Jabril noticed that the last four words were almost an afterthought, tacked on to reinforce her argument. But she wasn’t sure and that gave him pause. She hadn’t known, he was sure of it.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ease her into the truth. The people of Ditra were in dire circumstances and he had to act quickly, before more people died. Relaxing his stance slightly, he changed tactics, shifting from fury over her negligence, to insistence that she face reality and fix the situation. “Your uncle has drained the resources of Ditra for his own personal gain. The people are starving, businesses have gone under because of the new tax regulations, which are complicated and apply a massive burden to most businesses, and even the military has been oppressed, curtailed so that he has them entirely under his power.”
Ilara shook her head, but Jabril could see the doubt in her face. “No! He’s a gentle ruler!” she repeated, unconsciously pushing her chair back and crossing her arms over her chest, trying to get away from his words.
Instead of saying anything more, he pulled other pictures out of the envelope, spreading them across her desk one by one. He showed her pictures of desperate people, abandoned stores, deserted villages, and the capital city with empty streets, which should have been thriving.
He didn’t say anything, allowing the images to speak. She’d grown up in Ditra and recognized the street signs and the buildings. Jabril watched carefully, waiting for signs that she might dismiss what was happening.
Unfortunately, he needed Ilara. He needed her cooperation in order to make a swift change. He could regain the land without her through force, but as she’d pointed out, more people would get hurt. The people of Ditra had endured so much already. If he could unite his country without violence, he’d do it. If he couldn’t gain her cooperation, then he had a plan B, but marrying Ilara would give her the right to rule and speed up the recovery process for the people and the economy.
“Stop!” she gasped, turning the pictures over so she didn’t have to look at them. Jabril considered that a good sign. She couldn’t be part of her uncle’s horrible machinations if she couldn’t stand looking at the destruction.
“He didn’t do this,” she murmured, standing up and looking through the small window of her office, trying to hide her expression.
“Why do you say that?” he demanded. She wanted to deny everything, but he suspected from her reaction that she’d had clues before this moment.
“Because my uncle sends me reports about what’s going on in Ditra. He and I talk. He’s encouraged me to come back and take my place.”
“Why haven’t you then?” he asked, tamping down his sudden fury.
“Because…” she closed her eyes, pressing her lips together as the pieces came together. “Because he convinced me that getting my degree was more important for the people of my country. It would help me help them more effectively.” She pressed shaking fingers to her lips. “He said I had to think long term and getting a degree from a good school would serve them better in the long term.”
“So that’s why you haven’t been back to Ditra,” he commented, more to himself than to her. “He’s right. Getting an education should have helped. But your father died three years ago and you graduated last summer.”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “My uncle...convinced me that getting a bit of experience out in the world would help.”
Jabril didn’t say anything. He let the silence fill the room, allowing her to think it through. From what his security team had discovered, Ilara was an intelligent, thoughtful woman with deep loyalty to Ditra. Only now was he starting to understand why she hadn’t returned to take her place in the government.
“I don’t believe you,” she finally said, turning to face him.
Her words were disappointing, he thought, but not unexpected.
“Come with me,” he ordered. “We’ll fly to Ditra and you can see for yourself.”
Without a second thought, she shut down her computer and grabbed her purse. Her willingness further eased his anger towards her. If she’d known what was going on, even suspected, she wouldn’t be willing to prove him wrong.
“Your information is wrong,” she insisted as she shoved her laptop into her computer bag. “I don’t know where those pictures were taken, but they aren’t from Ditra.” She stood up straight, glaring up into his eyes. He admired her spunk, even if he could see her trembling from head to toe.
Princess Ilara might be a beautiful woman, but the people of Ditra needed his focus now. They needed him to protect them. Focusing on her full, rounded breasts or her slender waist was not helping them in any way.
With absolute resolution, she tilted her head towards the door. “I’ll show you the real Ditra. And if you decide to invade my country…”
“My country, that your father stole from me,” he corrected.
Ilara didn’t acknowledge his words. “…Then I will expect an apology and an investigation into who told you those lies,” she finished, nodding to the envelope with the pictures.
“And if I’m telling the truth, you will marry me and help me save Ditra. Do we have a deal?”
Her eyes widened and a slight tinge reddened her cheeks.
Her pretty lips opened and closed, as if she were trying to figure something out. Something that didn’t make any sense. “Why in the world would you want to marry me?”
He took her arm. “Come. We’ll discuss it on the way.” He led her out of her office and through the lobby. His driver and guards surrounded them, the threat to his personal safety significant, and even more so now that he was with Ilara. He knew that her uncle had people watching her, but talking to her and gaining her support had been worth the risk.
Even so, he scanned the area, searching for threats. A man sitting on a bench across the street seemed innocuous enough, but even so, Jabril shifted his body to better protect Ilara. He might disagree vehemently about her decision not to take control of Ditra, but that didn’t mean he would allow her to be hurt.
Once they were safely inside the limousine, he watched the man on the bench. He glanced at his head guard as well, and they shared a nod of acknowledgement of the possibilities.
The man on the bench continued to read his newspaper as they drove away, but the hairs on the back of Jabril’s neck tingled. Something wasn’t right.
Chapter 2
“Do you need to stop by your house to pick up anything? We might be gone for a while. Do you need to pack some clothes?”
She shook her head as his driver pulled onto the tarmac of a private air field, a massive, private jet with Piara’s national emblem on the tail fin. It looked like a shining beacon of power, shimmering in the morning sunshine, standing ready for takeoff.
“No. I have clothes and everything I need in Ditra. I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Let’s go,” he stepped out of the vehicle. He scanned the area but this time, he didn’t see anything to cause him concern. Even so, he automatically shifted, protecting Ilara.
“Take off immediately,” he told his pilot as soon as they boarded. The pilot nodded and headed to the cockpit while the flight attendant waited for his guards to board before quickly closing the plane’s door. Seconds after she locked the door, the engines roared.
“This way,” he led her towards the conference room in the back of the plane. Usually, the plane carried reporters and staff members, but this flight was different and had been done in secret.
The plane took off as soon as everyone was seated and secure. Ilara turned to Jabril but he was already on the phone, so she sighed, and fumed silently for several moments. But the pause gave her a moment to look at him. Really look at him. Yes, he was tall and powerfully built, even his profile gave off a sense of strength. She’d seen pictures of him over the years. But in the past, she’d viewed him as her enemy, although she also knew him to be a fair ruler. The people of Piara believed in him and his country was a thriving powerhouse on the world stage. It wasn’t just oil that
made Piara strong, although the country had massive reserves of that resource. It was also that Piara had diversified into different industries, and had a complex educational infrastructure that promoted ideas and innovation. Exactly what Ilara had always wanted for Ditra…and what her uncle told her was happening.
Sheik Jabril wasn’t a classically handsome man, she thought. The scar running along his cheek and the harsh planes of his face made him look… ruthless. But the harshness was softened somehow by his eyes. What was it about his eyes that…or maybe it was his nose? There was a small indentation high up on his nose, as if it had been broken at some point in the past and not set properly. Was that what made him seem…Ilara had been about to think the word ‘approachable’, but there was nothing approachable about Jabril al Mustar. He looked hard and uncompromising. And yet, here she was, on his official plane heading to Ditra so that he could prove his point. Okay, so yeah, that meant that he wasn’t compromising on his view of Ditra. But…
Ilara wasn’t sure what it was about the man. He terrified her and yet…there was just something about the man that…she wasn’t attracted to him. No way! Absolutely not! The trembling awareness when he’d walked beside her had been…confusion. Yes, confusion seemed like an accurate word. Definitely not attraction!
When his call ended, she leaned forward, but his phone rang again. This time, when he put his phone down, she snatched the phone, turned it off, and put the phone out of reach.
“You need my attention?” he asked, teasingly. He glanced at the phone. His message was loud and clear; he could get the phone whenever he wanted.
Ilara’s silent message back to him was equally clear; don’t try it.
She doubted he’d listen to her message and Ilara ignored his.
“I want to know why you’re so interested in me fulfilling my role,” she told him.
“You don’t think I want you to be ruler of Ditra?” he asked, a mocking lift to his dark eyebrows.
She considered her words carefully, tilting her head as if trying to read something in his eyes. “I don’t think you care about me, if that’s what you’re asking. Which,” she continued, lifting her hand when he opened his mouth, “isn’t to say that you don’t care about my people, the citizens of Ditra.”
His eyes hardened. “I still consider the people of Ditra to be my people. Make no mistake about that.”
She conceded his point with a nod. “So, what’s your plan here?” she asked, not bothering to argue with him. He wasn’t planning to invade by force. At least, not yet.
“My plan is to ensure my people’s health and prosperity. If that means marrying you so that you can assume control of the country, then a wedding will happen.”
Her hands clenched under the table, but Ilara maintained her temper, if only outwardly. “Things aren’t as bad as you think in Ditra. My uncle has done a wonderful job of caring for the people. You’ll see. So, there’s absolutely no reason for that ridiculous law to be fulfilled. It’s outdated and pointless.”
“I agree. But I need to marry, as well. Why not kill two birds with one stone?”
The statement startled her on many levels. Ignoring the fact that the man was willing to marry her simply to get the job done, not because he had any feelings for her, she asked, “Why do you need to marry?”
“The laws of both of our countries are based on ancient rules and beliefs. And yes, I could change the laws in Piara so that I don’t have to marry, but I’m actually ready to settle down and start a family.”
She looked at him, at the scars on his face, his rugged body, his strong hands. She’d thought this before, but the harsh lighting of the airplane made his scars even more pronounced. His piercing eyes told a woman that he was focused on her and not on anything else. She shivered, thinking that it would be a world rocking experience if he ever focused his attention on her physically. She suspected he would be an intense lover.
Whoa! Not a good time to have thoughts like that! Besides, she doubted he’d ever relax his control enough to be a good lover. He was too powerful and too intent on…whatever. Could he ever focus his attention on a woman? Would he apply all of that intensity to pleasing a woman? Not that she’d ever find out!
Clearing her throat, she shifted slightly in the soft, leather chair. “So, you’re just going to choose a wife and get down to business?”
He shrugged. “That’s a harsh way of saying it, but yes. You and I will marry. Our marriage will bring Ditra back into Piara’s jurisdiction and we will have children together to ensure the stability of the government and the line of succession.”
“Be still my gentle heart,” she mocked, ignoring the flutter of…whatever…that hit her stomach with his assertion about having children together. “I’m starting to understand why you’re still single.”
He laughed softly. “Not enough romance for you, my dear?”
She shivered again, startled by the sound of his laughter. And the way his laugh crinkled the area around his eyes and made them sparkle, making him seem…sexier somehow. Another shift and she looked away. “I don’t need romance.”
“The cold, logical heart of a financial genius beats in your chest, correct?” His eyes moved lower, moving over her breasts and she felt her body react. Her nipples peaked under that caressing look and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice.
Unfortunately, his lips lifted to a semblance of a smile, which meant he had noticed.
Damn him! She pulled back and shook her head. “I’ll never marry you, Jabril. You’re not my type, and I would never jeopardize the line of succession for my country by marrying you.”
There was a long silence, broken only by her heart pounding as they glared at each other.
“We’ll see,” he replied, his voice surprisingly soft now. For a long moment, she felt trapped, captured by his dark eyes. There was an unspoken message in that look, something she refused to interpret. She was like a butterfly, stuck in sticky nectar. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, breaking the spell.
She breathed a sigh of relief, and looked out the window. She shouldn’t actually be relieved since there was no resolution to the conversation. He hadn’t agreed that they wouldn’t marry and she hadn’t agreed that they would. But Ilara comforted herself with the knowledge that she had full control over who she wed. She didn’t have to marry this man. Not for politics or for love.
She realized where her mind was going and pulled back. Firsts of all, love Jabril? A quick glance at his harsh profile as he answered the flight attendant’s question reminded her that this man was too harsh for her preferences. Besides, she didn’t have to marry anyone because her Uncle Kasim was doing a good job ruling for her! A much better job than she could ever do!
The flight attendant nodded and left, closing the door once again. “So, you have rules on your side of the country, too?” she asked, prompting him to explain.
“We all have rules.”
“I thought you were the all-powerful Oz,” she mocked.
Did she see a spark of amusement? “Even Oz had rules.”
Another flutter deep in her belly which she ignored. “And at the end of the story, Oz turned out to be a regular human being,” she added.
“True,” he agreed. “Just a human being. As am I. But in answer to your question, yes, I am required to marry by the time I’m thirty-five and start a family.”
Ilara blushed, thinking about the process of creating that family. Yep, her mind flashed right back to his intensity and how that would convey during his lovemaking.
Not that he would make love to a woman, she corrected. He would get the job done, but she pictured him being much more precise and business-like about the process. Thankfully, that image caused her embarrassment to ease up and she actually smiled slightly.
“Well, that’s too bad. And just as ridiculous as me having to marry.”
“Yes, well, even American politics can be ridiculous.”
She rolled her eyes. “The United States has no
requirement stating that their leaders be married.”
“None that are written into laws, such as in our countries, but it is an unspoken rule.”
Ilara thought about that for a moment. “I love reading history and I know that there were presidents that weren’t married.”
“Only two,” he replied. “Even in our modern world, the electorate is more comfortable with married men as our leaders.”
Married leaders came across as more…stable. “I hadn’t really thought about that before,” she said, her voice softer. “I’ve always just rebelled at the idea of my own situation. It’s one thing to decide to go into politics. I even know that politicians in most countries choose a wife based on their decision to go into politics. It takes a special kind of woman to stand by one’s husband during presidential runs. But some of the greatest female rulers were unmarried.”
He shook his head. “Name one.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Okay, most people assume Margaret Thatcher was single, but she was married, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. And Theresa May is married. Angela Merkel is married. Even Indira Gandhi was married. So you can’t even claim it is a double standard,” he teased.
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Okay, you’re right. Married people have ruled the world for too long. But that doesn’t mean that a single person is incapable of running a country.”
“You’re absolutely correct,” he stated. “I’m unmarried and doing an excellent job as Sheik of Piara.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have a problem with your ego, do you?”
Another chuckle. Another shiver of awareness.
“None. Which is why I believe we will have a good marriage together. We’re both logical and confident. You’re a beautiful woman and I think we could make it work.”
Her heart fluttered alarmingly. She prayed that her neck and cheeks weren’t as ridiculously pink as they felt. “Except for the fact that I don’t want to marry you. And I’m here now, flying halfway across the world, to prove to you that there’s absolutely no need.”
Resisting the Sheik's Commands (The Diamond Club Book 1) Page 2