His jaw is square, held tight.
“I came here in good faith, intending to marry you, but the only reason I agreed to that was for the sake of my father. If you don’t bring him here once we are married, then our deal is off.”
His lips lift in a small sign of amusement and despite the warning bells firing in my head, something like desire flares in my gut.
“You do not know me.”
I blink at his deep, gravelled words.
He stands, mirroring my body language, so our faces are only a couple of inches away.
“I am not a man who makes false promises. If we marry and you show yourself to be loyal to me, then your father will come back to Qabid.”
My throat feels hollowed out. “And how exactly do I show my loyalty?”
“By staying out of trouble.”
My stomach twists. “I’m not here to make trouble.”
His eyes bore into mine as though he can read the details of my soul. “I wish I could believe you.” His gaze shifts sideways, a frown on his face as he studies my golden hair. “But despite what you call yourself,” he lifts a hand to my hair, touching the thick ends then tucking them behind my ear. “And despite the fact you look like an American film star, you are in fact a Hassan.”
His warm breath fans my temple. My stomach floods with a rush of adrenaline, hot and urgent.
“And that’s bad?”
“Yes.” His hand shifts from my hair to my chin, propping it so our eyes remain level. I find it hard not to jerk away, mainly because little lightning bolts are flashing beneath my skin. “Your family has been a thorn in my family’s side for a very long time. Our marriage will – I hope – put an end to that.”
My stomach rolls. “Not to put too much pressure on me or anything.”
He doesn’t react. “You will be contacted by people who wish to use you to create difficulties for me. I expect you to report any such contact to me, immediately.”
“And if I don’t?”
A knock sounds at the door. I go to pull away but for a moment he holds his grip, his eyes sparking with mine, then he releases me.
The man from outside steps into the room. “Your highness,” he bows low. “Your next appointment is ready.”
Zahir’s eyes remain trained on me. “They’ll wait.”
The man is perplexed. I feel heat simmering in my veins and a sense of panic threatening to consume me. I take a step towards the door. “That’s fine. We’re done here.”
Zahir looks beyond me. “We are not done. Send my apologies to the President. I will advise you when I’m available next.”
My heart skips a beat. I feel like I should push home my point and leave his office, but there’s a dangerous, drugging fascination throbbing inside my veins and it holds me captive.
“Yes, your highness.” The man bows once more, leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind him.
I can’t help the cynical twist of my lips. “I can see you’re used to being obeyed.”
I find it hard not to stare at him. His size, his strength. I’m reminded for a minute of my inexperience with men. Oh, I’ve dated a few guys, and had one boyfriend you could call ‘serious’, but none of them was anything like this. I don’t like ‘alpha’ males. I like gentle, kind, quiet guys who read and talk about politics and peace protests and want to make the world a better place. This man screams ‘warrior’. I shouldn’t be staring at him as though I’ve developed an insane fascination with what’s beneath that crisp white shirt of his.
“It comes with the job.”
Is that an attempt at a joke? Confused, my eyes dart to his. I wouldn’t have painted him as someone with a sense of humour.
He gestures to the iPad. “If it will set your mind at ease, let’s put a time frame on it.”
Another frisson of surprise bursts the length of my spine. It’s a concession I didn’t expect from a man like him. “A week?”