“Slip away from there?” For a second, my heart triples in beat.
“Precisely, but I must warn you this is a task that you alone must bear. Your chances of survival increase with strangers around. But you may come in contact with Princess Noor.”
“She . . . will . . . help me?” My brow pitches upward as doubt sinks in.
“Wasim’s a bully. Her dagger was just for show. Noor will murder you. She will take your life on sight. She’s the reason you are here. She and that dirty tramp you love.”
Princess Noor and my Vic?“Tell me more,” I ask hesitantly.
Ahmad gets up. The restlessness of defying his sheikh causes the naked, marred dark angel to sulk around with hands on his head. He takes a seat on the plush silk settee across from the bed.
“Al Rafi’s daughter, Princess Noor, can do no wrong—even murder one of her father’s wives. They say she poisoned her very own mother as a child because the woman received more attention than she.”
I suck in a chock-full of air.
“She once was promised to the Sheikh of Tavar. The alliance would’ve benefited our countries. Stopped the war on oil that both lines claim. Tavar is Al Rafi’s worst and closest enemy. Being that money’s involved and Tavarian land borders ours to the west, it came down to signing contracts and negotiating other business ventures. Tavar and Al Rafi struck a deal,” Ahmad says in astonishment. “A few months ago, there was a grand celebration, complete with million-dollar bottles of champagne. Billion-dollar contracts. Included in their treaty was the princess’s virtue.”
I wince. “Noor fooled around with Victor?”
“Heruined her innocence.” Ahmad’s thick, sensual lips sneer. “Noor spoke up before the sheikh signed away substantial portions of her life. To sign and seal a false claim . . .”
“Suicide?” I sigh.Everyone’s out to stab someone in the back.
“Yes. Even Sheikh Al Rafi wouldn’t have been able to save her for entering a union while not a virgin.”
“I get it.” I pat his shoulder. He takes my hand and kisses the silk of my palm. “Ahmad.”
“I know. You are in love with that . . .” Ahmad’s voice trails off. “I will no longer return, Luxury. Your ladies will teach you the culture. Take heed. It will also save your life—if you get to Saudi Arabia. That is, if you decide to please the sheikh and make a run for it. I pray that you go with Allah.”
8
Victor
Saudi Arabia
Ninety-six hours ago, I last laid eyes on my Little One. Since then, I’ve bloody fallen asleep where I fucking stood and only consumed nourishment to survive.
During one of the many press conferences in which my pending marriage with Madeline Elliott went global, I was finally able to slip away and out of the limelight. I bloody damn well swear I’ll kill my mate with my bare hands before I walk down the fucking aisle withher.Madeline’s death will be on her Queen’shands. Still, the public declaration appeased the monarch, aborting her hounds.
Although Burt’s confined to bed at one of my homes, he had my jet readied along with my most extravagant suits. Though I prefer tailored black suits, while I’m here, I need to give the appearance of a lofty billionaire, not the frugal chap I much prefer. I’ve frequented the casinos every night and thrown away hundreds of thousands of dollars for just a glimpse of the sheikh andmylady. In my profession, discretion is always best. Yet within the folds of Saudi Arabia, the flashier the visitors appear, the less attention received.
Although to every advantage, a disadvantage abounds. Now, I have the difficulty of appearing as a frivolous, wealthy man andnotpique any interest with my British accent.
The hotel suite on the 134th floor in which I reside is all white. Triple paneled walls stand at a 180-degree angle. Standing in a royal blue suit, I begrudgingly rip open a protein bar while the call connects to Paul.
“Victor, you wouldn’t believe it!”
“What?” I bark.
“I’ve uncovered Gina Whitson’s murderer!” Excitement blares through the receiver.
I stop swiftly mid first bite, although my abdomen growls in protest.
Upon my and Luxury’s return to my duchy, Burt provided the results of Gina’s diary. That happened to be the day my mother attempted to propose to Madeline Elliott on my behalf. I hadn’t even given Luxury the news.
The results were unquestionable.
The diary was authentic.