‘Your country is not mine,’ he said, his tone rife with contempt.
‘It certainly isn’t. In my country—’
‘In Jandara, those who lie do not break bread with each other.’
Joanna glared at him. ‘It isn’t my fault you assumed Jo Bennett was a man.’
‘I don’t recall you attempting to correct that assumption, Miss Bennett.’
Anger overcame her. ‘If I didn’t,’ she said, stepping forward until they were only inches apart, ‘it was because I knew your boss would react exactly the way you are at the prospect of a woman representing Bennettco. No wonder my father’s gotten nowhere all these weeks! Trying to deal with a—tyrant is like—like…’
The rush of words stopped, but it was too late. He smiled slyly as she fell silent.
‘Please, Miss Bennett, don’t stop now. You’ve called Prince Khalil a tyrant, a chauvinist—I can hardly wait to hear what else you think of him.’
What was she doing? She’d come here to further her cause, to succeed in a tricky endeavour and convince Sam that she was capable of carrying her weight at Bennettco, and instead she was alienating the Hawk of the North’s right-hand man with terrifying rapidity. She took a deep breath, let it out, and pasted a smile to her lips.
‘Perhaps—perhaps I got carried away.’
The Prince’s emissary smiled tightly. ‘You may not be given to subtlety but you surely are given to understatement. Referring to m—to the Prince as a dictator is hardly—’
‘I never called him that!’
His brows lifted. ‘But you think it.’
‘Certainly not,’ she said, lying through her teeth. Of course she thought it. If this—this overbearing, arrogant, insolent pig of a man was the Prince’s minister, she could only imagine what the Prince himself must be like. ‘Besides, my opinion of your Prince is no more important than your opinion of me. You and I have lost sight of the facts, Mr Hassan. We are representatives, I of my father, you of Khalil. I doubt if either of them would be pleased if we reported back that we’d cancelled this meeting because we’d gotten off to a bad start.’
Her smile did nothing to erase the scowl from his face. ‘Perhaps we’ll simply tell them the truth, that we cancelled it because I resent having been made a fool of.’
He had a point. Much as she hated to admit it, she had twisted the facts to suit her own needs. She’d lied to him, lied to her father. And if Sam found out…
‘Well?’ She blinked. He was staring at her, his expression as unyielding as stone, his eyes cold. ‘What do you say to that, Miss Bennett?’
‘I say… I say…’ Joanna swallowed hard. Go for broke, she thought, took a deep breath, and did. ‘I say,’ she said, her eyes meeting his, ‘that you have every right to be annoyed.’
His scowl deepened. ‘The start of another bit of trickery?’
Colour flared in Joanna’s face but she pressed on. ‘I admit I may have stretched the facts, but I haven’t lied. I do represent my father. I have his every confidence and I’m fully authorised to act on his behalf. I know you have a problem dealing with me, but—’
But, he thought impatiently, his eyes on her face, but! She was good at suggesting alternatives, this Joanna Bennett. She had insulted him, apologised to him, and now she was doing her best to convince him her father had Jandara’s best interests at heart—but for what reason? Why had Sam Bennett sent her? She kept insisting she was Bennettco’s representative, but what man would be fool enough to believe that?
His gaze moved over her slowly, with an insolence born of command. She kept talking, although her skin took on a rosy flush, and that amused him. Why would a woman like this colour under his gaze? Surely she was not innocent? She was a beauty, though, perhaps more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. What she couldn’t know was that her beauty meant nothing to him. Despite what Joanna Bennett thought she knew of him—or of the man she believed him to be—he had long ago wearied of beautiful faces and bodies that hid empty souls. He preferred his women with strength and character, individuals in their own right, not the pampered lapdogs Western women so often were.
The logical thing to do was to tell her that she and her father had wasted their time, that he was not Hassan but Prince Khalil, that he was not interested in whatever game it was they were playing.
But if he did that, he would not learn what game it was. And that, surely, was vital.
‘I still fail to see why your father sent you to this meeting, Miss Bennett,’ he said sharply, ‘unless he thought you could succeed where others had failed simply through the element of surprise.’
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Joanna blurted, ‘I’m as surprised as you are. I thought you’d be—I thought…’
‘Yes?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What did you think?’
Joanna stared at him. That you’d be a million years old, she thought, that you’d be a wizened old man… His voice. His voice had sounded old on the telephone. Hadn’t it? Maybe not. She could remember little of their conversation except how desperate she’d been to make him commit to this meeting—this meeting that she was on the verge of ruining, unless she used her head.
‘I thought,’ she said carefully, ‘we’d be able to sit down and discuss our differences face to face.’
He smiled tightly. ‘But not man to man.’
‘The bottom line,’ Joanna said, ignoring the taunt, ‘is that we—that is, Prince Khalil and Bennettco—do have differences.’
‘Yes. We do, indeed.’ His voice hardened. ‘Bennettco thinks it can ignore Khalil and deal only with Abu—’
‘Abu Al Zouad is the King of Jandara,’ Joanna said with an icy smile, ‘or has your Prince forgotten that little item?’
‘He is not the King, he is the Sultan,’ Khalil said sharply, ‘and surely not Khalil’s.’
‘Abu is the recognised leader of your country, and he has guaranteed Bennettco the right to mine in the northern mountains.’
Khalil’s smile was wily. ‘If that is the case, why has your father sent you to meet with me?’
‘To talk about what is best for Khalil’s people.’
He laughed, this time with such disdain that it made Joanna’s spine stiffen.
‘You spout nonsense, Miss Bennett. That is hardly the issue we’re here to discuss.’
At least the man was blunt, Joanna thought grimly. ‘Very well, then,’ she said. ‘My father’s sent me to talk about what will most benefit Bennettco—and what will most benefit your Prince, which is why your unwillingness to listen to what I have to say surprises me, Mr Hassan. This meeting is in Khalil’s best interests, but—’
‘Sir?’ They both spun towards the curtained doorway. The head waiter was standing just inside it, smiling nervously. ‘The bill, sir.’
Khalil looked at the silver tray in the man’s hand, then at Joanna. She was right. It would be foolish of him not to find out what tricks her father had up his sleeve, even if it meant enduring her company.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will give you an hour, and not a moment more.’
Joanna nodded. She was afraid to breathe or even to answer for fear this impossible man would change his mind again and walk out.
Khalil nodded, too, as if they had made a pact, then looked towards the waiter.
‘Bring us the meal I ordered,’ he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘Be seated, Miss Bennett.’
Be seated, Joanna thought as she slid into the padded banquette, just like that. No ‘please’, no attempt at courtesy at all. It was ludicrous. He’d already ordered dinner, even though she’d reserved the table. The man was impossible, arrogant and imperious and—
‘So.’ She looked up. He had slid into the booth opposite her and he was watching her intently, his eyes unreadable as they met hers. He sat back, his broad shoulders straining just a bit at the jacket of his suit, and a faint smile touched his mouth. ‘Why don’t you start our meeting by telling me abo
ut the Bennettco project?’
She did, even though she was certain he knew all the details. It would only help her make her case at the end, when it became time to ask him for assurance that he’d not try and hinder the project. She talked through the lemon soup, through the couscous, through the chicken baked with saffron, and finally he held up his hand.
‘Very interesting—but you still haven’t told me why I should permit—why my Prince should permit Bennettco to mine in the mountains?’
‘Well, first of all, the operation will bring money into Jandara. It will—it will…’ Joanna frowned. ‘Permit, Mr Hassan? I don’t think that’s quite the correct word, do you?’
‘English is not my first language, Miss Bennett, but I learned it at quite an early age. “Permit” was the word I intended.’
‘But the decision’s not Khalil’s. It’s Abu’s.’
‘Is it?’ He smiled lazily. ‘If that were completely true, you wouldn’t be here.’ He smiled lazily. ‘You’re concerned that Khalil will interfere with the project, isn’t that right?’
What was the sense in denying it? Joanna shrugged her shoulders.
‘We think he might try, yes.’
‘And have you stopped to consider why he might do that?’
‘Perhaps he hasn’t given enough thought to how much this project will benefit his people.’
The arrogance of the woman! Khalil forced his smile not to waver.
‘He is selfish, you mean?’
Joanna looked up, caught by the man’s tone. He was still smiling, but there was something in that smile that made her wary.
‘Well, perhaps he doesn’t see it that way,’ she said cautiously, ‘but—’
‘But you do, and that’s what matters.’
‘You’re twisting my words, Mr Hassan.’
‘On the contrary. I’m doing my best to get to the heart of your concerns. What else am I to tell him, apart from a warning about his selfishness?’
Joanna stared at him. Was he asking her to be more direct about the bribe money? It galled her to make such an offer but reason seemed to be failing. Sam had warned her that this was the way things were done in this part of the world, but—
‘Don’t lose courage now,’ he said coldly. ‘Be blunt, Miss Bennett. It’s why you came here, remember?’
‘Tell him—tell him we won’t tolerate any harassment of our workers.’
‘I see. You worry he might have them beaten. Or shot.’
There was a lack of emotion in his words, as if having men hurt were an everyday occurrence.
‘We are not “worried” about anything, Mr Hassan,’ she lied, her tone as flat as his. ‘This project will go ahead, no matter what your Prince does. We simply want to encourage Khalil’s co-operation.’
His nostrils dilated. He yearned to take the woman’s slender shoulders in his hands and shake some sense into her.
‘Really?’ he said, and if Joanna had not been so caught up in her own determination to succeed, if she had not already decided that the only thing that would close the deal was the enormous bribe Sam had suggested, she’d have heard the note of warning in that single word. ‘And how are you going to do that, Miss Bennett?’
Joanna gave him a look laced with contempt, then unclasped her evening bag and took out the envelope her father had given her.
‘With this,’ she said bluntly, and slid the envelope across the table towards him.
He bent his head and looked at it. His anger made the words on the paper a meaningless blur but then, what this female Judas was offering didn’t matter. She had accused him of being obstinate, selfish and despotic, and now she had sought to buy him off as if he were a common thief.
‘Well?’ Her voice was impatient. ‘Is it enough?’
Khalil silently counted to ten, first in Arabic, then in English, and then he took the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, the words almost a purr, ‘it is enough. It is more than enough.’
She’d done it! She’d won the co-operation of the infamous Prince Khalil—well, Bennettco’s bribe had won it, which stole away most of the pleasure. Concentrate on the victory, she told herself, on what this will mean to your future…
He rose to his feet. ‘Come, Miss Bennett,’ he said softly.
Joanna looked up. He was holding out his hand and smiling. Or was he? His lips were drawn upwards, but would you really call what she saw on his handsome face a smile?
‘Come?’ she said, smiling back hesitantly. ‘Come where?’
‘We must celebrate our agreement with champagne. But not here. This place is for tourists. I will take you somewhere much more authentic, Joanna.’
Joanna? Joanna’s heart thudded. Don’t go with him, she thought suddenly, don’t go.
‘Joanna?’
That was ridiculous. She had done it, she had closed the deal her father thought couldn’t be closed. What on earth could there possibly be to fear?
Smiling, she got to her feet and gave him her hand.
He led her through the restaurant, pausing only long enough to say something to their waiter, who bowed respectfully all the way to the front door. Outside, the night seemed to have grown darker. He was holding her elbow now, his grip firm, as he led her towards a low-slung sports car at the kerb.
Suddenly, Joanna thought of something.
‘Did you say we were going to have champagne?’
He nodded as he handed her into the car, came around to the driver’s side, then slipped in beside her.
‘Of course. It’s a celebration. Why do you sound surprised?’
Joanna frowned slightly. ‘Well, I’m just—I guess I am surprised. I didn’t think your people drank wine.’
He smiled. ‘Believe me, Joanna,’ he said, ‘you are in for a number of surprises before the evening ends.’
He stepped hard on the accelerator and the car shot into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
EVERYONE Joanna knew had had the same reaction to the news that she was going to Casablanca.
‘Oh,’ they’d sighed, ‘how incredibly romantic!’
Joanna, remembering the wonderful old Humphrey Bogart-Ingrid Bergman movie, had thought so too. But after a week she’d decided that things must have changed a lot since the days of Rick and Ilse. Casablanca was ancient and filled with history, it was beautiful and mysterious, but it was also the economic heart of Morocco which meant that in some ways it was not only prosaic, it was downright dull.
The man beside her, though, was quite another story. She gave him a surreptitious glance from beneath her lashes. There was nothing dull about him. She’d never met a man like him before, which was saying a great deal. The circles in which she travelled had more than their fair share of handsome, interesting men but even in those circles, this man would stand out.
Joanna’s gaze flew over him, taking in the stern profile, the broad sweep of his shoulders, the well-groomed hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. He seemed so urbane, this Mr Hassan, so at home in his well-tailored suit, his pricey car, and yet she could easily imagine him in a very different setting.
Her lashes drooped a little. Yes, she thought, she could see him in her mind’s eye, dressed in long, flowing robes, mounted on a prancing black stallion, racing the wind across the desert under a full moon.
‘You’re so quiet, Miss Bennett.’
Joanna’s eyes flew open. They had stopped at a light and he was looking at her, a little smile on his lips. For some reason, the thought that he’d been watching her without her knowing made her uncomfortable. She sat up straighter, smoothed her hair back from her face, and gave him a polite smile in return.
‘I was just enjoying our drive,’ she said.
She glanced out of the window as the car started forward. They were passing the Place des Nations Unies, deserted at this hour except for a solitary pair of strollers, a man and woman dressed in traditional garb, she walking barely noticeable inches behind
. Like a respectful servant, Joanna thought with a grimace, or a well-trained dog…
‘She is not being obedient, Miss Bennett,’ the man beside her said, ‘she’s simply gawking at the sights.’
Joanna swung towards him. He was looking straight ahead, intent on the road.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘That couple.’ He glanced at her, an insolent smile curled across his mouth. ‘You were thinking the wife was following her husband out of custom, but I assure you, she wasn’t.’
He was right, but what did that matter? Joanna gave him a frigid look.
‘Do you make a habit of reading people’s thoughts, Mr Hassan?’
‘It isn’t difficult to read yours. You seem convinced we classify our women as property in this part of the world.’
She smiled tightly. ‘Your definition, not mine.’
He laughed. ‘A diplomatic response, Joanna—but then, your father would not have sent you on such a delicate mission if he hadn’t been certain of your ability to handle yourself well.’
Some of the tension flowed from Joanna’s posture. He was right. This had been a delicate mission, and she’d carried it off successfully. Let the Hassans and Khalils of this world have their baksheesh and bribes. What did it matter to her? She’d set out to snatch success from the jaws of defeat and she’d done it, despite the arrogant high-handedness of the man next to her.
‘You’re quite right,’ she said pleasantly, folding her hands neatly in her lap and watching as the dimly lit streets spun by, ‘he wouldn’t have.’
‘He has no sons?’
‘No.’ Her smile grew saccharine sweet. ‘I know you must think that makes him quite unfortunate, but—’
‘I suspect it simply makes him all the fonder of you.’ He glanced at her, then looked back to the road. ‘You must be very important to Sam Bennett, not only as vice-president of Bennettco but as the jewel of his heart.’
Joanna looked at him. She was neither, she thought with a little pang, not the vice-president of Bennettco nor even the jewel of her father’s heart. It was Bennettco itself that was his love, it always had been, but now that she’d pulled this off…
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