Sessily's determination of Ahsan's lifestyle got blown out of the water as she embarked onto his private plane. She knew he was wealthy—he wouldn't have been at the gala if he wasn't—but the gilded jet, with its white leather furniture featuring gold trim—surpassed all her expectations. The layout was more like an upscale apartment than a plane, with sofas, plush chairs, a highly polished bar and a back room she couldn't see because the door was closed. A stewardess served her anything she wanted, from drinks to food to extra pillows for comfort, while Ahsan excused himself briefly to make a few calls.
Bashir had sent her to Dubai on a commercial liner with a handful of escorts, and that was the way she'd expected to return, not in this extreme lap of luxury.
Ahsan rejoined her not long after take-off, and proved to be a witty if distracted companion for the trip to his home country of Afshar. She couldn't imagine what it was like to have an entire country attached to your name, or to be a part of the ruling family. It was so far from how she'd lived her modest life, and how she was raised, that sometimes she had difficulty grasping it all.
With the sun beating against the wings of the aircraft, Sessily watched out the windows, mesmerized by the sapphire sea below. Soon the waters of the Persian Gulf gave way to endless sand dunes, the beige colors turned a more fiery orange under the heat of a late summer day. She saw signs of a few cities, simple intersecting lines spread out in a grid, so small from this distance.
Then they were landing, the jet smoothly touching down on the tarmac. Taxiing around the runways, the jet rolled up near a small but pristine building of white. Ahsan himself lowered the staircase allowing them to descend to the ground, and offered her the aid of his hand for stability. She hardly needed it; the aircraft was as sturdy as the earth, along with the heavy staircase.
Taking his hand anyway, she allowed him to escort her down, then released him as they traversed the short distance to the building. It was much hotter than she thought it would be, hotter than Dubai, and was glad of the linen outfit she'd chosen to wear. Cream slacks fit her loose through the thighs, allowing arid air to billow up from the hem and over her skin. A short sleeved button down several shades lighter than the pants had elegant embroidery on the lapels, simple yet tasteful. Bashir had provided a glut of clothing for her to choose from to take to Dubai, and this was one of those outfits.
A blast of cool air ruffled her upswept hair, tearing out a few strands as they entered the structure. In the large open space, sofas of white and gold trim—matching that inside the plane—sat at angles to each other. Seating for Ahsan and his guests, no doubt. Everything was pale and clean here, with glossy floors and tall windows overlooking either the desert or the airstrip. Doors led off this main room where employees came and went. No one bothered Ahsan however as he led her across the floor to an opposite set of doors and out to a waiting limousine.
Handing her inside, he followed and sprawled on the seat, long legs stretched out before him. Here, too, the white-and-gold theme continued. Tufted seats ran the back and up both sides, able to accommodate perhaps six or seven people comfortably. A little bar with glasses and drinks sat near the door, though Ahsan didn't reach for any.
Departing the private airport, Sessily got her first real look at Ahsan's homeland. All she saw was...desert. Sand, in small rising and falling dunes, stretched as far as the eye could see. Bashir had brought her to Afshar under the cover of night, and she'd left for Dubai the same. But now she could see the far reaching dunes, not a tree in sight. Raised in territory where trees were abundant and striking, she wasn't sure what to make of this nothingness. Several times she caught a glimpse of the road they traveled weaving off into the distance, disappearing behind a curving dune or the horizon.
How far did they have to travel?
Hyper aware of him next to her, Sessily tried not to be affected. He'd worn suit slacks of black and another white shirt, the sleeves already rolled away from his wrists. The boots were the same, with the silver at the tip and heel. She had the impression that these were not the clothes he was most comfortable in, but the clothes acceptable to wear coming and going from places like Dubai.
He took a few calls on the way, switching to his native language. Sessily couldn't understand a word of it, and had a hard time deciphering his tone.
Some minutes later, a pale shape beyond the windows drew her attention away from the Sheikh. It was the first hint of a structure for miles, and they were too far for her to make out what, exactly, it was. A curve in the road put the building straight ahead, half obliterated by a tinted dividing window, the driver and passenger of the limousine, and the rear view mirror. She couldn't see much, which was frustrating and intriguing at the same time.
She needn't have worried. The immense palace solidified as they drew closer, a behemoth that looked as big as twenty houses. Bone white against the golden color of the desert sands that surrounded it, with arabesque archways and exotic architecture, the palace sat square in the middle of nowhere. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see in any direction, with a single road—the one they were on—leading in and out.
The limousine slowed as they pulled up under a large breezeway in front of the tallest arch, and moments later cruised to a stop. Attendants headed to the limousine, unloading both her and Ahsan's luggage from the trunk.
“We're here,” Ahsan said with a teasing wink, and disembarked when someone opened the back door.
“This isn't a home, it's an entire city block,” she retorted with a quiet laugh. She followed suit from her side and met him before the archway, staring up at the facade with no small amount of wonder. It was impossible to her that someone actually lived here, that it was one person's home. Well—one person with an army of employees.
When she glanced aside to see his reaction, she discovered Ahsan looking at the entrance as if seeing it for the first time, and finding it lacking. He seemed unimpressed.
“You ready?” he asked, gesturing with a hand. Rather than play gentleman, he stepped forward whether she was ready or not, walking tall with brisk strides through the twin columns supporting the arch.
Following, because she wouldn't stand there and gawk when he was clearly ready to move on, Sessily's wonder grew into disbelief. A domed ceiling patterned in turquoise and gold rose above a sprawling foyer, with hallways stretching to each side. 'Hallways' wasn't a proper term for such grandiose space. It was like being in a mall without all the shoppers. Gold glinted everywhere. Marble gleamed. Statues stood in niches, most of an Egyptian theme, and heavy tapestries lined the walls. Alabaster columns were situated at intervals, as intricately carved as any she'd ever seen. The palace was so luxurious and opulent that Sessily couldn't wrap her mind around how many millions it must have cost to build.
Despite the heat of the day, the interior was cool and comforting. Ahsan didn't look left or right, leading her straight toward a broad staircase to the second floor.
“Did you make arrangements to have your steed delivered?” he asked.
“I'm sorry, what?” Distracted to an impossible degree, she temporarily forgot about the race.
“Your horse? Did you make arrangements?”
Arriving on the second floor, she dragged her attention back to her host. “Oh, yes. They expect to be here tomorrow.”
“Excellent. We'll have our race the day after.”
“That's perfect. Is this...do you live here with family?” She'd decided just one person couldn't possibly own all this. Perhaps it was a compound where all the relatives visited from time to time.
“No. This is my home. All the staff you see are just that, staff. I do host friends often, though.” He swerved in through an open door, one of many in the long hallway.
Sessily stepped into the room behind him, pausing just past the threshold. It was a bedroom suite with multiple rooms, a canopied bed, marble columns and persian rugs thrown across the floor. The color scheme was delicate: peach, ivory, pale turquoise. Six floor to ce
iling windows marked one wall with double doors leading to a large balcony.
That was where Ahsan headed, to the double doors, which he opened. “You can see the stables from here.”
“Your home—it's amazing.” She couldn't help herself. Never in her life had she experienced anything like it.
“Thank you.”
On the balcony, she discovered just how big the palace was. A large courtyard sat below, surrounded by more walls and buildings, all connected together. Not just a courtyard but an oasis, replete with a huge pool, tall palms and different levels of concrete and rocks that made up separate sitting areas. Flowers, greenery and more trees dotted the landscape, a lush contrast to the barren desert she could see beyond the walls. That was where she spied another building, lower than the palace with fenced pastures and several arenas. Shaped in an L, the stables could have housed more than a hundred horses. Could have, and probably did. It was his passion, after all.
“Where will we race?” she asked next.
He lifted an arm, pointing toward a specific area. “It's hard to see from here, but there's a place we run beyond that first, small dune. The sand is a little thinner there and winds through the landscape, a natural 'track' if you will.”
“How many times have you ridden it?”
“Too many to count,” he said with a raspy laugh. Bracing an arm against the thick rail, he brought his gaze up from the courtyard to her.
With the exotic background behind him, he was the picture of a rich playboy. Sessily could have gotten lost in his intense, dark eyes.
“I think it's only fair, then, that you allow me at least one pass over the track. You'll have an advantage, otherwise.” He had an advantage for more reasons than that. Sessily also wanted time in the saddle to acclimate. How embarrassed she would be if she fell off during the race.
“Of course. Have two or three passes. We'll go out later, if you want to, when it cools off in the evening.”
“How generous of you.”
“Should I ride blindfolded, too?” he asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“Oh no. Because then I would never hear the end of your handicaps when I win fair and square.”
“But if I beat you blindfolded, you'll still never hear the end of it,” he countered.
She laughed, resting her hand on the railing. It was already hot under her palm. “This is true. But no. I'll have you with all your senses intact.”
He arched his brows.
Sessily realized how her comment sounded and quirked a smile. Men. They were all the same. “What will we do until then?”
“What would you like to do?”
“Have a tour of your home.” She was impatient to see all the things there were to see.
“Then you'll have a tour of my home. We can have lunch and swim or whatever you like after that.” Straightening, he pushed a hand through his hair. “If this room suits, it's yours. I have a few calls to make, so when you're done unpacking, come downstairs.”
Sessily led the way inside and closed the balcony doors behind them. Someone, one of the staff, had left her suitcase against the inner wall. “It won't take me long.”
“I didn't think it would. If you need anything, use that phone by the bed and dial one. Someone will pick up.”
“I will. I'll see you in a little while.” Sessily watched the way he grazed her body with his eyes, then departed without another word. Even here in his home, when she would have expected the larger-than-life aura to dissipate, Ahsan still carried it with him. His natural charisma and enigmatic charm lingered long after he was gone, distracting her from the chore of unpacking someone else's clothes.
Suffering a reality check as she hung up the tops and slacks, Sessily refused to allow anything to ruin her mood. Ahsan might pick up on her melancholy or fear and question her about it as he was wont to.
Just as she finished the task and stowed the suitcase in the closet, the cell phone in her pocket vibrated. She'd turned the ringer off so that she didn't get an uncomfortable call at an inappropriate time. Fishing it out, she checked for a message.
What she got instead of a message was a picture. Just a picture, no words needed.
Iris sat in a metal chair, in a gloomy, dingy looking room, hands bound in her lap. Someone just out of camera range was the center of her terrified attention, eyes wide and fixed. Were those faint bruises on her cheek, or just a trick of light and shadow?
Sessily's heart flipped over. “That bastard.”
Instantly furious and frightened for her sister at the same time, she pulled up Bashir's contact number and had half a message typed out before she stopped. What good would useless threats do? Probably get Iris beaten. Maybe get both of them killed. Bashir could hire someone else to do what he was blackmailing her to do. They were expendable, tools to be used and discarded at will.
What had she been thinking, laughing and playing with the Sheikh? Had she forgotten he was this monster's brother? Iris was in pain, scared out of her mind, and here she was, making plans to ride and have lunch and swim.
Humbled, she deleted the message and slid the phone into her pocket again.
She had a mission, and that's all she would concentrate on from here forward.
. . .
There it was again. That something. Ahsan regarded Sessily when she wasn't watching, taking note of her downturned mouth, the somewhat somber look in her eyes. This wasn't the same woman he'd left upstairs two hours ago. During the tour and lunch, she'd mumbled through her appreciation of his home and the food, picking at the meal rather than really eating it. Several times he'd started to ask what was wrong, because something was obviously very wrong, and stopped before the words hit the air. What could have happened in the short time he'd left her in her room and her reappearance downstairs? Maybe she was one of those moody women, happy and jovial one second, morose and self-destructive the next.
He hoped not.
Standing at the bottom of the staircase, he said, “I had someone put a few swimsuits in your suite. We keep extra clothing here in case my guests forget something.” It was a long, long drive to the nearest store. He'd learned to be prepared for any eventuality.
“Would you be offended if we skipped the swim and went to the stables instead? I realize it's too hot to ride yet, but I'm in the mood to see the horses.”
He frowned, then cleared the expression from his face. “Of course.”
“I'll still change—these clothes aren't suitable for being around horses—and be right back down.” She paused, one hand on the banister.
“I'll be waiting.” Ahsan rubbed his fingers over his whiskered jaw as Sessily ascended to the second floor. He found it impossible to look away from her whenever she was in sight. After she disappeared down the hall, he paced a lazy circle, puzzled at her actions. His staff wouldn't have interacted with her unless she'd summoned them, and she hadn't. Who else?
Perhaps she'd had a phone call from home. Trouble in the family. One could never tell.
True to her word, she didn't take long to change. Appearing in denim that fit low on her hips, held in place by a suede belt, she was just finishing doing up the last button on a matching suede vest with no sleeves. The outfit accentuated the minute span of her waist and the subtle curves that begged a man to touch. She'd piled her hair high, a few straggly wisps resting against her throat.
“Ready?” he asked, resisting the urge to loop his arm possessively around the low of her back.
“Yes. How many horses did you say you have?” She turned her face up to him and fell into step at his side.
“More than a hundred. You?” Senses on high alert, he discerned from the forced lilt in her words that she was struggling to maintain a happier facade. The pleasing roll of her accent sounded strained instead of sultry.
“Not nearly that many. Thirty or so.” She paused, then said, “Did you get your love of them from your family?”
“We've always had them, but most of my family
only rides occasionally, leaving the breeding, training and raising to others. I decided I wanted to do it all.” Exiting out the back doors, he guided her through the gardens, past the pool, and around a few sitting areas. Water trickled over rocks and the wind rustled palm fronds to and fro.
“I see. Why did you move out here, away from the rest of civilization?”
“Because I like my own space and solitude.”
“Forgive me, but I overheard a few guests mention you last evening. Your father is the Emir, correct?”
“Yes.” He glanced aside while they left the last archway and headed across the flat land toward the stables. Horses nickered in the distance and somewhere a dog barked. Sessily's expression turned thoughtful.
“I don't know how far you are from your family, your mother and father, but...don't they miss you? My family always stayed close together, living within a few miles of each other.”
“They're on the other side of the country. Let's put it this way, Sessily,” he said, leading her through two doors at the furthest end of a long stable. The sunlight cut out, only streaming in through a few stall windows. Several horses poked their heads out from their stalls, eyes glistening and curious. “I'm something of a black sheep where the Afshar's are concerned. I go my own way, which is usually the opposite of everyone else.”
He expected her to tease him, to throw some harmless, candid quip about his status into the mix. Instead, she surprised him and frowned.
“I'm not sure what you mean, you go your own way.” She glanced at him, then laughed when one of the horses pressed its nose against her arm. Pausing to croon, she petted the animal's nose and jaw, eliciting a few quiet nickers and a stomp of a hoof.
The change that came over Sessily while she baby-talked the steed was a heartfelt emotion. Loving, adoring, sweet. Not like the distracted frowns from earlier at lunch and during the tour. He leaned an arm high against the stall, allowing her to greet the horse at her leisure.
“I mean that I don't subscribe to their way of life. For the most part, I do my own thing in regards to relationships, culture, and religion.”
The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2) Page 5