by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"Why didn't you?" Elena asked. It wasn't like her father to give in to demands.
He shrugged and took a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket. "It's possible the money he represents might be needed."
Elena shook her head as her father lit his cigarette. "We don't need his money. I think it would be a wonderful idea to align ourselves with the royal family of Tamir, but not because we need anything from them." Her independent streak reared its ugly head.
"We will see," her father said lowly, slightly soothed by his cigarette. A moment later he glanced toward the closed office door. "Where the hell is he?"
* * *
Hassan knew he couldn't break into Rahman's house without getting caught. Security was too tight. So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He got Rahman and his bodyguard/driver out of the house, and when he was certain El-Malak was well down the street, Hassan walked boldly to the front door. For the occasion, he had dressed in the high-necked silk jacket, shalwar, and turban of a Tamiri prince. His traditional costume was dark green and snow white, accented with a gold and emerald clasp and the air of authority befitting a sheik. He wasn't going to sneak into Rahman's domain, he was going to bulldoze his way through the front door.
As he had expected, Nawar answered, barely opening the door two inches.
"Mr. Rahman is not here," she said, her voice only slightly accented.
"I'm sorry I missed him," Hassan said, giving the housekeeper a wide smile. "Perhaps you can help me. It seems I misplaced an emerald ring, when I visited last night." He wiggled a bare left hand. "I have a nasty habit of twisting the ring and taking it off. I can't tell you how many times I've left it behind."
"I will look for your ring, Sheik Hassan," she said, just beginning to close the door in his face.
Hassan's smile faded. The woman was intimidated, by his size and his royal standing and the simple fact that he was a man. But Rahman had intimidated her more, apparently. She wasn't anxious to invite anyone into the house. "The ring is a family heirloom," he said before the door closed completely. "I need it. Now. I would like to look for it myself."
After a moment's hesitation, Nawar opened the door and stepped back. "Look quickly, please," she said as she closed the door behind him. "Where do you think you might have left it?"
"His study," Hassan said, heading unerringly in that direction. She followed close behind him. Too close. "I think I remember having it there, but I can't be sure. If you would look in the dining room and the washroom, I will look in the study."
"Mr. Rahman does not like other people in his office. Perhaps we should wait..."
"Nonsense." He glanced over his shoulder. "The dining room," he commanded, and Nawar immediately did a quick about face.
"Which washroom?" she called.
"I can't remember. Check them all," he said, throwing open the door to El-Malak's study. If he was lucky, he had five minutes.
He started with the desk, rifling quickly through the top drawer and finding nothing incriminating. Subsequent drawers were more interesting. He found a map of Tamir, a map with the oil fields and the refinery clearly marked in red pen. A weapon, a fully loaded 9mm Glock, sat atop a stack of files in a right hand drawer, where it could be grabbed quickly and easily, if needed. A wad of cash was hidden beneath innocent looking papers in another drawer. He found nothing mentioning Prince Lucas.
Hassan turned and quickly scanned the bookshelves. Something was here. He sensed it. He felt it, down deep, his bones all but shuddering with anticipation. Moving quickly he shuffled through the books, looking behind them for a hidden safe. On the bottom shelf he found what he was searching for. Not a safe, but a plain wooden box set into a hollow in the wall, hidden from view by a selection of books on the history of warfare.
The box sported a small, insubstantial lock, one that might easily be broken. How often did Rahman look at the box? How long before he knew it had been tampered with? Judging by the layer of dust on the box, his luck might hold out, this time. The dust also killed any hope that recent information might be found here, but the fact that it had been well hidden forced Hassan to continue. He unsheathed his knife and slipped the blade beneath the lid, popping the lock easily. He had no idea what he would find inside. More cash? Another map?
Hassan was momentarily disappointed when he opened the box to find it contained a brown leather wallet and nothing else. He removed the wallet from the box and flipped it open, only to find himself staring at the handsome face of a young blond man. John Edward Holmes, according to the driver's license.
Hassan's heart began to pound harder. This was Elena's Johnny. He flipped quickly through the wallet and found a photograph of Elena, young and smiling. There was also a photograph of the couple, cheek to cheek. The wallet contained forty-three dollars and some change, everything Johnny had been carrying that night.
El-Malak had killed Elena's fiance, or else he'd had one of his men do the job and turn over the wallet as proof.
He heard soft footsteps in the hallway. Smoothly and briskly, he returned the wallet to the box and the box to its hiding place. He took the emerald ring from his pocket and rolled it beneath the desk. By the time Nawar opened the door, he was standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips and an expression of dismay on his face.
"Did you find it?" he snapped.
"No." Nawar shook her head. "Perhaps you lost the ring elsewhere."
"It's here," he said. "Somewhere." Without moving from his place, he glanced around the room.
A nervous Nawar joined him, her eyes raking over the room. She even moved figurines and books aside, searching in every corner. When she bent over to look beneath the furniture, a wide smile broke across her face.
"I have found it!" she said, going down on her knees and snagging the ring from beneath Rahman's desk. She rose to her feet and offered the ring to Hassan on her palm. "You should go now."
Hassan took the ring and placed it on his finger. "This is such a relief," he said, shaking his head. "I owe you a reward."
"No, no," she said, opening the door and motioning him out of the room. "No reward is necessary."
Hassan called upon a charming smile once again. "I understand. Your employer wouldn't approve of me being here when he's not home, would he?"
The woman shook her head.
As they reached the front door, Hassan took Nawar's hand and surprised her by raising it to his lips. He winked at her as he took his mouth from her knuckles. "I won't tell if you won't," he whispered conspiratorially.
Her answer was a shy smile.
"Kamal has five minutes," Yusuf Rahman grumbled as he paced before the window and glanced at his watch. He had never been a patient man, and since he was predisposed to dislike members of the Tamiri royal family, Hassan's tardiness grated on his nerves with an added depth.
Elena remained outwardly calm as she sat at her desk and answered e-mail, all of it pertaining to small business matters on which her opinion or approval was needed. Inside, she was anything but calm. Something was going on, she knew it. Hassan had been so strange last night, condescending one moment, apologetic the next. Deeply passionate as he loved her, and then leaving without a proper explanation. And now this. He'd never been late before.
Following a perfunctory knock, her office door flew open and Hassan, surprisingly clad in Tamiri dress, swept in with a grin on his face. His eyes found hers for a brief moment, and she had the oddest sensation that the smile he continued to wear was false. She couldn't put her finger on the reason, and when Hassan turned his attentions to her father, she dismissed her worry as fantasy. God, she had been so much better off when there was no man at all in her life. Hadn't she?
"My apologies," Hassan said, bowing slightly in Yusuf Rahman's direction. "I did not mean to keep you waiting."
Elena watched her father try to smile. It didn't quite work. "Quite all right," he said tightly. His eyes swept over the turban, silk jacket, and flowing pants. "Is this a special o
ccasion?"
"I believe so," Hassan replied, his eyes remaining on the man who stood before the window. "We have business to discuss."
"I have come to no conclusions," Rahman said gruffly, obviously irritated. "It has only been a few hours since our dinner and discussion of your proposal. Did you think I would decide while I slept?" He narrowed one eye suspiciously.
The two men faced one another, Hassan almost a half foot taller, Rahman tense and about to lose his fleeting patience.
"Relations between your country and mine have been strained for quite some time," Hassan said softly, his smile gone.
"Yes, they have," Rahman agreed.
Hassan placed his hands behind his back. "The troubles have been going on for a long time, and are not of our doing. And yet," he shrugged, "we cannot deny that we are affected in many ways by the actions of our ancestors. For hundreds of years, a solution to such difficulties has been..." he took a deep breath, "marriage."
Elena stopped what she was doing and pinned her eyes on Hassan's spine. Surely he wouldn't...
"Marriage between royalty," her father added, not at all concerned by the turn in the conversation. "You might be a prince, but I am just a humble businessman."
"A very successful businessman," Hassan commented. "One who surely has powerful connections with the Malounian government. Think of what good an alliance would bring to our countries."
Now the smile that flitted across Rahman's face seemed more real. "I think your motives are less noble that you would have me believe, Sheik Hassan. I think you want to marry my daughter because you sense that my inclination is to decline your offer of a business merger, and you think that by marrying into the family you will get what you want."
Elena stood slowly. "Hold it right there."
Hassan and her father both faced her. It was Hassan who waved a dismissive hand at her. "Sit down, Elena. We will be finished in a moment."
She stepped from behind the desk. "Sit down, Elena?' she asked sharply. "Have you lost your mind?"
"My apologies, Sheik Hassan," her father said lowly. "Elena has always been a difficult child. Smart, beautiful, but headstrong."
Hassan nodded. "I understand. Raising a child in such a corrupt society must have been a challenge."
"It was," Rahman said with a nod of his head. "And I failed miserably..."
"Out," Elena said, pointing her finger toward the door. She was so mad she trembled. She felt the quiver in her bones, and her face was hot. Surely she was beet red. All of a sudden, the whirlwind romance that had swept her off her feet seemed ugly. Corrupt, he had said. Hassan had seduced her so she'd agree to this...this travesty. Did he think she would be flattered?Did he think she wanted to marry some big, chauvinistic, sweet-talking Romeo? "If you two are going to talk about me as if I'm not present, do it in the conference room down the hall. I have work to do."
They turned and headed toward the door, surprisingly chummy.
"And Mr. Kamal," Elena said, trying to keep her voice calm. "You and my father can make all the plans you want, but I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth."
At the doorway, they both turned to face her. "You're right," Hassan said, his eyes boring into hers. "She can be difficult." He smiled at her. Smiled! "But she is also very beautiful."
The two men left Elena's office before she could lay her hands on anything suitable for throwing at them.
* * *
Hassan knew he would likely never see Elena smile again. She was furious, and rightly so. But what else would make him insist on a face to face meeting with Rahman? It had to be something big, something shocking, something that would bring them together...and proposing marriage to Elena had come to his mind as the perfect solution.
Since it was Elena's father he needed to get close to, Rahman was the one to whom the proposal had been presented. Hassan had hoped the old man would be impressed by the traditional request to the father for his daughter's hand, and he had been. Elena had not.
He had also put himself in danger. Apparently Rahman had a nasty tendency to dispose of unwanted suitors in a permanent manner.
How was he going to tell Elena that her father had murdered Johnny? She already felt responsible for the death, simply because she'd sent him to the ATM. How would she feel when she knew that if Johnny had not been murdered that night, it would have happened the next night, or the next? The poor kid had been executed, all because he'd had the misfortune to fall in love with EI-Malak's daughter.
They'd concluded their conversation in the conference room, and then Rahman had gone home, once again promising to consider the proposal Hassan had put to him. He didn't seem to be all that concerned about Elena's refusal. He said while he had allowed his daughter too much freedom in the past, he knew how to obtain her cooperation.
Hassan could only imagine. What would El-Malak do in order to get his daughter to do as he wished? Terrorize her friends? Burn down her ranch? Threaten her life? The man was capable of anything. It wouldn't come to that. Hassan knew that at most, he had a few days left here. Even if he didn't locate the prince, El-Malak would be revealed. That in itself would be a blow to the Brothers.
Exhausted, after a tense night where he got no sleep, Hassan stepped into Elena's outer office bearing two large bouquets of flowers. He gave Kitty a tired smile. The normally amiable woman answered with a steely stare.
"Nice getup," she said, her eyes raking over his traditional costume.
"These are for you," he said, offering her the bouquet of pink roses.
"Thank you," she said, taking the roses, smelling them, and then dropping them bloom side down into the trash can at her side.
"Is Elena here?" he asked with a sigh.
"No. She's at the refinery. Are those for her?"
"Yes."
"I'll take them."
Knowing what would happen, Hassan handed over the bouquet of mixed flowers.
"I have specific instructions on what to do with these, should you be so foolish as to show up bearing a lame peace offering," she said, opening the top drawer of her desk with one hand while taking the bouquet with the other. She drew a large pair of scissors from the drawer, and held the blooms over the garbage can as she began to cut. Petals were severed and fell atop the other discarded bouquet.
"I need to talk to her," Hassan said lowly, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward.
"Good luck," Kitty said, returning to her computer and attacking the keyboard with a vengeance.
"You could help me."
Kitty quit typing and turned those steely eyes to him once again. "No, I've helped you enough. I've helped way too much, to be honest." For a moment her eyes softened, and she looked to be quite disappointed. "I thought you had potential."
"So I heard," Hassan grumbled.
"And then you turn out to be like.. .like..."
"Like who?" he urged.
Kitty clamped her mouth shut, refusing to continue. Of course she refused. Hassan knew what was to come next. Just like Yusuf Rahman. Just like Elena's father. If the woman wanted to keep her job, criticizing the company owner to someone who was just like him would not be wise.
"Tell Elena that I was here."
"Sure," Kitty agreed halfheartedly.
He couldn't say anything more, not yet. When this was over.. .maybe. If Elena would listen. If anyone would listen.
Chapter 13
Elena placed two plates of spaghetti on the kitchen table, as she cast a narrow-eyed glance at a seated Kitty.
"Did you have to wear that flower in your hair?"
Kitty reached up and very lightly touched the pink rose behind her right ear. "Hey, I don't have a lot of men bringing me roses, these days. Never fear, I waited until the rat left the building before I dug them out of the trash."
Elena sat across the round table from Kitty, concentrating on the meal before her. Salad, spaghetti, garlic bread and iced tea. She'd prepared the meal herself. She didn't cook often, and she ra
rely attempted anything more challenging than a frozen dinner, but tonight.. .tonight she'd needed something to do, a way to keep her hands busy so she wouldn't be tempted to strangle a particular difficult man.
"I think his feelings were hurt," Kitty said as she twirled her fork in the spaghetti.
"Good," Elena muttered.
"Especially when I took the scissors to the flowers he brought you, just as you instructed. They must've cost a small fortune." Kitty looked up. "How did you know he would show up with flowers?"
"I knew because Sheik Hassan Kamal is a man who thinks he can do anything, and then buy his way out of it with a smile and a grand gesture." Elena wagged her fork at Kitty. "He's probably never had to pay for his own mistakes, or answer for his own bullheadedness in his entire life." Her stomach was in knots. She couldn't eat, so when she quit pointing her fork at Kitty she lowered it to play with her spaghetti. "You should have heard them," she added softly. "They talked about me as if I weren't even in the room, as if I were..." Insignificant. Her father had often made her feel that way, but she'd expected better of Hassan.
"Jerk," Kitty said enthusiastically. "Domineering, conceited, dimwit."
"I thought you liked him."
"I do, kinda," Kitty confessed. "But this is why you asked me over for dinner, right? So we can trash the guy and get him out of your system."
"No," Elena said with a shake of her head. "You're here to keep me from doing anything stupid."
"Like what?"
"Like calling Hassan, or letting him in if he comes to the door." You're here to stop we from listening to my heart and saying yes, no matter what.
"Never fear," Kitty said. "I will protect you."
Elena continued to play with her spaghetti. Why was she so upset? She'd known all along that Hassan was too much like her father, with his inflexible, traditional ways and his domineering manner. She wasn't upset with him, she admitted silently, but with herself. She'd fallen for his sweet words hook, line and sinker. She'd allowed herself to feel in a way she'd never thought to feel again. No, she had never felt this way before, not even with Johnny. She wasn't a child anymore, she had so few illusions left.. .and still she'd begun to fall for Hassan in a very big way.