“She was thoroughly vetted,” he says. “As you can imagine. I just wanted to see for myself that she wasn’t a threat.”
“And?”
“And I think she’s far too lovely for your ugly ass, but I have no concerns. Although, she’ll be observed closely, because a beautiful face hides a multitude of sins.”
I stare out over the ocean, while the waiter brushes the crumbs from the table. It’s inviting today—perfect for a swim off the boat. Although on the open sea, the calm surface can be deceiving. I glance at Ahmad when the waiter steps away. “Close observation doesn’t involve your hands—or your dick for that matter, Your Highness.”
“Be careful, Gray. Your weakness is showing.”
“Don’t be fooled. Every time I mention Noura, your eyes send poison darts in my direction. And I’m quite sure she’s not your weakness.”
He nods. “It’s a matter of respect, not just toward her, but toward me too. Noura is my queen, not to be sullied by another man.”
“Then we do understand each other.”
He nods curtly, and drinks some water. “It appears that way.”
The fucker can say whatever the hell he wants, but I don’t trust him for a single second. Especially with Delilah.
But there’s no turning back now.
36
Delilah
Italian marble floors, intricately carved ceilings, and gold embellishments adorning every piece of real estate, the sprawling palace is grand, dwarfing even the excess of Versailles. It’s an audacious display of vast wealth and power, especially callous in a country where people are starving. The Amadi royal family is estimated to be worth upward of twenty-one billion dollars.
This is real oil money.
When we arrive at the palace, Gray disappears with the crown prince, and I’m ferreted off to a winding tour that ends in the wing where honored guests stay. Baz remains with Gray, and like on the boat, Trippi shadows me. Our security seems primarily for show. We aren’t allowed to have weapons anywhere in the palace, and even if we were, the four of us would be no match for the small army of soldiers both inside and out.
As we tour, I keep an eye out for Princess Saher, but we don’t go anywhere near the private residences, and she’s nowhere to been found in the common areas. It’s disappointing, but not a surprise.
My room and Gray’s are connected by a sitting room, Fatima, the knowledgeable tour guide, explains. Trippi and Baz have rooms across the hall.
By the time we get into the suite, my belongings have been unpacked and stashed in drawers, cupboards, and a walk-in closet. It feels like a gross invasion of privacy, but because I haven’t brought an entourage of maids and assistants with me, not entirely unexpected.
“This,” Fatima explains, holding up an envelope with a raised seal, “is an invitation from King Khalid. He would like you to join him for light refreshments this evening in his private quarters.”
She doesn’t ask if I can attend, so I assume this is more of a summons than an invitation. Not that I had any intention of begging off. This mission was set in motion by the king. I suspect that he’ll make an effort to help us connect with Saher.
“Will Mr. Wilder also be attending?”
She tilts her head to the side, looking at me curiously. “Of course,” she says in perfect English.
For a moment, I wish Mira was here to answer the myriad questions I have about tonight’s protocol. I hadn’t anticipated refreshments with the king.
There’s a knock from the sitting room, and Fatima answers the door. She speaks to a woman in hushed tones, before shutting and locking the door.
“We have some tea and snacks in the sitting room, if you’d like to relax there.”
“Thank you.” I want to ask if Saher will be joining us this evening, but that wouldn’t be at all prudent.
Fatima hands me a card. “My office is in this wing. I will check with you regularly, but you can also reach me at this number, anytime, day or night. I’m available to answer any questions or concerns you might have while you are with us.”
Fatima is not just a tour guide—she’s our attaché for the trip. I’m sure she can answer questions, but unlike Mira, I have no idea who she reports to, and I can’t trust her.
When I’m alone, I open the envelope and carefully take out the card. But before I’m finished reading, there’s another knock on the sitting room door. I assume it’s a maid, but when I open the door, Gray, in all his gorgeousness, is standing there.
I’m so relieved to see him that in the space of two seconds, I’ve launched myself into his arms and I’m holding on tight. I’m not sure which of us is more surprised by the uncharacteristic impulse, me or him.
But he recovers quickly, holding me tight against him for a few minutes while his lips graze my head tenderly.
When I finally pull away, he eyes me carefully. “I came to tell you that dinner will be brought to our room,” he says. “It’s already been a full day and the king would like to spend some time with us this evening.”
I hold up the invitation. “Fatima, our attaché, mentioned tonight. I was just opening the invitation and trying to decide what to wear. Although, to meet with the king, maybe an abaya and one of the chiffon headscarves I packed would be appropriate.”
Gray nods, still studying my mood. I’m sure he’s thinking about my leap into his arms. I still don’t know what got into me. Gray and all the comfort and safety he provides—that’s what’s gotten into me.
“You’re an American. The abaya isn’t required, but King Khalid will appreciate it. How about jewels? Did you pack some?”
Gray’s checking in with me, and his concern warms my heart. I smile. “Yes. I brought several pieces to choose from. I have a pair of emerald earrings that I think I’ll wear tonight.”
“Choose whatever feels right,” he says quietly, smoothing my hair with his hand. The ends slide between his fingers, while he gauges my reaction. “Why don’t you come sit with me, and we can relax a bit before we shower. Unless you’d like a nap.”
“A nap? Is that a euphemism for something more lively?”
A lecherous smile follows a small snicker. “Shower is a euphemism for something more lively. But I thought you might like to rest first.”
I know we’ll be watched. My most vulnerable moments will be fully on display—perhaps even recorded. Strangers will be aroused by what they see. Perhaps even the crown prince. But I don’t care. Right now, I need Gray and everything he gives me. “You underestimate my stamina.”
Gray reaches behind him, and the lock snicks. “I underestimate nothing,” he says, his eyes burning. “Let’s get you good and dirty, so we can get you clean.”
After we’ve gotten dirty, then clean, we nap for an hour, which doesn’t leave much time to get ready. It also doesn’t leave too much time to stew about whether the princess will be there tonight.
Fatima comes by at the appointed time to shepherd us to King Khalid’s private residence at the opposite end of the palace. Trippi and Baz don’t accompany us, because as the king’s visitors, he’ll personally vouch for our safety. Considering he can’t trust a soul in the place to get a message to his daughter, I’m skeptical about his ability to protect anyone. It’s a farce, like so much else here.