by Kristi Gold
“It’s unfortunate that’s not among your duties,” he said. “I would be more inclined to agree to your plan.”
As far as she was concerned, he could put that charisma card right back into the deck. “Look, I realize you’re used to charming women into doing your bidding, but that tact doesn’t work with me.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “If I decide to accept your offer, would you be willing to stay on after the coronation?”
She hadn’t expected that question. “Possibly, if you could afford to keep me on staff. My services aren’t cheap.”
He released a sharp, cynical laugh. “Look around, Ms. Foster. Does it appear I’m destitute?”
Not even close. “We can discuss the possibility later. Right now, we need to concentrate on the current issue at hand, if you’re willing to work with me.”
He studied the ceiling for a moment before bringing his gaze back to hers. “The answer is no, I am not willing to work with you. I am quite capable of handling my own affairs.”
She wasn’t ready to give up without pointing out the most major concern. “Speaking of affairs, I’m also skilled when it comes to dealing with scandals, in case you have any of those little sex skeletons hiding in a closet.”
His expression turned steely as he stood. “My apologies for wasting your time, but I believe we are finished now.”
Apparently she’d hit a serious nerve, and yes, they were definitely finished.
Madison came to her feet, withdrew a business card from her bag and placed it on the desk. “Should you change your mind, here’s my number. I’ll let you break the news to your brother.”
“Believe me, I have much to stay to my brother,” he said. “That is first on my agenda when I return to Bajul.”
She’d like to have front row seats to that. She’d also like to think he might reconsider. Unfortunately, neither fell into the realm of possibility at the moment. “I wish you all the best for a smooth transition, Your Highness. Again, let me know if you decide you need my services.”
After slipping the bag’s strap back on her shoulder, Madison covered her disappointment with a determined walk to the door. But before she made a hasty exit, the sheikh called her back. “Yes?” she said as she faced him, trying hard not to seem too hopeful.
He’d rounded the desk and now stood only a few feet away. “You’ve changed quite a bit since we first met all those years ago.”
The fact he did recall the dinner party, and he hadn’t bothered to mention it before now, thoroughly shocked her. “I’m surprised you remember me at all.”
“Very difficult to forget such an innocent face, ocean-blue eyes and those remarkable blond curls.”
Here came the annoying blush, right on cue. “I wore glasses and braces and my hair was completely out of control.” Which had all been remedied with laser eye surgery, orthodontists and flat irons.
He took a few steps toward her. “You wore a pink dress, and you were very shy. You barely glanced my way.”
Oh, but she had. Several times. When he hadn’t been looking. “I’ve since gotten over the shyness.”
“I noticed that immediately. I’ve also noticed you’ve grown into a very beautiful woman.”
Madison barely noticed anything but his dark, pensive eyes when he walked right up to her, leaving little space between them. “Now that we’ve established my transformation,” she said, “I need to get to the airport so I don’t miss my flight to D.C.” She needed to get away from him before his extreme magnetism commandeered her common sense.
“I do have a private jet,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “You are welcome to use it whenever it is available. If you plan to travel to the region in the future, feel free to contact me and I’ll arrange to have you transported to Bajul. I would enjoy having you as my guest. I could show you things you’ve never seen before. Give you an experience you will not easily forget.”
She’d enjoy being his guest, perhaps too much. “You mean an evening trek by camel, or perhaps on the back of an elephant, across the desert? You’ll feed me pomegranates while we’re entertained by dancing girls?”
He looked more amused than offended by her cynicism. “I prefer all-terrain vehicles to camels and pachyderms, I detest pomegranates, but dancing would be an option. Between us, of course.”
She didn’t dare dance with him, much less take a midnight ride with him in any form or fashion. “As fascinating as that sounds, and as much as I appreciate the offer, I won’t be traveling outside the U.S. now that I won’t be working with you. But thank you for the invitation, and have a safe trip home.”
This time when Madison hurried away, the future king closed the doors behind her, a strong reminder that another important career door had closed.
However, she refused to give in to defeat. Not quite yet. As soon as the sheikh returned home, he might decide he needed her after all.
*
He greatly needed an escape.
The absolute loss of freedom weighed heavily on Zain as the armored car navigated the steep drive leading to the palace. So did the less-than-friendly reception. A multitude of citizens lined the drive, held back by the guards charged with his protection. Some had their fists raised in anger, others simply scowled. Because of the bulletproof glass, he couldn’t quite make out what they were shouting, yet he doubted they were singing his praises.
Rafiq had suggested he return at night, yet he’d refused. He might be seriously flawed, but had never been a coward. Whatever he had to endure to fulfill his obligation, he would do so with his head held high and without help.
He thought back to Madison Foster’s visit two days ago, as well as her intimation that he might be considered a stranger in a familiar land. He’d come close to accepting her offer, but not for those reasons. She’d simply intrigued him. She’d also forced him to realize how long it had been since he’d kept company with a woman. Yet she would have proven to be too great a temptation, and he could not afford even a hint of a scandal. If they only knew the real scandal that had existed within the palace gates, a secret that had plagued him for seven years, and the primary reason why he’d left.
As the car came to a stop, Zain quickly exited, but he couldn’t ignore the shouts of “Kha’en!” He could not counter the claims he’d been a traitor without revealing truths he had no intention of disclosing.
Two sentries opened the heavy doors wide, allowing him to evade the crowd’s condemnation for the time being. Yet the hallowed halls of the palace were as cold as the stone that comprised them. At one time he’d been happy to call this place home—a refuge steeped in lavish riches and ancient history. Not anymore. But he did welcome the site of the petite woman standing at the end of the lengthy corridor—Elena Battelli, the Italian au pair hired by his father for his sons, despite serious disapproval from the elders. Elena had been his nursemaid, his teacher, his confidante and eventually his surrogate mother following his own mother’s untimely death. She’d been the only person who understood his ways, including his wanderlust.
As soon as Zain reached her, Elena opened her arms and smiled. “Welcome back, caro mio.” She spoke to him in English, as she always had with the Mehdi boys, their “code” when they’d wanted to avoid prying ears.
He drew her into an embrace before stepping back and studying her face. “You are still as elegant as a gazelle, Elena.”
She patted her neatly coiffed silver hair. “I am an old gazelle, and you are still the charming giovinetto I have always adored.” A melancholy look suddenly crossed her face. “Now that your father has sadly left us, and you are to be king, I shall address you as such, Your Majesty.”
“Do not even think of it,” he said. “You are family and always will be, regardless of my station.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “Yes, that is true. But you are still the king.”
“Not officially for another few weeks.” That reminded him of his most pressing mission. “Where is Rafiq?”
He leaned and kissed her cheek. “We shall have a long talk soon.”
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “We shall. You must tell me everything you have been doing while you were away.”
He didn’t dare tell her everything. He might be an adult now, but she could still make him feel like the errant schoolboy. “I look forward to our visit.”
Ignoring his bodyguards and Deeb, Zain sprinted up the stone steps to his father’s second-floor sanctuary and opened the door without bothering to knock. The moment he stepped inside, he thought back to how badly he’d hated this place, plagued by memories of facing his father’s ire over crossing lines that he’d been warned not to cross. King Aadil Mehdi had ruled with an iron hand and little heart. And now he was gone.
Zain experienced both guilt and regret that their last words had been spoken in anger. That he hadn’t been able to forgive his father for his transgressions. Yet he could not worry about that now. He had more pressing matters that hung over his head like a guillotine.
His gaze came to rest on his brother predictably seated in the king’s favorite chair located near the shelves housing several rare collections. The changes in Rafiq were subtle in some ways, obvious in others. He wore the kaffiyeh, which Zain refused to wear, at least for the time being. He also sported a neatly trimmed goatee, much the same as their father’s. In fact, Rafiq could be a younger version of the king in every way—both physically and philosophically.
Rafiq glanced up from the newspaper he’d been reading and leveled a nonchalant look on Zain. “I see you have arrived in one piece.”
He didn’t appreciate his brother’s indifference or that he looked entirely too comfortable in the surroundings. “And I see you’ve taken up residence in the king’s official office. Do you plan to stay here indefinitely?”
Rafiq folded the paper in precise creases and tossed it onto the nearby desk. “The question is, brother, do you intend to stay indefinitely, or will this be only a brief visit?”
Zain’s anger began to boil below the surface as he attempted to cling to his calm. “Unfortunately for you, as the rightful heir to the throne, I’ll be here permanently. I’ve been preparing for this role for years.”
“By bedding women on several continents?”
His composure began to diminish. “Do not pretend to know me, Rafiq.”
“I would never presume that, Zain. You have been away for seven years and I only know what I have read about you.”
At one time, he and Rafiq had been thick as thieves. Sadly, that had ended when his brother had sided with their father over their differences, leaving brotherly ties in tatters. “I left because our father placed me in an intolerable position.”
“He only wanted you to adhere to the rules.”
Outdated rules that made no sense in modern times, yet that had only been a small part of his decision. If Rafiq knew the whole story, he might not be so quick to revere their patriarch. “He wanted me to be exactly like him—unwilling to move this country into the millennium because of archaic ideals.”
Rafiq rose slowly to his feet and walked to the window to peer outside. “The people are gathered at the gates, along with members of the press. One group demands an explanation as to why their new king deserted them years ago, the other waits for the wayward prince to explain his questionable behavior. Quite the dilemma.”
“I will answer those questions in due time.” Those that needed answering.
Rafiq turned and frowned. “Are you certain you can handle the pressure?”
If he didn’t leave soon, he could possibly throw a punch, producing more fodder for the gossip mill. “Your lack of faith wounds me, brother. Have you ever known a time when I failed to win people over?”
“We are not children any longer, Zain,” he said. “You can no longer brandish a smile and a few choice words and expect to prove you are worthy to be king.”
He clenched his fists now dangling at his sides. “Yet our father chose me to be king, Rafiq, whether you agree or not.”
“Our father believed that designating you as his successor would ensure you would eventually return. And in regard to your current status, you have yet to be officially crowned.”
Zain wondered if his brother might be hoping he would abdicate before that time. Never in a million years would he do that. Especially now. “That should be enough time for a seamless transition.” If only he felt as confident as he’d sounded.
“There will be serious challenges,” Rafiq said. “Our father worked hard to maintain our status as a neutral, autonomous country. Our borders are secure and we have avoided political unrest.”
“And we will continue to do so under my reign.”
“Only if you can convince your subjects that you have their best interests at heart. Any semblance of unrest will only invite those who would take advantage of the division. That is why I urge you to consider working with Madison Foster.”
He should have known it would come back to her. He’d had enough trouble keeping his thoughts away from Madison without the reminder. “Why do you believe her input would be so invaluable?”
“She has been extremely successful in her endeavors,” Rafiq said. “She has taken men with political aspirations and serious deficits and restored their honor.”
He was growing weary of the insults. “So now my honor is in question?”
“To some degree, yes,” Rafiq said as he reclaimed the chair. “What harm would there be in utilizing her talents? Quite frankly, I cannot believe you would refuse the opportunity to spend time with an attractive woman.”
As always, most people assumed he had no other concerns than his next conquest. Of course, he couldn’t deny that he’d considered the advantages of having Madison involved in his daily routine. Yet that might be dangerous in the long term, unless he wanted to prove everyone right that he could not resist temptation. “Again, I do not wish or need her help.”
Rafiq blew out a frustrated sigh. “If you choose the wrong path, Zain, there will be no turning back. If you fail to win over your subjects, you will weaken our country, leaving it open to radical factions bent on taking advantage of our weakness. Is your pride worth possible ruin?”
Zain thought back to the angry voices, the accusations he’d endured moments ago. He hated to concede to his brother’s demands, but he did recognize Rafiq’s valid concerns. He would find a way to maintain his pride and still accept Madison’s assistance—as long as she understood that he would remain completely in charge. Considering the woman’s obvious tenacity, that could be a challenge. But then he had always welcomed a good challenge.
If bringing Madison Foster temporarily into the fold kept Rafiq off his back, he saw no harm in giving it a try. “All right. I will give it some thought, but should I decide to accept her assistance, I will only do so if it’s understood that I’ll dismiss her if she is more hindrance than help.”
“Actually, the agreement is already in place, and the terms of her contract state she cannot be dismissed on the grounds of anything other than gross misconduct. That would be my determination, not yours.”
Contract? “When did she sign this document?”
“After she contacted me to report on your initial meeting. She is bound to stay until after your coronation, but she insisted on a clause that allows her the option to leave prior to that time should she find the situation intolerable.”
His own brother had tied him to a liaison against his will. However, that did not mean he had to be cooperative. “Since you leave me no choice, my first official edict states you will be in charge of the arrangements to bring her here.”
Rafiq sent him a victorious smile. “You may consider it done.”
As fatigue began to set in, Zain loosened his tie and released the shirt collar’
s top button. “We’ll continue our conversation over dinner.” He suddenly remembered he hadn’t seen any sign of his youngest brother. “Will Adan be joining us?”
“Adan is currently in the United Kingdom for flight training. He will be returning before the coronation.”
Zain couldn’t mask his disappointment. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing him and catching up on his accomplishments. But it’s probably best we have no distractions when you bring me up to speed on the council’s most recent endeavors.”
Rafiq cleared his throat and looked away. “We will not exactly be dining alone.”
“Another member of the council?”
“No. A woman.”
Zain suspected he might know what this was all about. “Is this someone special in your life?”
“She has no bearing on my life.”
He internally cringed. “If this is the beginning of the queen candidate procession, then I—”
“She is not in the market to be your wife.”
He did not appreciate his brother’s vagueness. “Then who is she, Rafiq?”
“Madison Foster.”
Two
“Do you always insist on having your way?”
Startled, Madison shot a glance to her right to discover Zain Mehdi standing in the doorway, one shoulder leaned against the frame, his expression unforgiving on that patently gorgeous face. “Do you always barge in without knocking?” she asked around the surprise attack.
“The door was ajar.”
She turned from the bureau, bumped the drawer closed with her butt and tightened the sash on the blue satin robe. “Really? I could have sworn I closed it before I took my shower. But I suppose it could have magically opened on its own, since Arabia is well-known for its magic.”
He ignored her sarcasm and walked into the room without an invitation, hands firmly planted in the pockets of his black slacks. With those deadly dark eyes and remarkable physique, the Arabian king could pass for an exotic male model—a model who sorely lacked good comportment.
