by Ella Brooke
Waheed shook his head. “The women’s stories do check out, but there’s no way to tell who has been radicalized and who hasn’t. There’s every chance that one of the rebels got to both of them.”
“And an international model would just take up with Yomarani rebels to overthrow the crown on a lark? Please, Celeste has more than enough money and power on her own to avoid Yomarani politics for the rest of time.”
“Except they sought you out and parted you far too easily from your security team. The redhead was left alone with you longer than would be comfortable. If she were a trained assassin, you’d be dead.”
“Olivia.” He gestured to his chest. “Notice how I’m not impaled or shot or poisoned. I haven’t been attacked. She wanted to apologize for running out on me at the club three days ago. That’s all she wanted. Now you have both of them locked in the palace’s dungeon like common criminals, and that’s beyond barbaric.”
“Olivia, my liege?” Waheed shook his head.
“What?”
“I know you. I’ve known you since you were no more than knee-high. I know you as well as your father before you.”
“So?”
“I can hear the wistfulness in your voice even if you deny it. I know what emotions they’re playing on.”
“Olivia and Celeste aren’t playing on anything.” He slammed his fists with exaggerated force on his desk and winced when he spilled over a mug filled with pens. “Come on, you know that they are two women who didn’t bargain for any of this.”
“They still snuck up on a head of state. That can’t be allowed to slide. Even if they can be trusted, and I’m not completely sure on that even now.”
“It’s because you’re paranoid, Waheed.”
The older man stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It’s because you pay me to be this paranoid. I protect the crown, as I have for over forty years. I protected your father and the one day I wasn’t paranoid enough, I lost him. I refuse to do that again. There was a security breach, even if all of Olivia’s intentions were pure.”
“They were.”
“Still, these actions will be legend already throughout Yomarani and the Middle East. The story will spread, and the rebels as well as other power seekers will know that, currently, your security needs to be majorly improved. As I work to fix the holes in your guard, I still think we need to make an example of these transgressions. Sire, think about it. Trespassing on you is the same as trespassing on the grounds of the palace itself. A threat to our sheikh---even by overcoming his guard for whatever reasons—is a threat to Yomarani. It cannot stand.”
He narrowed his eyes at his advisor. “What do you propose? Maybe putting their heads on pikes? Perhaps keeping them in the dungeon for the next decade. We can’t just hold them here indefinitely.”
“They broke international law, and the British embassy has already decided to let Celeste Holmes reel in whatever fate she’s earned. I suggest house arrest at the palace for the next five years, frankly. For both of them. Considering the luxuries here, it’s hardly the dire punishment it’ll appear to the outside world, but we do have to take a stand or else others will try and test their luck with security, and the rest will not be as kind or, as you claim, harmless.”
“Both of them?”
“The Americans haven’t yet given their answer to Miss Joiner’s plight. If they want her back, then we won’t pick fights with them. However, I do suggest that until we know everything from the Americans, then yes, Miss Holmes and Miss Joiner should both be our guests for the foreseeable future. If you mess with the crown head of Yomarani, you face consequences. So let it be written---”
“So let it be done.” He snorted. “Seriously, lay off the Yule Brenner films. I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. You have to let me exact the punishment. The people don’t take kindly either to people circumventing their beloved ruler’s security. It’s too soon since you lost…”
“I know. Father was ambushed in the most different way imaginable. I don’t want to keep them here. I don’t think it’s fair.”
“Punishment must be exacted, and I don’t think having the run of a luxurious palace and
its equally amazing grounds will hurt them too much. Now, have them sent in.”
Chapter Six
“I cannot believe this. Pillocks!” Celeste screamed and lunged forward to kick the wall.
Olivia dove in order to keep her friend from kicking the crumbling walls of the ancient dungeon. She had a feeling that this far corner of the palace was probably older than the entire United States. Thick moss grew in the crevices of the rocks before them and ancient iron bars kept them hemmed in. The rust was thick on those bars, and there was no way to get past them. They’d both spent the first day surveying every inch of their cell and the next pulling on every bar, desperate to escape. Not one bit of iron had even budged, not a twinge. With how solid the cell was, it would have been a terrible idea to let Celeste kick at it.
“You don’t have to curse.”
“We’re locked up in sodding Yomarani,” Celeste replied, pushing her hair from her eyes. “I think this is the perfect time to be upset. I know that the embassy should have made a deal by now. They should have sent someone. It’s been days. They need to come for us!”
“Embassies, plural. I guess the American embassy and British embassy both are backed up in paperwork.” Olivia shuddered and rubbed her arms.
The chill crept in easily every day around this time. Once the sun started to set outside, the cold stone of the cell tended to suck the heat out of the room. But her shivering was more than that. She was terrified. Currently, she was at Rami’s mercy and, so far, he’d made the effort to lock her and Celeste away from the rest of the world. They had rats scurrying close to the walls and a crust of bread and bit of water each night to eat. There was no telling how their prison stay would escalate or, frankly, devolve while they were here. All she wanted to do was go home, but it was going to take a lot more than clicking her heels together or falling through a rabbit hole to get there. If she ever returned to the States again.
“I think they just let us rot here instead of risking any issues with an ally like Yomarani.” Celeste turned to her and it was then that Olivia’s heart really started to pound. Her best friend’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and that never happened. The other woman was tough as nails, and that was why Olivia cared so much for her, why they made good friends. It was Celeste’s strength that had always carried her through fear and tragedy and Monsieur Labelle’s fits before. Now that strength was waning. “We’re trapped here, and it’s all my fault. You must loathe me.”
“What? I’m the one who started flirting with a sheikh and didn’t even know who he was. I broke into his room.”
“I got you the key.”
Olivia pulled her friend into a tight embrace. “We both messed up, but I’m glad you’re here. I couldn’t do this all by myself, and I wouldn’t want to. If I had to be in a messed up situation in the Middle East, then there’s no one I’d rather be stuck with than you, Celeste.”
Her friend pulled away and sniffed. Then she rubbed at her nose. “Still, I can’t believe what a bloody disaster I made. Everything’s gone pear-shaped, hasn’t it?”
Olivia shook her head. “I’m sure everything will get better. You know---”
There was a loud creaking as the massive stone door was eased back, revealing the old man with the white beard---Waheed ---the one who had deemed them some preposterous threat to Sheikh Rami Zaman. He was glaring at both of them, but the anger didn’t seem to be radiating off him as it had been a few days ago.
“You need to come with me.”
Two guards, huge and beefy men, slipped down the stairs and pulled them both from the cell. Olivia shuddered again as heavy manacles clamped over her wrists.
“What are you doing with us, you tosser?” Celeste demanded, holding her head with all the regal bearing that her modeling had left
her with. “Are we going to be fed to some lions? Maybe we’re going to be put on a pike.”
“Why do people keep inquiring about that option?” he mused.
She felt her blood run cold. “What?”
“Oh, the sheikh and I had that conversation, about punishments. I only regret that we don’t have a moat. I think that’s something we all would have enjoyed together.” Waheed grinned and winked at her.
She wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not. Olivia fervently hoped it was the former, but what kind of man could so callously joke about that? Then again, what kind of man would employ a terrifying tyrant like Waheed? She’d gotten to know the sexy man who had kissed her and made her toes curl. She’d traded banter and barbs with the eligible bachelor at the bar. She didn’t really know Sheikh Rami Zaman at all, and the unknown was the only thing that mattered. Would he have her executed? Would she and Celeste be forced to dwell in the dungeon forever? Olivia couldn’t fathom an answer to any of this, and it left her with a heavy heart and a bowed head as the guards led her through the labyrinthine halls to what turned out to be the main throne room.
Despite her situation, Olivia couldn’t help but gasp. The room was as large as a football field and arched with a ceiling at least thirty feet high. The massive throne before them was carved from solid gold and adorned with a plush red velvet cushion. Intricate tessellated patterns and mosaics, inlaid with precious stones, covered the walls. It all gleamed and glittered like diamonds in the setting sun.
“My god.”
“Not quite,” called Rami as he came in through a side door and settled on his throne. “Waheed, bring them to me.”
She marched like the condemned soul she was to the front of the throne room and then was shoved to her knees by the guards around her. Bowing her head low, Olivia figured now might be a good time to show the respect she’d sorely lacked earlier. Winning brownie points now could only help.
“Well, you know that you’ve been brought before the sheikh for violating his safety, don’t you, Miss Holmes and Miss Joiner?” Waheed announced, crossing his arms over his chest. “How do you plead?”
Celeste held her chin up high and regarded both of them with her most contemptuous stare, and Olivia froze, terrified that her friend would say something stupid. Not that there was anything worse than being trapped in a dungeon, unless execution really was on the table. But she hadn’t done anything. Celeste had flirted with some guards, and she’d shared a kiss with Rami in his apartment, one he’d been more than happy to have. Those weren’t capital crimes, damn it.
“So you know who I am?” Celeste inquired.
“I know, but we can’t allow insolence or audacity like that. We have to be able to show that Yomarani is strong and that we can protect our sheikh. There must be punishment, and even your home country has agreed to that, Miss Holmes.”
Celeste’s eyes dropped for just a moment before she regained her composure. It was probably only Olivia who noticed at all, considering how long she’d known her friend and how intimately acquainted she was with each of Celeste’s tells. For all her bluster, her friend was as disheartened and terrified as she was.
“I see.”
“Yes,” Rami said. “But we have generous terms.”
“My sire…” Waheed began, but Rami held up his hand and silenced him.
“Do you want to know the terms of the deal?” the sheikh asked.
Olivia frowned back at him, confused. “I don’t understand. What deal?”
“One of you must marry me, and the other is free to go. Now, which one will it be?”
Chapter Seven
“What?” Olivia croaked out. Her voice sounded tinny and small, an effect exacerbated by the broad throne room and the way everything else seemed to echo off of the ornate walls. “You want to get married.”
Waheed had turned a brilliant shade of eggplant. Something told her this stipulation was as large a surprise to him as it had been to her and Celeste. “Sire, please.”
Rami held up one hand dismissively. “No, these are my rules. One of you can go home right now, free and clear, and the other will be my bride and have every luxury you can imagine. Otherwise, you will both be trapped here in the palace for five years under house arrest. There is no scenario in which both Miss Holmes and Miss Joiner are released. So, please, make your King Solomon choice and let me know which of you is to be my bride.”
Her throat grew dry, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her heart was trying to break its way through her chest.
This can’t be happening.
Yanking her friend to the side of the room, Olivia set her hands on either side of Celeste’s shoulders, a bit of a reach once one considered the difference in their heights. “Let me do this.”
“Have you gone round the bend? I’m the one who had the daft idea to invade his penthouse in the first place. I earned this.”
“No, you have a career and a life back home. You wait five years to be released and everything you have will pass you by.” She squeezed her best friend’s shoulders to emphasize her point. “I’m not going to let you ruin your life. You always said that models have a shelf life and you were getting close.”
“But I can’t leave you here.”
“Then go back home and do what you can to get me sprung, but I’m not letting you ruin your life.” Besides, mine is already pretty screwed up. “It was my roaming lips and bad flirting that got us here, really. You were just trying to help. Anyway, you’re the one with more connections.”
“Fat lot of good it’s done us so far.”
She sighed and pulled back a bit. “But it’s better than an unemployed nobody trying to get help. I did this, so let me take the rap until you can spring me. I promise. You just do this, and we can go from here. I trust you to save me.”
Celeste bit her lip and then nodded. “I won’t rest until I’ve helped my best mate, and don’t you think any differently,” she said, wrapping Olivia up in a fierce hug. “I will save you. You know that I will.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said.
They parted and then she turned to face Rami---the man she’d fallen for at least a bit that night at Aladdin’s Den, the mysterious sheikh, her captor, and now her fiancé. That last truth smacked her across the face as hard as an anvil plummeting from the sky. Yet there he was, and he was the man she’d be marrying soon, if only to help save Celeste’s career and, possibly, life. Who knew what Rami was capable of? The night they were seized, she’d never have thought he could put her in a dungeon. Now? What kind of deal was she striking? Still, Celeste had a better chance of getting help. She was the beloved model. All Olivia had ever been was the failed assistant. She’d never even been a designer, let alone walk on a runway.
Celeste was her best hope of finding someone back in England or America to strike a deal with.
Besides, she wouldn’t drag her friend down, not when a drunken idea had fueled her on into idiocy.
“I…I’ll marry you.” Her voice was still small, but it wasn’t as tinny as before. There was some strength there, something that came from the black and white nature of her decision. One of them had to stay and, damn it, she could at least get this much right. “Please let Celeste go.”
Her friend hung her head but stood shoulder to shoulder with her before the sheikh and his advisor.
Rami eyed them both before speaking. “Is this true, Miss Holmes? Will it be Olivia, I mean, Miss Joiner, who’ll be staying with us?”
Celeste glared back at both of them. “Olivia said she’d stay. Don’t get comfy, and I don’t care what kind of crazy marriage plans you have for her, Sheikh Zaman. You better know, ducky, that I’ll be finding a way to get her out. I swear it.”
Waheed stroked his beard and seemed to shake his head more at Rami than at Celeste. Somehow, Olivia wasn’t even sure this new marriage step had always been part of the plan. It seemed a far cry from house arrest, let alone the dungeon. Then again, they’d always referred to
the wife as a ball and chain. Maybe she’d literally get some confinement of her own. She just wasn’t sure.
The old advisor regarded all three of them before barking something terse in what she assumed was either Yomarani or Arabic. Honestly, Olivia didn’t know the difference. The words rang out between them all, clipped and stern. It didn’t take long for a few of the bodyguards to peel off from the ornate walls and come to stand behind Celeste’s back. Waheed nodded toward the far door at the other end of the throne room and switched back to English.
“It’s time for you to go, Miss Holmes. We’ll see you out and even give you a private escort back to the British embassy of Yomarani. Miss Joiner, you have a wedding to prepare for.”
She blinked, not sure she’d heard the advisor correctly. The way he spoke, it sounded as if she’d be walking down the aisle this very night. But that was insane.
Is it any more insane than anything else that’s happened in about the last ninety-six hours?
Gulping, she looked between Waheed and Rami. “What does that mean? Tonight?”
“We don’t want to waste time.” Rami’s voice was commanding then, echoing down the hall, and Olivia could see every aspect of the ruler he was in his presence in the room. “Now if you’ll go with a few of my servants---”
“You mean other guards.”
“True, but they’re also servants.”
“They’re people who’ll make sure I can’t leave.”
“Yes,” he said. As they spoke, Waheed and the large guards ushered Celeste away. Olivia dashed forward but was detained by Rami himself. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and his scent, that deep musk of his and the biting hint of cloves, stung her nostrils. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear even as her best friend was led away from her. “Don’t worry, Red. It’s going to be alright. I promise you that much.”
“You don’t know that.” Tears streamed down her face as she watched her friend being led away, the last glimpse of her hair obscured by the broad shoulders of the guards. Soon, Celeste was no more than a dot on the horizon. “I’m trapped by a man I barely know and forced to marry him and I…”
