Raif motioned for the women to accompany them into the bunker. It was three floors below the palace, surrounded by reinforced concrete, with dedicated power generation and communications systems, and an independent air filtration system. The structure was strong enough to withstand a missile strike, and storage areas beside the big kitchen held enough food and water for fifty people to last six months.
Ann gazed around the large open area that housed comfortable furniture, dining areas and office desks and computer terminals. The only rooms that were separate were the bedrooms, the baths and the king’s private office.
“Are you survivalists?” she asked him.
“Only if absolutely necessary,” Raif told her, motioning for the women to sit down on one of the sofas.
Ann sat, and Kalila took the place beside her. Raif chose an armchair at right angles to Ann, while Tariq conferred with Captain Ronshan.
“How long do we have to stay here?” Ann asked.
“Not long,” Kalila answered brightly. “Last time it was a couple of hours, right, Raif?”
“Yes,” Raif agreed, grateful that Kalila was so composed. He took a long look at his cousin, realizing for the first time she’d grown up while she’d been away in Istanbul.
Ann leaned in toward Raif, and he met her halfway.
“So, while we’re here,” she said in a low tone, “tell me what happens next.”
“Next, they confirm how the alarm got tripped.”
“I meant next on the Gold Heart theft. We need to come up with a strategy. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since we arrived.”
Raif was just as glad to realize she wasn’t worrying about the alarm. “Tariq has been asking around. He’s looking for new contacts down at the docks.”
“What should I be doing?” she elaborated further. “I’m really not sure why I’m here.”
“I’m sorry about that. There were a few things that needed my attention. With my father feeling ill, responsibilities fall to me.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t help. Honestly, Raif, if I’m just going to hang around the palace trying on dresses, I might as well go home.”
She had him confused.
“Trying on dresses?” His abrupt question drew the attention of the others in the room.
“Kalila insisted,” Ann said defensively.
“She looks fabulous in silk,” Kalila chimed in.
Raif could well believe that, but he struggled with himself not to picture it. He’d never felt an attraction nearly this strong to any woman, and it was throwing him for a loop. Ann dressed in the colorful, delicate, sensual silks of Rayas might well send him off the edge of sanity. He knew it wasn’t possible for them to sleep together with so many servants moving around the castle at all hours, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from fantasizing about her.
“I sure couldn’t wear them in New York,” said Ann. “There, it’s black on black, except for a few very formal ball gowns or at a costume party.”
“We’ll show you later,” said Kalila.
“We need to focus on the Gold Heart,” said Raif.
For a split second, he thought he saw a flash of hurt in Ann’s eyes. But then she blinked.
“Just tell me what to do,” she told him.
He spoke to Kalila. “Where can you take Ann to socialize tonight? I want word to get around that she’s here, and that we have some solid leads on the statue’s disappearance. I want to get the rumors flowing.”
Eight
Ann felt beautiful in her Rayasian silk dress of sunshine-yellow, bright orange and deep red. But she couldn’t help wishing Raif was there to see her. But, after the security team had given the all-clear, she and Kalila headed out alone in a black SUV with no one but security guards to keep them company. Raif had stayed behind with Tariq to hear details of the alarm investigation, and to do whatever other princely duties required his attention.
Kalila seemed quite friendly with the plainclothes guards. The men escorted them to the front door of a stone mansion across the street from a picturesque beach, seeing them safely inside a huge, octagonal, marble-arched foyer, where Kalila introduced Ann to an endless procession of people.
Kalila was clearly the belle of the ball, with people stopping them every few feet to gush over her as they made their way toward dining tables set up for two hundred on a massive terrace overlooking a vineyard. Dozens of local wines were featured at stations throughout a great room that served as a mingling area. They were delicious, and Ann began to sip her way through them while Kalila conversed in Rayasian. She stopped often to translate for Ann. Even so, it was almost impossible for Ann to keep up.
Then, during dinner, Kalila leaned in, lowered her voice and switched to English. She discreetly pointed out two men sitting a few tables over from the head table where she and Ann were seated on a raised dais with six other guests.
“Amar and Zeke,” she whispered. “I’ve just been told that they bragged down at the docks that they knew who had stolen the statue. The story goes that one of the workers overheard them talking. The rumor made its way to Elena, the eleven-year-old daughter of a woman who works for Sheik Bajra.” Kalila’s lashes came down. “The woman on my right is, shall we say, close to Sheik Bajra.”
Ann found herself glancing at the beautiful woman, and wondering about her romantic life. How did she pull off extra-curricular activities in a country as conservative as Rayas? Too bad now wasn’t the time for Ann to satisfy her curiosity. “You think it was Amar and Zeke?” she asked instead.
“I think they know something that could help.”
“We need to tell Raif.”
“I agree,” said Kalila. Then her expression brightened. “We can tell him now.”
Following the direction of Kalila’s gaze, Ann caught sight of Raif as he came onto the terrace. Those closest to him immediately jumped to their feet, standing at attention. Their action caused a buzz in the room, and soon everyone was standing, facing Raif, bowing as he passed by.
“I thought he wasn’t coming,” said Ann.
“Raif does what he wants,” Kalila returned.
Ann craned her neck for a better look. Raif’s gaze met hers, and her breath whooshed out.
He made a beeline for their table, the crowd parting in front of him. The second his destination became clear, five waiters appeared. Two guests, including Sheik Bajra’s apparent mistress, were whisked from the table for eight, their dishes and settings instantly replaced.
Raif looked every inch the crown prince. He was handsome and very regal in a dark suit, a crisp white shirt, red tie and three heavy strands of gold braid running from an epaulet on his shoulder to the opposite hip. People greeted him along the way, and it took about five minutes for him to make his way to the empty chair next to Kalila. It was only then that Ann realized Tariq had accompanied him.
Raif sat down. The timbre of his voice was deep as he spoke. “Good evening, Kalila. Good evening, Ann.”
She found herself inclining her head in a small bow. “Your Royal Highness.”
When she raised her head, amusement sparkled in his dark eyes.
Well, what was she supposed to do? Everyone else had bowed and addressed him by his title. She didn’t want to cause a scandal.
Thankfully, his attention was quickly pulled away. For the remainder of the dinner, the people at the table exchanged small talk. They listened to everything Raif said with rapt attention, no matter how inconsequential. The only person who challenged or teased him was Kalila. Everyone else was reverent and deferential.
After dinner and a few speeches, dancing began. Raif first danced with the hostess, while Ann found herself in Tariq’s arms. But, very quickly, Raif was in front of her, holding out his hand, whirling her onto the polished wood floor.
The other couples gave them a respectful distance, so they were finally able to talk.
“You bowed to me,” he teased, the thread of a chuckle running through his tone.
&
nbsp; “I knew you weren’t going to let that one go.”
“Did it hurt?”
“It was a reflexive action. Everyone else was doing it. I guess I got swept up in the mass hysteria.”
“Kalila was right,” said Raif.
“About the dock workers?”
Raif and Kalila had spoken in Rayasian during dinner, and Ann had wondered what they’d said.
“What?” Raif asked. “No. About you in Rayasian silk. You are stunning, Ann.”
She felt her chest tighten, and her tone turned husky. “You’re not so bad yourself. You make a very handsome prince.”
His arm tightened slightly across her lower back.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’m staying in your palace.” She couldn’t help the edge to her voice. She was easily available if he cared to seek her out. “I’m sure you know your way around.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah. I get it. It’s a big palace, a lot of confusing doorways and switchbacks. And you probably haven’t lived there very long.”
“We can’t be alone together, Ann.”
That was patently ridiculous. “We were alone for days in New York City.”
“Not in Rayas. We have to protect your reputation.”
“From who? We’re not in high school, Raif.”
“The servants gossip.”
“That means you can’t talk to me?”
“If we were alone together, assumptions would be made.”
“That we were having sex?”
It took him a second to answer. “Yes.”
“Really? Nobody would be able to think of a single other reason we might spend time together?” She followed a few steps in their dance. “Nice country you’re running here, Raif.”
His tone went cold. “I’m not running it. My father is still king.”
Guilt washed over Ann as she was reminded of the king’s health problems. “I’m so sorry.”
It took him a moment to answer. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“It’s fine, Ann. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”
The song ended, and she expected him to step away. But he didn’t. Instead, he led her into the next dance.
“Is this okay?” she found herself asking.
“What?”
“You and me, dancing a second dance. The gossip.”
He seemed to have relaxed again. “I don’t know why not. They can easily see we’re not having sex.”
“You’ve got me all jumpy about protocol,” she complained, “and now you’re teasing me?”
“I like teasing you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m not crazy about being your victim.” Her heart and her mind were getting all muddled up when it came to Raif. She knew there could be nothing between them. But she missed him terribly when he wasn’t around.
She needed to get away from him almost as much as she needed to stay with him, make love with him all over again. Forget her reputation. They could call her the whore of Rayas for all she cared. Nobody in New York City would give a damn about her sex life.
She wondered what he would do if she told him that. Then, she wondered for the hundredth time if he was even interested in making love again. He’d told her no in New York City. Before he’d backtracked anyway. And it didn’t count if you backtracked to spare someone’s feelings. But then sometimes she’d catch him looking at her, and she’d swear he was thinking the same thing she was—that she couldn’t wait to be naked with him again.
But she was never quite sure. And now, as she glanced up into his implacable face, she was afraid to take the risk of asking.
“Did Kalila tell you about the dock workers?” she asked instead.
“She did not.”
“It’s a convoluted story, but two men named Amar and Zeke may know something about the Gold Heart.”
“Is this the story involving the eleven-year-old girl Elena?”
“So you did talk to Kalila?”
“Not Kalila. Tariq already looked into it.”
He’d known already? Ann was taken aback to realize he hadn’t said anything to her. They were working together, and this was a significant piece of information.
“What did he find?” she asked, struggling to keep the annoyance from her tone.
“Nothing.”
“How could he have found nothing?” It might not have been the breakthrough that solved the case, but it must have led somewhere.
“Elena is only eleven.”
“So?” That didn’t meant it was nothing.
“She wasn’t credible,” said Raif.
“Who talked to her?”
“What difference does that make?”
“No offense, Raif, but you and Tariq and, for that matter, most of the men I’ve met around here are intimidating. If you tried to ask—”
Raif frowned. “No men spoke to the girl.”
“Who did?” Maybe she or Kalila could follow up.
“We spoke to her mother.”
“Who spoke to Elena?”
“No one.”
“No one?” What kind of an investigative technique was that?
“Is there something wrong with my English?”
“Why didn’t someone talk to Elena directly?” It only made sense to Ann.
Raif stopped dancing, stood back and stared at her. “Because we didn’t want to intimidate her. Have you been drinking?”
Ann raised her hand to thwack him in the shoulder, but then quickly thought better of it. She strongly suspected that kind of behavior would get her arrested. “One glass of wine. The point I’m making, Your Royal Highness, is that if nobody talked to Elena, we don’t know what she knows.”
“She knows nothing.”
“Because that’s what her mother told you?”
Raif gave a sharp nod and drew Ann back into his arms, resuming the dance.
Ann was no expert on criminal investigations, and she understood that Rayasian customs and protocol were complicated, but she couldn’t help but think it was a mistake to let this lead go.
“Do you mind if Kalila and I follow up with Elena?” she asked.
“For what purpose?”
“To see if there’s anything the mother missed.”
“That is not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You Americans are the ones with the harassment laws.”
“We’re not going to harass her.”
“No,” Raif said firmly.
“But—”
“No,” he repeated. “The last thing we need is you and Kalila meddling. Tariq has it under control.”
“Meddling?” Ann demanded, jaw clenched in frustration.
“You don’t know Rayas.”
“Then why am I here?”
“To make the thieves nervous.”
“So, I’m window dressing.”
“Was our agreement unclear? You agreed to share your information and to help flush out the thieves.”
“I thought I was here to help.”
Raif scoffed out a laugh, as if that was the most preposterous suggestion in the world.
“Really?” she demanded, dropping her hands from him and stepping back.
“Ann.”
“That’s how little you think of me?”
“You can’t walk away from me in the middle of a dance.”
“Watch me,” she responded, turning on her heel.
As she made her way from the dance floor, she caught Tariq and Kalila’s twin expressions of horror. Maybe this wasn’t the way things were done in Rayas, but it was certainly the way things were done in America. And what was Raif going to do, deport her? Okay by her. She’d even buy her own ticket home.
Before she reached the edge of the dance floor, Tariq laughingly twirled her into his arms. As she spun, she noticed Kalila smoothly move to Raif, repairing as much as possible the awkwardnes
s of Ann’s abrupt departure.
“Do you often save him from himself?” she asked Tariq.
“Daily,” Tariq responded. “And, I must say, you make my job a lot more interesting.”
“He was being a jerk,” said Ann.
“He’s the crown prince. That’s his prerogative.”
“It’s annoying.”
“Yes, well, do your best to cope.”
“You’re mocking me.”
Tariq nodded. “I am, indeed.”
“You don’t even know what he did.”
“Offended you in some way, I’m guessing.”
“He won’t let me help with the investigation.”
“Really?” Tariq drawled. “His Royal Highness, with the entire Rayasian police force, intelligence service and military at his disposal won’t take advice from a foreign auctioneer?”
“Rayas has an intelligence service?”
“Of course.”
“And you can’t find one little statue?”
The question seemed to trip Tariq up for a moment.
“We’re working on it,” he said defensively.
“I’d say you could use my help,” said Ann as the song drew to a close. “And I’m not an auctioneer. I’m a chief executive officer of an international auction house.”
The song ended, and Tariq drew back. “Thank you for the dance, Ms. Richardson.”
“Thank you for the information,” Ann responded sweetly. Her gaze was already seeking out Kalila. If Raif and Tariq were determined to stonewall her, perhaps Kalila would be willing to help.
* * *
Kalila had been willing to help, but it appeared Tariq was right. Elena had seemed confused and uncertain about details. The girl couldn’t remember who had said what, couldn’t confirm any names and wasn’t even sure if the conversation she’d overheard had been about the Gold Heart or something else.
It was nearly eleven o’clock that night, and Ann’s mind was clicking through the conversation, searching for tidbits she might have overlooked as she slipped into an emerald-green silk nightgown with a matching robe. The set had been a gift from Kalila, who’d informed Ann tartly that a Yankees T-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts were completely unsuitable pajamas for a woman of any social stature whatsoever, and they certainly couldn’t be tolerated at the palace. Ann had laughed at Kalila’s outrage, but she had to admit, she liked the feel of the silk against her skin.
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