by Charles, Eva
Like the one I’m trying to forge with you—although ours won’t be real. At least I don’t think so.
“In the United States, women have many freedoms, but we still form strong bonds with other women. Sisterhoods, we sometimes call them.”
Raksha collects the glasses, and tells Saher that Amir is playing happily with his new action figure.
“It must be lonely for Amir at the palace with the other children on holiday.”
According to the information I was given, Amir is a prisoner in the palace, as is Saher. Unlike her son, who cannot leave the grounds, she is permitted to come and go, but her outings are brief and local because she doesn’t trust her brother. I’d like to hear Saher’s take on her circumstances. Not that the specifics are important to the mission, but personal conversation builds friendship.
A cloud descends, marring her young, flawless features. Her life has been so tragic, it’s easy to forget she’s twenty-four. “Amir does not have much opportunity to play with the other children.”
Her pain has a pulse that I feel from across the table. My nurturing instincts leave a lot to be desired, but she looks so forlorn that I sit on my hands so that I don’t get up and wrap her in a hug.
“Amir’s father, my husband Jalaal, was killed for disloyalty to the king.” She gazes at me, and I can’t tell if it’s grief or terror I see. “Inside the walls of the palace. Our home. Ahmad had me dragged to the back courtyard and forced me to watch as they murdered the father of my three-week-old child. It was a message, for me, that my son could meet the same fate if I do not behave as they desire.”
I want to know more, but I’m concerned she’s already said too much, and that the punishment will be to keep us apart. I know she’s under surveillance—she must know that too. Why is she telling me this? “Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this.”
She studies me for a moment. “You are worried that there are ears listening. That it is not safe to talk openly.”
YES! But I don’t reply.
“Do not worry. What I tell you is not a secret. Jalaal’s murder was a warning, not just for me, but for everyone. It was open and celebrated. The traitor was dead.”
She’s bitter, but resigned. I doubt she celebrated. “Did you love him?”
“Like you love Gray? No. I grew to have great affection for him. But I am a princess, and my duty is to marry someone my family chooses for me. A man who brings honor, or something else they want. Jalaal was chosen for me.”
Although the briefing book contained everything she just confided, hearing the story from her, in the flesh, is staggering.
“Jalaal’s family believe that they are the rightful heirs to the kingdom. My father wanted to appease them by making the marriage. But it was always doomed. I do not know what Jalaal did to anger the king, or more likely, the crown prince.” She peers into my eyes, and I know instantly she believes her brother was behind the murder. “But this is why Amir cannot play with other children. He is not allowed to cultivate friendships that might become alliances as he grows to be a man.”
These people are freaking nuts. I mean, insane. Saher is in an impossible position—as is her child. Amir will not survive to adulthood. In her heart, she knows it too. I want nothing more than to get them the fuck out of this hellhole. Maybe the boy can have a real life, and maybe Saher won’t have to watch her son murdered in the name of a crown. The responsibility to complete the mission has never felt heavier than now.
“I’m also a widow,” I say quietly.
Saher puts down her glass to give me her full attention.
“I’m not sure if I loved my husband either.” I’ve never admitted that to anyone. Not even to Gabby. But somehow it seems right to share with her. “I was alone and confused, and he offered me—I don’t know exactly what it was, but it made me feel less broken.” I smile at her. “Life is complicated.”
Raksha brings out a tray with our lunch, and the sober mood lifts. We spend the rest of the afternoon discussing the Kardashians and American movies. Saher is a binge watcher. And she also wants to know whether I keep the door between my bedroom and the sitting room locked.
“Unlocked,” I confess, with a hint of embarrassment.
She grins broadly. “Maybe one day we will know each other well enough that you will tell me if he makes your toes curl.”
As she says it, I feel a small tug low in my belly, thinking about all the ways Gray makes my toes curl.
When it’s time to say good-bye, she insists that Raksha stay with me through the visit. “You should have a woman with you who is trustworthy. She will take the room next door to yours. It is empty. She is discreet. Raksha knows the palace well, and she can help you with anything.
“Do not trust Fatima,” she whispers, embracing me. “She is loyal only to Ahmad and herself.”
38
Delilah
Gray has been keeping the crown prince plenty busy for the last forty-eight hours, and I’ve seen so little of him. Last night, he crawled into my bed smelling like he’d been rolling in a musky flowerbed. But the late hour and the roiling stench didn’t stop him from curling his body around mine, like it was his God-given right.
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day,” he murmured, rucking my nightgown up around my hips and slipping his hand into my panties. “How are you, Blue Eyes?”
“Tired,” I muttered through sleep, but not too sleepy to shove his hand away. “And not interested.”
I was interested earlier, plenty interested, but as I waited alone for hours while he caroused with the prince, my petals dried up. It doesn’t matter that Gray’s only job while we’re here is to distract Ahmad. My head knows that, but my emotions, no matter how much I try to convince them otherwise, aren’t having any of it. I’m a professional and I’m working to get through the morass with all its tangles to complete the mission, but it irks me when I’m alone at night.
When I woke up this morning, my bed was empty and the pillow next to me was cool to the touch. Before I left for yoga, I tried Gray’s bedroom door, but it was locked. By the time I got back to the suite, he was gone.
Saher and I spent the afternoon sightseeing, and there was no time to dwell on Gray. I was focused entirely on finding an opportunity to get her the message—but there was none. I’m beginning to feel a little desperate. The clock is ticking loudly. This is when mistakes happen. I need to stay focused.
I slide my hand into the pocket of the abaya, feeling the outline of the small compact that contains the note. I’ve been carrying it around with me all day, and brought it to dinner, just in case.
Gray is sitting at one end of a banquet table, panty-melting in a custom tux, and I’m at the other end beside Ahmad. I expected to see Saher, but she’s not here. I’m not sure what it means, but I hate when plans change.
The banquet is in honor of our visit, and I chat amicably with the other guests seated near me, speaking to Ahmad as little as possible without being outright rude.
At the end of the meal, guests begin to stand and stretch, many saying their good-byes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gray approaching. I haven’t seen him all day. There’s so much I want to discuss with him, but of course we can’t talk about any of it. Although, being with him, just the two of us, would help quiet my mind. I glance around the room. I wonder how much longer before we can escape to the suite?
“Hey,” he says softly. “Your earrings were on the dresser in the room. I put them in the top drawer.” I left the emeralds out to let him know that everything was on track. “You didn’t want to wear them?”
“I really did, but I wore them yesterday.”
He laughs. Our interaction is chaste, but the flare in his eyes tells a different story.
He wants what I want, to get lost in the intensity he creates, letting it spiral and spiral, the pressure building and building until the coils are wound impossibly tight, and then, only then, does he release the spring, sending me into a free fall.
I can almost smell the arousal, the pheromones seeping through his sun-kissed skin. The tension escalates as we stand inches apart, unable to touch each other in public.
“Even covered from head to toe, you look gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Good enough to eat.” The predator has come to play, and for a small time, the din fades into the background and there’s no one beside us in the room.
“We have just a few more days in paradise before we head home.” His reminder falls hard, jolting me into the here and now.
But I don’t need his prodding. I have a plan. I just need an opening. A tiny window where everything falls into place. “It’s incredible here, but I’m almost ready to leave. You know what a homebody I am.”
He gazes at me, running his straight pearly whites over his bottom lip. “I need to go. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you.”
What? It’s like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. “Aren’t you coming to the room with me?”
He shakes his head. “I have a meeting.”
“A meeting? At this hour? In a tux?” I sound like a nagging, jealous girlfriend, but honestly, I don’t give a shit. “Does this meeting involve—”
“Don’t start, Delilah.” His voice is well-modulated and hushed, as is mine. I’m not sure how much of this is real, and how much is for show. All I know is my heart sags with disappointment—just a drop.
“I’m tired,” I snap. “I’ve had a big day, and another tomorrow. I need some uninterrupted sleep. Don’t bother coming to my bed.”
Gray’s eyes flit briefly to something behind me. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he sneers, in a cruel twist. “You ready?” he asks, glancing over my shoulder, dismissing me.
“Just waiting for you,” Ahmad says, the levity in his voice is unmistakable, adding to my embarrassment. “Miss Porter, shall I have something sent up to help you sleep?”
The fucker. I am so angry, I’m afraid to open my mouth, but I turn my head slowly, reminding myself of the reason I’m here. “That won’t be necessary, Your Highness. I know just the prescription for sleep.”
The prince might not pick up on the innuendo, but Gray most certainly will. I gaze up at him and smile sweetly. Let him spend some time thinking about me rubbing my pussy. “Good night, gentlemen.” I saunter away with my head high, pausing to say a few words to everyone I pass on the way out of the room.
Just a few more days in paradise before we head home. Hopefully tomorrow will hold more opportunity than today.
39
Delilah
It’s done.
Just like that. No fanfare. No exploding fireworks. Nothing but my pounding heart when I handed Saher my abaya, and slipped my arms through hers, making a quick getaway before she caught on to the switch.
“I wonder what surprise Amir left you today?” I said cheerily, as the door closed behind me. Then I disappeared down the hall before Saher noticed that she had the wrong robe. Even Trippi had trouble keeping up with me.
It’s done. The sense of relief is exhilarating. I’ve never felt anything like it.
I turn off the shower and reach for a fluffy towel, patting my skin dry. I can’t wait to parade in front of Gray with those sapphires in my ears. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face.
It’s done.
Although, in many ways, the real risk comes now.
We took precautions so the note couldn’t be traced to us. So there would at least be plausible deniability if Saher panics and takes it to her brother. But I push the thoughts away, because for just a few minutes, I want to revel in mission accomplished.
I belt the robe around my waist and go out into the bedroom. Raksha is there, waiting, hands clenched by her side. Trouble already? “What is it?”
“Fatima is here for you. She says it is important to speak with you immediately.”
My heart falls into my stomach. I need to contact Gray. And say what? You don’t even know why she’s here.
I gesture toward the sitting room, and Raksha nods. “Shall I get dressed first?”
She nods. “I will tell her you are preparing yourself, and you will be available then.”
What could she possibly want? My gut is churning. What if Saher went to her about the note? No. There’s no way she would have gone to Fatima. With little thought to my outfit, I finish dressing, add a bit of makeup, and go to the sitting room where Fatima is waiting.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Miss Porter. The king wishes to see you.”
I’m not sure what I expected, but the king wishes to see you wasn’t on my list of possibilities. I don’t like this. “The king?”
She nods, smiling.
“Will Mr. Wilder be joining us?” I need to buy some time to think.
“I don’t know,” she says with a small smile. “I’m simply carrying the message.”
Carrying the message. Fuck. “Give me a moment to get an abaya, please.”
“A moment, but we must hurry. The king has a very full schedule, and he does not like to be kept waiting.”
“I understand.”
From the bedroom, I try to reach Gray, but the call doesn’t go through. It was a long shot. The reception here is spotty at best. I consider sending a text or an email, but decide against it.
“Do I go?” I ask Raksha.
“You must,” she says resolutely.
Yes, I must. But I’m shaking inside.
I open the door to the hall, and thankfully Trippi is there, right where I left him. “The king wants to see me. I can’t reach Gray. Please let him know.”
There’s a flicker of alarm in his face. “I’ll escort you.”
I shake my head. “Not to the king. We need to observe protocol. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m up for bucking protocol,” he says. “Pretty sure I’ve done it once or twice in the past.”
“Shall we go?” Fatima asks from behind me.
“I’m in good hands,” I assure Trippi. His jaw is tight, and he doesn’t appear at all convinced. “But do let Gray know where I am so he doesn’t worry.”
While Fatima and I wind our way through the palace, she makes polite chitchat. “Are you enjoying your visit?”
“It’s been wonderful. Everyone has been so kind and accommodating.” Hopefully that will continue where I’m going.
We cross over into the official working area of the palace. This is not what I expected. “The king is in his office?”
“He is,” she says simply, leading me down a long, wide hall lined with soldiers, and through a set of security doors. The gold plaque on the door reads Crown Prince Ahmad bin Khalid.
As we pass staff working in tight cubicles and offices, I squelch the rising panic. “I thought it was the king who summoned me?”
“He will be king one day. Soon,” she says brazenly, outside the crown prince’s personal office.
40
Delilah
“Your Highness,” Fatima says with the utmost reverence. “Miss Porter is here, as you requested.”
The crown prince ignores her, walking around his gargantuan desk to greet me. “Come in, Miss Porter. Have a seat.” He motions to a chair in front of the desk. “I’m so pleased you decided to meet with me.”
Really? Did I have a fucking choice?
He nods at Fatima. “You need not wait. Close the door when you leave.”
Fatima looks almost as twisted up inside as I feel.
I raise a finger to stop her. “Your Highness, if I may.”
He nods, sitting on the edge of his desk, towering above me.
“I don’t want to cause a scandal and ruin either of our reputations.”
He lifts his chin toward the door, in a gesture for Fatima to go. “Ruin our reputations?” He snickers when the door clicks shut. “I’d say it’s a bit late for that, Delilah, don’t you agree?”
While I try to make some sense of what this all means, he goes to the wall behind the desk and draws the drapes. “But do
n’t be alarmed,” he assures me, as the drape opens to a line of soldiers carrying serious artillery. They stand at attention, facing away from the office. “You will be well-chaperoned.” His tone is light, but the signals he’s sending are deadly serious.
“Is Gray joining us?” I ask, my voice steady and strong.
He sneers. “While you’re with me, I assure you, you won’t need Gray.”
He has the look of a jackal as he approaches me. I need to keep him at arm’s length.
“Let’s take a seat on the sofa, where we’ll be more comfortable.”
Maybe this isn’t about the note.
I sit at the far corner of the tufted sofa, hoping to put some distance between us, but he pivots and takes the chair closest to me. “You’ve come a long way from your modest beginnings in Mississippi.”
“Have you visited Mississippi?”
He shakes his head. “I have never had the opportunity. But had I known about you, I would have moved mountains to get there.” He teases with a smile, but it feels more mocking. “Gray is quite a prize, isn’t he?”
“We’re very different, that’s for sure.” I smile patiently, but my patience is wearing thin.
“Different is good. It kindles the fire like nothing else. You and I are different too, Delilah.”
While I’m not a stranger to cutting off assholes at the knees, I take great care to be respectful. “We are, Your Highness.”
“When we are alone, even in the palace, you may call me Ahmad. Your Highness makes me feel old and out of touch. I assure you, I am neither.”
I could kill this jackass with one hand tied behind my back. Although that would create a nasty mess for Gray to clean up, and I wouldn’t be around to help because those motherfuckers outside the window would gun me down in a heartbeat.
