“Rasheed. How can I help you?”
“It’s how I can help you, my king,” he said, and a dark emotion flashed in his eyes.
Oh, great. Another one of those conversations. Nassor leaned in his chair, giving him a once-over. “Shoot.”
“I know how you met the American woman who’s been your personal guest for longer than I care to count.”
Nassor’s blood froze. Every muscle in his body stiffened for an instant, but he willed himself to hide the emotion. “Continue. I’m sure you’ve researched this little charade a few times,” he said, his voice clipped.
Rasheed drummed his fingers on the desk, a triumphant smile dancing on his lips. “Isn’t life ironic? You kicked me out of my job, stripped me of my privileges, because I had a little bit of fun with prostitutes in the castle. When, really, you, the elected king, is parading your whore—”
Nassor launched at him over the desk and pulled him by his collar. His own heart beat its way out of his chest. “If you use that or any other demeaning term toward my woman, I’ll break your nose. If you continue, I’ll break your neck.”
Rasheed coughed, moving his hands in surrender but not daring to touch the king. Besides being much taller than Rasheed, Nassor also had a stronger frame. He could smoke him in a matter of minutes—and he would, if he continued this nonsense. Izzy was nothing like the unfortunate women who slept with Rasheed in exchange for drug money.
“Tell me you understand,” he said between his teeth.
Rasheed nodded quickly, and Nassor loosened the hold of his collar then pushed him back into his seat. Rasheed rubbed his neck, moving his head from side to side. “I understand how passionate you are about this woman, Your Majesty, but as much as you want to strangle me, that won’t change the truth. You met her at a virgin auction.”
“That doesn’t concern you.”
“Doesn’t it? Isn’t that hypocritical since apparently what I do does? I wonder what the public would think?”
Nassor groaned, slamming his fist on the desk. “They don’t need to think anything,” he lied. Of course he cared about what his people thought, not because of his ego, but because of how much faith they were willing to put in him. A scandal immediately after coronation would be horrible for his country’s morale.
“I paid for the transaction with my own money. I’m not hurting anyone. You, on the other hand, have used the taxpayer’s money to lure prostitutes into the castle. And you used illegal drugs. There’s a vast difference between you and me.” Hell, Rasheed had been lucky Nassor hadn’t exposed or sued him and preferred to focus on the future rather than on the past.
Rasheed lifted his eyebrow, cocking his head to one side. “Is there? Why don’t we let the public decide?”
“What do you want?”
“I want my job back.”
“Impossible. Regardless of your after-hours business, you weren’t doing your job well. I would’ve fired you anyway, like I did most of the former staff. I have a different vision.”
“And I have information you don’t want leaked.”
Nassor rubbed his temples. Rasheed didn’t have much to lose—if Nassor told his version of the story, Rasheed would get a slap on the hand from his enduring wives, and maybe be the subject of gossip for a while. At most, his wives could try to sue him for public offense. But he was already unemployed and could claim destitution and get little prison time.
If Nassor’s story leaked, not only would he be compromised, but so would Izzy. She’d be exposed to the world, and in the worst light. He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to her—even if he had to jeopardize his own principles. “I can’t rehire you. I can offer you double the severance package you received, money that will come from my own personal account.”
“That’s not enough. Five times as much.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Four,” he repeated. “I still have your bank information in the human resources files. I’ll wire the money soon. The subject dies here, though. If I hear you’re telling this to someone, or if you think you can extort more money from me, I’ll take you to the authorities. I’ll tell them how you broke the laws and you’ll have to deal with bad press and possibly lawsuits. And before I do all that, I’ll break your nose.” He stood and looked down at Rasheed. He could have called the authorities now, but that would only add fuel to the fire.
Rasheed got to his feet and stretched out his hand. He may be slimy, but Nassor bet money Rasheed had enough sense to take the money and leave him alone. “I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me.”
“For your sake, I hope so. Now go.”
Nassor waited long after he closed the door behind him to plop down in his chair and loosen his collar. Shit. He remembered the promise he’d made to Izzy to share his findings about Obasi with her. But this hadn’t been about Obasi, but a stupid blackmail he’d given in to to avoid a headache. Giving Rasheed the sense he’d gotten something out of their conversation had hopefully been enough to take care of the problem. If Rasheed had a working brain, he’d know Nassor wouldn’t cave again in the future.
Even if that messes things up for Izzy and me.
He opened the top drawer and grabbed a stress ball, doubting the foam object would make miracles and alleviate the kinks in his neck. He’d been able to clear a few hours from his schedule in the afternoon to take Izzy on a special—and secretive—date. Suddenly, spending time with her at night wasn’t enough anymore. He needed her by his side, during all hours. Needed her too much.
He squeezed the ball, staring at the door. Letting go of Rasheed as an adviser had been one of his best decisions—a man who dishonored his place of work by cheating on his wives and hiring prostitutes.
Prostitutes. Drugs. The words echoed in his ear like a faraway siren, and each time he willed himself to hear the sound, it became louder. Clearer. The face of the nerdy IT guy popped in his head. The guy who’d outed Rasheed to begin with.
Nassor pressed the intercom and called Guban. “Tell Vadik to come to my office immediately.”
He’d ask Vadik to look into who Rasheed used to get him the prostitutes and drugs. If Obasi was bringing women from out of the country for customers, most likely he had high profile clients.
And if Rasheed had used Obasi as a connection, Nassor could arrest both of them and take care of two problems at once.
…
“Where are we going?” Izzy asked when she slid inside the limo.
Two days had passed since she’d met his mother, and thank goodness, the woman hadn’t tried to poison her or send her away. Maybe she meant what she’d said. Kesia was a smart lady, and maybe she was buying time. There was no way to know for sure.
Nassor wore a casual ensemble of jeans, a blue shirt, and a baseball cap. She had opted for a flowery jersey dress with wedge shoes. He sat next to her, and her heart sang. “I’m showing you a couple of places from my childhood. Nothing too glamorous so we don’t get caught.”
“Sounds great.”
He scooped her hand from her legs and threaded her fingers in his. The contact brought a warm wave of awareness through her. “I have to tell you something,” he said, the contours of his face hardening a bit.
She straightened herself and thinned her lips. What if this was a casual breakup? Or worse, some halfway breakup where he’d take back what he said about caring for her, and wanting her to stay?
Nausea formed in her stomach, the uncomfortable sensation clogging her throat. If he broke up with her, he’d make things a whole lot easier. She wouldn’t have to get out of her shell and face her own ghosts. He’d be to blame, and she could carry on with her life as planned, without him to mess it up. Coward.
“I fired one of my uncle’s advisers because he’d hired hookers and had drugs in the castle accommodations. This was before you told me about Mary Robe
rts. I was thinking about it, and asked my internet security guy to look into who may have introduced the prostitutes and sold drugs to Rasheed. Maybe there’s a connection to the man who was with your stepmother.”
He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.
“Oh,” she said, barely able to string together full sentences. Relief softened her frown as she processed what he said. Good news, right? “What did he say?”
“He hasn’t said anything yet. He’s hacking his way into Rasheed’s former account to see if there’s any phone numbers or emails we can go by.”
“When he tells you—”
“I’ll have you with me. I only contacted him and asked for it because I wanted to get it out of the way before our date, and didn’t have much time. But when he texts with a time to meet me, you can come in my office and we’ll talk.”
She bit back a smile. “Thank you.”
He took her hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, sending shivers down her spine. “It’s my pleasure.” The sweet gesture led to more, as she pulled him to her, kissing him. Every part of her body recognized his, surrendering to the crazy pull between them.
He brought her to his lap, his hard-on poking her. When he wrenched his mouth from hers, they both panted. “We’re close.”
“I know,” she whispered, touching his cock and stroking it over the denim.
He placed his hand on hers and took it away from his member. “We’re close to the stadium. We’ll be there in less than a minute. You’re too sexy and too hot to be fucked in sixty seconds.”
Warmth spread across her cheeks. “Stadium?” She slid off his lap and looked out the tinted windows. The limo entered the empty parking lot of a large soccer stadium, with a dark billboard in front of it. The exterior seemed a bit run-down, with chipped paint and trash littering the entrance.
“I used to come here with my best friend growing up. Jonah. We loved this place,” he said, and when she turned to look at him, a twinkle of wonder flickered in his eyes.
The limo stopped by the closed booth, and he exited the limo and helped her out. Hmmm…did she ever have a safe place to go to in her childhood? When her birth parents had been alive, she always jetted to the kitchen pantry when they were using drugs. Sometimes she stayed there for hours, in that empty dark space, hoping they’d get help. Or hoping she’d get help.
“Everything okay?” he asked. “You seem lost in thought.”
“It’s fine,” she said, then slapped a smile on her face. “I’m good. Show me around.”
He stopped in his tracks for a moment, cocked his head to one side, watching her like he was about to ask her a question. Then he blinked and started walking toward the dozens of rows of metal benches facing the field with unkempt grass growing. “We used to watch games every Sunday. I’d tell my mother I’d be at his house, and he’d tell his mother the same. We came to watch the games. He had an uncle who worked security and let us in.”
“Why did it have to be a secret?”
“My mother didn’t like me going to these things. Back then, the attendees were too passionate about their team, and sometimes they got rowdy and brawled after the end of the game. Not safe for a child, she thought, especially a child with royal blood.”
“Did you have any special security when you were shunned from the palace?”
“Nope.”
She reached for his cheek and stroked it. A sad smile formed on his lips, and she wished she could erase the bad times he’d experienced. Wished she could hug him and make it all go away. He caught her hand and kissed it gently before letting go. Tenderness filled her heart, along with a…feeling she couldn’t pinpoint. Like she was about to burst.
“Jonah and I used to eat hot dogs from the stand. It was the best damn hot dog I’ve ever eaten.”
“Are you still close? You and Jonah?”
He cleared his throat. “Jonah died when he was thirteen.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. What happened?” She motioned to touch him, squeeze his shoulder or stroke his forearm, but he took one step forward, the silent warning he was trying hard to rein in the emotions related to his dear friend.
“He needed a tonsil removal surgery. His mom took him to a public hospital. After she divorced his father, they didn’t have much money to pay for a private healthcare provider. A simple routine procedure went wrong and cost him his life”
She swallowed. The pain in his voice reached into her heart and clawed it. “I’m assuming public hospitals here aren’t good.”
“No. Used to be even worse. I made generous donations when I was a civilian, but as king I have access to laws and policies. I want to change things so no one has to die because of understaffed clinics or lack of supplies.”
“This country is lucky to have you, Nassor. You’re a good man,” she said, ignoring the pulsing knot in her throat. When she stretched her hand to him, she realized her fingers trembled, her palm clammy. God, she was a mess—nervous, anxious and so, so confused.
“And you’re a good woman.” He walked alongside her, placing his arm around her waist. She brushed against his muscly side, catching a whiff of his manly scent. “Why were you so quiet a while ago when we arrived?”
She scratched her arm, uneasy. Wasn’t it fair to share with him? She’d had deep conversations with him before. When I didn’t know how he felt about me. When it was easy. She kicked a couple of pebbles on the ground, gathering her courage. “I don’t have a lot of memories about my birth parents. A counselor said once that was my way to block the bad stuff from my mind and just move on.”
“I understand.”
“I remember running to the pantry whenever I saw them injecting needles. I’d close the door, sit and link my hands over my crossed legs. I prayed, even though I had no notion of spirituality or religion. I prayed for the situation to change and for them to become closer to those parents I saw on TV commercials,” she said, blinking the tears stinging behind her eyelids. They rolled down her face, streaming over her cheeks before she wiped them with the back of her hand. Her face tightened, and she folded her arms over her chest, willing herself to calm down.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, watching her. He motioned to inch closer, but she stepped back, lifting her hand in disagreement. She needed the space, needed to handle the emotions clutching her heart.
Besides the counselor, she hadn’t really shared much about her birth mother with anyone. After hopping from a couple of foster homes, she accepted no one really wanted to know—who needed her depressing stories? She returned to the orphanage, where she stayed until Harold found her. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. And it’s time to stop thinking it’s okay,” he said. “You deserved better and they failed you. They were the creeps who made mistakes. You don’t have to answer for their choosing drugs over being there for you, and your background doesn’t make you any less of anything.”
“Doesn’t it? Isn’t that why we’re here in secrecy? Because I can’t be associated with you?” she said, and a second later, an internal voice alerted she wasn’t being fair. He’d taken her to the party, hadn’t he? He hadn’t labeled her a date but a guest, but didn’t that count? She wiped her cheeks, sniffing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I wanted to spend time with you only. Not my staff, and not paparazzi thirsty for a new story.” He cupped her face, tilting up her chin, and she basked in the honesty in his eyes.
“I know.”
“That’s what’s going to happen, if you let me. We’ll have a good time.”
She cleared her throat, and his touch brought a non-sexual, calming sensation to her core. She exhaled, as if weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and smiled at him. “I’m ready for a good time.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Come,” he said, grabbing her hand as they strolled through the woods. Excitement p
umped in his veins, and he couldn’t wait to show her his next special spot.
During the past two hours, they talked, walked through the stadium, and he stopped in a restaurant and had the driver bring them takeout of one his favorite junk foods from his childhood—a creamy chicken sandwich and a local soda. Famished, they chowed it down and she seemed to enjoy it.
He’d given express orders for his driver to wait a good distance away from them on the other side of the woods. If memory didn’t fail Nassor, this area wasn’t busy at this time—the woods surrounding the lake where he used to swim during his teenage years. Most people in the closest neighborhoods worked, and were either at factories and companies or the young ones at school. Perfect for what he had in mind.
When he reached the edge of the lake, he took in a deep breath, pushing in the scent of the woods and clear air. A path of dirt and gravel led to the shallow area, where they could get into.
“Wow,” Izzy said, contemplating the clear, calm water in front of her. “Stunning.”
“I used to skip class sometimes to swim here. Helped me clear my head,” he said. Also helped him escape from the intrusive thoughts popping in his mind whenever his mother vented about her volatile relationship with his father.
“Clear your head about what?”
“From my mom’s worries. She always shared a lot.” He wouldn’t be the same parent, he added inwardly. Burdening the child because of his own insecurities and fears. No child should be their parent’s emotional sounding board.
“I’m sorry. Hey, at least you had a mom around.”
“You did too—you just had to wait for her,” he said, thinking of Mary. Too bad she’d died—he’d like to personally thank her for having kept Izzy as hers, even after losing her husband. For not giving up on her.
“Did you ever bring another girl here?” she asked.
“Once. We chatted and drank beer. Illegally, of course. Which I hope you won’t tell anyone, since now I’m the king.”
A smile danced on her lips. “I’m sure I’ll think of ways you can convince me not to spill the beans to a thirsty paparazzo.”
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