Page 18 of Seduced By the Sheikh

Zak didn’t wait for her response, because he knew she both wanted to talk then and there, and also be a part of the delegation. But that wouldn’t happen.

But, as he walked away frowning, hands thrust in pockets, he couldn’t rid his mind of how vulnerable Soraiya had looked when he’d found her. He’d never seen her like that and it brought out a desire to protect which had never seen the light of day before. It cut through the superficial attraction and stirred deeper feelings, which had taken him by surprise.

He felt conflicted. On one hand, her business acumen so closely resembled that of his mother’s, which had had devastating consequences for his family. And yet when he’d caught her in a vulnerable moment, he felt as if he’d seen her true self. And that self was anything but manipulative. She was simply a young woman trying hard to do her duty in the best way she knew how. There was only one word to describe that person he’d glimpsed in her moment of vulnerability—honorable. And how could he not trust someone who had honor at the heart of her?

CHAPTER 9

Good, thought Zak as he entered his office the next morning. Everything looked in order. He hadn’t heard anything from his wife. Which didn’t mean Soraiya wasn’t on his mind. She was. And other places, too. Her instinctive sensuality was surprising, to say the least. When he’d first learned he would have to marry the dutiful, and no doubt virginal, daughter of Sheikh Qadir of Ra’nan, it had seemed yet another cross to bear besides relieving his beloved brother from the burdens of kingship. Yet another way in which his life had changed. And then there were the conflicting feelings over whether he could trust her. His mind said no. His heart said yes. And he had little faith in his heart.

“So, Aabid,” he said, as his vizier entered the office looking more harassed than usual, “is everything ready for the French delegation?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. They should be arriving soon.”

“Good.” He looked back at the papers he was reading, but his vizier remained standing in front of him and coughed politely. He looked up. “What is it?”

“There is one small matter which needs attending to.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. He sat back and tapped his pen impatiently on the desk. He didn’t like surprises. He liked things to be orderly, well-scheduled, and planned. Without that, there would be chaos, and he refused to entertain that ever again after his mother’s disastrous influence. “And what’s that?”

“This is, as Your Majesty knows, the first of this type of visit since your mother…” Aabid trailed off delicately. He, alone of the palace advisers, knew what had happened.

“Since my mother robbed us blind and then left.”

His vizier pursed his lips with shame and lowered his eyes. “Your mother…” The vizier licked his lips, as if buying for time to find the right words.

“What, Aabid, is your point?”

“The French, they enjoyed the political banter your mother brought to the table. They had a…” Again Aabid hesitated, as if finding the right words to describe his mother’s qualities was challenging. Zak had to agree. “Rapport, with her. There is no one in the group you have put together for the French discussions who can fill her role, Your Majesty.”

Zak gripped the pen more tightly in his hand and stabbed it into the pile of papers. “I can,” he growled.

His vizier grimaced.

“What?” barked Zak.

“We need Her Highness, Sheikha Soraiya. She has exceptional diplomatic experience. We need her, Your Highness.”

“We do not need her!” Zak said firmly. But even as he ground out the words, he knew it was a lie. He had no experience with this sort of delicate negotiation, and he knew that too much depended on it to rely solely on his limited diplomatic experience. He was well prepared in terms of knowledge, but he knew that trade talks weren’t his strong point. The little he knew of his new wife forced him to the one conclusion he’d been battling. She had the experience and expertise, which he was sorely lacking. He might be risking a repeat of his mother, but his mother had held complete power while his father had been alive. Things were different now. He was in control.

His vizier opened his mouth to speak again, but Zak held up his hand to stop him. It seemed Aabid was beginning to understand that Zak wasn’t his father—dogmatic and cruel—or his mother—ruthless and profligate—and closed his mouth immediately. Zak was also someone who was big enough to change his mind and accept the truth.

“Correction,” Zak said. “I don’t want to need her, but what you say has merit. It’s true, she has the experience and skill set which we don’t presently have.” He nodded, as if convincing himself. “And with my guidance, I will make sure that she doesn’t overstep the mark. Tell her I expect her in the hall to help welcome our guests in one hour, after which she will assist with the rest of the programme.”

He wasn’t happy with his decision, but he couldn’t risk failure of the delegation’s work. His country needed the investments and co-operation the French delegation could deliver. And Zak needed Soraiya.

As he watched his vizier walk away, he wondered if he’d done the right thing. He shrugged and focused once more on the paperwork. There was no point in wondering. He’d soon find out. Besides, if it didn’t work out, at least he’d given Soraiya enough rope to hang herself. She wouldn’t keep on at him if she failed.

Soraiya stood on the grand balcony overlooking the gilded gates of the palace, her gaze as unwavering as the desert sun. Below her, servants scurried like ants preparing for a storm, their voices lost in the courtyard's vastness. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and anticipation. Today, the kingdom’s future would be determined.

There was no way Soraiya could stand by and watch the disaster about to unfold. She knew these people. She knew what was required, and she knew what was at stake for her adopted country. Everything. So when the vizier had called on her earlier and surprised her with a proposal which he hadn’t yet put before the king, she’d instantly agreed. She’d dressed with business in mind and waited in the shadows of a balcony outside the public reception room of the palace, ready to step in when she received word from the vizier. He seemed confident that Zak would see sense in the end. If he didn’t? Well, then, she’d just join him, anyway. She knew Zak wouldn’t dismiss her in public. He would be respectful to her. She knew that much about him from their nights together. And afterwards? She didn’t know, but by then it wouldn’t matter.

Turning from the view, Soraiya reached for the computer tablet on which she’d loaded the intricacies of trade routes and tariffs, of commercial agreements and business proposals. She flicked through summaries she’d made, committing them to memory. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

“Your Highness!”

She turned to see the vizier standing quietly beside her. “Aabid,” she greeted him with a brief smile. “Did your plan succeed?”

He inclined his head. “Indeed.”

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