by Maya Blake
Rahim went rigid. Anger vibrated from his body, and Allegra closed her eyes for a second in regret, knowing she’d just blown any chance of securing her grandfather’s precious box out of the water.
‘I assure you, I’ve never played at being anything in my life. And the state of Dar-Aman’s infrastructure is the way I inherited it when I ascended to the throne six months ago...’
‘And you’ve turned things round since you took the throne but you were the crown prince from the day you were born!’
The smile that touched Rahim’s lips was as icy as his regard. ‘I thought you did your homework, Miss Di Sione? Obviously not since you’re not aware of such a common piece of information. Until six months ago I hadn’t set foot in Dar-Aman for fifteen years.’
Shock drenched her at the news, even as she flinched at the formal clip of her name. ‘So...you’re saying your father was responsible for the state of affairs in your kingdom, not you? You didn’t think as crown prince that you owed your people your care and attention your presence in Dar-Aman would’ve given them, especially knowing the state your father was in?’
His head snapped back as if she’d struck him, then he glared icily down his aristocratic nose at her. ‘Be very careful about the insults you fling around. I have never absolved myself of my contribution to the neglect my people have suffered. I chose to absent myself, so all I can do is try to pick up the pieces.’
Allegra heard the thread of hollow bleakness in his tone, and her heart lurched as she was reminded of her own impending loss. The thought of her grandfather spurred her to her feet.
‘But I’m still ruler in this kingdom, and as my guest, you owe me your respect.’
Shame washed over her. ‘I’m sorry.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘For what exactly are you sorry?’
‘For your people’s suffering, of course. But, Rahim...’
He stiffened. ‘Since we’re no longer cordial, you will address me as Your Highness.’
She sucked in a sustaining breath. ‘I... Your Highness, I would still like to discuss the box, if...’
Rahim volleyed an imprecation in Arabic. ‘Unbelievable! You think you can soften me up with a false show of sympathy right before you demand what you truly came here for?’
She gasped. ‘That wasn’t false!’
His hand slashed through the air with deadly impatience. ‘Why should I believe you when it’s clear you came here under false pretences?’
‘What?’
‘You told me on the phone that you were coming to Dar-Aman in your capacity as the head of the Di Sione...’ He stopped suddenly, and laughed. The sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard. ‘Very clever to trick me with your words. Tell me, do you always get away with this kind of subtle subterfuge?’
Allegra’s face flamed, knowing very well it was what she’d done. ‘Please...this is important.’
‘As are my people to me, Miss Di Sione. And by wasting time with you, I’ve set myself back even further from making real progress.’
She jumped to her feet, desperation clawing higher and harder by the second. ‘Rahim,’ she started, but paused when she saw his set jaw. ‘Your Highness, I’ll offer you whatever you want for the box.’
He regarded her for a full, disbelieving minute. Then he strolled forward until he was a single foot from her. This close, she could feel the turbulent emotions vibrating from his hard body. It took a huge amount of strength not to step back from him.
‘You travelled thousands of miles for the sake of a trinket.’ The mild sneer was mingled with something else. Something that sounded curiously like bitterness. ‘It really means that much to you?’
She didn’t waste time wondering why he would be bitter about her intentions. ‘Yes.’
‘And you expect me to drop everything to help you on this whimsical quest?’
‘Well, I...’
‘It seems we’re both to be losers in this little tale. You never had any intention of offering me the services of your foundation, and I have better things to do than to chase after little trinkets. Even you will agree that my time is better suited elsewhere?’ He flicked a glance at his wrist and continued without waiting for an answer. ‘It’s late, and seeing as I’ve wasted precious time with you that I could ill afford, I must get back to work. I will have an aide escort you to your chambers. A driver will take you to the airport in the morning. You and I will not meet again.’
He started to walk away. Panic held Allegra rigid before she wrenched herself out of it. ‘You’ll deny an old man his dying wish?’
He froze with his hand on the doorknob, then turned with a grace that was fascinating to behold. ‘Excuse me?’
‘The box...it’s for my grandfather. It belonged to him a long time ago. Please, he’s dying, you see...’
If she’d expected sympathy or any softening, she got the opposite. Rahim’s face hardened until it was a stony, hauntingly beautiful statue. But his eyes were alive with pure, incandescent condemnation.
‘If there’s one thing I detest more than subterfuge, it’s emotional manipulation. Trust me when I say, you’ve just destroyed any chance of getting what you wanted. Even if I felt inclined to go hunting for an ornament in a palace full of thousands of them—which I don’t—you’ve assured yourself an even firmer refusal. Goodnight.’
He left, leaving behind a seething silence disturbed only by her rough, stunned breathing.
She’d failed.
The gnawing realisation made her double over, her heart hammering loud in her ears as she fought not to hyperventilate. Visions of how the conversation would go with her grandfather reeled across her mind as she stumbled back to the chair and dropped her head into her hands.
As close as she was to her grandfather, she knew he’d found her lacking in most things except the running of her foundation. The thought of returning empty-handed, telling him that she’d screwed up what could be his last request of her, and severely angered the ruler of a powerful kingdom to boot, wrenched a despairing sob from her.
Allegra had no idea how long she sat there staring into the lamplit distance. She didn’t know the story behind the box Giovanni wanted back so desperately, but the look in his eyes when he’d pleaded with her to find it was stamped vividly in her memory. Her eyes prickled, but she dashed the tears away.
She’d failed this time, but she refused to believe all was lost. Perhaps what she needed was to give Rahim time for his anger towards her to cool. Or she could make him a better offer.
Determinedly, she stood, but a few steps later she faltered. What had she to give except a tainted proffer of help after she’d condemned him so thoroughly? Anything she suggested now would be soured and firmly refused.
Biting her lip, she paced the floor in front of the sofa, discarding each idea she came up with as weak and useless. Rahim would see through every ploy to secure the box now he believed she’d come to Dar-Aman under false pretences. About to leave the office, she stopped to pick up the wrap she’d dropped on the sofa, and saw the glossy coffee table book. She picked up the publication, the title—The Treasures of Dar-Aman—jumping at her. The name of the world-renowned photographer/author leapt out at her and she knew that he wouldn’t have left a stone unturned in documenting everything that was worth documenting.
Hands shaking, Allegra dropped back on the sofa and turned the first page. Quickly scanning the table of contents, her breath snagged in her lungs when she saw the subtitle—For the Love of Fabergé.
Flipping over to the relevant page, she speed-read the introduction. Rahim’s mother had possessed a weakness for trinket boxes, especially priceless ones with rich histories. Objets d’art from the House of Fabergé had been her particular favourite and she’d been an avid collector from a very young age. Once she’d married, her husband had made it his personal mission to gift her with as many boxes as possible.
Allegra scanned the pictures. On the third page, she stopped. Heart pounding, she stared at the perf
ect image.
The gold and lapis lazuli scrollwork, including the central chinoiserie hanging basket motif and delicate eagle’s wings on the box, was just as her grandfather had described it. Set on a bed of blue silk, the box stood on its own fragile but exquisitely designed gold pedestal. Both box and pedestal seemed to have been kept in perfect condition in the decades since Giovanni had parted with it.
When she managed to peel her gaze away from the picture, she read the single line beneath it and froze. The reason she hadn’t been able to locate the box earlier was because the late queen, Rahim’s mother, had kept the box in her bedroom.
The bedroom now used by the current sheikh.
Allegra closed the book with a thump, her body growing numb as reality slid like an insidious fog over her. Until that moment, she hadn’t wanted to entertain the thought that she would truly be returning home empty-handed. She’d even toyed with the idea of finding the box herself and getting Rahim to reconsider his position in the morning, with the benefit of time and a little clarity.
From his earlier attitude, it was clear the priceless objects his mother had loved didn’t mean as much to him. They were merely flimsy things he’d grown up with. Surely, he wouldn’t be as bullheaded in the morning at the thought of parting with one of them?
Shaking her head, she stood a final time and walked out of the office.
The aide waited outside as promised, and walked her to her suite, where Nura greeted her with her usual effervescence. After apologising for keeping her up past midnight, Allegra dismissed her, undressed and pulled on her negligee. She was brushing her hair out when her mobile phone lit up with a voicemail message icon. Dropping the brush, she picked it up and accessed her calls. The Long Island code displayed sent a cold wave of dread through her.
Willing her hands not to shake, she dialled home.
‘Miss Allegra, thank God!’ Alma exclaimed.
Her grip tightened on the handset until her bones creaked painfully. ‘What’s happened? Is Grandfather okay?’ she demanded.
‘Oh, yes. I’m sorry, piccolina, I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s having a better day today, and has been making a bunch of calls all morning. He tried to call you a few times, and you know how he frets when he can’t reach any of you.’
Allegra sagged onto the bed in relief, and cursed herself for not taking her phone with her to the banquet. ‘Can I talk to him?’
‘Sì, of course. Hold on.’
Allegra squeezed her eyes shut, dismay at the news she was about to deliver eating her alive.
‘Allegra mia?’ her grandfather greeted her, his voice much stronger than it’d been a few days ago.
‘Yes, I’m here, Grandfather.’
‘Where exactly is here? You’ve had an old man climbing the walls with worry,’ he admonished.
‘I’m still in Dar-Aman. I’m sorry, I was at dinner and I didn’t bring my phone with me. I... I was going to call you when I got back to New York tomorrow.’
‘With good news, yes?’ Naked hope pulsed in Giovanni’s voice.
Allegra’s throat clogged with shame and sorrow. ‘Grandfather...’ She stopped, unable to find the words that would break his heart.
‘I spoke to Matteo an hour ago. He had good news for me regarding the necklace I sent him to find.’
Her heart lurched, and she forced a swallow before she could speak. ‘I’m glad, but I couldn’t... I don’t think I’ll be able to retrieve the box for you.’
Heavy silence greeted her confession, broken once by her grandfather’s deep, ragged exhalation. ‘Was it not there?’ he asked, his voice bleak with disappointment.
‘It was...it’s here. But Rahim...the sheikh, is refusing to part with it.’
Giovanni exhaled again. ‘I’m not surprised. It was his mother’s treasured possession and must hold sentimental value for him. But... Allegra mia, my need is greater, and I’ve reached a point in this life when I can afford to be a little selfish about my needs.’ The confession was hushed, his voice now whispery with desperation. ‘If you have seen it, if it’s within your grasp, then don’t fail me, ragazza mia. Per favore.’ The raw, anguished plea held a note so viscerally harrowing Allegra’s eyes prickled.
‘This isn’t just a box to you, is it, Grandfather?’ It couldn’t be, not when the thought of not having it back was breaking his heart.
‘No, it’s not,’ he confirmed. When he didn’t elaborate, Allegra blinked back her tears and forced strength into her voice.
‘I’ll bring it back, Nonno. I promise.’
Giovanni exhaled shakily. ‘Ti amo, nipotina.’
Allegra pressed the end button. She knew what she had to do, but didn’t allow herself to think beyond her next breath, her next step.
Catching up the wrap she’d dropped on the curved window seat earlier, she tugged it over her negligee and hurried to the door.
The hallway was silent, half of the lamps turned off. The double doors Nura had told her about loomed ominously before her. Fuelled by adrenaline and the promise not to fail again, she grasped the ornate golden handles. A part of her had feared the doors would be locked. After all, wasn’t that how harems worked? Or did Rahim allow whatever woman wanted him to just sail through the doors and into his bedchamber at their whim?
The thought brought acid distaste to her mouth, but not enough to stop her from walking through the doors and shutting them behind her. The hallway snaked into semidarkness, with a single Tiffany lamp burning on a delicately balanced console table a dozen feet away. Holding her breath, Allegra followed the run of Persian rug, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. In the curve of the hallway, she stopped. Heart hammering, she took in the twin Moroccan lanterned lamps bracing either side of giant carved doors.
She didn’t need a sign or plaque to tell her those were the doors that led to Rahim’s chamber. The heat flooding her veins and the quickening of her blood was evidence enough. But if that wasn’t enough, as she forced herself to move closer, his lingering scent curled around her senses. Her nostrils quivered, along with every screeching nerve ending in her body.
Desperately pushing the sensations away, she raised her hand and knocked lightly. She suppressed the half-formed plan bubbling at the edge of her mind and waited. After a full minute, she tried again, then pressed her ear to the door. Fighting not to give in to the voice screaming at her to reconsider what she was doing, she opened the door, again surprised when it gave way.
The living room was vast and probably as breathtaking as the rest of the dreamlike palace, but Allegra was too preoccupied with blocking out the many and varied consequences of being caught to appreciate its beauty. Instead she searched frantically, hoping against hope that the cabinet containing the trinket box had been moved from the bedroom to the living room.
When that optimism was dashed, she hurried, dry-mouthed, through the Moorish arch that led into another room.
Her blood pounding loud enough to drown out every single sound, Allegra entered Rahim’s bedroom and stopped. Beneath her bare feet, the softest carpet cushioned her soles, making her toes curl for a delicious second before the sheer visual heaven of her surroundings flattened her.
Although she’d expected it to be grand and opulent beyond her wildest imagination, the sight of Rahim’s bedroom made her jaw drop. Every imaginable luxury had been lavished on the room, from the magnificent chandelier from which the stunning frescoes etched into the ceiling seemed to flow from, to the solid gold framed mirrors and paintings positioned around the room.
But it was the sight and position of Rahim’s bed that made her eyes widen. Set on four solid pillars, the bed was suspended halfway to the soaring ceiling, with twin curving staircases leading to it from the middle of the cavernous room. Around the heavy cream silk framing the giant four-poster, multipillowed bed, wrought-iron railings, painted a matching gold and white, had been erected. And the headboard, more than twice the size of her own, was even more enthralling, the sheer magnificence of
the erotic artwork holding her captive for endless seconds.
Imagining Rahim and his hard, lean body spread out on that bed, heat powered through her, freeing her from her stupor. Dragging her gaze away from the decadent sight, Allegra gulped in air before she snatched back her focus.
Her frantic gaze scoured the endless displays dotted around the room until she found the Louis XIV cabinet she’d seen in the coffee table book. Tightening her hold on her wrap, she sped across the carpeted floor to the display.
Her grandfather’s box sat in the middle of the top shelf, a tiny spotlight showing off the superb craftsmanship and utterly dazzling ornament to full effect. It was beautiful beyond belief, and for the first time since he’d asked her to retrieve it, Allegra accepted how special the box was.
Heart in her throat, she took a step closer to the cabinet, then whirled around with a gasp at the sound of a door sliding shut behind her.
Rahim entered the room and every atom in Allegra’s body screamed alive. First with dread. Then with a fiery excitement so strong she wondered whether she’d turn to char by the time the man who was rubbing his hair with a towel, and hadn’t yet seen her, realised she’d violated his privacy.
Rahim lowered the towel a second later, then froze. Shock flared through his eyes, before the hazel depths darkened. Narrow-eyed, he stalked across the bedroom floor, his gaze pinned like lasers on her.
With each step, Allegra cautioned herself not to look at his body. To instead think of a plausible explanation as to why she was here, in the middle of the night, dressed as flimsily as she was.
By his fourth step, she’d lost the battle. Her eyes devoured the wide, lean expanse of his shoulders, and the hard, washboard stomach. Against the stark white towel knotted carelessly at his waist, his dark olive skin glowed with mouth-watering vibrancy, his skin so gloriously sleek her fingers burned to touch. Desire dredged through her belly and her mouth flooded with acute hunger as he neared and she saw the droplets of water clinging to his skin.
