by Olivia Gates
“I know that.”
Kamal’s fond expression deepened. “She was never one for luxury, but her work seems to have made her allergic to it. Not to mention her chronic independence issues. The eyes around here must have had her climbing walls. Ya Ullah!” His exclamation made Mohab blink. “I was told you brought cats, but I thought they mistook some other containers for carriers.”
His cats were scurrying to welcome him back, slowing down to a curious, cautious prowl when they found he had company.
Grinning widely, Kamal bent to offer them his hands to sniff. “Four cats! There’s no end to your surprises, Mohab, is there? Wait till my kids find out you have these beauties. You’ll be their favorite uncle.”
The word uncle stabbed him. He was destined not to be anyone’s uncle. Anyone’s anything. Seemed Kamal was still under the misapprehension that he might marry Jala.
Gritting his teeth, he watched his cats show Kamal the same level of instant trust and acceptance they’d shown Jala. Kamal probably felt the same as her to them, too.
Which was another reason he couldn’t be around her brother any longer. “Listen, Kamal...”
Kamal straightened with Mizar in his arms, grinning. “I do want to listen—to just how you did it. I knew you were effective, but this borders on magic.”
And Mohab had enough of all the ambiguity. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Jala, of course. She just called me and told me to start the wedding preparations.”
* * *
For the first time in his life, Mohab was totally in the dark.
Jala had told Kamal she would marry him.
Then, after Kamal had left, she’d called, making him certain he hadn’t been hallucinating. She’d informed him that their “engagement” would be celebrated tomorrow over a family dinner.
He’d demanded to see her before said dinner, but she’d hung up without even a goodbye. He still wondered if he’d only listened to a prerecorded announcement.
Yet he couldn’t care. This was his third, and probably final, chance—and he was not going to squander it this time.
To that end, he’d better get that wild-eyed look under control. Though the tuxedo-clad man who was reflected back at him in the ornate full-length mirror looked suave and polished, his expression was that of a starving wolf.
“I see why you didn’t hear me knock. You’re lost in admiring your own grandeur.”
The soft mockery lashed him, had him swinging around.
Jala.
She’d always been his ideal of femininity, the sum total of his fantasies, but tonight, she’d taken her sorcery to a new level. In an old-gold dress made of ethereal materials that wrapped her every curve to distressing advantage, she was overpowering...even otherworldly.
She headed for the open French doors and stopped with her back to him, contemplating the gardens at night. He approached her as if afraid she’d disappear if he made any sudden moves, and she looked at him over her shoulder with eyes as mysterious as Judar’s night. Her hair sifted in the jasmine-laden night breeze with swishes that strummed his every nerve.
“You said you wanted to talk.”
“Since you hung up on me, I didn’t think you registered my request, or thought it not worth consideration.”
“I reconsidered. We need to touch base before we face the combined forces of our families for the first time together.”
He slid his arms around her, crisscrossed them beneath her breasts and pulled her back against his body. This was probably a damaging move right now. But he was beyond holding back. These past three days had been three days beyond the limits of his endurance.
Even though he felt her tense as he bent to breathe her in, she didn’t resist. He went dizzy as the feel and scent and heat of her vitality and femininity eddied in his arteries.
“I thought I’d never see you again. Jala, habibati...”
He turned her in his arms and captured her lips with all his pent-up hunger and frustration.
Feeling her luscious mouth open beneath his, having his lungs fill with intoxication as she gasped a scorching gust of passion, tore aside any semblance of moderation. Bypassing all preliminaries, he plunged into her depths, his tongue dueling with hers as he squeezed her against him, his hands kneading down her body to bunch up the chiffon layers of her skirt and seek the sizzling velvet of her flesh. He dipped beneath the lace, cupping the perfection of her buttocks.
She tore her lips from his. “This isn’t why I’m here...”
Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly let her go. If their engagement dinner wasn’t less than half an hour away, he would have convinced her otherwise.
It was still with utmost satisfaction that he watched her hands tremble as she smoothed out the disarray created by his passion. “I’m here to explain why I’m doing this.”
“As long as you’ve reconsidered, I don’t care why.”
“You should, because I think you miscalculated.”
Hah. Tell him about it. But she was probably referring to some other miscalculation he was as yet unaware of.
“You think you can curb your uncle and dictate your terms, resolving the crisis without my...participation. And though I commend you for deciding to be forthright at last, even when it was counterproductive to your other purposes, I believe you’re wrong in thinking I’m not necessary to achieve your goal. You’d be right if we were talking about someone other than your uncle. But with his track record of paranoia and volatile pride he could still escalate the situation if Saraya’s percentage doesn’t appeal to him, or if he feels slighted, even if it means going to war against you, too.”
“So what are you saying, exactly?” he asked carefully.
“That the marriage solution remains what he’d be most likely to accept, the one that would save him face. If you give him the added deference of being the one who puts his hand in Kamal’s, with both acting as our proxies, his pride would bind him to peace from then on.”
Kamal had been right. She was totally unpredictable. This was the last thing he’d expected her to do.
But there she was, doing exactly what Kamal had said she would. Coming up with a levelheaded and thorough analysis of the situation, based on her knowledge of all the players, and formulating the most workable solution. It again showed him he shouldn’t have tried to manipulate her to seal the deal, should have come clean and hoped she’d make this offer on her own.
He inhaled. “That’s extremely astute. And exceptionally thoughtful of you, to go to the effort of thinking this through so thoroughly and then agree to help, even after I tried to maneuver you into doing so under false pretenses.”
Her strong shoulders jerked dismissively, causing her breasts to jiggle slightly and sending another rush of hormones roaring through him.
“Seems the first time is the worst. Then you get used to it.” Before he could swear there’d be no more manipulation, she went on, “So anyway, I am your best bet, as you’ve already figured out, so I’ve decided to pitch in.”
He pulled her back into his arms, meshing their gazes. “Ashkorek, ya jameelati.”
She again pushed out of the circle of his arms. Story of his life from now on, it seemed.
“Don’t thank me yet. I said this is what’s most likely to get your uncle to cooperate, not that it’s certain it will.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t care about the outcome. I only care about your intention.”
She slanted him an unfathomable glance. “You seem to be in an uncaring mood today. Or is this your usual state? Probably.” Another shoulder jerk. Another surge of lust. “You should start practicing caring. Being a king is quite a bit different from being a terminator.”
“If anyone can teach me to care, it’s you.
As my queen.”
Her gaze wavered. Was that...vulnerability?
Next split second it was gone, making him wonder if he’d even seen it.
“So about tonight...” she began.
No comment? Since she didn’t intend to be his queen?
“What about it?”
“My sisters-in-law must have told my brothers their deductions about our relationship, based on your famous phone striptease session. Or, if by some miracle they managed some discretion, everyone must know by now that we’re not strangers to each other. So how do you intend to play this in front of my family and yours?”
He raised her hands to his lips. “I intend to show everyone how proud I am to be your intended, that this was a hope I had harbored since I first saw you.”
She withdrew her hands. “No need to go overboard, or you’ll only make them suspicious.”
She didn’t believe him. Maybe because his statement was untrue. He hadn’t thought of marriage in the years he’d craved her from afar, since he’d never thought marriage was in the cards for him at all. Even when he’d proposed, he had no picture of how marriage would fit into his existence.
But now, with the turn his life had taken, everything was different. Although he’d initially come here unclear about what he wanted, beyond the fact that he wanted her with a hunger that continued to consume him, he now wanted everything he could possibly have with her.
Her own stance seemed to be unchanged, though.
He had to hear her spell it out. “So your original agreement stands, as is?”
He held his breath. Hoping against hope...
Then she breathed, “Yes.”
Eight
As soon as Mohab entered the expansive dining room in the king’s quarters with Jala, the nine people seated at one end of the gigantic table stood up and clapped.
Mohab saw only one person. Najeeb.
Heat shot to his head. What was he doing here?
As per Jala’s mandate, only the people necessary to the peace efforts should have been present. That had meant Kamal and his queen, Mohab’s uncle and his queen and him and Jala.
He’d wholeheartedly welcomed that, had been enormously relieved when his uncle had begged off attending on account of illness. But to support Mohab’s bid for the “incomparable Jala’s” hand, King Hassan had promised to send her a priceless set of jewelry from Saraya’s royal treasury.
It had been the ultimate irony to hear his uncle speaking in such glowing terms of the woman he’d once gone to dishonorable lengths to ensure didn’t sully his royal family. Now that she was the princess of Judar, Hassan was embarrassingly eager to have her blood mingle with that of his family.
But Mohab had relaxed prematurely about tonight. King Hassan had sent Najeeb in his stead. Najeeb had also brought Jawad and Haroon, his second-oldest brothers among nine full and half siblings. But it was Najeeb’s presence alone that disturbed Mohab. He’d avoided Najeeb for years, for every reason there was. A face-to-face with him, now of all times, topped the list of his least-favorite surprises ever. And he’d had some doozies in his time.
“Fi seh’hut al aroosain.” Kamal raised a crystal glass filled with burgundy liquid, no doubt Judar’s famous date wine, toasting the health of the bride-and groom-to-be.
Everybody raised their glasses and voices in salute, smiles of pleasure coating all faces. All faces but Najeeb’s.
He didn’t approve of this.
“So I had to do something as drastic as get engaged to end the Aal Masoods’ and Aal Ghaanems’ centuries-old theatrics, you testosterone-overdosed cavemen?”
General laughter rose in answer to Jala’s humorous admonition as she smoothly unspooled from his loose embrace and entered the circle of welcome that opened for her. She was at once enfolded into the love and delight of her brothers and their wives. He envied them her readiness to go into their arms, to receive and return their kisses, to exchange smiles with them that were unmarred by the past.
Then she turned to his cousins, and his envy became resentment. Watching her bestow ease and humor on them actually hurt when he’d gotten nothing that approached either from her. When it brought back how it had felt to be inundated in both. It didn’t help that those two hulking buffoons were totally enthralled as this magical creature welcomed them as friends and future family members.
Then it was Najeeb’s turn.
He watched them approach each other with all the trepidation of someone watching a collision, one that would pulverize him. The hesitation of the long absence and the uncertainty of the other’s reception evaporated with every step until they met halfway. Then she reached out both hands to him and he clasped them in his with just as much eagerness. But it was the tenderness on both their faces as their tentative smiles blossomed that had jealousy surging through him like a geyser. He felt that if he opened his mouth right now, he’d scorch the whole room.
He had no idea what he said to Jala’s family as they gathered around to congratulate him. All he could see was Najeeb’s head bent close to Jala’s, making his blood boil.
“Take it easy, Mohab, or the guy might drop dead.”
That was Shehab. Mohab curbed an imprecation as he tore his gaze away from Najeeb to look at Shehab. The man’s black eyes were dancing with mischief, having evidently documented Mohab’s reaction to Najeeb and Jala’s reunion.
Another surge of savagery coursed in his blood. “Right now, I’m not sure that would be a bad thing.”
Shehab chuckled, looking very pleased with Mohab’s response. “If Najeeb drops dead, Jawad won’t be far behind. He’d jump out of his fighter jet without a parachute if he found himself the crown prince of Saraya. Only Najeeb, in his endless wisdom and stamina, can deal with your uncle.”
Mohab almost bared his teeth at Shehab. Hearing about Najeeb’s endless wisdom—and stamina—was more fuel to his fire.
“And don’t be too hard on Najeeb. It’s only expected that any man would turn into a slobbering fool around Jala.”
Mohab forced a smile to his taut face. “You trying to make me go rearrange my little cousin’s face, and spend the rest of my engagement night in your little brother’s dungeon?”
Shehab guffawed this time, definitely delighted with Mohab’s vehemence, which he no doubt considered revealed the depth of his involvement with his sister. “Wouldn’t that be a far more memorable engagement night than this inane dinner you and your fiancée imposed on us?”
Farah, Shehab’s wife, turned to her husband, emerald eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What am I missing?”
Shehab scooped her to his side, his smile so bedeviling Mohab considered manually wiping it off his face. “Mohab here is so head over heels with Jala, he’s having a male aggression crisis just watching her greet an old friend.”
Farah waved her hand dismissingly. “Najeeb is a really old friend.” Then she started recounting the story of Jala’s and Najeeb’s friendship.
Mohab suffered all he could before interjecting, “I already know all that. I was there the first time they met.” When she looked confused, he explained further. “I was the one who led the extraction team and ended the hostage crisis.”
Delight surged on Farah’s face. “Oh, you’re her knight in black-ops armor! How unbelievably romantic that after saving her life all these years ago, you’d reenter it as her prince charming!”
“That even tops the way we met, ya rohi.” Shehab gazed down at her with such indulgence, Mohab made a mental note to check his blood sugar as soon as he left their company.
Farah poked Shehab in equal adoration. “You mean when you set me up?” Mohab wanted to scoff “you, too?” as Farah turned to him with a mock-stern expression. “This perfect husband you see now first approached me swathed in Tuareg garb and masqueraded as someone else to seduce
me into marrying him, thinking I was the former king of Zohayd’s illegitimate daughter, all in the name of keeping Judar’s peace.”
Mohab couldn’t hold back his scoff this time. It seemed seducing a woman for their kingdom’s sake, then falling for her was an epidemic among the princes in this region.
“Let’s get this engagement party under way, people,” Kamal called out. “We’re all experts at talking while eating.”
As voices rose in approval and everyone moved back to the splendidly laid-out table, Mohab found himself surrounded by Jala’s family while she was assimilated into his.
For the next hour a superb dinner was served, but he could taste none of it. Being separated from Jala and watching her with his cousins, with Najeeb, killed any appetite and any ability to enjoy her family’s company.
At one point, as he stared at the grinning faces of the loving couples around the table, he reached a final conclusion. The Aal Masood family all suffered from toxic levels of happiness, and exposure to them was detrimental to his health. And sanity.
But he could see something besides sickening bliss on their faces. It was the shrewd realization that all was not as it should be with him and Jala. He waited with bated breath for someone to allude to this, but as if to stop their suspicion from becoming conviction, Jala left his cousins and came to stand behind Farooq.
Leaning over her oldest brother, she draped supple arms over his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Can I have my fiancé back now? Cross-examined him to your heart’s content?”
Her arm brushed against him and her hair swished forward, deluging him in her scent. Everything inside him clamored, almost drowning Farooq’s guffaw.
“As if. You’ve got yourself one tight-lipped groom-to-be here. Figures, though, with what he does for a living. But the poor guy barely touched his dinner since he was busy eating you up. I don’t think he even heard most of what we said to him.”
Kamal chuckled. “I bet Mohab’s ideal engagement dinner would have been having you alone somewhere secluded by the sea. I think we only managed to torture him with this dinner.”