by Ella Brooke
He would have been the first to admit that at the beginning it was simply because she was a pretty girl, but now he was coming to suspect that there was more to it than that.
Faris wondered savagely if he had lost all control. After all of his own sensual exploits, the person who seemed ready to take him down was a short woman with wide eyes and an innocent air around her. It had to be some kind of karma.
He shook his head, reaching for his papers.
Paris. Paris would cure him. There were plenty of eager women in Paris who would be able to put him back on the right path. She would take her cute little pictures of the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, and he would finally get out of this slump that he had.
He put the matter out of his mind, but he couldn’t resist a slight smile at the idea of Danielle running around with her camera out, snapping every shot that took her fancy. He told himself he was only bringing her along for official purposes, and it had of course started out that way, but some quiet part of him was deeply pleased to be able to give her her childhood dream.
Chapter Ten
“Are you disappointed yet?”
Danielle glanced over at Faris, who was slouched next to her in the limousine’s backseat. While she peered out the rainy window, he sat with his arms folded across his chest and a dark frown on his face. He had been in a foul mood since they had left Aswar, and she had been treading lightly, no matter how thrilled she was at her second ride in a private jet.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked cautiously. “Disappointed by what?”
Faris gestured out at the window toward the rain-soaked city.
“This. I’ve not been back to Paris in a while, but all of my memories are like this. Gray days where the sun comes out just long enough to remind you to miss it, rain that soaks through everything and chills you to the bone. It’s hardly the stuff that dreams are made of, is it?”
Danielle couldn’t stop herself from smiling at him. She was aware that she would probably sound like a fool, but she was a fool in Paris, and that was far better than being a fool in Iowa, she thought.
“I think it’s still amazing,” she said. “It might not all be sunshine and roses and romance, but this is still an ancient city, one that has withstood everything that time has thrown at it and emerged bloodied and still beautiful. When I look out, I see all the stories that I have been told, all the art I have ever studied…”
Faris laughed, but there was a warm note to it.
“Leave it to you to make a rainstorm into some wonderful story,” he said wryly.
They weren’t staying at a hotel, as Danielle had thought that they were going to. Instead, the driver pulled up to a quiet townhouse on a fashionable street, a tall and narrow place that seemed as if it had retained every secret that had passed through its doors for the last few centuries.
“Oh, but you can’t expect me to stay here,” she squeaked once they had carried their bags into the lobby. Everything from the gilt moldings to the crystal chandelier overhead to the velvet drapes made her feel like some kind of misplaced farm girl, a country mouse with delusions of grandeur.
Faris, for his part, seemed utterly indifferent to the place around him, and he answered without turning toward her.
“I don’t see why not,” he said. “This is a place that my parents bought years ago. It’s always been the place that I stayed at while I was visiting Paris. My mother hosted many parties here before she died. Are you saying that it’s not good enough?”
“No, not at all…” she said, shocked, and he grinned at her. Danielle realized belatedly that he had been teasing her, and she blushed.
“Good. Then you’ll stay here. It’ll make sense for you to be around if I need to make sure that something gets translated for me very quickly.”
“Oh. Of course.”
A part of her was let down by that, but what should he have said? She was his translator, and they had both confirmed that that was their relationship to each other, forever after.
“Unfortunately, there won’t be any time for sightseeing for you until tomorrow at best,” he was saying. “There’s an informal meeting with some of the other heads of state this afternoon, and though I don’t think you’ll be necessary…”
“It will be good to have me close by,” she finished. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”
There was something on his face that made her shiver a little, but the moment passed, and he nodded.
“Good. I am glad I can count on you. For now, why don’t you go up and rest? Your room is down the right corridor, the first door on the left. I’m just one door beyond if you need anything.”
“That’s a good idea,” Danielle said, stretching. Somehow, no matter how large a plane was, she was apparently going to get cramped and tired no matter what. “What are you going to be doing?”
“I think I might call some friends and see if there’s anything exciting going on for the next few nights. No reason to live under a rock, even if this isn’t my favorite city in the world.”
Danielle wondered what it was like to be so wealthy that one could have houses in cities that weren’t your favorite. She could scarcely imagine owning one house let alone ones throughout the world.
Her room made her gasp out loud. It wasn’t a full apartment, like she had in Aswar, but with hardwood floors, silk-swathed walls, and a stained glass rose window over the bed, it felt as if she had entered the room of a princess.
She longed to explore the room, but instead, she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed. If she was going to have to be on call that night, as she suspected she would be, she knew that she would likely need at least some sleep. She set her alarm, and then before she had even quite rolled over, she was drifting away. In her confused dreams, she was a princess, and she knew that everything would begin once the prince showed up.
*
Danielle might have loved Paris, but right now, Faris was having a hard time scraping up any feeling for it except for irritation. The driver had been late getting them to the first meeting, and once they were there, he had been displeased to discover that the number of people who had shown up was far beyond what he had expected. Though he was pleased to see a few of his old friends and acquaintances, he was disgusted to find that the entire series of meetings would likely be lost to bureaucracy and saber rattling. While the Europeans might be interested in doing that, he found that he was far from amused.
It wasn’t a complete loss, though. While the French, English, and German representatives were butting heads, a few men from his part of the world came to speak with him.
“This is hardly the meeting that was promised,” said the sheikh of Abbad, shaking his head. “This will be the last time I leave home for something this hopeful and this poorly planned.”
“Europeans,” snorted a man that Faris only recognized by sight. “They think that their problems are the world’s problems. We should simply leave them to fight it out on their own time.”
Faris sighed. Despite his irritation at coming all the way to France for something that might merely be a fancy saber-rattling contest for people he wouldn’t spit on if they were on fire, perhaps there was something still to be gained from it all.
“There is a good restaurant not far from here,” he suggested. “Shall we simply leave?”
That was met with a chords of agreements, and before Faris himself found a car, he had a message sent up to the rooms where Danielle was waiting with the other aides. He wondered briefly if she would be sad that he had left without her, and then he wondered why he wondered. He was the sheikh; of course it was appropriate to send his staff home when he was done for the night.
He resolved to put her out of his mind, and he went to join his compatriots.
*
Danielle was deeply wrapped up in her novel, doing her best to ignore the other staff members, when the message came. Each dignitary, it seemed, had his own support staff, and overwhelmingly, she was finding th
at she didn’t care for them. They were catty, bored, and all too apt to scratch or hiss when they were disturbed. After he first few overtures of friendship were turned down, she had withdrawn into her small table at the back of the rear rooms.
When a young page come to find her, she sighed with relief. Perhaps she could finally make herself useful.
She realized that that was not the case when she read the note. At the end, it suggested that she go out and enjoy herself, and she figured that that was a mercy of some kind. It had felt like the worse tease to be brought to the City of Light and then confined to a room full of people that she didn’t like in the least.
She gathered up her things swiftly, showing her pass as she walked out of the building and onto the street. The sun was just setting, and the rain had stopped, and for a moment, Danielle simply looked around her in wonder. The street was momentarily lit with a crystalline golden light, and she thought that all of it had been worth it. Even at the moment when she was thinking of how beautiful it was, a part of her felt a pang when she realized that Faris wasn’t there. It was a strange dull pain at the center of her chest, and she was still pushing it away when someone spoke to her.
“You look like a woman in church,” said a male voice to her right, and in surprise, she spun toward the speaker.
He was a tall man with a short beard, his skin as dark as Faris’s and his eyes pure black. He was dressed in a suit that she recognized as costing more than two thousand dollars, and from the tag that was clipped to it so carelessly, she could see that he had come from the same conference as she had.
“I’m sorry, what?” she stammered.
“You stand on a wet street and you look at the sky and the buildings around us as if there is something holy to it,” he said with an easy grin. “It is just remarkable.”
She wondered if he was making fun of her. It was a distinct possibility. There was a hint of humor lurking in the corner of his mouth, and she frowned.
“You were just at the Guyeverne meetings, weren’t you?” he continued. “I recognize the badge, but I am afraid that I do not recognize your face…”
She felt trapped. There was a clear expectation in his voice, and she didn’t know how to get out of it without backing away or seeming rude. On top of it, what if she was rude, and he decided to make trouble for Faris?
“I’m Danielle Jennings,” she offered reluctantly. “I don’t think I recognize you either…?”
To her surprise, he bowed to her on the street as if they were in some kind of novel. As he rose, he touched his heart and his lips, an archaic symbol of respect from the Middle East.
“I am Seif abdul-Rahid, sheikh of Kamul,” he said, and there was something elegant about the way he spoke and carried himself. She found herself drawn to it, and then with a start, she realized it was because he reminded her of Faris.
“Oh, I am pleased to meet you,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “How are you finding the meeting?”
He grinned a little ruefully, and it struck her that this was a man who knew how handsome he was and was probably willing to use it. The question was, of course, why he was choosing to use it on her.
“Well, it is still going on, and I am out here. As a matter of fact, most of the Middle Eastern portion of the meeting has left as well, and given that you are out here, I assume that the sheikh of Aswar is among them?”
“Yes, he left about thirty minutes ago. Are you looking for them? I’m not sure where they are, but I assume someone would know…” she offered, but he was already shaking his head.
“I’ll confess I was finding the meeting rather close, and I would be just as happy to wander the streets of Paris on my own.”
He paused, giving her a significant look.
“Or perhaps in the company of someone who finds something beautiful about a simple street?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. There was something unsettling about this man, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. There was something avid about the way he was looking at her, something just slightly false about his smile, despite his charm.
She was set to refuse, and then she thought of Faris’s admonition to go off and have a good time. Danielle realized with a little bit of dismay that he had likely intended to go off to do the same, and when she thought about that incident on the porch and about all of the news articles she had ever read about him, she knew what that meant.
“Sure!” she said a little too loudly. “Why don’t we do that?”
He grinned at her, and Danielle could tell how charming he intended it to be, but right then, all she could think of was how little he reminded her of Faris in every way except the most superficial. Still, she took a deep breath and told herself that she should relax. She had spent her entire life playing things safe and being quiet. Maybe now was the time let things get a little loud.
“Good,” Seif said. “Let us see what we can scare up, shall we?”
She forced herself to grin, hoping that her nerves didn’t show through, and when he offered her his hand, she took it.
Chapter Eleven
Some four hours later, Danielle realized she was making a mistake. It might not have been a terrible one, but it was a mistake nonetheless. Seif had demanded they go to an expensive restaurant, one devoted to small plates elegantly served. Danielle realized it was meant to be a one-of-a-kind experience, but when a tiny skewer of meat was brought to her on a steaming pillow, it was hard to see the appeal.
There were fourteen courses in all, each one little more than a bite, and some of them bitter in a way that made her question whether it was food at all. It didn’t seem to stop Seif at all, as he explained his way through all fourteen courses, sharing what was impressive about each one and why she should find it delicious.
She ate every bite—at the very least, it helped keep the hunger at bay. She had been starving since breakfast, and this meal was far better than none at all. She smiled at him when he made recommendations or told her this fact or the other, and she could tell he didn’t notice her discomfort at all. Danielle knew very well she was no actress; it was simply that he didn’t care to notice her reactions.
After a few forays into conversation, it became easier to allow Seif to talk, and talk he did. He had plenty to say about his emirate and the way they did things, how progressive they were and how westernized. She flinched a little when he talked about banning any sign of the old ways, the ones that were looked down on in the West, and she thought of all the older people who had the symbols of their identity yanked away. Seif might be regarded as a great modernizer in the ages to come, but in the one he actually lived in, she was certain that he was roundly cursed in many places in Kamul.
After dinner, he insisted on a horse-drawn carriage, and despite her absolute hatred of being lifted above the street so everyone could see, she gave in, telling him that it would have to be the last thing they did because she was getting tired.
“I guess I’m just running out of steam,” she said with a weak grin. “I’m still running on no sleep at all from when we got in this morning.”
For a moment, there was a stubborn look on his face, and then he covered it up with something more easy-going.
“That’s fine, of course. We can just have the driver drop you off as we go by…”
He leaned up to give the address to the driver, and something about that felt strangely off to her, but she was so tired and desperate to be alone by then that it did not occur to her to question it. He kept up a running commentary about the advances he had made in Kamul since becoming the sheikh, and in less time than it could have taken but more than she would have wished, they were back in front of the narrow townhouse where she and Faris were staying.
He sprang off the carriage to hand her down, and something about the way he took her hand made her shiver.
“I’ve got it from here,” she tried to say, but then he insisted on escorting her to the door.
“I had a great time,”
she lied, turning around to face him when they were on the porch. The porch was sheltered from the street by a trio of lowering trees, their branches dipping toward the ground. They might have been in a private grotto all on their own, and the setting made Danielle determined to allow him no closer.
“Why, what a good thing,” he said with a chuckle. “Perhaps we can do this again tomorrow night, assuming we are both free to do as we would like to do.”
She opened her mouth, a dozen excuses on the tip of her tongue to explain why that simply wouldn’t be possible, and then he leaned over her, his mouth clamping down over hers.
For a moment, Danielle was simply frozen, eyes wide in the darkness and blood turned to ice. This man was kissing her. His mouth was on hers, he was a flesh-and-blood man who had backed her against the door, and his tongue was pressing between her lips. There were no words for the panic-fury-fear that ran through her, but fortunately, her body was smarter than her mind was.
She narrowed her eyes, and when he pressed his tongue between her teeth, she brought them together with a satisfying clack. Seif reacted immediately, making a sound like a kicked dog, and he lurched back as if he had been stabbed.
“What the hell…!” he exclaimed, and she stared at him wildly.
“I didn’t like that,” she said, her voice shaking like a leaf. “I didn’t want to do that, but I will do worse if you touch me again. Now get out of here.”
For a moment, in the shade of the trees, he only looked at her. A terror welled up in her throat, and at the back of her mind, a voice whispered what if it wasn’t enough? What if he didn’t care if she liked it or not? What if he decided that he was owed for the dinner, for his time?
Then he nodded jerkily, turning and retreating down the stairs, and a gush of relief washed over Danielle like a flood. Her hands were shaking, her knees felt too weak to hold her, and she couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or cry.
Fortunately, there was a stone bench next to the door. She knew that she should go inside, hide, get into some comfortable clothes and put some locked doors between herself and the world, but she sat down on the cold stone for a moment, letting the fear wash out of her system.
