Dark Queen’s Quest

by I. T. Lucas

  Knowing that Mey was in the next room made meditating impossible. And even though the headphones had done a good job blocking the sounds of conversation that were percolating from the living room, they couldn’t stop his mind from imagining what was being said.

  Was Mey wondering where he was?

  Had she asked Alena about him?

  Had she come over because she wanted to see him?

  “Nonsense,” he heard Alena say. “You’re not going anywhere until we have dinner and you tell me all about yourself.”

  That obliterated the last of his resistance. He couldn’t miss out on hearing Mey’s story or on having dinner with her either.

  His willpower could go only so far.

  Pushing up from the floor, Yamanu walked into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, even though he’d already done it after lunch, checked his jaw for whiskers, and combed his long hair. He resisted adding a fresh spray of cologne, though.

  No need to give Alena and Arwel more ammunition for their teasing.

  As he opened the door, the conversation halted, and everyone’s eyes turned to him.

  “Look who decided to join us after all.” Alena’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “Hi, Yamanu,” Mey said. “I thought you weren’t here.”

  “I was meditating.” Trying to was more accurate.

  She smiled. “We have that in common. I also meditate from time to time. Do you do it every day?”

  “He does,” Arwel said. “Two hours at least.”

  ”Oh, wow. That’s a lot. I usually meditate for ten or fifteen minutes.” Her eyes never left him. “How do you manage to hold it for so long?”

  He sat on the armchair facing her and crossed his legs at his ankles. “I have many years of practice. But sometimes I get distracted too.”

  Alena cleared her throat. “Just so you know, I told Mey that I’m the daughter of a prominent person, and that I have to keep my identity secret because there are people who would seek to harm me if they knew who I was. I also told her that Arwel is not really my boyfriend.”

  Yamanu stifled a groan. Now he would have to thrall Mey for sure. “What did you reveal about me?”

  “Nothing, darling. I leave it up to you.”

  He felt Mey tense up and wondered why. Was she anxious to hear what he was to Ari? Did she fear that he was Arielle’s boyfriend?

  It shouldn’t have gladdened him, but it did.

  “I’m not her boyfriend either,” he clarified. “Ari is my cousin, and so is Arwel.”

  Mey looked from him to Alena and then to Arwel. “You must be second or third cousins. There is barely any familial resemblance.”

  Yeah. Alena was pale, he was dark, and Arwel was somewhere in between.

  Yamanu flashed her a bright smile. “You got it.”

  “Second and third cousins are kosher for marriage,” Mey said. “Genetically speaking, that is.”

  “Not in our family,” Alena said.

  Like Eva, Mey threw in Yiddish words here and there, but unlike Eva, she didn’t have a New Yorker’s accent. In fact, he could detect foreign traces in her speech, but even though she was obviously Asian, it wasn’t any of those.

  It reminded him of Annani’s slight accent. But Sumerian was dead, and it had no genealogical relationship with any other language, ancient or contemporary.

  “Are the others going to join us for dinner?” Yamanu asked.

  Alena shook her head. “Not today. I’m selfish, and I want Mey all to myself.” She smiled at Yamanu. “But I’m willing to share her with you and Arwel.”

  Looking uncomfortable, Mey shifted away from Alena. “Who are the others?”

  Alena seemed just as puzzled as Arwel by Mey’s discomfort. “My makeup artist, her husband and baby, my driver, and my other bodyguard.”

  Mey seemed to relax. “That’s a lot of people. You travel with a large entourage.”

  As it suddenly occurred to him that Mey could have misinterpreted Alena’s sharing comment, Yamanu stifled a chuckle. A pretty girl like her had probably been propositioned in every conceivable way.

  “It’s necessary,” Alena said.

  To change the subject, Yamanu asked, “I detect a slight foreign accent from you, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

  Mey’s hand went to the pendant she wore under her blouse. “It’s Hebrew. I grew up in Israel. Well, partially in Israel. My parents moved there when I was seven. I’ve only been back in New York for the last three years.”

  22

  Mey

  Everyone was looking at Mey, probably trying to figure out why would a Chinese family emigrate to Israel, and now she had no choice but to tell them that she was adopted.

  Crap.

  Not that there was anything wrong with that, but whenever she told anyone, the pitying look would come. Usually it lasted for only a split second, but still.

  “My sister and I were adopted by a Jewish couple from Brooklyn.”

  There, she had said it.

  Surprisingly though, instead of pity, she got three smiling faces.

  “Well, that explains it,” Arielle said. “I was wondering about the Yiddish words. My makeup artist is from Brooklyn, and she throws them in a lot. I thought it was a New Yorker thing.”

  Hopefully, no one would ask her about her military service, which those who knew a thing or two about Israel usually did, because she would have to lie about getting an exemption to pursue her modeling career and promote an Israeli fashion label throughout the world. Supposedly, it had been part of a larger campaign designed to improve Israel's image, which had been the official excuse everyone had gotten at the time, including her parents and sister.

  In reality, she hadn't been released, only loaned to the Mossad. No one knew that except those she’d met on the inside.

  Perhaps the best way to avoid further questions about herself was to turn the spotlight on Ari and her cousins.

  “Yamanu is such a unique name. I’ve never heard of it. Is that the name you were given at birth?”

  He chuckled. “You think I would’ve chosen it for myself?”

  “Why not? It sounds exotic, and it kind of suits you. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

  “You mean weird.” He laughed.

  “No. You’re exotic, and I mean it in the best way. It’s a shame that you left the modeling life behind.” She waved a hand at him. “Women would buy anything you sell.”

  He put a hand over his chest. “I’m flattered.”

  “Mistress,” the butler said as he bowed to Arielle. “I was informed that dinner is ready. Should I bring it up now?”

  “Yes, please,” Ari said. “And make sure they don’t forget the extra place setting.”

  He bowed again. “Yes, mistress.”

  Mey wondered which of the European countries still had monarchies, because Arielle seemed to be royalty. Her butler was acting as if she was a princess.

  When he departed, Mey turned to look at Yamanu again and realized that he hadn’t answered her question. In fact, he was very good at dodging. Then again, she hadn’t asked him directly about the meaning of his name, only if he’d been born with it.

  “So, Yamanu, how did you come by your name? Is there a story there?”

  Both Arwel and Arielle looked at him expectantly, as if they had been wondering the same thing and had never asked before.

  “There isn’t much to it,” Yamanu said. “My father was Yemenite, and my mother sought to honor him by calling me after his homeland.”

  That explained some of his unique features. Except, the Yemenites Mey had met in Israel had been mostly skinny and short. Yamanu was practically a giant compared to them. But then she was a nearly six-foot-tall Asian woman, so there was that.

  “Where do your parents live now?”

  “My father is long gone, and my mother lives in Scotland.”

  “Is she Scottish?”

  “Yes.”

  That might explain his pale b
lue eyes. The genetic mix he’d gotten from his parents was truly spectacular.

  She caught herself staring at him for too long and looked away. He was just so striking, so compelling, but she had a feeling he wasn’t into her as much as she was into him.

  Just like in the agency’s waiting room, he was polite, charming, and smiled a lot, but his eyes weren’t as covetous as those of a man lusting after a woman.

  How disappointing.

  Was he just good at hiding it? Or was he really not interested in her?

  It couldn’t be her height because he was at least eight inches taller than her. And he didn’t seem intimidated by her looks and size like some men were. Could it be that he had something against Asian girls?

  Or maybe it was her lack of cleavage? Perhaps he found her too skinny?

  Some guys didn’t like the waif look that was a requirement for fashion models. Ari wasn’t as thin as that, but then she was doing makeup ads, so she didn’t have to be.

  As the door opened and the butler rolled in a cart, her stomach squeezed tight. “Something smells delicious,” she said.

  Mey was naturally thin, so she didn’t have to work too hard to meet the requirements, but she couldn’t allow herself to eat whatever she wanted either. Her rule of thumb was to get away from the table before she felt full.

  Except, today she was probably going to indulge.

  Yamanu’s implied rejection hurt, and as irrational as the thought was, it made her feel bad about the sacrifices she was making to stay in the modeling business.

  But he was just one guy, right?

  There were plenty of men who found her desirable, and she shouldn’t doubt her choices just because one gorgeous hunk wasn’t attracted to her.

  She and Jin had made a deal. They were going to work their butts off for the next five years, saving up as much money as they could, and then start their own business.

  Once it was up and running, Mey would model only their own fashion line, and she wouldn’t have to stay so skinny.

  Except that was irrelevant at the moment. Right now, she was sitting across from a man that she wanted more than any guy she’d ever met, but he didn’t want her back and that sucked.

  23

  Yamanu

  Mey’s disappointment cut through Yamanu’s heart, causing as much pain as if she was digging in there with an actual knife.

  As dinner had progressed, her mood had kept plummeting, and since all they could talk about were general topics, the conversation had gotten somewhat stilted. All the funny anecdotes they could have told her were clan related and translating them into human terms would have stripped them of their humor.

  Mey had also been tight-lipped, not sharing anything about herself unless Alena had pulled it out of her.

  He had a feeling that she was hiding secrets, which made him even more curious to find out what they were.

  “I should get going,” Mey said. “It’s late and I have an early shoot tomorrow.”

  “I can take you home,” Yamanu found himself blurting without thinking it through. “The hotel manager is also a cousin of ours, and he lets me borrow the limousine.”

  Damn, instead of driving Mey home, he should have escorted her downstairs and hailed a cab for her.

  “Thank you. I planned on calling a taxi, but if you are up for a walk, I live not far from here.” She smiled. “I’m sure no mugger would dare attack me with you by my side.”

  And hadn’t that just made him feel like he had won the lottery. Not only did she trust him to protect her, she trusted him with her address.

  Forgetting about his reservations and about why spending time with Mey was a bad idea, Yamanu pushed to his feet and offered her a hand up. “It would be my pleasure to escort you safely to your home.”

  Alena beamed happily at him. “Make sure to check Mey’s apartment for intruders before you leave. Her roommates are gone, and someone might be lurking in there, just waiting for her to come home.” She winked at him.

  Mey shook her head. “New York has gotten a bad rap, but it’s not as dangerous as it’s made out to be. This is a good neighborhood, and my building is secure.”

  “Nevertheless, Yamanu should check. You never know who your neighbors are. What if one of them is a pervert who is just waiting to catch you alone in your apartment?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that possibility.” Mey frowned, but he sensed no fear from her.

  She had either dismissed Alena’s concerns or was just a fearless type of lady.

  Which worried him.

  Fear was good. Nonchalance was dangerous.

  Alena crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s the problem. People naively believe that if they are good, others are good as well. And then they pay dearly for their naïveté. Sharks lurk everywhere.”

  “True.” Mey smiled mysteriously. “But how do you know the bad guys from the good? What if Yamanu has nefarious intentions?” She cast him a glance from under her long lashes.

  Damn. She was flirting with him.

  He was in so much trouble.

  “Yamanu is not a stranger because I can vouch for him. He is a real mensch.” She laughed. “Now I sound like a real New Yorker.”

  “Let’s go, my lady Mey.” He offered her his arm.

  The bright smile that his gallantry had earned him ensured that he was going to keep it up throughout the walk.

  Threading her arm through his, Mey turned to Alena and Arwel. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner. It was a pleasure spending time with you.”

  “Then let’s repeat it soon.” Alena got up and kissed both of Mey’s cheeks. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  It wasn’t an excuse. He could sense that she was waiting for something, some news that would determine whether she was free tomorrow evening or not.

  The idea that she might be expecting a call from a guy infuriated him for no good reason. He had no right to get jealous over her going on a date with someone else.

  He should be glad for her. And for himself.

  Mey was proving to be the one temptation he couldn’t resist, and the consequences of that could be disastrous.

  “Well, call me as soon as you know. I might invite the rest of the gang. You just wait until you see Eva’s baby boy. He’s adorable.”

  Mey’s face brightened. “I love babies. I’ll come if I can.”

  “Please do.”

  After another kiss from Alena and a wave goodbye from Arwel, they finally made it out of the apartment.

  “I really like Arielle,” Mey said. “But she is not fooling me with that fake accent. What’s the deal with that?”

  Alena wasn’t doing a good job of that. Luckily, it wasn’t crucial at this point, but she really needed to get better at it.

  “She’s not originally from Slovenia.” Alena had never even visited the country.

  “Yeah, I figured out as much. She is not American either. English maybe? Or Scottish?”

  He laughed. “I’m not going to tell you. That’s Ari’s secret.”

  As they got out into the street, he wrapped his arm around Mey’s shoulders, pulling her closer against his side. “I apologize for this. But if we are to walk the streets at night, I prefer you as close to me as possible. It’s not about me taking liberties I shouldn’t.”

  She leaned her head against his bicep. “Don’t apologize. Do you know how rare it is for me to be able to do this? You make me feel dainty.”

  “You are dainty. How much do you weigh, a hundred and ten? A hundred fifteen?”

  She chuckled. “You either haven’t gone out on dates in a long time or have spent a lot of time in Europe. Here, it’s considered a great faux pas to ask a woman how much she weighs.”

  He knew that, but this wasn’t a date. “My apologies. Did I offend you?”

  “Not at all. I just thought to save you from getting in trouble if you decide to date again.”

  Aha. Mey was fishing for informa
tion.

  She wasn’t going to get it.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  She shook her head. “You’re good. But I don’t know why you are being so evasive. I just want to know a little more about you.”

  She was direct, which he appreciated, but regrettably he had no choice. “What about you? You deflect as well as I do. What are you hiding, my lady Mey?”

  “Nothing. What you see is what you get.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Right.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you serve in the army? I heard that in Israel girls also have mandatory service.”

  “We do. Two years. It’s such a tiny country with such a small population that there is no way around it. Mostly, girls are assigned administrative duties, but some want to be fighters, and if they can make it, they are given the chance.”

  “Were you a fighter?”

  She shook her head. “I was too tall for the flight program.”

  He stopped. “Seriously? You wanted to be a jet fighter pilot?”

  Mey burst out laughing. “Got you.” She took his hand and kept on walking. “I toyed with the idea for about one day, but I realized that I didn’t want it badly enough to put in the tremendous work required to make it through the program. Besides, I won a beauty pageant, and that set me on a modeling path.”

  “So, you’re a beauty queen?”

  “Ms. Teen Israel.”

  “That must’ve been something. I bet the newspapers had a field day with that.”

  “Because I’m Chinese?”

  He nodded.

  “A few years back,” Mey said, “an Ethiopian won the title, so my win wasn’t such earth-shattering news.”

  “So, what did you do in the army?”

  “I went through basic training like everyone else. And then I was assigned to a clerical position in the intelligence department. Later on I was offered a very lucrative modeling opportunity, promoting an Israeli fashion label and through it Israel's image as an integrated society."

  Mey was lying or leaving something out.

  Usually, it wasn’t easy to detect lies, but she obviously felt guilty about it, and guilt had a very strong and distinctive smell.