by Holly Rayner
“Stop flirting with my staff,” she grumbled.
“Flirting? I’m simply giving this delightful woman a compliment. Someday someone needs to teach you how to not scowl.”
“Someday someone has to teach you how to be a decent human being.”
“Who says I’m not? After all, we did meet at a charity ball.”
“You are the worst.”
“You’re still marrying me.”
“Not by choice!” she hissed, turning back away from him and heading in the direction of the veranda.
After several steps, she felt his palm slide against hers, and it took everything in her not to tear her hand away.
“Appearances, my dear. Appearances,” he whispered against her ear.
His breath was warm and it ticked her skin. Jasmina gripped his hand so tight she hoped she could break it. As they approached the entryway to the veranda, she stopped.
“What gives? Shouldn’t we get out there?” Jenson asked.
“I’m simply bracing myself for the façade I have to put on.”
“Don’t forget to smile, nice and big,” he said, reaching for the door and pressing it open.
When they stepped outside, a massive crowd of people who had already gotten the news stood below, waving and calling up to the couple. Jenson pulled Jasmina close and waved to them again, his smile firmly in place. Jasmina did her best to not look extremely uncomfortable.
“Come on, let’s give them what they really want,” he said.
Without warning, he tilted her to the side, dipping her before he crashed his lips against hers. The crowd went wild, and so did Jasmina’s heart. Her mind reminded her that Jenson was a cad who apparently loved working a crowd into a frenzy. He thought of no one but himself.
When he finished kissing her, he lifted her back up, still beaming. Jasmina did her best to look demurely pleased before giving her people a small wave and sitting at the table. Jenson sat across from her, pouring two flutes of bubbling champagne.
“Well this is fun,” he said, taking a sip and waving to the crowd.
“Desperate for approval much?” she asked.
His eyes darkened for a millisecond, and Jasmina realized she might have hit a nerve. Interesting.
“You should be enjoying this,” Jenson murmured. “It’s not every day a monarch enjoys the love and approval of their people. I’ve seen that your own approval ratings are quite high already. That bit you did connecting farmers to businesses in the south was a great move.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Are you complimenting my leadership?”
“I might be. You’re clearly very passionate about running this country well. Sometimes I wish we had someone like you in charge back home. We might actually get some things done.”
Unsure how to respond, Jasmina took a sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling her tongue and warming her chest as she swallowed. She realized then that they would have to make conversation for at least an hour before she could make an excuse to leave.
“Your men have made quick work of getting the operation up and running,” she said.
Jenson nodded.
“Of course. I have an expectation for excellence, and I made a big investment with this purchase. In order for it to be worth it, we need lithium, and I don’t want to wait to get our profit margins back up.”
“Out of curiosity, what do you think about when you’re not thinking about money?”
He leaned in, his grin wolf-like.
“Beautiful women. My future wife, in particular.”
Jasmina’s cheeks heated, and she tried to fight back the blush.
“What’s our deal with that, anyway?” he asked.
“With what?”
“Sex.”
Jasmina swallowed.
“I don’t think I understand you.”
“Oh, come now. I’m sure you’ve got some sort of stipulation around this topic. Might as well discuss it now, in front of an enormous crowd of your beloved subjects.”
“Or we could discuss it never.”
“So you’re saying sex is off the table.”
“I’m saying it’s something we don’t need to discuss at a table, yes. If you really want to know, I have done my absolute best not to think about it at all.”
“Well I haven’t. In fact, it’s something I’ve thought about a lot since meeting you.”
Jasmina shifted uncomfortably in her chair, remembering that she was being watched. She fixed a serene expression on her face as she gazed at Jenson with fake adoration.
“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet.
Jenson laughed.
“You put on a good show for the crowd. Keep it up, you’re really winning them over.”
He grabbed a piece of bread and slathered it with butter. Jasmina noticed he did that at every meal. He clearly had a ravenous appetite. For food, and apparently…other things.
“I’m a very generous lover,” he said, returning to the uncomfortable subject at hand.
Jasmina scoffed.
“I sincerely doubt that. From what I can tell you are the most selfish, self-centered man in the entire world. That doesn’t bode well for the bedroom.”
“You think you know everything about me from the few interactions we’ve had?” he asked, his voice serious.
“I think I’ve got you pretty well measured, yes. Your actions up to this point have been atrocious, and the thought of sharing a bed with you makes my skin crawl.”
“Well I’ll admit that’s the first time I’ve ever been told that. Still, I’m not worried. By the time we’re married you’ll be begging me to share your bed.”
“Never,” she breathed, still grinning.
If the crowd didn’t know any better, they could only assume that the couple was sharing a pleasant conversation about the weather.
Jenson’s stare was still predatory and filled with a hunger she had never seen before. Part of her was frightened by it. The other part, much to her dismay, was deeply intrigued. She couldn’t deny that she’d had a dream or two starring Jenson, and had woken up in a sweat by the end of it.
Could she last the rest of her life without making love to a man? Would she have to give into her body’s desires at some point if it meant being touched by another for just a moment?
Their food arrived, and Jasmina managed to change the course of the conversation toward more general things, though Jenson managed to sneak in salacious comments every chance he got. He was toying with her, playing with her emotions.
She would not let him defeat her resolve. She would never!
Chapter Eight
Over the next few days, Jasmina was able to avoid any dealings with Jenson Black.
Instead, she was ambushed with a series of trade agreement disputes and a small outbreak of a disease she’d never heard of before. She had to be updated on the particulars by several doctors, and despite trying not to look like a complete idiot, she was pretty sure she had failed spectacularly on all counts.
She was writing a missive at her computer when there was a gentle knock at her door—a sure sign of Asha.
“Come in,” Jasmina said, still typing away. She slid her glasses up a little higher on her nose, still focused on her missive as she heard the door open and close.
“You know, you look sexy with glasses on. Kind of got that sensual librarian thing going.”
Jasmina’s head shot up, her eyes colliding with the jovial stare of Jenson Black. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with annoyance.
“I believe guests are to be announced when they wish to enter my private quarters.”
“And yet we are engaged and deeply in love, and I haven’t seen you in so long. Asha simply pointed the way, and I was able to find it on my own.”
“It does not behoove you to manipulate Asha in such a way, sir. I have known her my entire life, and if you think for one second that I won’
t protect her from your tomfoolery…”
“Tomfoolery? What century are we living in, Jasmina?”
“Are you ever capable of having a serious conversation?”
Jenson plopped down on the plush armchair across from her desk, leaning back and lacing his fingers together, his eyes still on her. It seemed as though they were always there, boring into her soul, torturing her with the reminder that love was lost to her forever.
“Of course I am. I’ve had nothing but serious conversations with you, though that is no fault of mine. You really need to learn to let loose and relax, Jasmina. Let your hair down, you know? I’d love to see what you can do with that,” he said, gesturing in the direction of her neatly pinned up hair.
“Sure, of course!” she said, her eyes lighting up in false enthusiasm. She had taken him by surprise, and a small part of her celebrated in the victory. “Let me just jump for joy and frolic in the gardens while this trade dispute resolves itself. I’m sure there will be no negative consequences for that, right? Because my job is simply to have fun.”
She stood, perfectly ready to leave him in her office, state secrets be damned, when he stood and placed a gentle hand on her wrist, stopping her from making a grand exit.
She glared up at him, tearing her hand from his grasp.
“What are you doing here, anyway? I never called for you.”
“Ah, but you did. We have wedding preparations to make today. You must have forgotten, what with trade disputes keeping you so busy.”
Jasmina wracked her brain, trying to remember scheduling another afternoon with Jenson. After a moment, dim memories of the wedding planning process entered her consciousness. They would have to do it together, and they would have to make it look like they were having fun.
All well and good for Jenson. He seemed to be having a jolly good time at her expense. With a sigh, she took another step closer to the door.
“It would seem I am mistaken. The wedding planner should be waiting for us now. I simply lost track of time.”
“I find a personal assistant helps with those kinds of things.”
“I’m sure you do. I, however, am a capable ruler, able to manage my own life.”
“Except for when you forgot about this entire afternoon’s schedule.”
“Jenson?”
“My sweet?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed as he followed her from the office, falling in stride next to her as they made their way toward the palace’s front entrance. There, a young woman in a pale pink dress was holding a notebook, shifting from one foot to the other. When Jasmina and Jenson entered, she nearly fell over as she made her way to them, bowing clumsily.
“Your Highness. I can’t tell you what an honor it is to be planning the royal wedding. My mother planned your parents’ wedding, and she’s given me lots of tips on how to not mess this up…I mean, how to make it perfect!”
The woman’s nervousness permeated the room, and Jasmina smiled at her gently, holding a hand out for her to hold, which she did after a moment, her eyes filled with anxiety.
“I’m sure it will be the most splendid ceremony in the history of El Jayiah. First, let us sit, and you can go over what needs to be done.”
A small sitting area was located off to the side, and Jasmina guided the small group in that direction. She sat down on a blue loveseat, and was instantly aggravated when Jenson plopped down right next to her, lacing his fingers with hers.
She smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a wince.
The wedding planner beamed, then her face fell.
“Oh my goodness, I didn’t even introduce myself! I will simply die from shame after this day!”
Jasmina laughed, and it was a light, musical sound.
“I certainly hope you do not. I need this wedding to be planned, and I would hate to have to find another to do it. Have faith in yourself, friend. You are not capable of letting me down.”
She didn’t want to add that there was no way to disappoint her any more than she already was. No matter how beautiful the ceremony was, it would still be the saddest day of Jasmina’s life. She kept her eyes on the woman, doing her best to ignore the way Jenson was circling the top of her hand with his thumb.
“My name is Desi Al-Ayim. At your service, Your Highness.”
“It is a great pleasure to meet you. Now, tell us what we can expect.”
“I have a full afternoon planned for you already, Your Highness. We have lots to do. First up, we’ll want to do a cake tasting, and see what you both prefer. After that there will be a series of ceremonial details to cover. We can get into that as we go. Are you both excited?”
Jasmina could only smile and nod, while Jenson pressed warm lips against her knuckles.
“We couldn’t be happier,” he said, his tone warm.
He really was a much better faker than she was. Then again, he really was quite happy with the situation, so what did he have to be fake about?
Desi clapped her hands together and stood, guiding them toward a side room that had been set up with a series of mini cakes.
“These are just scaled-down duplicates of what the actual cake would look like. Given our customs, you have two options for the cake itself, though the decorations can be whatever you’d like. Which one would you like to try first?”
Jasmina tried not to feel morose as she glanced around at the sea of tiny cakes around them. This was something she should have been doing with the man she loved, not some cad who had forced her into it.
“What about this one, darling? I love chocolate,” Jenson said, pointing at an exquisite, gold-flecked chocolate masterpiece.”
“Great choice, Mr. Black! Here, allow me.”
Desi cut two small slices from the cake. The inside was a light, nut brown color. Although she had little appetite for anything, Jasmina dug the proffered fork into the confection and allowed it to melt along her tongue.
“Is that nutmeg?” Jenson asked, taking two more bites.
For a man who was so terribly muscular, he certainly had an appetite for sweets, Jasmina mused. Desi nodded.
“According to El Jayiahn tradition, the nutmeg is meant to promise a full and happy life, with an extra oomph for fertility.”
Jasmina felt her cheeks go red, feeling Jenson’s stare upon her at the mention of fertility.
“What about that one? I prefer vanilla frosting with a nutmeg flavor,” Jasmina said, and Jenson chuckled.
“My headstrong love, always pushing against me.”
Jasmina watched to see if Desi was looking before she cast him a nasty glare. Currently in the process of cutting another slice of cake, Desi didn’t seem to notice the exchange. They both took another bite, Jenson finishing his entire second piece.
“I think you’re right, my darling. This is the one!”
“Shall I make the note?” Desi asked, holding her pen above her notebook.
Jasmina nodded, and the decision was made. Next, they made their way down the hallway until they reached a grand ballroom, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass doors.
“These doors can be removed, as you know, so depending on the weather guests can choose to enjoy the party inside or outside, with room for well-wishers from the public.”
“So we’ll have the ceremony in here?” Jenson asked, gazing around.
“You can either have it in here or in the royal chapel. After the Sheikha of 1878 opted to forego the chapel to make room for more of her friends, the tradition opened up a bit.”
“You know your history, Desi,” Jenson said, and she blushed at his compliment.
If Jasmina could have rolled her eyes, she would have.
A small record player was in the corner, and Desi made her way over to it.
“Now of course your first dance will be the traditional dance of true love, which Jasmina knows, of course, but do you, Mr. Black?”
Jenson shook his head.
“I haven’t had the pleasure.”
&
nbsp; “Oh, well you must learn. I’ve already scheduled you in some time to practice, in the event that this was the case.”
“Very forward thinking, Desi!” Jenson praised.
Jasmina was grinding her teeth at the point, but as Desi started up the record and stared at them both expectantly, she couldn’t very well hesitate and give herself away, now could she?
Stepping up to Jenson, she held up her hand, palm perpendicular to her face.
“Place you palm on mine,” she mumbled.
“Gladly,” he said, his smile bright as the sun.
He pressed his fingertips against hers, and as the music started up, Jasmina showed him the few turns they had to make, before he was to take her in his arms and parade her across the floor in a perfect circle. As Jenson wrapped his strong arms around her, Jasmina whispered in his ear.
“Could you please not flirt with the wedding planner? It’s in bad taste.”
He dipped her, which wasn’t in the protocol.
“Jealous, are we?” he asked, his face an inch from hers.
Jasmina could hardly breathe, though she was uncertain if it was due to the pace of the dance, or something else she didn’t want to address. His cologne was intoxicating, the warmth of him seeping into her skin.
“Hardly. Also, you aren’t meant to dip me there.”
“Well, your ancestor changed the traditions of your country just by having a lot of friends. Why don’t we make a few of our own changes?”
“Because tradition matters, and I’m not about to go changing thousands of years of history just because you think you can seduce me with your false charms.”
“Who says my charms are false?” he asked, mock-wounded.
Jasmina cast a sideways glance at Desi, who held a hand over her heart, clearly moved by their performance. At least their façade was working, Jasmina thought, finishing up the dance as the song came to an end.
“Yes, well. I’m sure we’ll get it perfect in time for the big day. Shall we move on?” Jasmina asked, desperate for any activity that didn’t involve being in Jenson’s arms.
“Of course, right this way,” Desi said, stepping from the room.