“Why would I joke?” he said with a shrug. “If you mess it up, it’s my oldest and smallest plane. I’ll just get a new one.”
Snorting, her smile still wide, she mocked him.“‘I’ll just get a new one.’”
Grinning, he sighed, “Airplanes. They just don’t seem to make them like they used to anymore.”
“I can guarantee that no one will make one like the one I make,” she said, full of herself, and seeing the confidence on her made his grin stretch wider.
She had earned every ounce of cockiness she possessed.
Like her, the vehicle that she had built for him surpassed every one of his impossible standards.
Her work, her mind and her body were all exceptional.
All of that aside, however, they still needed to get their stories straight before they touched down in Hayat.
A frown coming to his brow along with the thought, Jag leaned forward in his seat.
“You’ve reminded me that even for an engineering genius there are still matters we should discuss before arriving in Hayat.”
Teasing at his new seriousness, Rita leaned forward, bringing her elbows to her knees, her eyes direct on Jag’s, and said, “Lay it on me, Prince Jahangir.”
Across the aisle from her, Jag grimaced. “Save me from Americans...” he muttered to himself, before he said, “Well, for starters, you will not be calling me Jahangir.”
The name left a bad taste in his throat every time he said it, each syllable a reminder that his father saw him not as a human being, but as a prized possession. His name had been a reward to a favored lackey, evidence from before he was even born that to his father, Jag’s entire life was nothing more than an accessory to his power.
Rita frowned. “What should I call you then?” she asked.
“My friends call me Jag,” he said gruffly.
A slow smile spread across her face, mischief lighting her eyes as she asked, “Does that mean we’re friends now?”
Snorting, he said, “Absolutely not. We’re married. Friends is the last thing we are.”
Smile not budging an inch, she slyly retorted, “Whatever you say...Jag...” emphasizing and lengthening his short moniker.
Or at least that’s what it sounded like to him, though in reality, it was probably only her teasing and forward nature unable to resist an opportunity to needle.
He may not know his wife well yet, but he had become quite familiar with those elements of her personality in the time they’d known each other.
Regardless of intent, however, he liked the sound of it more than he probably should have.
He would need to be careful around the woman he had just married.
She was forbidden territory, and recalling that he really did have serious things he wanted to go over with her, he attempted to steer the conversation back to them and far from the threat her open and easy nature presented. “Now that we’ve settled that, we can move on to more important things.”
Clearly starting to enjoy herself, Rita leaned in even closer. “Is there really anything more important than what I should call you? Maybe your birthday?” She tapped her finger to her chin in thought.
“October twenty-ninth,” he snapped, continuing, “I will have a dossier drawn up for you with pertinent biological and preferential details later.”
“Ooh, a dossier,” she said, mocking his stiffness and formality in a way that he refused to smile at.
There were serious matters to discuss. Holding back his grin with effort, he said, “While we will have some time before the public finds out about you, and while I have been assured that my people will adore any bride I bring to them, we still must have a story to tell them. Obviously, we will limit and minimize your public role as Crown Princess for the tenure of our agreement. You’re quite occupied with your work, I’m sure, and there is no need to get the people attached to a temporary figurehead. While our ruse serves many purposes, I am committed to ensuring that it does not negatively impact the people of Hayat. In fact, beyond providing them with something fun to write about in the tabloids, this arrangement should not affect them.”
“Admirable,” Rita said sarcastically.
“What?” he asked, giving her a look. He only raised normal considerations for a monarch.
“Nothing. Go on.” She gave him a “carry on” gesture with her hand that he had the most infantile urge to ignore simply on principle,and he would have, had the continuation of their conversation not been necessary.