by Diana Fraser
She didn’t shift her gaze. “It will be expensive and take years to complete.”
“Maybe, but our countries can both afford it and will be the richer for the connection.”
She looked up and held his gaze. “Your tourism trade will obviously benefit by the drawcard of our traditional culture and ancient buildings. Things your modern country with all its glass towers and technology cannot supply.” She sat back and folded her arms, content her barbed comment would find its target, that it would be felt somewhere behind Xander’s cool, polished exterior.
“And yours,” he said firmly, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs as he lifted his frowning face closer to hers, “will gain access to the sea, and our port, things you’ve never had before.”
“The lack of which has kept us safe for centuries,” she snapped, refusing to be bested.
“Safe, because no one was interested in a country without access to the sea.” He sat back again, eyeing her intently. “Look, if you despise my country’s modernity, you have the choice to remain in the dark ages.” He shrugged. “I really don’t care. Your country will benefit far more than mine.”
A flare of anger shot through her at the injustice of this statement. “You lie, Xander, and there is no point us working together if you continue to do that.” She waggled her finger at him. “You know exactly what you’ll be getting—a percentage of all our goods and oil which will flow through your port, as well as the tourism which my country will attract.”
Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed her waggling finger and gripped it tightly. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again!”
She pulled away in surprise. “I shall do exactly as I like.”
“If you treat me like a child, I’ll walk away.”
“Exactly as a child would!”
They glared at each other in a fiery impasse, broken only by the insistent ringing from Xander’s phone. With an irritated grunt, Xander slid the phone off the table into his hand, rose and walked away. “Yes!”
Elaheh inhaled a shaky breath of relief as Xander walked away. She could withstand pressure from opposing forces whether they be her ministers, visiting diplomats, or family, all intent on imposing their will on someone they believed to be a weak woman. But what she couldn’t stand was Xander being close to her. It was personal, it was intense, and it got through to her like nothing else could.
She needed air. She went to the window and pushed it open, relieved as the dry heat flooded the chill, air-conditioned room and filled her lungs. She didn’t know how Xander and the other kings could stand such artificial conditions. She needed to feel the desert air on her face, and in her body, in order to survive; she needed to feel the essence of the country in her veins in order to live.
She half-listened to Xander’s conversation which mainly consisted of grunts on his part. It took her a little while to work out that it was his brother, Roshan, on the other end of the line. It was only after Xander’s grunts appeared to be in the affirmative—he’d agreed to something, but she had no idea what—that he finished his call, tossed the phone back on the table and sat down again.
He appeared conflicted as he thrust his fingers through his hair. His lips formed a straight line, as did his gaze as it shot directly at her. Bullseye. “Sit down, Elaheh. We have to stop sniping and get on with business.”
“Is that what your brother told you?” She didn’t wait for an answer because she knew both Xander and Roshan were correct. Whatever she’d said, whatever Xander had said, they both needed this project to be a success as it would ultimately benefit both their countries.
Xander didn’t bother to respond but flipped open the laptop, opened a document and turned it around to her.
“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.
“An initial roading report. I suggest we accept its recommendations and immediately requisition a full and complete report including resources and timelines to let us know what we’re in for, so we can get started. Agreed?”
She restrained herself to a simple black look. “Not yet. I haven’t read it.”
She took the laptop and began to read, aware of his impatience. Despite that, she took her time and read every word. She nodded as she closed the laptop and pushed it over the table, back to him. “Agreed,” she said simply. She was surprised to see a change in his attitude. Gone was the coldness, he even looked amused. It made her less amused.
“What do you find so funny?” she said in her haughtiest voice.
He shrugged lightly and his lips quirked briefly. “You.”
“I am not amusing.”
“True. You’re far from amusing, much too stern for that. But you are funny. Unintentionally so. And that’s what makes it even funnier.”
“You talk nonsense, Xander. Is that what your Ivy League education got you? Is that what networking with all your slick friends makes you?” She stood up. “For want of anything solid to say, you turn the tables and try to make fun of me? Is that all you can do? You should be ashamed!”
With that, she stalked out of the conference room and swept through ancient corridors to the suite of rooms which would be hers for the next few days, until their discussions were complete. Once in the room, she dismissed her maids, flung open all the window onto the central courtyard and paced her room, trying to calm herself while all the time winding herself up more by the thought of his face, his eyes, laughing at her.
If there was one thing she hated, it was being laughed at.
* * *
Xander regretted allowing himself to give in to his impulse to laugh at her. She had looked like a young girl absorbed in the technicalities of the report and it had been that which had touched him. But when she’d caught his gaze and her expression had instantly changed back to the fierce mask of before, she’d been correct—he’d lied to defend himself.
It was ridiculous, all this parrying and thrusting all the time, like some kind of jousting match. As well as being exhausting it was fruitless and pointless, exactly as Roshan had said. They needed to put it behind them and get on with things. Despite that, Xander suspected that the kings and Shakira had put them together in order to resolve their personal differences, as well as political.
And Xander knew deep down that Elaheh was right. He had had the type of education which depended more on verbal parrying, than integrity and honesty. Roshan’s words ran through his head. Despite the fact his elder brother was married and living on the island nation of Jazira now, and very happily so, he kept a watchful eye on Xander. And, despite Xander’s initial irritation, he was thankful for Roshan’s continuing, steadying and watchful support. Xander hadn’t realized how much he didn’t know about being king. But it had been Roshan’s final advice which he’d found hardest to consider. Roshan had suggested Xander imagine, for two days, that Elaheh was the most desirable woman in the world and that he should charm her accordingly.
He glared at the laptop. He’d been checking through the documentation trying to figure out a way in which he didn’t need her as much as she needed him. But there was no way. He snapped it shut and jumped up. They all needed this project to get underway and Roshan was right, Xander was being too obstinate. But it was her, Elaheh. She rubbed him up the wrong way. He’d go see her and charm her. He could do it.
* * *
Elaheh looked around sharply at the knock on her door. She didn’t move immediately. Her staff knew that she always spent this hour in contemplation. It had been how she’d spent most of her youth. What had begun as an escape, she now appreciated as a time to get her thoughts together and re-charge. Whoever was knocking would go away, she thought and closed her eyes once more.
But it came again. She ground her teeth. It must be someone new. She’d sort him out. She opened the door, ready to give the person a mouthful but was stunned to see Xander holding a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes and even more shockingly, a smile on those usually stern lips.
“What are you doing here
?” she asked, letting the door swing open in her surprise.
He waggled the bottle and glasses. “If you let me in, I’ll tell you.” A gust of wind caught the door and it appeared she’d opened it further. “May I?”
She was so stunned that when he stepped forward, she stepped back and allowed him to enter. Various scenarios ran through her mind. Maybe something had happened. There could be no other reason why he’d appeared.
She looked into the corridor at her security guard who sat not far away. She opened her hands in question but the man shrugged. He obviously had no clue either. She closed the door. Whatever Xander had to say, it was obviously important and so was best heard without an audience.
He looked around as he walked across to the sideboard where he set down the glasses. “This is a nice suite of rooms. I’ve never been here before.” He turned to her with a grin which set her pulse racing.
“What do you want? What’s happened?”
He cocked his head to one side, his smile slipping into an even more seriously sexy quirk of the lips. “Why should anything need to have happened in order for us to share a bottle of champagne?”
She folded her arms and pursed her lips. “Maybe the world has to end first?”
His sexy grin slipped a little and he looked momentarily unsure. She felt a flare of confidence and walked up to him. She reached out to grab the bottle but he was too quick for her and his hand shot out and took hold of hers. She jumped as if an electric shock had run through her. And, just as if the shock melded their fists together, his tightened around hers as the unsureness fell away, replaced by a very male satisfied smile.
“Can’t wait, hey?”
Even more insolently, he ran his thumb across the back of her hand. But for some reason her body didn’t respond to her thoughts but to an instinct she hadn’t known she possessed. And that instinct was focused on a sensation which travelled like a row of dominoes knocking each other over, as they raised the hairs on her arm and shot to other parts of her body. She felt torn, broken, unable to remember the last time a person had touched her so innocently, and yet so intimately. A gasp caught in her throat as she felt tears rise from a fount which she’d thought was dry.
He frowned but his grip held. “What is it, Ela?”
Her confusion of feelings was compounded by him using a nickname for her, a name she’d only ever been called by her mother. The memory of her mother burst into her head, clearing it, and she tore her hand from his grip.
She held her hand up as if it were burning. She tried to speak but nothing emerged. She licked her lips. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears. She half-stepped, half-staggered away from Xander. She shook her head, trying to rid it of the memories which had risen, trying to re-find the woman she’d made herself into. “Don’t call me that,” she repeated, stronger now. She stepped forward once more, grabbed the bottle and walked across the room. She opened the door to her bathroom and poured the champagne into the basin.
When she returned she found Xander hadn’t moved. But when she caught his eye, he did. “And pouring away a decent bottle of Moet is your way of telling me you don’t drink champagne?”
She nodded. “It seemed easiest.”
He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “It would have been far easier, not to say less wasteful, to say, ‘I don’t drink champagne, Xander’.”
She shrugged. “It’s the same message. I’ve never drunk alcohol and I never intend to.”
“Fair enough. So, tell me, what do you do to celebrate?”
“Celebrate?” She shook her head, suddenly aware that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d celebrated anything, not for her personally, anyway. There had been no birthday parties for her and her younger sister after her mother had been forced to leave. “And what exactly are we celebrating?”
“The fact that, despite a bumpy beginning to our friendship—”
“Friendship?” she interrupted.
“Friendship,” he repeated firmly. “Despite that, we’ve managed to get through a whole day without killing each other. Surely that’s something to celebrate?”
“We’re celebrating the fact that we haven’t killed each other.” His lips quirked again and it was as if a string was pulled inside her. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant. And then a strange thing happened, a bubble of laughter emerged from somewhere deep inside of her. She didn’t know who was most surprised. She blushed. Another new experience.
“Come on,” Xander said with a smile. “Let’s push out the boat and find some sparkling water to celebrate something else.”
“What?”
Xander ducked his head close to hers and for once those eyes held something other than cool separation. “Your smile,” he said. “It’s something to behold.” He pulled away. “And somehow I doubt many people have beheld it. That is definitely worth celebrating.”
It seemed easier to follow him outside. Besides, it was cooler there, she persuaded herself. And she desperately needed something to take the heat out of her blush.
She took a deep breath and followed him to the evening bar where the kings went to relax at the end of a day. It was an ancient castle, and fitted out to meet the exact requirements of visiting royalty, but no one lived there. It was too important. It was positioned dead center of Havilah, and the only place where all three Havilahi countries met. It was also a half-way point between Sharq Havilah and her own country of Tawazun.
The bar wasn’t manned and Xander rummaged in its cupboards and withdrew a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses in triumph.
“Now the bar is a place I am familiar with,” he said, pouring them both a glass.
“I’m sure,” she said, accepting the glass. And she was—there was no doubt he looked totally at home in this social space, in a way that she never was.
He indicated a barstool and, despite protestations gathering in her mind, she sat. As he took a seat next to her, his leg brushed hers. She stared at the bubbles popping in her glass.
“So, Ela, what do you normally do on a Friday night?”
She frowned, her attention still on the effervescent liquid. It was easiest. She felt out of her depth. “The same as I do every other night. I work, I read, I pray, and then I go to bed.”
He let out a low whistle. “You really know how to enjoy yourself.”
She bristled, and turned to him. “I am queen. There is no time for frivolity.”
“I had assumed there would be more.” He took a sip of his mineral water and grimaced. “I certainly wouldn’t have taken this job on, if I thought I could no longer enjoy myself.”
“That is because you are a dilettante. You were not born to be king, and unless you take your new role seriously, you will not continue to be king.”
To her chagrin, he gave a slow lop-sided smile, and took another leisurely sip of water. “You really know how to flatter a guy.”
“I really don’t,” she said in a tone echoing his own. “And I really don’t intend to.” She raised herself up on the barstool, in as regal a position as she could and glared at him. “Flattery is for the weak. And I am not weak.”
He still didn’t appear perturbed by her response. He simply shook his head and thrust his fingers through his short hair. He gave a gruff laugh. “I can see I’m going to have my work cut out with you.”
“Work?” She frowned as a flurry of suspicions jostled for space in her mind. She settled on the obvious one. “Did Roshan suggest all of this?” She studied his reaction intently and realized she was correct. “He told you to flirt with me, didn’t he?” The more guilty Xander’s expression became, the more steely her resolve grew. “Well, you can tell him from me, that I am not a woman to be flirted with.”
“You don’t say,” said Xander wearily.
“I do say. So why don’t we talk business instead.”
Xander sighed and shifted around to face her.
“What I think you fail to realize, Ela—”
“Don’t call me Ela.”
“Is that I am not some lackey who you can order around. In case you didn’t realize it I am also a king, who you need, whether you like it or not. Now, I understand you have not the first idea how to talk to me, but I suggest you learn, fast, because we have to work together. And I, for one, would prefer to make this a pleasurable experience.”
She hadn’t heard him speak so much in one go about things that weren’t related to business. Arguments sprang into her mind that would contradict his words, but none of them would do because she realized he was right.
A smile glimmered on his lips. “You know, for all your sternness, when you are confused I can see your thoughts as clearly as the stars at night. It’s quite sweet really.”
“Now you’ve gone too far. I’m not, and nor will I ever be, sweet. But I do accept the fact that we need to work together. And…” She hesitated as she groped to find the correct word. “I suppose that, despite appearances I, too, would prefer an orderly meeting.”
His smile turned into a broad grin. He lifted his glass to hers. “If I can’t get fun, then orderly will do. It’s a start. I’ll drink to orderly.”
As she brought her glass to his, he tapped them together.
He leaned in close to her. “And, you never know, I may persuade you to enjoy yourself.”
She found herself smiling, despite her best intentions. “I’m not sure I would know even if I was.” The words had tumbled out before her brain could filter them. And, as she saw his brow crease, she instantly regretted speaking without thinking. She had revealed something of herself.
With careful deliberation Xander pushed his empty glass onto the bar, and sat up straight, his arms lightly folded as he considered her. “Tell me, Ela, what happened to you to make you not understand enjoyment, to make you so scared to let go?”
She bit her lip and placed her glass back on the counter. She shot him a brief tight smile. “I think I’d better be calling it a night.”