“Good.”
“I thought men didn’t like clingy women?”
He stopped them in the passageway outside her room and gave her a serious look that melted her right to her toes. “Cling, Princess.”
She choked out a disbelieving laugh as his mouth covered hers in a kiss of unmistakable claiming.
When their mouths separated, he sighed. “I have business of State in Europe. My flight leaves later this morning and I will be in meetings until then.”
“Where in Europe?”
“Germany.”
Her breath caught, but she wasn’t giving in to jealousy. He’d told her to cling. Had he meant it? “Berlin’s Fashion Week is happening right now. I could come with you and write a freelance article. I’m sure I could get into some of the runway shows.”
“If you are sure you can get away from the wedding preparations.” His smile was brilliant.
His reaction left no doubt he wanted Angele to come. This was no grudging acceptance. She’d never be a whiny-clingy type, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant. Zahir wanted to know that no matter how independent she was by nature, that she needed him and would make time to be with him.
“Lou-Belia and your mother have it under control.”
“You have given them full control of the festivities.”
She wasn’t sure if that was an observation or a criticism, but she chose to take it as the former. “You may as well realize that planning social events is not my thing. I’ve got a great attention to detail and can coordinate my life to the Nth degree, but I don’t enjoy poring over guest lists and seating charts.”
He nodded, as if confirming his own thoughts. “It is not a requirement of your position. We have a more than competent event coordination team.”
“I know. The palace event coordinator is pulling his hair out at both our mothers’ overt interference in every detail of the wedding.”
“My mother said you will not allow any one to see the dress you have planned to wear for the formal ceremony?”
“That’s one thing I refuse to compromise on.”
“Mother said
you won’t tell them anymore than that it is white.”
Was he fishing? And was it for his sake, or his mother’s? Angele knew both Lou-Belia and Queen Adara were frustrated by Angele’s secrecy on the matter.
She wasn’t giving in, though. “That’s all they need to know.”
“She said you told her that it would not clash with the traditional couture chosen for the rest of the family and wedding party.”
Angele merely shrugged. If he thought she was giving him any more details than she’d given his mother, he was wrong. No matter how sexy she found him and his interest in their wedding.
Though if he knew her as well as she had come to realize he probably did, he would realize exactly what she planned to wear to speak her vows.
Angele napped on the flight to Germany. The night before hadn’t seen either of them sleeping much, though Zahir didn’t seem affected in the least as he worked in his seat beside her on the private royal jet.
Her morning hadn’t been exactly relaxing, either. Lou-Belia had come close to meltdown when Angele told her she was flying to Germany with Zahir. Angele had spent the remaining hours on wedding preparations, despite the fact someone else could easily have made the calls and decisions she ostensibly made. Ostensibly because all she did was rubber stamp approval plans already put in place by her mother or Queen Adara.
Angele had exactly twenty minutes to pack for the trip. It was a good thing she was used to travel.
They were in the limousine, driving away from the airport, before she realized there was a real possibility Zahir would take her to the chalet in the photos that had prompted her to try to break their contract. She didn’t like that possibility. Not one little bit.
“Where are we staying?”
He named a posh hotel in downtown Berlin.