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The palace wasn’t that much of a maze. One side seemed residential, and she was going to guess the other was for government business. A large and lush garden, scented by jasmine and other flowers she couldn't begin to name, took up the center of the structures. She headed into it. Trees and awnings shaded the plants, and a fountain splashed merrily in the center. She was amazed at the amount of gilding, the number of columns and arches, the thickness of the rugs scattered inside the rooms and halls like they were nothing. She was used to luxury and wealth, but nothing in Hollywood could compare to this place.
Shouting drew her to the east side of the building. She couldn't resist. She crossed the garden and stopped outside open French doors.
Inside what looked like a conference room, Tarek stood with his arms crossed. The two men she'd seen with him—both in Western ties and suits but also headscarves held on by black ropes of some kind—stood across from him. Four more men sat in the room, arms crossed, three of them in very traditional Arabic robes and one in a rumpled suit. No one looked happy.
Tess didn't want to eavesdrop, but she couldn't look away. Tarek looked every inch a king right now, his back straight and stiff, his chin high, his eyes narrowed as he looked down that hawk nose of his. He'd worn a dark suit today but didn't have on a tie, just a white shirt, open at the neck. She didn't see how the other guys could do anything but follow where he led.
He spoke in careful, stiff English, his voice deceptively quiet. "I do not see how anything will be accomplished at this volume."
The six men around the conference table all started talking again, voices started going up, and one man began jabbing his finger at another. With a single slice of his hand, Tarek silenced them. He pointed to the man in the rumpled suit. "You will speak first. And we will all use English instead of the five dialects of Zahkim. I will not have anyone say they could not understand what was being said."
"Majesty, you have heard the workers’ demands. They are just and fair. Wages must rise and work hours shorten."
One of the men in traditional dress snorted, said something in Arabic, and added in English, "Impossible. You would bankrupt the country."
The man standing next to Sheikh Tarek shook his head. "Nothing is impossible for the Sheikh of Zahkim. We must strive to please His Highness."
Tess couldn't contain a tiny snort. The boot-licking ran strong here.
Tarek arched an eyebrow and glanced around the room. "The strikes must end. Transportation must resume. The protests must end. How do we do this without setting the military upon the people?"
No one spoke. Finally, one of the men standing next to the sheikh cleared his throat. "I think if we had someone to mediate, someone who is not on either side."
Tarek nodded. "Anything else?"
Again, no one answered. Tarek gave a low growl and strode out to the garden, one hand dragging through his short hair. Tess tried to get out of his way and ended up starting to trip. Tarek looked up and grabbed her by the arms. She stood there, caught by him, her heart pounding almost as hard as it had last night. He stared at her, his eyes darkened by pupils blown wide. At last, he put her away from him and back on her feet. He strode toward the fountain, and she followed.
"Sorry—I didn't mean to—"
"Overhear a bunch of idiots?" He threw his hands wide. "I govern a country that is torn between the past and a future no one seems to really want."
She stopped beside him. "This is none of my business, and tell me to go jump off a cliff if you want, but I've dealt with more than a few pricks in Hollywood, and even worse business dicks elsewhere. Why not go looking for some common ground—something they all believe in?"
He turned to stare at her. "One night with me and you think to tell me how to run my country? You have all the solutions?"
Tess fisted one hand and hung onto her temper. "No. I hate to see you losing your cool, that's all. And…that guy in there said it. Maybe you need an outsider’s eyes on this."
He stared at her, eyes slightly narrowed. Her mouth dried. Had she put her foot in it? Butted in where she wasn’t remotely wanted? Her dad had always told her she was too impulsive but Tarek's shoulders relaxed slightly. Tess's mouth started without her.
"Perhaps if they faced a challenge together? Maybe they could be abducted by aliens and have to work as a unit to escape." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug and waved a hand. She'd heard worse pitches before, but not many.
Tarek's mouth twitched. She swore she saw a smile curving his lips before he ran his hand over his mouth and down his beard. Her heart hopped to an uneven beat, and she couldn't stop staring at his mouth and beard and thinking about how they had felt on her last night. Lord, she wanted to stroke that beard and feel his mouth on hers again, but it had been one night. She had no right to ask for more, not when she had another life elsewhere and he was the leader of his country.
Leaning close, he asked, "Where do you suggest we find the space invaders?"
"Oh, I think maybe a woman would be alien enough for that crowd," she muttered.
He shook his head. "I have a difficult time getting all those men in the same room. Add a foreign woman? Anyone but Sheikha Amal would be impossible."
She propped a hand on her hip. "Aren't you sheikh? Ruler and all that? Tell them they have to speak to me, and I will guarantee you I'll get a deal done."
He raised his eyebrows, and she couldn’t quite read the expression. "You are inserting yourself into my country's business. Into matters that do not truly concern you, and into a conversation you may not actually wish to have or enjoy."
Men. She'd been dealing with them since she was a teenager, sitting in on her father's arguments with his record label executives. Crossing her arms, she asked, "Are some of those guys the reason the airport is shut down?"
"And much of the rest of the country, yes."
"Well, then, it does concern me, since I'm the one wanting to use that airport sometime soon. Let me help. I've got a name, if nothing else—the words ‘Tess Angel’ open a lot of doors. Yes, they'll want to pat me on the head and flirt with me, but if nothing else, I'll have them thinking they need to impress me by getting a deal done."
