by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
The old sheik slapped his hand on the desk. "I never should have allowed you to attend university in America! Those years made you insolent."
Hassan's mother cleared her throat, and both men turned their eyes to her. She did not lift her own eyes from the embroidery in her lap. "I feel obligated to remind you, Ahmed, that Hassan was insolent at the age of three, long before he went to university."
Hassan smiled at his mother. No one else could reason with Ahmed Kamal the way she did. No one else dared.
Hassan waited for his father to continue, but the old man placed his folded hands on his desk and waited. For what, Hassan did not know. A few moments later the door behind him opened and Rashid walked in. As Hassan's older brother closed the door behind him their mother rose, taking her embroidery with her and exiting through the side door. Hassan glanced up at Rashid, who chose to stand beside their father's desk rather than taking a seat of his own. One look at his brother's face and Hassan knew something was up. Something big.
"I did not summon you here to have that tired discussion again," Hassan's father said softly. "I have a mission for you, something to which you are so well suited that Rashid and I agree you are the only man for the job."
Hassan leaned forward, his entire body tensing. "What kind of mission?"
The strain between them was not gone, but it simmered, unimportant for the moment. "We have evidence which suggests that an oil refinery in Texas is serving as American headquarters for the Brothers of Darkness. We have no concrete proof, but if our intelligence is correct, information on the location of the missing prince of Montebello might be found there."
"Why not pass this information on to the American authorities? Their FBI, perhaps?"
The old sheik snorted. "I trust my own son. I do not trust the American FBI. Also, our active involvement in such a pursuit will show our goodwill, our desire to mend the unsteady relations with Montebello."
"Until you return, no one outside this room is to know the real reason for your trip," Rashid added. "There's a leak somewhere. I want to believe that the traitor is someone inside the Montebellan Palace, not our own, but we cannot rule out the possibility that the traitor is among us. Until we find the culprit we can trust no one."
Hassan nodded. Whatever his father asked of him, he would do. The fact that the old man had actually admitted aloud that he trusted his second-born, often disobedient son, was enough. But Hassan had other reasons for taking on this task.
If his mission strengthened Tamir's ties with the West, all the better. And if he could do something to end what tension remained with Montebello once and for all, he would have made a true and important contribution to the welfare of his country. Recovering the missing prince, alive and unharmed, would heal a lot of old wounds.
Montebello and Tamir, countries that had been at odds for Hassan's lifetime and more, now shared a common enemy. Their determination to destroy the Brothers brought them together in a way nothing else could.
"I want you to infiltrate the oil refinery," Ahmed continued, "under the guise of a possible merger. Your interests in the business, and in the American refinery methods, are well-known. Your defiance of me is also common knowledge," he added with a short-lived wry smile. "No one will suspect your motives to be anything less than sincere, since you have recently made it clear that you wish to own and operate your own refinery."
Rashid tossed a large envelope at Hassan. It slid across the desk until Hassan stopped it with the palm of his hand. "The company is owned by Yusuf Rahman, but the actual operation of the refinery is left to his CEO, an E. J. Rahman."
"A family member?"
Rashid answered, "I would imagine, yes. We could not arrange a meeting with Yusuf Rahman himself, but you have an appointment with the CEO for Tuesday afternoon."
Hassan grinned. "You knew I would say yes."
"Of course." The old man answered, completely in control, showing no emotion. "Inside the envelope is what little information we have on Rahman Oil. They are a small company, but quite successful."
Hassan opened the envelope and spilled the contents onto his father's desk. "Do you suspect that the CEO I will be meeting with is involved with the Brothers of Darkness?" The terrorist group had made it impossible for their home country, Maloun, and Tamir to find peace.
"We have no way of knowing that," Rashid said. "All we know is that someone within the Rahman Oil organization has ties to the Brothers. Unfortunately there is no time for a thorough check on everyone involved in the company, and with the breach in security we thought such an investigation might be more dangerous than helpful. In these circumstances we thought it best to proceed with what we have, as discreetly as possible," Rashid added with a lift of his eyebrows. It was an admonition, of sorts. Hassan was not known for his discretion.
"This is all I need," Hassan said, sifting through the scant information that had been gathered. Apparently Rahman Oil was a major contributor to the Maloun National Trust, a well-known financial front for the Brothers of Darkness. Hassan returned the papers to the envelope. He'd study them more carefully in his own apartment, and later on the jet that would take him to Texas. As he shifted the papers, a photograph fell onto the desk.
"Who is this?" he said, tapping the grainy profile of a man in traditional Malounian dress.
"EI-Malak," his father said hoarsely.
Hassan lifted his eyes to study his father's stoic face. "The Ghost?"
Rashid leaned over to study the photograph himself. "They call him the Ghost because he has been fortunate or skilled enough to elude almost certain capture more than once, when the authorities closed in on the Brothers in Maloun. Makes more sense if we assume that he doesn't spend all his time in his home country, but actually lives in America. EI-Malak is the only name we have, and that is the only photograph known to have been taken of him. He is most surely in charge of the American faction of the Brothers. You will find more details on his past included in the information you have been given."
The old man's nose twitched. "It is not much, I'm afraid."
"My appointment with the CEO is Tuesday afternoon," Hassan said, returning the photograph to the envelope. "When do I leave?"
"You will fly out tonight," Rashid answered. "Arrangements have been made. We will talk before you leave, concerning communications."
Hassan stood, more than ready to return to his suite of rooms in the royal apartments to look over the information needed to get started.
His father rose, too. There had been a time when Hassan and Rashid both had to crane their necks to gaze up at their imposing father, their little hearts full of love and fear and respect. Today it was the old sheik who had to look up at his sons, but the love and respect, and sometimes a trace of the fear, the children had for their father remained. They did not speak of the emotions and ties of their family, but even in times of conflict the feelings were there.
"Inside the envelope there are also intelligence photographs of other known members of the Brothers of Darkness," his father said solemnly. "Study their faces, Hassan, memorize them. The names we have will likely do you no good, but remember their faces. And look for El-Malak in Texas."
Chapter 1
Elena stood at the tall window in her office and glanced down into the parking lot. Sheik Hassan Kamal arrived right on time, whipping a black Ferrari into the parking lot two minutes before their meeting was set to begin. He took long, arrogant strides through the parking lot. His traditional costume—gutra, long jacket and baggy pants, all stark white—whipped around him as he made his way toward the building entrance with what could only be called impatience in his step. He glanced toward the refinery, less than half a mile away and clearly visible from the office building, but his gaze did not linger there.
Kitty slipped into the room, escaping from her desk in the outer office. "You look very pretty," she said primly.
Elena turned from the window and smiled at her assistant and friend. "I'm not supposed to Look pret
ty," she said. "I'm supposed to look professional." Since she usually spent more time at the refinery than in the office, on most days she wore coveralls and work boots, and ended the day with a bad case of hard-hat hair. For this meeting, she had taken her most severely cut suit, a plain but well-made navy-blue outfit, out of the closet. She wore a crisp white blouse and navy pumps, not too high-heeled, and a little bit of makeup.
Elena was not nervous about meeting Sheik Hassan, she had told herself all morning. She wanted to make a good impression because if this merger went through it could be important. Not so much for the company, which was stable financially, but for her father's home country, Maloun, and the sheik's country, Tamir. Relations between the two were difficult and had been for a very long time. A union of some sort with the royal family of Tamir might help to stabilize those relations.
Her father didn't think so. He had ordered her to show the sheik around, be polite, and then decline any offers of a partnership. She had hopes that she could change his mind before the sheik's visit was over.
She looked down at Kitty, who at barely five foot two stood a good half foot shorter than Elena. Kitty's frizzy, pale brown hair had started the day in a bun, but most of it had already begun to fall. "I know all about Sheik Hassan," she said in a low voice. "He's a playboy who has more money than sense, and buying into this refinery would be like buying himself a new toy. I have to make myself forget that, so I don't toss him out on his ass. A connection with the royal family would be good for Rahman Oil, and for Maloun." She only hoped she could maintain her patience with the sheik. She had little use for men who lived their lives the way he did. No responsibilities. Too much money and not enough common sense. Sheik Hassan Kamal was nothing more than a large, spoiled child looking for a new plaything, and he'd set his sights on her refinery.
Elena reminded herself, as she had all morning, that a potential partnership with the royal family of Tamir was more important than her own impatience with slackers. She could and would keep her opinions to herself, no matter how annoying the playboy sheik turned out to be.
The elevator on her floor pinged as the door opened, and at that moment the phone on her desk rang. Kitty walked across the room to answer the phone, and Elena proceeded into the outer office to greet the sheik.
He stepped from the hallway into the office with the same arrogance that had carried him through the parking lot. For a moment Elena was speechless. Kamal was tall, a good six foot two, and broad in the shoulders. He looked bigger face to face than he had from her window view. She tried to tell herself it was the traditional costume that made him seem imposing. If not that, then it was the touch of gold in the black braided silk that held his white gutra in place, the massiveness of the emerald on his right hand, the gold watch on his left wrist. But she couldn't fool herself. Beneath his loose, traditional clothing, this man was powerfully built. Strong and hard. The power that emanated from him had nothing to do with what he wore.
Even with sunglasses hiding his eyes from her, she could tell that he had an unusually handsome, olive-toned face. The cut of his jaw was sharp and masculine, the nose perfectly straight and fittingly regal, and the mouth.. .a mouth that sensuous should be illegal!
"Welcome to Rahman Oil," she said, recovering quickly and stepping forward, offering her hand for a crisp, businesslike handshake. The sheik took her hand in his, grasped it firmly, and brought it to his lips. She was so shocked when he touched her knuckles with that illegal mouth of his that she jumped. A tingle shimmied up her arm to her neck. The sheik wore a small, completely wicked smile as he returned to an upright position and gradually released her hand, very lightly trailing his fingers over her palm.
"If I had known that Mr. Rahman had such an enchanting secretary, I would have arrived early so I could spend time with you before my meeting. Perhaps he will be kind enough to leave me waiting for a few minutes." His English was almost perfect, his voice deep and sweet as honey.
"Secretary?" Elena said with a smile of her own. "Mr. Kamal, I'm..."
"Hassan," he interrupted. "Such an enchanting lady must call me by my given name. And yours is...?"
"Elena," she answered, wondering how long it would take Kamal to realize his mistake.
"A beautiful name," he said, removing his sunglasses and giving Elena her first good, full look at his face. His eyes were black, deep and penetrating and as sensuous as his mouth.
"Elena Rahman," she said.
His smile widened. "Then you are also a relation of the owner, Yusuf Rahman? How nice to find that this is a true family business."
"Elena Jumanah Rahman."
It took a moment, but his smile eventually faded. "E. J. Rahman," he said softly.
"Exactly." Elena was accustomed to the old-world attitudes of her father and his friends. If Yusuf Rahman had fathered a son, she would not be in this position. She would not be CEO, and she would not have a degree in chemical engineering. But there was no son, there was only Elena, to Yusuf Rahman's lifelong dismay.
She found Kamal's disconcerted expression rather amusing. He obviously had not planned to do business with a woman. "Would you like to step into my office?" She moved back and lifted her hand to indicate the open door, just as Kitty walked out and laid widening eyes on the sheik.
Kamal stepped into the inner office, and Elena turned to Kitty to request coffee for two. An obviously impressed Kitty mouthed "hubba-hubba," before heading for the coffeemaker and the full pot that awaited their visitor.
* * *
Hassan sat facing Elena Rahman. They were separated by a desk, two cups of terrible, weak coffee, and several unorganized piles of paperwork. He was still astounded that Rahman Oil's CEO was a woman! And an amazingly beautiful one, at that. Such a woman should have better, more appropriate pursuits to fill her time. He could think of a few, sitting here watching her as she told him all about Rahman Oil and the operations of their refinery.
She did seem to be knowledgeable, he would give her that. They had been discussing the refinery for over an hour, and she had answered every one of his questions without referring to notes or calling on an assistant. The CEO of Rahman Oil was not a mere figurehead—she knew what she was doing.
Surely Elena Rahman was not involved with the Brothers of Darkness. Not only was it unlikely that the Brothers would allow a woman into their organization, he was certain that he saw honesty and sincerity in Elena's green eyes. She was open, direct and earnest, and she had no qualms about looking him squarely in the eye. The longer he watched and listened to her, the more convinced he was of her integrity.
He set the certainty of her innocence aside. Appearances could be deceiving, and anything... anything was possible.
But Elena Rahman truly was beautiful. Her dark brown hair, sleek and straight, was cut short. The ends touched her chin and swayed when she moved quickly. Her seemingly honest eyes were a magnificent shade of green, and topped by dark, well-shaped eyebrows that arched perfectly and naturally. Her skin was flawless and golden—a combination of her father's Malounian blood and the Texas sun, he imagined—and her lips were invitingly full.
Yes, she knew what she was doing, here, but surely someone else actually ran the refinery. "Who is in charge of operations?"
She set perfectly calm eyes on him. "I am."
He smiled. "Yes, I know you are CEO, but who actually sees to the day-to-day refinery affairs?" That was the person he needed to see, the man who was involved on a daily basis in the plant supervision.
Those green eyes hardened, Elena Rahman's nostrils flared slightly. "Mr. Kamal," she said tightly. "Are you going to have a problem dealing with a woman?"
"Of course not. It just seems implausible to me that a woman like you could be involved in such a dirty business."
"I know this is a male-dominated business, but..."
"Is that why you use E. J. Rahman instead of Elena? Elena is such a lovely name," he said, looking her in the eye, smiling softly.
She sighed. "Yes
, I use my initials on correspondence to avoid moments like this one," she said testily. "Mr. Kamal, I understand the world you come from. My father has some of the same old-fashioned ideals. If he can put aside his prejudices to allow me to run this company, surely you can forget that I'm a woman and look at me simply as a business associate."
Hassan lifted his eyebrows in question. Forget that she was a woman? Unlikely. "I can.. .try."
"Thank you," she said in a low voice. Ah, he had annoyed her. A blush rose to her cheeks, and her eyes shone brighter than they had before.
"I would like a tour of the refinery as soon as possible," he said, pushing the weak coffee the secretary had prepared aside. In truth, it didn't matter that Elena Rahman was beautiful, that when he had first seen her something inside him had clenched and fluttered, or that for a few wonderful moments he had forgotten the purpose of his visit.
"How about tomorrow morning?" Elena pushed back a strand of hair that brushed her cheek. "I have phone calls to make this afternoon, and I'm sure you must be tired, after traveling all this way. I'll make arrangements to have the proper safety equipment here in the morning. I hope you don't mind setting aside your traditional attire for the tour. The long loose fabric can be dangerous in a working plant. Steel-toed boots and a hard hat will be required, and I'm afraid I don't allow loose clothing on the plant. It's too dangerous."
"Of course," he said. He had worn the traditional attire thinking that if E. J. Rahman were a conservative Malounian he might be suitably impressed. All his suppositions about E. J. Rahman had been very, very wrong. He had done his best, but he suspected Elena was not at all impressed.