The Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge (15 page)

“But love, as is considered normal between husband and wife?”

“Love is not so easily defined, is it?” She ran a hand over her knee, pushing away an imaginary hair. “Love does not need to burn brightly to exist. It can be a gentle flicker; the warmth of respect and admiration. And certainly Kiral and Melania admire one another. She is an excellent woman and she understands him almost as no one else. As the daughter of a King has a unique insight into a man like my brother.”

“Yeah,” he swallowed. “But that’s a pretty insipid sort of love, isn’t it?”

“It’s not for you or me to say.”

“As his sister, you’re not led to speculate?”

“To what end?” She blinked to break the mesmerizing web of confidence that was building around them. “Kiral will never sway from his course. He has agreed to marry her and so they will marry. It was an agreement entered into many years ago, sanctioned by our parents before we lost them. The marriage will be important to my people. It is as good as done.”

Will nodded pointedly towards the tape recorder, reaching down to turn it on. “And so you’ve been sent to New York collecting ceremonial jewels for the occasion?”

Back on safer ground, Lilah’s face transformed completely. The look of relief was marked. “Yes. An assortment of ancient gems has been on loan to MOMA. Some of them date back several hundred years. They’re beautiful.”

A knock on the door sounded and Lilah startled, sitting back as far as she could in the seat and arranging her features into a mask of untouchable disinterest. It was a fascinating ability she possessed, to switch herself off completely, rendering the sparks of her personality completely extinguished.

A servant entered and began to perform one of the many routine security checks that were undertaken. Lilah was used to them. Though her demeanour remained reserved, she nodded at Will to continue.

“I’ve spent a fair bit of time in Delani. You are absolutely worshipped by your people.”

Her smile was a rebuke. “In your culture, you find it easy to bandy about terms such as worship, forgetting that they carry a sacred implication. I am not worshipped, sir. I am no god.”

Will thought shame-facedly of his Pulitzer. He did not deal in hyperbole. The use of the word had been a slip-up, and he didn’t make slip-ups. “Adored then. Popular.”

“Yes, perhaps.” She cupped her hands around her tea, though it was nearly empty. The warmth was encouraging. “When my parents died, Kiral and I were really taken into the hearts of our people. Even more so than before. He was a young prince and I was still a girl. I think it was a very tragic event that inspired a great sense of nationalistic protectionism towards us.”

He lifted his brows at her definition of the affection. “Your brother is respected. He is revered. Even perhaps feared, a little. But you seem to straddle effortlessly the boundaries of celebrity and royalty. You appear at pop concerts and polo matches, on yachts in the Mediterranean and art galleries, and also opening children’s hospitals or speaking on behalf of causes that are important to you. A google search brings up over sixty one million posts.”

“Does it?” Her cheeks flushed with two perfectly round pink spots. “I had no idea.”

And Will believed it. “To what do you credit your popularity?”

“I told you,” she said softly. “My parents –,”

“No.” He interrupted, earning a sharp look from the security agent. But Will didn’t notice. In that moment, every single bit of him was focused on this woman. “It’s more than that.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ll have to fill in the blanks.”

The security agent moved closer to the table and reached down to clear the princess’s tea. As his fingers curled around the edges of the tray, Will was blasted back into the past by the sight of a tattoo he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Clearly printed on the guard’s wrists were the markings that instantly alerted him to danger:

نحن متساوون

Will felt a flush of adrenalin spike through him, but he didn’t visibly react. He lifted his eyes to Lilah, mentally calculating the closeness of the guard to the princess. He was only two feet from her. Will’s eyes dropped to the man’s waist. He wore a gun. He would probably have a knife somewhere too, and perhaps another concealed weapon.

Will forced himself to lean back in his chair, affecting a pose of total relaxation.

“Madam, you have the prime minister’s wife phoning in ten minutes.” The guard spoke in his own language. Will spoke it fluently.

“Goodness, is that the time?” Lilah responded in kind, her own words soft and almost mythical seeming.

Will’s smile was reassuring. “I won’t be much longer.” He held his body tight like a spring, ready to pounce.

“It’s fine.” She lifted her eyes to the guard. “Thank you.” It was a dismissal and the guard took it as such. He left swiftly, clicking the door behind him.

“Lilah –,”

“You know,” she said with a curious smile, “Most people feel obliged to call me by my title unless they know me very well.”

He was standing, his eyes not leaving her face. His whole body was as stiff as glass. “Where are your things?”

“My ... what things?” She was still smiling, his sudden change in demeanour almost a joke to the princess.

“Where is your room?”

“My room?” Now her smile fell. She stared at him with a frown of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s no time to explain. You’re in danger. I need you to go –,”

“Danger?” She stared at him as though he was deranged. “Me? In danger? Have you not observed for yourself my rather decadent fortress?”

“You are only as safe as those protecting you want you to be,” he foreshadowed darkly. “Grab some clothes.”

“No,” she shook her head, her eyes drawn together in confusion. It began to dawn on Jalilah that perhaps he wasn’t, in fact, joking.

“Damn it, Lilah, if you want to survive you’ll do what I say and you’ll do it now.”

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HE PRINCESS’S FORBIDDEN LOVER
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