could handle things, Ahsan entered the cooler halls of the palace and made his way to the stairs after a staff member discreetly informed him Sessily was in her room.
With the door shut.
At her door some minutes later, he knocked loud enough for her to hear even if she was showering or in the bath. “Sessily?”
“Come in.”
The weak reply concerned him. Turning the handle, he stepped inside the suite, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. She'd drawn the curtains over the windows, dousing the room into shadow. There was enough light to see by, however, and he spotted her prone on the bed, on her back, with a cloth over her eyes. She had tucked one of her legs beneath the other, making the shape of the number four, and it struck a vulnerability chord in him. She was a long way from the sophisticated lady in white, laid low by some indefinable issue.
“What's wrong?” He left her door cracked instead of closing it, so she wouldn't feel trapped in there with him. In short order he was at her bedside, staring down at her pale face. Her lower lip looked redder than he remembered and not from lipstick. The length of her hair had come undone at some point and lay strewn across the pillows, rich and luxurious.
“Headache. I suffer from severe ones, and they can come on strong without warning. My apologies for leaving the stables before you came back.” She laid a hand over the cloth, applying gentle pressure.
Hands on his hips, Ahsan stared down at his stricken guest. She sounded strange, as if it cost her in pain to speak. “Don't worry about that. What can I do? We have mild painkillers here. I can fly a doctor in if you need one.”
After a short silence, she said, “No, no that won't be necessary, thank you. I brought something with me, I always do just in case, and am waiting for it to take effect. I should be fine in another few hours.”
The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2) Page 6
