Ithnan nodded, the pride in his eyes at odds with his words: "Allow me to apologize in advance if you once more find yourself held prisoner."
***
Once the gates of Ismek palace closed behind them, a man who Ithnan introduced as his security chief met them, armed with a universal handcuff key.
Gwen didn't even have time to rub feeling back into her wrist before he whisked Ithnan away for debriefing, leaving her on the palace steps. A solid-looking middle-aged woman in a headscarf with kind hazel eyes attended Gwen. The maidservant who'd been assigned to her for her visit. The person Gwen had once found crying in her room over a terrible mistake. Shadiah, who'd stolen a priceless, legendary jewel.
Gwen asked to see her father, but Shadiah turned down the corners of her mouth in disapproval and insisted Gwen bathe and change before any official greetings happened.
Gwen didn't bother trying to tell Shadiah her father had seen her Tom the Toad pajamas every day for the past five years. Instead she let herself be swept off to a room she didn't recognize, where two other female servants joined Shadiah in scrubbing the desert from Gwen's pores and scalp, and picking an outfit suitable for her new status.
As their queen. Crap. How was she going to deal?
Her new chamber was even more amazing than her guest one had been, all gold and marble and fragrant, intricately carved wood. Was the painting above the fireplace a Monet? She shook herself. Of course the art was authentic. This was a palace, after all.
From her wardrobe, they picked out a white circle skirt she hardly ever wore, pairing it with a crisp blue jacket that had contrasting white piping running down the lapels. They said the blue matched her eyes. The colors also matched the Zallaqi flag—how convenient. Were they going to force her to go out on the palace balcony with Ithnan and wave to their local subjects? She cringed at the idea.
"Now can I go find my father?" she asked, when they'd finished putting nude pumps on her feet and layering mascara on her lashes.
She missed him and wanted to reassure him, but also had a favor to ask. The pipeline. How was she going to even bring that issue up?
Shadiah frowned at her, so she knew the answer was going to be no. You'd think the woman would be a bit more grateful. But a rhythmic pounding on the chamber door interrupted. The thick carved wood muffled the noise, but Gwen would know the sound of her father yelling anywhere. And her father got what he wanted.
"Let him in," she ordered.
"But Your Majesty—"
"Exactly." She threw back her head. "Your Majesty is giving you an order. Let my father into this room right now."
Shadiah took the hint and pointed at one of the younger women to get moving.
The doors opened to reveal her father. The servants melted out of the room.
Every one of her father's sixty years wore on him like she'd never seen before. Oh sure, he still had his customary expensive—but rumpled—brown suit jacket over Calvin Klein denim. His intelligent blue eyes darted straight to her, but they sagged at the corners.
He rushed to her, throwing his arms around her. "Pumpkin." Hearing his favorite pet name for her brought tears of relief to her eyes. "Pumpkin, I was terrified. I don’t know what I would have done."
She returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. He'd been her rock for as long as she could remember. "I missed you, too."
He held her at arm's length and looked into her eyes with a serious expression. "Did they hurt you? Did anyone hurt you?"
Her father's real question: Did Ithnan hurt you? "You know about the kidnapping?"
He nodded. "You can tell me anything."
"I know." But how was she even going to bring up the topic of the pipeline? Would he consider doing the project in Zallaq, in spite of everything? "No one hurt me. I mean, they tried, but my self-defense class turned out to be a good investment. What do you think about running some free ones at ADV?"
He let out a breath she didn’t know he'd been holding. "Whatever you want. I’m just happy you're okay."
"I have to tell you something." The words rushed out of her. For years, she'd been uncomfortable with how he treated people. And Ithnan was right. She'd been too grateful, too afraid to assert herself with her father. She'd felt like an outsider in his house. But he was her father. Her dad. They were each other's only family. Ithnan had been right. She was not a stranger he'd taken in out of charity. Time she started acting like family instead of a Dickensian orphan.
Pipeline later, she told herself. "I love you, but sometimes loving you is hard."
He winced. "What have I done to you to bring this on?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. You're great to me. What I can't stand is the way you treat other people. Making Ithnan and Walid compete for a contract you've already decided on, making them bring you here and buy you things and treat you like a king... and you're rich."
"They're rich, too," he pointed out.
"The money they spent on you could have gone to infrastructure projects and social programs. Schools and hospitals." She rushed on. "I didn’t tell you how I felt before because I was too grateful to you for rescuing me after Mom died. I participated in the dinners and the trips, and that's on me. I love you, but the way you behave embarrasses me sometimes. I can't deal anymore. I won't. You do what you want, but no more free meals and vacations for me. I pay for myself."
Her father grabbed both her hands and squeezed them like a drowning man. "I can't lose you," he said, sounding drastic. "You're all I have. I love you so much. I made the worst mistake with your mother. I'll do anything. I know you don't feel the same."
Her turn to wince. "What?"
"I'd give up everything I have to hear you call me 'Dad.'"
She bit her lip. "I don't feel worthy of you. Of the fancy cars, the huge house. All the money."
"Pumpkin, I feel the same about you. You're my precious kid. Created by the best and stupidest thing I ever did. How did I get so lucky to have a daughter like you? I wanted to give you all kinds of things because I didn't have them when I was growing up, and I thought you'd like me better if I did. But now I’m losing you anyway."
"You're not losing me. I'm just not going to be around when you take advantage of people, like when you played those two Harvard boys against each other for the marketing position and then hired the Truman College grad."
"They deserved it."
"Their crime was being born rich, which wasn't their fault. I agree they were arrogant, but you could have just told both of them they didn't get the job because they were arrogant instead of leading them on," she told him. "Then you spread the rumor you were looking to outsource your software projects and you let all those companies court your business."
"They could afford it."
"We sat behind the dugout at Wrigley, what, six times? Seven? And ate at Alinea three times, I think," she said, referring to the hottest molecular gastronomy restaurant in Chicago. Which, she had to admit, had blown her mind. Who made a helium balloon you could eat? "How many new computers did those companies send you? It doesn't feel honest. You can buy all those things for yourself."
He twisted his face in a wry smile. "Sometimes I forget I’m not a poor kid anymore, working three part-time jobs to help the family."
Gwen pulled her father over to the couch. "You're doing okay now, you know. Maybe even well enough to start thinking about helping out some underprivileged kids who have to work three part-time jobs to help the family."
He put his hand on top of hers. Just like the day they'd first met. The day of her mother's funeral, when an unknown man in a rumpled brown jacket showed up and changed her life forever. "You're staying here, aren’t you, Pumpkin? Promise me you're not suffering from Stockholm syndrome."
"I haven't decided anything yet. But everyone in Zallaq accepts I'm married to Ithnan. I haven't even thought about the changes in my life." She blew out a breath. "I'm going to have to stay here for a while at least and sort everything out."
It
hnan wanted her to stay, she knew. She had to admit there was more than just attraction between them. Was it worth staying to find out what was going on here? Even if they could make something permanent, did she want to? He came with so many obligations and so much pressure.
Her father interrupted her thoughts. "And you want me to build the pipeline here."
She blinked at him. He knew. She didn’t even have to ask, and he knew. Her heart stuttered.
"Pumpkin, what you want is written all over your face. Your old dad can see it right there." He pointed at her nose.
"Zallaq needs the pipeline. There's this province called Hidd. They suffered a lot under the old ruler, and Ithnan is trying to connect them to the rest of the country. It means a lot, Dad."
He squeezed her hand. "You called me 'Dad.'"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"I've waited sixteen years. Say it again."
"Dad." She shifted in her seat, turning more toward him. He'd always been her protector. Now, when she felt like she needed him the most, they'd be apart. "Will you come visit me lots?"
He made a thoughtful sound. "Don't know if I can afford the airfare and hotel rooms."
"You'll stay in the palace, and you take your own damn plane," she said, her tone flat.
"I'll be here for the pipeline anyway." He gave her a heartening grin. "Say it again."
She returned his smile. "Dad."
***
Her dad hadn't been gone five minutes when she heard a knocking on the door, and a pair of guards, both in paramilitary uniforms, with black guns on their hips, stepped inside. They announced she was to have an audience with the king of Askar, the acting regent of Zallaq.
Crap.
As they marched her through the dark marble halls of the Ismek palace, she wanted Ithnan beside her. His strength, his confidence, his calm. She felt like she could handle anything, if he was with her.
Crap. She wanted to smack her forehead. When had she started feeling that way?
Her escorts left her alone in a room with a pair of ornate golden chairs on a raised platform, both oversized, but one slightly smaller than the other. She found herself standing on a thick silk carpet patterned with intertwined thorns and roses. The walls shone with inlaid mother of pearl, azure tiles, and gold in an exotic pattern. Over the chairs was a high dome decorated with ten-foot-tall Arabic script in gold.
History itself seemed to hang over her head with the grand chandeliers dangling from the four-story ceiling. The Zallaqi throne room. And the smaller of those chairs belonged to her.
Whimpering in a corner wasn't an option, unfortunately. Her self-defense course wasn’t going to help her here, either. Running away seemed like a plan.
Before she found a suitable escape route, two doors opened, one on each side of the hall. From one entered Ithnan, looking gorgeous in a light gray suit that emphasized his wide shoulders.
From the other door came his brother. Walid wore a stunning three-piece suit, every button done up tight. His tie looked like it might cut off his air at any second. A golden pin with the serpent crest of Askar gleamed on his lapel, over his heart.
Seeing them both together—not peering out from behind a potted palm this time—nearly floored her. Not just from the abundance of male pheromones they both broadcasted, but from the unmistakable family resemblance. She would have picked them out as relatives from a soccer team lineup, even if they'd stood on opposite ends with their teammates between them.
The same imperious nose, identical razor commercial jaws. And, of course, those otherworldly eyes.
But Walid looked older than Ithnan by half a decade more than the two years separating them. The silver at his temples, the fans of fine lines at the corners of his eyes. He still struck her as smoldering hot. Did ruling a country weigh more heavily on him than Ithnan?
Ithnan took her hand without taking his gaze from his brother.
In the end, Walid spoke first. "Welcome back, akhi al-sagheer."
She recognized the Arabic phrase from the conversation she'd overheard on the balcony, but had no idea what the words meant. An insult or a term of endearment? From the tone of voice, she couldn't guess.
"I see you spared no time in taking my place." Ithnan looked toward the empty throne.
Walid's eyelids lowered. He crossed his arms over his chest, going defensive, and stayed silent.
"Well, what do you say?" Ithnan's tone was a challenge.
On the other hand, Walid sounded almost bored. "The province of Zallaq has eagerly awaited your return."
Tension heaved beneath the brothers' words. Just like it had on the balcony, an eon ago.
She'd mediated a ton of employee conflicts in her day. Might be time to take this one on.
"Hello, Walid," she said. "Remember me? Gwen Spencer? My dad is Sullivan Devoe. We were supposed to visit you this week, Your Majesty."
Walid nodded acknowledgement. "I have not forgotten you, nor your father. I apologize for your trip's interruption. I should have sent a security escort from Askar. I assure you your abduction would not have happened and you would have remained a free woman."
She felt Ithnan's tension ratchet up. She couldn’t blame him. But maybe she could defuse the situation.
"Zing!" She forced a laugh. "You and your brother have a brutal way of teasing each other. Plus, you both have armies to back up your little jokes."
Walid didn't react openly, but he seemed to back off. "I shall make arrangements for your visit to Askar as soon as you desire."
"No," Ithnan said, putting up a wall.
"I'd like that," she said to Walid. "But I have to say no for now."
Walid cocked an eyebrow in a familiar way—she'd seen the exact gesture before, on Ithnan. "Seems you and your husband have much to discuss."
"True." Not time to deal with that now. Instead, she wanted to know the reason behind what Walid had done over the last four days. "So, you stayed here when you heard about the kidnapping."
"I did."
"Why?"
"To seize the opportunity to usurp my throne," Ithnan nearly spat.
He hadn't been mad at the kidnappers, but he got pissed off at his brother?
Walid shot him an unreadable look. "Why indeed?"
"That's not what he did, mister." She turned to Ithnan. Her new husband. "From what I heard, he kept the country running and reassured everyone that things were business as usual." She'd asked the servants, who'd only said positive things.
"I did not want an unstable province in Askar. Nor would I wish a breakdown of relations between any part of Askar and Ramadi, whose rulers are currently your guests. Calming the fears of the people and assuring them you and your bride would return was a simple matter."
Her heart gave a pained thump. "So you were the one who put out the story we eloped?"
"I cannot apologize enough, Miss Spencer. I could not allow anyone to know the two of you had been abducted. The disappearance of the ruler of this province of Askar would destabilize the region. The story you had eloped meant my brother would return shortly."
A sudden wave of nausea rolled over her. No, she reminded herself. She couldn't blame Walid for her situation. He'd only spread the story he thought was best for the country. He wasn't responsible for the abduction.
"I searched for you with all our resources," Walid told her. "I hoped to find the two of you within the three-day time frame. We contacted the kidnappers, but they refused to take any ransom—"
"Wait." What the hell? "They wouldn’t take a ransom?"
Walid twitched at being cut off, but recovered. "I cannot guess why. Again, no apology I can offer would be enough."
She fought a wall of anger and hurt, and got herself back on track. This was about two countries that might go to war, not about her. "So now you're giving Zallaq back to Ithnan without a fight?"
Walid looked at her like she made zero sense. "He has returned, has he not?"
"What is your game, brother?" Ithnan demanded.
Walid blinked at Ithnan, his lips in a tight line.
"It is time for me to leave," Walid announced, and turned away, heading back the way he had come.
This wasn't going well at all. If something didn't change between Walid and Ithnan today, their relationship would circle the drain, with desperate consequences for the future.
The future. That made her think of...
She turned to Ithnan and raised her voice so Walid could hear. "Who gets Zallaq if something happens to you?"
"Until you produce my child, my brother," Ithnan admitted.
Walid didn't turn back to them, but he stopped and shot over his shoulder, "May you die childless so Askar returns to its former glory."
"Hey." Her sharp syllable echoed off the high ceiling. "Don't be mean."
Walid whirled and stomped back to them. And made stomping look royal. "He likely wishes me the same, as he is my heir."
Ithnan crossed his arms over his chest. "May you have a thousand sons and daughters. I have no desire for Askar."
Walid's brows slammed together. "You do not? But you expanded into Hidd. The country that sheltered you in your youth did not escape your greed."
"I would have burned the place, too," she put in. "Do you know what they did to him there?"
"Gwendolyn." Ithnan said her name like a command. She ignored him.
"Gave him a life of luxury where he did not have to deal with our father," Walid said.
"Nice story your dad told you."
She felt a hand on her shoulder, Ithnan trying to physically hold her back from what she was about to say. "Gwendolyn, enough."
"No." She looked into Ithnan's troubled eyes. He wanted to keep his secrets, to keep his brother from knowing what he was ashamed of. But he didn't see Walid clearly. He saw a clone of his father, the man who had sent him away as a child, not the brother who had kept Zallaq from descending into chaos when he couldn't. "It's not enough. Time for you guys to clear the air. If you won't, I will."
Ithnan set his jaw. But he didn’t try to stop her. Did some part of him want his brother to know the truth?
"Okay, then," she said. "Walid, the sheikh of Hidd took your brother as a hostage to keep your father in line. They treated him like crap. He didn’t have anyone to trust. When tribes from Askar stepped over the border into Hidd, they punished Ithnan. He nearly died trying to escape."
Handcuffed to the Sheikh, Too Page 12