Saving the Sheikh (The Legacy Collection) (18 page)

“Something’s not right here. I have a feeling that Rachid is in danger.”

Dominic cursed and said, “Are you sure you don’t simply want to get the hell out? Say the word and we’ll make it happen.”

And he would.

Zhang wasn’t the type of person to hug anyone, but had Dominic been in the same room with her, she might have made an exception in his case. Like her, he’d fought for everything he had and it’d given him a tough exterior.

They were both discovering the same lesson: No one spent their last moments of life tallying the worth of their possessions. What mattered in the end was if you loved and were loved – and how that experience shaped your actions.

Dominic was a better person since he’d met his new wife.

I want that.
“Rachid and I will marry tomorrow, Dom. We’re going to have a long and happy life together.”
I’m willing to risk everything for a chance at that.

Dominic said, “Not if Rachid discovers what you’re up to.”

Zhang tapped her nails impatiently on the back of the phone. “Your concern is touching, Dominic, but I just need to know if you’re in.”

“Let’s see. Extremely covert, highly illegal, potentially explosive – do you really have to ask? Of course I’m in.” He was quiet for a moment. “Jeremy is working with an image consultant. I’ll tell him that attending this wedding is part of his education. He may have to bring a date, though.”

“That’s fine. The more people who come, the better. We’ll need the distraction to make this work. Do you think we should involve Jake?”

“No, he’d never go for this. Trust me, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

Zhang released a breath she’d unconsciously been holding. “Dominic, I’ll owe you for this.”

Dominic said, “No, you won’t. You’re a good friend to my wife. That goes a long way with me.” He cleared his throat and said, “I’d like to see you happy, Zhang.”

His words made Zhang want to laugh and cry at the same time. “Me too,” she said softly and hung up.

Me too.

Rachid met with the head of the Royal Guardsmen, Marshid. “The house will be full of guests this weekend and the family will be focused on the festivities.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I want extra security on my father. Two guards at all times and I want them rotated. All of our resources will be directed toward protecting the rest of the royal family and our guests. I will also need you to relax the security around me. For this to work, I will require times when I am unprotected.”

Marshid frowned in question. “Sir?”

“There is a traitor among us and I am going to draw him out. I’ll announce at the wedding that I’m moving up the date of my coronation
.
That news, with the cover of the wedding, should provide enough of an opportunity for someone to take action if they are going to. Trust no one.”

“Are you suggesting it could be one of the Royal Guardsmen?” the man was offended.

“I don’t know who it is, but I’m betting my life that we can figure it out in time.”

“That’s a dangerous plan, sir.”

“Someone is threatening my family and they’re doing it from inside the palace. They could easily slay us all while we sleep. This way, the only life that’s risked is mine. Just make sure that if I die, you catch the bastard who did it.”

Marshid stood taller and looked Rachid directly in the eyes. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Zhang was navigating the maze of hallways that led back to the women’s quarters when Rachid’s younger brother, Ghalil, appeared. He was walking in the other direction and looked like he might pass her without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, but at the last moment he stopped and glared down at her. “Your audacity amazes me.”

Zhang kept her expression polite. “Does it?” she asked blandly.

“Yes, I find it amazing that you are willing to marry my brother when it is obvious that the people of Najriad don’t want you. You should leave before someone gets hurt.”

Magma-like fury that had been building finally found an outlet. Had Ghalil known Zhang better he would have backed away from her small smile and soft tone – both indicators of a deadly calm before a storm. “I find your complete lack of loyalty to your brother equally amazing, and only a coward confronts a woman when he thinks she’s alone and vulnerable.” Ghalil opened his mouth to say something but Zhang leaned closer and snarled, “Your mistake is that I’m not vulnerable, and if you’d like to test the truth of my words lay a hand on me and see how long you keep it. I don’t require the protection of your guardsmen, but you may if you’re not careful.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Ghalil’s voice rose with anger. “I could have you thrown in prison.”

Zhang’s lips curled derisively. “I’d love to see you try. Go tell your father that when you attempted to scare one of the women under his protection, she didn’t cower like you’d hoped. I’m sure he’ll take that news well. Or better yet, complain to Rachid if you’re feeling brave today.”

Shaking with anger, Zhang didn’t notice the head of the Royal Guardsmen approach until he spoke behind Ghalil. “Are you lost, Miss Yajun? Would you like me to escort you anywhere?”

His expression revealed he’d heard at least part of the conversation and didn’t approve of how the young prince was behaving. Zhang nodded and gracefully accepted his offer of assistance. The flush on Ghalil’s face hinted that he had more to say, and Zhang was positive she didn’t want to hear it. “I was returning to my room,” she answered.

She walked beside the guard down the hallway and into an area of the palace Ghalil would never follow. At her door, she let out a shaky breath and said, “Thank you.”

The guard bowed slightly.

Before opening the door behind her, Zhang asked, “Is he right? Are the people unhappy with me?”

The man answered slowly, seeming to choose his words with care. “They don’t know you, but you will have time to rectify that.”

“Will I?” Zhang asked. “I get the feeling that there is more than a wedding going on at the palace this weekend.”

“Your safety isn’t threatened,” the guard answered obliquely.

“I’m not worried about me. I have resources, even locally, that could be useful if I knew what was going on.”

The guard didn’t blink.

Zhang said, “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” When he still said nothing, Zhang added, “I appreciate your loyalty, but you need to know one thing.”

He met her eyes.

“If Rachid is in danger, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. Don’t stand in my way.”

A glimmer of approval shone in what was otherwise a carefully expressionless face. With a completely noncommittal bow, the guard excused himself.

Rachid, what kind of trouble are you in?

When I said I’d fight for you, I was speaking figuratively.

I really have to watch how I phrase things.

Why do fairy tales always make it look easy?

All Snow White had to do was take a long nap.

I’m probably going to get killed trying to save my prince.

Unexpected humor tickled her as Zhang entered her suite and slid off her shoes.

There’s my next career if this doesn’t work out – children’s books.

Fairy Tales From the Edge, by Princess Zhang bin Amir al Hantan.

Each book would come with one of those adorable, elaborately dressed dolls, but when a child pulled the string coming out of its back, instead of spouting sweet phrases it would say, “Don’t fuck with my happy ending.”

 That evening, Zhang served tea to her mother in the lavish sitting room of the suite the king had designated for her parents. Her mother was dressed in formfitting long-sleeved rose qipao. The collar was buttoned and embroidered with blue flowers. The silk dress was accented beautifully by an embroidered sash that crossed the bodice at an angle.

Conversation hadn’t come easily to the two women since Zhang had left Xin. In Mandarin, Zhang asked, “Do you have everything you need?”

Her mother made a delicately displeased face and said, “The tea is British. You should have warned me.”

Zhang breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother had chosen a safe topic. Her criticisms were harmless in general. Zhang doubted her mother knew how to give a compliment. Critiquing the choice of tea was practically an olive branch as far as Zhang was concerned. “I’ll have one of the staff locate some green tea. I’m sure they have it.”

Her mother took another sip. “I met the king. He seemed pleasant. A bit fat.”

Zhang bit her lip to conceal the smile that almost spread across her face. Sometimes it was not a bad thing that her mother refused to learn English.

“Your father told me that we will be attending a henna party.” A hint of distaste flitted across her face. “Isn’t that when people put temporary tattoos on? I hope your friends don’t have an allergic reaction to it.”

Zhang choked on her tea. Her mother was planning on being there? “I didn’t think you’d want to attend the party today. I thought you’d want to rest.”

Her mother’s eyes burned into hers. “I was told all female members of the family were invited. Rachid’s grandmother is attending. Do you not want me there?”

Why do I always feel like I’m navigating a minefield when I talk to her?

“Of course I want you there.”

Liar, liar. . .

Putting her cup down, her mother said, “Tomorrow you join your husband’s family. I used to think that was the saddest part of having a daughter.” When Zhang started to say something, her mother smoothed the skirt of her dress and said, “It’s not.”

Oh, boy, here it comes.

“Sad is when you lose your daughter before marriage.” Her mother drove her words home by meeting her daughter’s eyes as she said, “I do hope you enjoy your new family more than you did ours.”

Instant tears clogged Zhang’s throat. “Mother . . .”

Chin held high with pride, her mother said, “Please don’t deny it, Zhang. I was never the mother you wanted. Never good enough for you. If it weren’t for your father, I doubt you would have included me in this weekend at all.”

Zhang couldn’t deny the truth in her mother’s accusation, although it wasn’t because she didn’t think her mother was good enough. Quite the reverse. She sought a conciliatory approach. “Father says we are too much alike to get along.”

A delicate, skeptical eyebrow rose on her mother’s face.

Zhang added, “I’m stubborn to a fault.”

Her mother agreed. “And outspoken to the point of rudeness.”

Zhang continued, “I could pick a fight with Ghandi.”

Her mother smiled ever so faintly and said, “You could.”

Zhang grinned. “And win.”

Her mother shook her head in disapproval but said, “You probably would.”

Zhang deliberately added, “You’d do the same.”

For just a heartbeat their differences faded into the background. “I might.”

Zhang stopped herself from reaching out to touch her mother as she said, “I know I’m not the daughter you wanted, but you’re wrong about some things. You were a very good mother and I wanted to want the things you did. If I could have, I would have stayed with Xin and made you proud of me, but I needed something else.”

“Something better?” Although the question was issued in a harsh tone, Zhang heard the hurt.

“No.” Leaning forward, Zhang willed her mother to understand. “Just different.”

Neither woman spoke for a moment. Then her mother gestured to the room with one hand and said, “Well, this place is certainly different. Your prince is a handsome man, for a foreigner.”

Zhang nodded.

Her mother stood. “Let’s go to this henna party. My hands could do with some decoration.”

Amazed and feeling somewhat hopeful, Zhang asked, “You’re going to let someone tattoo you?”

Completely straight-faced, her mother asked, “You think you’re the only one with a wild side?”

Zhang laughed until a lone tear ran down her face. She joined her mother near the door and said, “I pick and choose which traditions I follow. Tomorrow, I’ll join Rachid’s family, but only on the condition that you and Father are welcome to live here as well. We may have our issues, but you never lost me and you never will.”

Her mother waited for Zhang to open the door for her and countered, “We? I don’t have issues,” but there was a twinkle in her eyes that Zhang hadn’t seen in many, many years.

Zhang bowed respectfully, smiling at the floor. “Of course not, Mother.”

As they stepped into the hallway, her mother asked, “Are you sure you want to wear that dress tonight?”

Zhang looked down at the green silk qipao that Hadia had given her for the evening. It was less ornate than her mother’s but was an exquisitely made piece of Chinese formal wear. She knew her mother loved her choice and therefore wasn’t bothered by her question. There was relief in returning to normal. Parts of their relationship would always be comfortably uncomfortable.

And that’s okay.

On the first floor of the palace, Rachid’s bachelor party was underway. Despite the Egyptian pop musician that played in the background and the smoke haze of the Behike cigars the men were smoking, the mood remained relatively serious. King Amir and Zhang’s father had retired to another room, claiming they didn’t want to slow the younger men down. Since alcohol and female dancers were not an option, Rachid doubted there would be very much difference between the level of excitement with or without the two fathers.

Rachid asked, “Dominic, how does it look for China next week?”

Dominic took a puff of his cigar and studied his old friend before answering. “Everything is on schedule.” Another puff and he asked casually, “I’d rather discuss why you decided to partner with Andrade Solutions when you needed an innovative product for Proximus.”

Jeremy, the man Dominic had requested attend the wedding for “socialization” purposes, entered the conversation with complete disregard for the tension in Dominic’s voice. “Andrade Solutions is cutting-edge. They are designing atomic-scale wires that will blow the roof off of how many transistors can be squeezed onto an integrated circuit. That’s going to seriously shrink the size of supercomputers.”