Page 9 of Royal Pain
Chapter 4
Belinda
My footsteps leading down the hall to the king’s suite seem endless. Or maybe I’m moving in slow motion. One of the two. No mystery. It’s not the interview I’m anxious about. That’s going to be like mining a gold vein. It’s Zan. He hasn’t left my mind since.
It isn’t only his good looks that have kept my attention. It’s an overall impression of the man. Sometimes you meet someone who can’t be put in a familiar category. He’s not just the most delicious eye candy, or a cerebral personality whose thoughts and opinions seem to hold a greater weight. He is both. Mix in the intangibles and you’ve got one glorious man. That’s my twenty-four hour assessment of the prince.
As I approach the imposing man standing guard at the door, he faces me. He’s black as night with muscles that strain the seams of his suit jacket. He looks menacing.
“I’m Belinda Banks. I have an appointment at three with King Mansa and Queen Ayana.”
“Afternoon, miss. May I see your identification?” he says palm up.
Pulling out my press ID and my driver’s license, I pass them over. As he reads them I’m noticing the size of the man’s hands. They’re huge.
“Alright. Just a moment, Ms. Banks,” he says, handing my identification back.
He raps softly on the door and waits. Within fifteen seconds the door swings open, and Zan stands waiting.
“Hello, Belinda. Come in. Please.”
The greeting sounds formal but his eyes are speaking a much more familiar language. I’ve never been looked at so penetratingly. He’s happy to see me. He’s happy to seeme!The fact I’ve been thinking about him almost constantly did nothing to prepare me for this. And there’s not a trace of that other Zan, the winking guy. There’s a slim chance this isn’t just business as usual, and I’ve been on his mind as well.
I almost forgot how stunning his face is. Especially without the mustache. Oh, the mouth may be the most perfect part of him. At least of the parts I’ve been privy to.
As I enter the foyer, the door is shut behind me. And then something unexpected happens. Zan puts his arms on either side and traps me against the back of the door. He leans in close. So close I can smell the soap from his shower.
“What are you doing!?” I whisper yell.
He just chuckles, but stays looming over me, lips inches from mine. “Quit fucking around. Give me a kiss. I want to taste you.”
My hands push against his chest in protest. Correction. Half protest. “No! I’m not going to kiss you here. You’re out of your mind!”
He releases me from the sweet prison of his making. We’re both grinning like idiots.
“Alright. But it’s because you said the wordhere. That means you’ll do it in the right setting.”
I smooth my hair and regroup. “You’re a little too sure of yourself, Prince Zan.”
“Not really, Ms. Banks. My confidence comes from experience. It has nothing to do with vanity. I told you that.”
I huff my retort, because he’s probably telling the truth. Few women have refused his advance. I can’t see that I would be able to either. Damn. I never imagined myself to be a foregone conclusion. But there’s only so much a girl can be expected to resist.
“Come on in. The family’s waiting to meet you.”
Walking into the living room I’m met with an impressive sight. King Mansa and Queen Ayana. Next to where they sit, Zane’s brothers stand. Friendly faces greet me.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Banks. I’m King Mansa, and this is Queen Ayana.”
“Good afternoon, Your Highness. And thank you for the opportunity to interview you and your family. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, sir.”
“I’m Kwai,” Zan’s tall, commanding looking brother says walking toward me with an outstretched hand.
“Nice to meet you, Prince Kwai.”
He keeps ahold of my hand a few beats too many. I break eye contact.
The stern look the king is sending his eldest son hits the target. It’s just a whisper of a message and one everyone including Kwai observes. Even though he turns away, I’d say he doesn’t give a damn.
