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She stalked out, leaving Tarek to his ritual second cup of coffee. He studied the gold-rimmed cup and saucer, the silver spoon, and wondered what Tess would think of last night. Should he at least stop by her room to ensure she still considered it to be no more than sex? Had she thought of him this morning? And what did she think of Zahkim?
She had stared out the window of his car the night before, her eyes wide as they drove through the city. The campfires and crowd in the park had drawn her gaze, of course.
He hadn't felt like explaining the strikes and protests—over wages, women’s rights, and his efforts to modernize Zahkim. To some, he was a devil for tearing down the old. To others, he was a relic of the past for not moving fast enough to bring change. He could please no one, it seemed. Not even his grandmother. Well, at least he had not failed Tess Angel last night.
He smiled at the memory of her. If the palace still had a harem, would he have installed Tess there?
He shivered at the thought, spilling his coffee. Dabbing at his trousers with a napkin, he wondered where that idea had come from. He did not wish for a wife. He had no time for such luxury now. Eventually, yes, he would marry to ensure a son to inherit, but now he thought of Tess in his harem and grew hard. The palace did have a wing once used for the sheikh's harem, but his father had converted it to a swimming pool and garden. Perhaps he would show it to her. But that would be all. Last night would not be repeated.
"Do I smell coffee?"
Tess's low, husky voice brought him back to the present. He looked up to see her standing in the doorway. She wore one of the outfits placed in her room for her use, loose trousers and a long tunic, all in turquoise and beaded with silver. Silver sandals glinted on her feet. Her green eyes seemed brighter, and her hair glinted a deep red in the morning sun.
She smoothed her hand down the length of the tunic. "Thanks for the clothes. Am I wearing them properly?"
They've never looked more perfect. "Please join me. Would you like some breakfast?" He poured coffee for her into the spare place setting—extras were always set in case any of his cousins cared to join him.
She sat next to him and pushed her fingers through her hair. "That smells great. And whatever you're having is fine. Should I have my hair covered?"
Not on your life. "In Zahkim, we leave that to personal preference. How do you feel this morning?" He'd already had a report from the maid assigned to her that after he had left Tess, she had slept without trouble.
"Much better, thank you." She smiled and helped herself to the fruit set out on the table. Flatbread, goat cheese, za'atar spice, and fig jam also could be had. She took some of each as if she ate them every day.
Tarek couldn't take his eyes off her. She seemed…unconcerned about last night. As if it really had meant nothing to her. Well, that was good. He kept telling himself that. And kept watching her.
Every motion was fluid. Her hands fluttered, the long fingers elegant and almost dancing as she spread the jam over her bread. Despite his grandmother's belief, he still wouldn't call her an angel. She had nothing of Heaven about her and everything earthy. She was like some desert creation, her hair burnished by the sun. She certainly had burned last night in his arms.
Stop it—she’s not for you. It’s completely irrational.
He cleared his throat. "I've assigned a car and driver to you. Please feel free to visit your pilot at the hospital. When you feel able, you might find our art and history museum interesting and a section of the Amin oasis is a public nature park. I fear I will be too busy to escort you anywhere." He almost winced. He sounded petty and ungracious.
"Thank you. What about the communications problem your grandmother mentioned?"
"Do not let it trouble you." Lifting a hand, Tarek snapped his fingers. At once, a servant appeared with two cardboard boxes.
Tess's eyebrows rose, but she took the boxes and opened the smaller one. A broad smile lit her face. "My phone? It survived."
"It only got a little wet yesterday. It has been dried out and recharged for you. Your computer was destroyed in the crash, but the hard drive was still intact. My people transferred your files onto this laptop."
"Tarek, you're a miracle worker!" She paused and fingered the phone, flipping it over and over on the table. "Sorry I ever doubted you. Uh, about last night. I meant what I said. It was last night and doesn't have to be more than that."
He nodded. "Perfectly understandable. You've landed, so to speak, in a difficult situation. I’m glad I was able to help." He told himself he meant the electronics.
Whispering from the doorway interrupted them and Tarek looked up to see his minister of labor speaking in a hushed but harried tone with yet another minister. Both men hovered outside the breakfast room. They knew Tarek was not to be interrupted until after his second cup of coffee. Tarek pushed out a breath and stood.
"Excuse me. Duty calls."
Tess tried not to listen in on Tarek's heated conversation with the men in the doorway. She didn't understand any of the language, but the gestures and the tones were unmistakable. Something had gone wrong. Badly. She'd been in Hollywood long enough to know when a deal was going south.
She also overheard Tarek mutter in English, "I need a hostage negotiator." And then he and the men headed off. It wasn't anything to do with her, but it bugged her. She owed the sheikh big time, not only for her rescue, Phil's care, and her own, but now for new equipment.
And for last night, which had been amazing.
She made a couple of calls, opened the laptop, and got a few emails out. Riya was more than upset about both the accident and the fact that
Tess wouldn't be able to meet up with her and the other executives of Sharma Entertainment. Tess could hear the stress in Riya's voice and knew the woman needed investment or her company was going under. But Tess couldn't leave Phil, and he took priority. She hung up and sat sipping her cold coffee and thinking about her situation.
What now? Go back to her room? That didn't hold any interest. A servant hovered nearby—one always seemed to be around—and Tess asked if the laptop could be taken to her room. She pocketed her phone and started to wander.
