by Holly Rayner
When she’d come up with the idea for this trip, she’d imagined meeting with all the big names in Middle Eastern technology. She’d imagined impressing them with the app she’d designed, out from under the thumb of her bosses back home. In her fantasies, she’d been down at that table, toasting the ingenuity of the modern age. Instead, it was Mark and Vince who were down there, while she was putting herself to bed early as usual.
You could have gone out with them. But no, honestly, she couldn’t have. Not if she was to make the most of tomorrow’s networking opportunities, meetings, and seminars. Someone had to represent Noralli at the convention. There was more to promoting your app than just attending parties, for God’s sake.
It was clear now that she couldn’t rely on either of the guys to be a responsible presence. If the past two days were any indication, they were likely to sleep through the morning floor-walk, arrive late to every meeting, and skip the lectures altogether. Left in their hands, this trip would be a waste of time and money, and when they returned to San Francisco with empty hands and empty pockets, they’d likely all be fired.
It was so unfair. It was infuriating. Why did she have to be the responsible one?
Because I am the responsible one.
And there you had it. That was just the fact of the matter, wasn’t it?
Ellie had always been the responsible one. And maybe that was a good thing—it was what had enabled her to rise to an executive position in just five years at Noralli, while Mark and Vince were still just associates—but it was also robbing her of her life. Looking out over this gorgeous foreign city that most Americans would never visit in their lifetime, it was suddenly all too clear; Ellie could design a million apps and attend a million conferences, but it didn’t matter what part of the world you were in if the only thing you ever saw was the inside of a convention center.
Maybe in ten years, Ellie would be the CEO and the guys wouldn’t have advanced at all, but they would have all kinds of memories of this trip, of this night, and all she would have would be the cold floors of a hotel room.
Chapter 3
Mahmoud
“Your Highness?”
Mahmoud turned to see one of his bodyguards standing behind him.
After all these years, it was a source of shame to him that he didn’t know their names. His father had stressed all his life that it wasn’t appropriate for bodyguards to have a personal relationship with the object of their protection, that it was vital that Mahmoud learn to ignore the presence of the guards and operate within the limits they set as if they were nothing more than a fence. But this was a fence that spoke to him. It was hard to pretend they weren’t people, with hopes and dreams and families. It was hard to consider his own life more important than theirs. What if one of them should have to take a bullet for him? How was he supposed to live with that?
On the other hand, the attempt that had been made on his father’s life all those years ago had missed its target and ended up killing his mother. Mahmoud knew how unbearably painful his father found that fact, and he knew he would be just as tormented if someone took a shot at him and ended up killing one of his loved ones. When he thought of it like that, the protection of a bodyguard didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
At any rate, he was unlikely to be targeted here. The Kartar Industries building was probably one of the safest locations in the world, and even his father couldn’t argue with Mahmoud wanting to spend time here. Oh, he’d turned up his nose when Mahmoud had started the company—“What do you need a company for? You’re a royal!”—but he’d eventually developed a grudging respect for what his son was doing. In the months after he’d gotten sick, before he’d deteriorated and died, Mahmoud would sit by his bedside and show off the details of his work, and he’d known by the look in his father’s eyes that he was proud.
Of course, he’d been forced to resign his position in the company after his father had died. As the Sheikh of Al Fahad, Mahmoud had no time to run a business. Nor would it be appropriate for him to be a private shareholder in one of Al Fahad’s most profitable companies as he tried to rule its people.
Mahmoud was a good ruler, he thought, though he wasn’t one to shout about it. He had consistently high approval ratings—higher, actually, than his father’s. It was a fact that kept him in constant conflict; he was proud of his success, but could he really take pride in exceeding his father’s? Wasn’t there something wrong with that?
Life had been so much easier when all he’d had to worry about was the business.
It was the final day of Al Fahad’s annual tech convention, and it was the first year Mahmoud hadn’t been a part of it. With the convention now winding to a close, he found himself unable to resist stopping by the office and taking a look at what the team—the people who used to be his colleagues—had discovered during the week.
Most people had already left for the night, but Saad was still there, messing around on his computer. Mahmoud poked his head around the door. “Working late?”
His old business partner jerked with surprise, nearly spilling his soda. “Your Highness!”
“Saad, I’ve told you, you don’t need to call me that.”
“It’s the law, my friend,” Saad pointed out.
Mahmoud sighed. That was true. The law seemed firmly fixed on placing everyone at arm’s reach.
Growing up, he and Saad had been as close as brothers. The two of them had started the company together, and Saad had always been the one person he could confide in.
Since Mahmoud had assumed the throne, however, Saad seemed to see him as a different person, almost like he was afraid of him. Mahmoud found his isolation heartbreaking, but what could he do? Of course no one was willing to risk breaking the law just to be his friend, especially with all these armed guards around all the time.
He sat down in the seat opposite, noting how his old friend tensed up in his presence. “Can I see what you’re working on? Did you learn anything interesting at the convention?”
“Mostly the same old garbage,” Saad said, passing a manila envelope across the desk to Mahmoud. “Games where you line up three things of the same color. Variations on calendar or map apps. Not a lot of innovation this year.”
“Nothing good?”
“One or two apps caught my eye. There’s one that helps color-blind people by scanning an item and reporting on its color. That’s a cool piece of tech, but a pretty niche market. And this thing called NorMo. It’s an integrated financial app that works in tandem with the developer’s other apps. I’ll probably put some money into both of them.”
Mahmoud sighed. “I miss this.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Saad, I’m still the same guy, you know?”
Saad bit his lip and said nothing.
“You can answer me.”
“You know I can’t.”
“I order you to.” Mahmoud felt sick, talking to his friend this way.
Saad sighed. “You were never that guy.”
“What?”
“You were always the Sheikh, Your Highness. We just let ourselves forget about it for a while. But that was pretend. This is who you really are.”
“No, Saad—”
“I should get back to work,” Saad said. “Your Highness.”
Chapter 4
Ellie
They were flying out first thing the next morning. For once, there was no reason to get to bed early. What did it matter if she was sloppy and slightly hungover on the plane? Nobody would care. There was no one to impress there.
So Ellie made the decision to join Mark and Vince at the bar for their last night in Al Fahad. She couldn’t leave without getting out and mingling. She was still young—not even thirty yet—and here she’d been going to bed at ten o’clock every night and not even making an attempt to see the place she’d been for the past week. Well, enough was enough. Tonight she’d get out, meet the people, and see what they drank around here.
She let
Vince order her drink for her, since he’d been doing it all week and was fairly practiced. The concoction that arrived was warm and spicy, and Ellie was somewhat surprised to find she really enjoyed it.
As she sipped, she turned and sat with her back to the bar so she could people-watch. The Al Fahadis who were here behaved quite differently than the people she’d met at the convention. They wore bright colors and laughed loudly. She wished she’d taken more time to get to know these people. They seemed like a lot of fun.
She watched as Mark shouldered his way up to a woman who was involved in a conversation at a table by the wall. He pulled up a chair and joined them. Ellie shook her head. Of course he would.
A man tapped her shoulder. She glanced up. He had a kind face, but he was frowning. “Is that American with you?”
“Yes,” she was forced to admit.
“Why is he bothering the Al Fahad business secretary?”
“He’s what?” Ellie stared. The woman at the table was rising to her feet, staring haughtily down at Mark. Ellie swore and ran over to the table to intervene.
The woman glared at her. “Are you responsible for this person?”
“I am so sorry,” Ellie said sincerely. “I’m sure he had no idea who you were.”
“I didn’t,” Mark agreed. “I still don’t.”
Ellie kicked him under the table.
“So if I was a civilian, that would make it acceptable to tell me my clothes would look better on his hotel room floor?”
“Mark!” Ellie cried, dismayed.
The man from the bar had made his way over. “Ma’am, I’m with News One. Would you like to repeat what this young American said to you?”
“No,” said Ellie, desperately. “I’m sure there’s no need.”
“What are you doing in Al Fahad?” the reporter asked Mark. “Are you here for the convention?”
“I’m representing Noralli Technologies,” Mark said.
Ellie could have killed him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to the room at large. “I truly apologize on behalf of my colleague. He’s had too much to drink. I should get him back to the hotel. We have a flight to catch in the morning.”
“I’m not drunk,” Mark protested.
Ellie caught Vince’s eye and flagged him to come help. She turned back to the woman. “Again, ma’am, I apologize for his behavior.”
“Well. I suppose it’s all right,” she said, straightening her dress.
Vince arrived and they each grabbed Mark by an arm. “Come on, guys,” Mark wheedled. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I don’t know why she got so upset.”
“You are going upstairs and straight to bed,” Ellie hissed. “I’m not kidding, Mark. Enough is enough. I don’t want to see you outside your hotel room again until we leave for the airport.”
Ellie’s phone rang at four thirty a.m., startling her out of a recurring nightmare in which she’d been late for school with no idea of what her class schedule was. She fumbled for her nightstand and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Mills,” a voice boomed unpleasantly.
Oh no. It was Terry, her boss. He was a year younger than her and a complete control freak. Sometimes he could be easy enough to work for—she always knew exactly what to do to keep him happy with her—but when something went wrong and he slipped into dissatisfaction, he became a nightmare.
And right now, he was clearly dissatisfied.
“Why the hell did I see that moron Mark Sandler on the news?” he demanded.
“Seriously?” Ellie gulped. “That made the news in San Francisco?”
“That woman is a high-ranking politician, Mills! They’re saying it’s an international incident. The world is laughing at us! And of course you had to let the media get hold of the company name, didn’t you? It’s in every headline!”
“Come on,” she protested. “I didn’t say it.”
“This trip you’re on was your idea, Mills. You’re responsible for what happens. You know I was reluctant to let you go, and it looks like I was right.”
“We were able to get some attention for the app…”
“This is the internet age, Mills. You could have done that from home, and without embarrassing my company.”
She felt like she was going to cry. Ellie hated being reduced to tears by her boss; it made her feel weak. At least he couldn’t see her now. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll continue this conversation when you get back,” he said, ominously, and hung up on her.
Great, Ellie thought miserably.
Ellie loved her job, most of the time, and she’d hoped that this week would open the door to more opportunities, but now it looked like it would do just the opposite.
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, she headed down to Mark’s hotel room and knocked on the door. She stopped when she heard him moving around inside. A few minutes later the door opened. Mark looked exhausted.
“Ellie?”
She stared at him. He was still in his day clothes. “What’s with you?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “That reporter put a story about me on the internet.”
Ellie followed him over to his laptop. He’d pulled up the English version of the story, which was headed by a photo of him leering at the politician. “Did you know he got a picture?” Mark asked, rubbing a hand across his face.
“No.” Ellie skimmed the story. “Wow. He doesn’t let you off the hook, does he?”
“I know,” Mark moaned. “How was I supposed to know she was someone important?”
“Maybe you should just make it a policy to treat all the women you meet in bars like they’re important,” Ellie suggested wearily.
“What are you saying? I shouldn’t ever hit on anyone?”
“I mean… Do you not know how to flirt with a girl without asking her to take her clothes off?”
Mark looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “What?”
“Look, just… If I call that reporter, will you go on TV and apologize for your behavior?”
He looked relieved. “Yes! Oh, yeah, can we do that? I can tell everyone I’m a good guy after all.” He scrolled down on the computer. “Some of these comments are brutal.”
“I’ll see if we can meet up with him before we have to go to the airport tomorrow morning.”
Mark dived at her and hugged her. “Thanks, Ells. You’re the best!”
She extricated herself from his embrace. “Okay, but as long as you’re learning from your mistakes. Now get some sleep, okay? You need to be fresh in the morning if you’re going to be on TV.”
Chapter 5
Ellie
“So explain to our viewers exactly what happened last night?”
Mark faced the camera. He was the very picture of earnestness, and Ellie was impressed. Maybe it was an act, but if it was, even she couldn’t tell.
“I showed poor judgment,” he said. “I saw an attractive woman at the bar and wanted to impress her, make her laugh. I went with a line that had worked for me in the past. But I should have realized that what I was saying could just as easily cause offense.”
“And you didn’t realize who this woman was?” the reporter prompted.
“No, I didn’t. I’m a visitor here in Al Fahad, and I still have a lot to learn about your beautiful country and the key figures in your government. But honestly, I don’t think it matters that she was who she was. This incident has really made me do some thinking about how I speak to women generally, and I’ve realized that needs to change.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”
“Yes,” Mark said. “To the woman I met last night, and to any women I’ve offended in the past, I’d like to offer my genuine apologies. I’m a changed man.”
“Okay.” The reporter signaled his cameraman. “We got it.”
Mark shook his hand. “Do you think they’ll go for that?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. Of course it was
fake. She was such a sucker.
“He’s really something, isn’t he?” Vince said dryly.
“Like butter wouldn’t melt,” Ellie agreed.
They piled into a taxi and headed for the airport. Ellie would have liked to get something nice for breakfast, this being their last day in Al Fahad, but with Mark’s impromptu TV appearance added to their schedule, there hadn’t been time. She’d be grabbing a muffin or something from the airport kiosk.
She hadn’t had a single great meal on her trip. She hadn’t seen anything of cultural significance. They might as well have been in Pittsburgh. And now, probably, she was going to lose her job, and Mark hadn’t even learned anything. What a colossal waste.
“I’ll meet you at the gate,” she said to the guys as they stepped through the doors into the terminal. “I want to stop at that pastry shop.”
“We’ll wait,” Mark offered.
Vince tugged at his arm. “Idiot. Come on.”
Ellie flashed Vince a grateful smile. He had understood what Mark apparently couldn’t—she needed a break from them. She did want a pastry, but she also wanted to sit and eat it without looking across the table at the man who had probably ruined her career.
She was young, she reminded herself, and there was still plenty of time to start over with another firm, but right now it felt like the end of the world. All the hard work she’d done over the past five years, down the drain because Mark Sandler couldn’t conduct himself like a professional. It was unbearable.
The breakfast helped, though. Having a mouth full of delicious pastry was always good for the mental state, and then there was the coffee. After being here a week, she had at least discovered one part of Al Fahadi culture she loved: the coffee was strong. Every morning, it provided the jolt she needed to face another day of schmoozing, knowing all the time that she was being hung out to dry by Mark and Vince.