by Elle James
“That should be interesting,” Layla said, “considering the president has his own idea of justice. Or is it just the justice minister’s turn to spy on the Americans?”
Her father ignored her comment and continued. “The minister’s name is Murat Akar, and he’s brought with him a friend, Hasan Saka. Hasan is a Turkish businessman who supplies the Turkish army with beans and bullets.”
Layla’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting that he’s a friend of the Minister of Justice. Is it a case of they’re in bed together? Or is it a case of keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”
“Whatever the case is,” her father said, “I just want to get through the evening without stirring up anything. Turkish government officials are touchy lately.”
She smiled and patted her father’s arm. “We’ll do our best.”
He smiled and laid his hand over hers. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He smiled across at Bull. “And that’s why she has you.”
Bull tipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Shall we?” the ambassador said. He held out his arm.
Layla took her father’s elbow.
Bull fell in step behind them.
As they entered the dining room, Layla’s assistant, Pinar Erim, approached her, carrying a clipboard. “I arranged the seating as requested, Ambassador Grey.”
Layla glanced at her father.
He nodded. “I asked Ms. Erim to seat the Minister of Justice to my right and his guest to his right. You will be seated on my left, Layla, and your fiancé will be seated to your left.” Her father led the way to where the Minister of Justice and his guest stood and began the introductions.
After introducing himself to his two guests the ambassador turned to his daughter. “And this is my daughter, Miss Layla Grey. And I am pleased to introduce to you her friend, Greg Smith.”
The minister shook Layla’s hand and then Greg’s.
Hasan Saka took her hand next and stared into her eyes, his narrowing just slightly. “It is an honor.” He held her hand just a couple seconds longer than was necessary.
If he’d held on longer, Layla would have jerked her hand free. Fortunately, he let go before she hit her boiling point.
Layla understood that she was in an area of the world that didn’t value women as highly as men. She’d gotten used to biting her tongue and had found a way to fight back in an entirely different way.
Layla gritted her teeth and smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She’d been to enough dinners to know how to be polite and keep her opinions to herself. She was there as a hostess, not a game changer.
They took their seats around the table, and dinner was served by an excellent waitstaff. Layla made it all the way through dinner without visibly yawning. By the time the dinner plates were being cleared, her cheeks hurt, and she was ready to run screaming from the room. She’d done her duty of speaking about weather and places she’d visited in Turkey.
Bull had sat beside her talking only when spoken to and using all the correct utensils, which astounded her.
As the waitstaff cleared the dinner plates and brought in the dessert, a raspberry sorbet, she leaned close to Bull. “Are they teaching table etiquette in basic training nowadays?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Not hardly.”
“So where did you learn yours?” she asked.
“You can thank my mother and cotillon.”
Her eyes widened. She looked into his. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Much to my teenage humiliation and dismay.”
She chuckled. “I can just picture it.”
At the end of the table, her father cleared his throat. “I’d like to make an announcement,” he said. All the guests at the table turned to the ambassador. “I have my staff serving up champagne and sparkling water, to those who don’t drink alcohol, for a toast. I have reason to celebrate this evening.”
He turned to Layla. “My daughter had a visitor today.” The ambassador nodded at Bull. “Mr. Greg Smith, for those who haven’t yet been introduced.” The ambassador lifted his chin, a smile lifting his lips. “Mr. Smith came to my office to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
A collective oh went up from the ladies at the table.
“After listening to his reasons and declaration of love, I’ve granted him my blessing for their union. He asked my daughter, she has agreed to be his bride, and I’m pleased to announce, my daughter is engaged to be married.”
The guests at the table clapped and congratulated the ambassador, Layla and Bull.
The waitstaff set glasses of champagne beside each guest. The ambassador raised his glass. “To my daughter and her fiancé. Hear! Hear!”
Layla smiled and nodded her acknowledgement. Bull did the same. The stage was fully set. She was now the proud bride to be to the handsome Mr. Smith. Now, all she had to worry about was how she was going to get out of the embassy that night. With not one…not two…but three bodyguards watching her every move. Thank goodness the embassy had some secret staircases built in for the possibility that the embassy staff would need to escape quickly. She had made use of those hidden doorways, corridors and underground exits. Her bodyguards were never the wiser, and her newest one wouldn’t be either.
The Minister of Justice glanced across the table at her and Bull. “Congratulations, Ms. Grey and Mr. Smith. Marriage is a sacred undertaking. It is refreshing to see a modern woman embracing such an old tradition.”
“Thank you, minister,” Layla said with a gracious smile.
“Thank you, Minister Akar,” Bull acknowledged with a nod.
The man beside the minister raised his champagne glass. “I, too, would like to congratulate you. It amuses me that, in a country where marriages are entered for love, the divorce rate is so very high.”
Layla pressed her lips together. “I’d prefer not to comment on that.”
“Please, Ms. Grey, I’d like to know your opinion.”
She took a deep breath and exchanged glances with her father.
When he gave a nod, she spoke, “In my country we can choose to marry for love, and when one of the partners in that marriage violates the vow, my people can choose to end the marriage. A woman does not have to stay in a loveless marriage. My people have the choice of staying or leaving. They’re not forced to enter or stay in a marriage not of their choosing.”
Saka’s eyes narrowed. “I would assume by your statement that you do not approve of arranged marriages, as they are not entered by choice or by love.”
She dipped her head. “I do my best to respect other cultures.”
“But you do not approve, do you?” Saka’s thick eyebrow lifted.
“I prefer not to comment, sir.”
Her father quickly changed the subject, and the meal ended. Not soon enough for Layla. When she could escape, she did and headed back toward her room with Bull by her side. As soon as they were out of earshot of the guests, she muttered beneath her breath, “I can’t believe that man put me on the spot. That was rude, even by Turkish standards. I can’t abide by men who bully women.”
“You’re in the wrong part of the world if you’re expecting to see equality between men and women.”
“I know.” She sighed.
“Even though Turkey is more progressive than some of the other countries in the Middle East. It’s still backwards in gender equality.”
Once in the elevator, she turned to him. “Thank you for being so polite and well-mannered at the table.”
“I’m glad to know that I didn’t embarrass you,” he said.
“You’ll have to thank your mother for me.”
His lips formed a thin line. “I would, but she passed away five years ago.”
“You’re right. You told me that. Well, she’d be proud of you.”
“I’d like to think so,” he said. “She always encouraged me to follow my heart.”
Layla’s eyebrow rose. “And your heart led
you to the army?”
He nodded. “I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself. Something that I could do that would represent my country, and something that would make my mother proud.”
“Well, you did all that. I thought you handled Saka quite well. I could tell that you were holding back. And I’m sure he could, too. It was like he was trying to get a rise out of me. What do you think about arranged marriages?” she asked.
“I don’t believe in forcing anyone to marry anyone else. And I especially don’t think that children should be forced into marriages.”
Layla nodded. “You’ve fought in the Middle East. I’m sure you’ve seen things that you can’t unsee and you can’t change.
He nodded.
“What if you could change things?” she asked. “Would you?”
He nodded. “But one person can’t change an entire culture.”
“Maybe not,” she said, “but one person might change the outcome for one other person. That’s one life changed for the better.”
He nodded. By that time, they were standing in front of the door to his assigned quarters.
“I won’t need you for the rest of the night,” she said. “I’m going to curl up with a book, and then go to sleep early.”
He nodded. “If you plan to go out, please let me know. I’ll be in the room next door.”
When she turned to walk away, he snagged her arm. “That’s not how a newly engaged couple parts.” He pulled her into his arms and bent his head to capture her lips with his.
At first, she was stiff, surprised by his action, but as the kiss continued, her body melted into his, and she returned the pressure on his lips, opening to him. He thrust his tongue past her teeth and caressed hers in a long slow glide, crushing her closer to him until she didn’t know where his body ended and hers began.
As suddenly as he’d started, he stepped back. “Goodnight, my love,” he said, and winked.
She turned as if in a daze, walked down the corridor to her room, entered, and closed the door behind her. Once she clicked the lock in place, she leaned her back against the wood paneling and remembered to breathe.
Holy hell. Where had he learned to do that? Layla was certain it wasn’t at cotillion, nor was it in Army Basic Combat Training.
What she wasn’t prepared for, was her desire to do it again.
Chapter 3
Bull had sat there during that dinner playing the dutiful fiancé, all the while fighting the urge to reach out and touch the silky black dress Layla wore. Her dark hair and sultry eyes had captivated him from the beginning. But seeing the outline of her body in that simple black dress had revved his engines and left him half hard all night long.
When they’d reached the corridor outside their rooms, he’d had to do something, and he’d had the perfect excuse. Kissing her had been as natural as breathing. The problem was that once he’d kissed her, he wanted to do it again. He had also wanted to follow her to her bedroom and take that kiss just a little bit farther. But that would make him no better than his buddy Blade who kissed every female he came in contact with, or so it seemed.
Bull was on a mission, not on a vacation. He shouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation. Although, his kiss had had a point. If they were being watched, they needed to show some public displays of affection. At least, that’s how he justified it.
He entered his room, closed the door and locked it behind him. Stripping out of the suit, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It was about time he reported in to his team. Not that he had much to report other than he’d made contact. And boy had he. His team would give him hell if they knew that he’d been kissing the ambassador’s daughter.
What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He could tell them that he was pretending to be the daughter’s fiancé. Beyond that, they didn’t need to know the rest.
He engaged his headset. “Bull to the barnyard. Bull to the barnyard.”
“Barnyard here,” Rucker’s voice came over his headset.
“The bull’s in the china shop.”
Rucker chuckled. “Who made up this shit?”
Bull laughed. “I think you can blame Dash.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Rucker said. “How’d it go? Did you get your assignment?”
He entered the bathroom and turned on the shower for background noise in case the room was bugged. “I met my fiancée.”
“Say again?” Rucker’s voice sounded surprised.
“That’s right, I met my fiancée. I’ll be sticking to her like glue.”
“Or like a bull with a cow in heat?” Blade’s voice sounded in his ear.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Bull shook his head, an image of Layla in her black dress making him hard all over again. Layla was anything but a cow. She was beautiful and sexy in an exotic way. Not that his teammates needed to know that at this point.
“Is fiancée code for something that I didn’t know?” Rucker asked.
“No code. Just cover.”
“Ah-ha, that makes your assignment a lot more interesting.”
“Anything to report out there?” Bull asked.
“All’s quiet,” Rucker said. “A few rumblings toward the center of town, but nothing this direction. Need anything from us?”
Bull couldn’t think of anything. “Not at this point.”
“Keep us informed.”
“Roger.” He ended the communication and turned off the shower. At that exact moment, he heard a door in the hallway open and then close. He hurried to his door and cracked it open just a hair. Enough to see out into the corridor. What appeared to be a young man in baggy jeans and a hoodie walked past his door, his head down, his face obscured by the sides of the hoodie. As he passed Bull’s door, a waft of perfume assailed Bull’s nostrils. The same perfume Layla had been wearing that evening.
He watched as the young boy walked by. The sway of his hips gave him away. Bull almost threw open the door and demanded, What the hell? Because the young boy was not a boy at all, but Layla Grey, the ambassador’s daughter. And she appeared to be sneaking out of her room. For what purpose, Bull didn’t know, but he’d find out.
Rather than ask her, he decided to follow her. He jammed his feet into running shoes and waited until she reached the end of the corridor and turned. Then he hurried after her. She had passed the elevator and gone down to another corridor. He raced to the end and peered around that corner.
At first glance, he thought he’d missed her. But then he saw a shadow move against the wall in the corridor to the right. Where was she going? Again, he hurried down that corridor and peered again to the right. She pushed through a stairwell door. He ran to the end of the hall and caught the stairwell door before it closed all the way. Easing it open, he slipped through, and then softly let it close.
Layla’s feet made no noise on the staircase. She must have been wearing tennis shoes or something soft-soled. He glanced over the railing. Two floors below, a slim hand slid across the railing. Her hand disappeared, and a door opened below.
As quietly as he could, Bull hurried down the steps to the floor he guessed she had gotten out on. He cracked open the door and peered down the hallway. Her hooded figure pushed through a door halfway down the corridor. He waited until she went inside before he entered the hallway. When he reached the door, he looked at the sign posted over it. Library. Had she come down to the library to get that book she wanted to read? And would she be angry when she found him following her?
It didn’t matter. His job was to follow her, to be with her every minute of the day. He pushed through the door and entered the library ready to confront her. As he did, he heard what sounded like gears turning. There were several stacks of books in orderly rows like any library back in the States, only on a smaller scale. He peered down each stack until he got to the end. A bookshelf in the middle of the final wall had just swung back into its position as if it had been a door closing.
“What the hell?” he
muttered. He went to the case and tried pushing it. It didn’t budge. Did it have a secret lever that needed to be pulled in order to open the door?
He tried moving different books. They all came out easily, none of them connected to a lever. Secret doors usually had some kind of hidden lever that would open them. He just had to find it, and soon, otherwise he’d lose her.
He tried a light switch on the wall, but it just turned out the lights. He felt along the bottom of the shelves to see if there was a button anywhere. He didn’t find one. Finally, he tried pulling on a wrought iron sconce on the wall, the bookshelf shimmied. Bingo.
He pulled the sconce a little harder, and the shelf swung open revealing a narrow corridor. A narrow empty corridor. Damn. She had to be way ahead of him by now.
Bull entered the secret passage. The bookshelf swung closed behind him, and the corridor lit up. He ran down the corridor trying the catch up to the ambassador’s daughter.
At one point, the corridor came to a T intersection. To the left it climbed. To the right it descended. If the ambassador’s daughter was trying to sneak out, she would be going down. If she was trying to get back to her room, she might go up, but then why did she not come down that path to begin with?
Bull followed his gut and took the descending stairs. Where would she be going at that time of night? And why did she feel the need to sneak out?
Eventually, the stairs came to an end. The air was cooler and a little damp, as if they were in some kind of basement. A door opened up into yet another tunnel. By the smell and feel of it, it was an underground chamber leading he didn’t know where. But he kept going, hoping that he would eventually run into Layla.
As he followed along, he began to think that perhaps he’d chosen the wrong direction, but then he came to a door. He pushed through it and peered out into what appeared to be an empty street. Then a shadow moved at the corner, and he recognized the hooded boy with the tantalizing perfume, slipping around a building.
He pushed through the door then looked back briefly. The door all but disappeared. It looked more like a vine-covered stucco wall. Anybody passing by would never know there was a door behind the vines. He committed the location to memory and jogged after Layla.
