Читать книгу Seducing His Princess - Olivia Gates - Страница 8

One

Present day...

“Do you have a death wish?”

Mohab almost laughed out loud. A bitterly amused huff did escape him as he rose to his feet to meet the king of Judar.

What were the odds? That these exact words would be the first thing Kamal Aal Masood said to him when they’d been the last thing the man’s kid sister had flung at Mohab?

Guess it was true what was said about Kamal and Jala. That the two youngest in the Aal Masood sibling quartet could have been identical twins—if they hadn’t been born male and female and twelve years apart. Their resemblance was uncanny.

With the historical enmity between their kingdoms, Mohab had only seen Kamal from afar. He’d last beheld him at the time of his joloos—as he’d sat on the throne, five and a half years ago. Not that Mohab had manipulated his way into Judar that night to see him. Jala had been his only objective. But she hadn’t attended her own brother’s wedding. Yet another thing he’d failed to predict where she was concerned.

Something else he’d failed to predict was how it would feel seeing this guy up close. Kamal looked so much like Jala, it...ached deep in his chest.

It was as if someone had taken Jala and turned her into an older, intimidating male version of herself. They shared the same wealth of raven hair, the same whiskey-colored eyes and the same bone structure. The only differences were those of gender. Kamal’s bronze complexion was shades darker than Jala’s golden flawlessness, and at six foot six, the king of Judar would tower over his sister’s statuesque five-nine, just as he once had. Her big brother was also more than double her size, but they shared the same feline grace and perfect proportions. While all that made her the embodiment of a fairy-tale princess, Kamal was the epitome of a hardened desert raider, exuding limitless power. And exercising it, too.

At forty, Kamal was one of the most influential individuals in the world, and had been so even before his two older brothers had abdicated the throne of Judar to him in a chain reaction of court drama and royal family scandals that still rocked the region and changed its course forever.

Now Kamal’s lupine eyes simmered with the trademark menace famous for intimidating anyone he seared with his gaze. “Anything you find particularly amusing, Aal Ghaanem?”

“Your opening remark revived a memory of another...person mentioning death wishes.” At Kamal’s fierce glower, Mohab’s smile spread. “What? You think I find you, or being escorted here like a prisoner of war, amusing?”

He’d expected worse arriving in Judar, with tensions between Saraya and Judar at a historic high. In fact, just yesterday, his king had all but declared war on Judar during a global broadcast from a UN summit. For Mohab, a prince of Saraya second in rank only to the king and his heirs, to land uninvited on Judarian soil in these fraught times was cause for extreme concern. Especially when said prince also happened to be the former head of Saraya’s secret service. He’d expected to be put on the first flight out of Judar. Or even to be taken into custody.

In a preemptive bluff, he’d asserted he had time-sensitive business with King Kamal and the king would punish whoever detained him. That sent border security officials at the airport scrambling for orders from the royal palace. Mohab had half expected his gamble to fall through, that Kamal would have him kicked out of the kingdom. But within minutes, a dozen of Judar’s finest secret-service men had descended on Mohab, breathing down his neck all the way here.

Apparently they considered him that dangerous. He was flattered, really.

“So you find death wishes a source of amusement? A daredevil by nature, not only by trade, eh? Figures. But aren’t you also supposed to be meticulous and prudent? I thought that’s why you’re still in one piece after all the crazy stunts you’ve pulled. Isn’t it the first thing you’re taught when you’re hatched in Saraya—that Judar doesn’t sustain life for your species?”

His species. The Aal Ghaanems. The Aal Masoods’ mortal enemies. Aih. There was that stumbling block, too.

“So again...do you have a death wish? Don’t you know that, now more than ever, a high-profile Sarayan like you at large in Judar could have been targeted for any level of retribution?”

Mohab flattened a palm over his heart. “I’m touched you’re concerned about keeping me in one piece. But I assure you, I behaved in an exemplary fashion, antagonizing no one.”

“No one but me. Arriving unannounced, terrorizing my subjects, forcing me to drop everything to investigate your incursion. Is this your king’s last hope now that he’s put his foot in his mouth on global feed? Is he afraid I’ll finally knock him off his throne, as I should have long ago? Has he sent his wild card to deal with the crisis...at the root?”

“You think I’m here to...what? Assassinate you?” A huff of incredulity burst from Mohab. “I may be into impossible missions, but I’m not fond of suicidal ones. And I was almost strip-searched for anything that could even make you sneeze.”

Kamal’s laserlike gaze contemplated Mohab’s mocking grin. “From my reports, you can probably take out my royal guard stripped and with both hands tied behind your back.”

“Ah, you flatter me, King Kamal. I’d need one hand to go through them all.”

The other man’s steady gaze told him Kamal believed Mohab was capable of just that—and more—and wasn’t the least bit fooled by his joking tone. “I have records of some true mission-impossible scenarios that you’ve pulled off. If anyone can enter a maximum-security palace with only the clothes on his back and manage to blow it up and walk away without a scratch, it’s you.”

Mohab’s lips twitched. “If you believe I can get away with your murder, why did you agree to see me?”

“Because I’m intrigued.”

“Enough to risk letting such a lethal entity within reach? You must be bored out of your mind being king.”

Kamal exhaled. “You don’t know the half of it—or how good you have it. A prince who is in no danger of finding himself on a throne, a black-ops professional who had the luxury of switching to a freelance career...emphasis on the ‘free’ part.”

“While you’re the king of a minor kingdom you’ve made into a major one, and a revered leader who has limitless power at his fingertips and the most amazing family a man can dream of having.”

“Apart from my incomparable wife and children, I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat.”

Mohab laughed out loud. “The last thing I expected coming here is that I’d be standing with you, in the heart of Aal Masood territory, with us envying each other.”

“In a better world, I would have offered you anything to have your skills at my disposal and you at my side. Too bad we’re on opposite sides with no way to bridge the divide.”

Mohab pounced on the opening. “That’s why I’m here. To offer not only to bridge that divide, but to obliterate it.”

Kamal frowned. “You deal in extractions, containments and cleanups. Why send you to offer political solutions?”

“I’m here on my own initiative because I’m the solution.”

His declaration was met by an empty stare.

Then Kamal drawled, “Strange. You seem quite solid.” Mohab chuckled at Kamal’s unexpected dry-as-tinder wit, drawing a rumble from Kamal. “I have zero tolerance for wastes of time. If you prove to be one, you will spend a few nights as an honored guest in my personal dungeon.”

“Is this a way to talk to the man who can give you Jareer?”

Kamal clamped his arm. “Kaffa monawaraat wa ghomood...enough evasions and ambiguity. Explain, and fast, or...”

“Put down your threats. I am here to mend our kingdoms’ relations, and there’s nothing I want more than to accomplish that as fast as possible.”

“Zain. You have ten minutes.”

“Twenty.” Before Kamal blasted him, Mohab preempted him. “Don’t say fifteen.”

Kamal’s gaze lengthened. “As an only child you missed out on having an older sibling kick your ass in your formative years. I’m close to rectifying your deficiency.”

Mohab grinned. “Think you can take me on, King Kamal?”

“Definitely.”

And Mohab believed it. Kamal wasn’t a pampered royal depending on others’ service and protection. This man was a warrior first and foremost. That he’d chosen to fight in the boardroom and now in the world’s political arenas didn’t mean he wouldn’t be as effective on an actual battlefield.

Before Mohab made a rejoinder, the king turned and crossed his expansive stateroom to the sitting area. Mohab suspected it was to hide a smile so as not to acknowledge this affinity that had sprung up between them.

Kamal resumed speaking as soon as Mohab took a seat across from him. “So why do you think you can give me Jareer...when I already have it, Sheikh Prince Solution?”

A laugh burst out of Mohab’s depths. That clinched it. He didn’t care that other people thought Kamal scary or boorish. To him, the guy was just plain rocking fun.

Kamal’s lips twisted in response, but didn’t lift.

“There is no law prohibiting an Aal Masood from smiling at an Aal Ghaanem, you know.”

Kamal’s lips pursed instead. “I may issue one prohibiting just that. The way you’re going, you might end up making the dispute between Judar and Saraya even more...insoluble.”

Mohab sighed. “So...Jareer, euphemistically referred to as our kingdoms’ contested region...”

“And currently known as our kingdoms’ future war zone,” Kamal finished.

Not if Mohab managed to resolve this.

Jareer used to be under Saraya’s rule. But the past few Sarayan monarchs had had no foresight. They’d centralized everything, neglecting then abandoning outlying regions. Jareer, on the border with Judar, had always been considered useless, because it lacked resources, and traitorous, because its citizens were akin to “enemy sympathizers.” So when Judar had laid claim to Jareer, with its people’s welcome, Mohab’s grandfather, King Othman, had considered it good riddance.

But when Mohab’s uncle, King Hassan, sat on Saraya’s throne, he’d reignited old conflicts with Judar. His favorite crusade had been reclaiming Jareer. Not because he’d suspected its future importance, but to spite the region’s inhabitants—and because he wanted more reasons to fight the Aal Masoods.

Then, two months ago, oil had been discovered in Jareer. Now the situation had evolved from an idle conflict between two monarchs to a struggle over limitless wealth and power. In a war between the two kingdoms, Saraya would be decimated for generations to come.

Only Mohab had the power to stop this catastrophe. Theoretically. There was still the possibility that Kamal would hear his proposition and reward his audacity by throwing him in that personal dungeon before wiping Saraya off the face of the earth.

One thing made Mohab hope this wouldn’t happen. Kamal himself. He was convinced that, though Kamal had every reason to crush Saraya, he would rather not. He hadn’t become one of the greatest kings by being reactionary—or by achieving prosperity for his kingdom at the cost of another kingdom’s destruction.

At least, Mohab hoped he was right. He had read Kamal’s “twin” all wrong once before after all....

“I will be disappointed if, after all this staring at me, you can’t draw me from memory.”

Jarred out of his thoughts by Kamal’s drawl, Mohab blinked at him. “You just remind me of someone so much, it keeps sidetracking me.”

“The same someone who made the death wish comment, eh?”

Not only brilliant, but intuitive, too. Mohab nodded.

“And there I was under the impression I was unique.”

Mohab sighed. “You are...both of you. Two of a kind.”

Kamal sat forward, ire barely contained. “As charmed as I am by all this...nostalgia of yours, I have a date with my wife in an hour, and I’d rather be late for my own funeral than for her. I might make you early for yours if you don’t talk. Fast.”

“All right. I am the rightful heir to Jareer.”

Kamal’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t seen this coming. No one could have.

Mohab explained. “For centuries, Jareer was an independent land, and my mother’s tribe, the Aal Kussaimis, ruled it up till a hundred and fifty years ago. But with my great-great-grandmother marrying an Aal Ghaanem, a treaty was struck with Saraya to annex the region, with terms for autonomy while under Sarayan rule and with provisions for secession if those terms weren’t observed.

“When Jareer found itself on its own again under my grandfather’s rule, it saw no reason to enforce the secession rules, as it was effectively separated from Saraya anyway. Then Judar offered its protection. But in truth, Jareer belongs to neither Judar nor Saraya. It belongs to my maternal tribe. I would have brought you the records of our claim for as far back as a thousand years, but after yesterday’s fiasco, I had to rush to intervene before I could get everything ready. However, rest assured, the claim is heavily documented by the tribe’s elders and historians.”

Kamal blinked as if emerging from a trance. “That’s your solution? Inserting the Aal Kussaimis as preceding claimants? Widening the dispute and adding more fuel to the fire?”

“Actually, I am ending the dispute. The Aal Kussaimis’ claim trumps both the Aal Ghaanems’ and the Aal Masoods’. Any regional or international court would sanction that claim.”

Kamal’s eyes burned with contemplation. “If all this is true, shouldn’t I be talking to the tribe’s elder? Who can’t be you since you’re...how old? Thirty?”

“Thirty-eight. But while it’s true I’m not the tribe’s elder, I am the highest-ranking tribe member by merit. I was elected the tribe’s leader years ago. Which effectively makes me the king of Jareer.”

Kamal’s lashes lowered. A testament to his surprise.

When his gaze rose again, it was tranquil. That didn’t fool Mohab for a second. He could almost hear the gears of Kamal’s formidable mind screeching.

“Interesting. So you’re claiming to be King Solution. Even if you prove to be the first, how do you propose to be the second?”

“Proving my claim is a foregone conclusion. The second should be self-evident.”

“Not to me.”

Jala’s exact words that fateful night. Said in the same tone. Kamal’s likeness to her had suddenly ceased to be reminiscent and had become only grating.

Mohab gritted his teeth. “My uncle assumed I would never invoke my claim, that I would always let him speak for me concerning Jareer’s fate. And he was right—I didn’t have time to be more than an honorary leader and had no desire to upset a status quo my people were perfectly content with under Judar’s protection. But now things have changed.”

Kamal huffed. “Tell me about it. Just two months ago, you were the ‘rightful heir’ to a stretch of desert with three towns and seven villages whose people lived on date and Arabian coffee production, souvenir manufacturing and desert tourism. Now you’re the king of a land sitting on top of one of the biggest oil reservoirs ever discovered.”

“I have no personal stake in Jareer’s newfound wealth. I’m not interested in being richer, and I never wanted to be king. However, my people are demanding I declare Jareer an independent state and that I become their full-fledged ruler. But business and politics aren’t my forte. So while I will do my people’s bidding, I think it’s in their best interests to leave their new oil-based prosperity to the experts.”

“By experts, I assume you mean oil moguls.”

“With you in charge of every step they take into Jareer.”

Kamal raised one eyebrow. “You want me to run the show?”

“Yes.”

Kamal digested this. “So that’s Judar and Jareer and the oil companies. What about Saraya?”

“As a Sarayan, too, and because I admit the treaties with Saraya were never properly resolved before entering into the new ones with Judar, I will recognize its claim.”

“So you claim Jareer, and split the cake between us all. Why do you assume I’ll consider it? If I can have the whole cake?”

He sat forward, holding Kamal’s gaze. “I do because you’re an honorable man and a just king. Because I believe you’ll do everything in your power to avoid escalating hostilities between our kingdoms. Before, it was about family feuds and pride. Now we’re talking staggering wealth and power. If you decimate my claim and take all of Jareer, those who stand to lose that much would cause unspeakable damage. I regularly deal with situations that rage over way less, and believe me, nothing is worth the price of such conflicts.”

“So how do you propose we split the cake?”

“For its historical role and ties to Jareer, and because both Judar and Jareer will need its cooperation, Saraya will get twenty percent of Jareer’s oil. In recognition of Judar’s more recent claim and its much bigger role in Jareer till this day, Judar gets forty percent. Jareer gets the other forty percent. Plus, its inhabitants would be first in line for all benefits and job opportunities that arise, and you will also be responsible to provide training for them.”

“You’ve got it all worked out, don’t you?”

“I have been working on my pitch since the oil’s discovery. I was far from ready, but my uncle’s theatrics at the UN yesterday forced my hand prematurely.”

“What if I don’t like your percentages or terms?”

“I would grant you whatever you wish.”

“Even if you wanted to, as kings, we’re not omnipotent. Why would your people agree to let you be so generous with their resources?”

Here it was. Moment of truth. The point of all this.

He took the plunge. “They would because it would be the mahr of your sister, Princess Jala.”

Kamal rose to his feet in perfect calmness. It screamed instantaneous rejection more than anything openly indignant would have.

“No.”

The cold, final word fell on Mohab like a lash. As Jala’s rejection once had.

He resisted the urge to flinch at the sting. “Just no?”

“Consider yourself honored I deemed to articulate it. That you dared to voice this boggles the mind.”

“Why?”

Kamal glared down at him. “I’ll have my secretary of state draw you up an inventory of the reasons.”

“Give me the broad lines.”

“How about just one? Your bloodline.”

“You’d condemn a man by others’ transgressions?”

“We do inherit others’ mistakes and enmities.”

“And we can resolve them, not insist on regurgitating hatreds and spawning warring generations.”

“The Aal Masoods aren’t angels, but there is good reason why we abhor you, why all attempts at peacemaking fell through for centuries. Surely you remember the last marriage between our kingdoms and what your great-grandfather did to my great-aunt. I’m not letting my sister marry a man who comes from a family where the men mistreat their women.”

“My great-grandfather and uncle don’t represent the rest of us. I am nothing like them. You can investigate me further. And then consider the merits of my proposal. Once I claim Jareer, my uncle can retreat from his warpath. We’d appease his pride while going over his head in forging peaceful relations between all sides, to the benefit of all our people.” Mohab rose to his feet to face him. “What I’m proposing is the best solution for all concerned, now and into the far future. And you know it.”

After a protracted stare, Kamal finally exhaled. “We can forge peace with other kinds of treaties. Why bring marriage into this? And more important, why Jala? If you want to solidify the new alliance in the oldest way in the book, and the most enduring in our region, the Aal Masoods have other princesses who would definitely be more acceptable to your stick-in-the-mud family.”

“My family has nothing to do with it. Jala is my choice.” Kamal’s astonishment made Mohab decide to come clean, as much as it was prudent to. “I had a...thing for Jala years ago, and I thought she reciprocated. It didn’t end as I hoped. Now, years later, with both of us still unattached, I thought it might be fate’s way of telling me I had to make another attempt at claiming the one woman who captured my fancy...and wouldn’t let go. So while resolving our kingdoms’ long-standing conflicts would certainly be a bonus, she’s always been my main objective.”

Expecting Kamal, as Jala’s brother, to be offended—or at least to grill him about the nature of the “thing” he’d had for Jala—Kamal surprised him again, a hint of a smile dawning. “You mean discovering oil in Jareer and the crisis that ensued just presented you with the best bargaining chip to propose? And you didn’t propose before because you never had enough leverage?”

Mohab shrugged, tension killing him. “Do I have enough now?”

Kamal’s smile became definite. “If I disregard the stench of your paternal lineage and consider you based on your own merits, this might be a good idea. A perfect one, even. Knowing Jala, she’d never marry of her own accord and I hate to think she’ll end up alone. And you, apart from the despicable flaw of having the Aal Ghaanem blood and name, seem like a...reasonably good match for her.”

“So you’re saying yes?”

“A yes isn’t mine to say. I can’t force her to marry you and wouldn’t even if I could. Clearly this marriage quest of yours is hardly a done deal, since you require my intervention to even reach her. I won’t ask what earned you a place on Jala’s viciously strict no-approach list. Ullah knows I’m the last man to go all holier-than-thou on you for whatever transgression you committed to deserve this kind of treatment.”

What would Kamal say if Mohab told him he didn’t know exactly why he’d deserved that till this day?

Kamal gazed into the distance as if peering into a distasteful past. “I once did unforgivable things to the one woman who’d captured my fancy and wouldn’t let go, and it took the intervention of others to give me that second chance with her.”

“So you’re paying it forward.”

Kamal’s eyes returned to his, the crooked smile back. “I am. But if she agrees to marry you, I’ll take sixty percent as her mahr. If she refuses, the whole deal is off—and we’ll draw up another treaty that saves your king’s face so he can go sit in his throne and stop throwing war-agitating tantrums.”

Mohab’s first impulse was to kiss Kamal on both cheeks. This was beyond anything he’d come here expecting.

He extended his hand to Kamal instead, his smile the widest it had been in...six years. “Deal. You won’t regret this.”

Kamal shook his hand slowly. “You were wrong when you said you don’t know much about business. You know nothing. You could have gotten me to agree to thirty percent. You’re holding all the cards after all.”

Mohab’s smiled widened more. “I’m not so oblivious that I don’t know the power I wield. But I would never haggle over Jala’s mahr. If my decision didn’t affect millions of people in both Saraya and Jareer, I would have given you the whole thing.”

“You got it that bad?” Kamal drilled him with an incredulous gaze. “Do you love her?”

Love? He once had...or thought he had. But now he knew it hadn’t been real. Because nothing real could ever exist for a man like him. He only knew he couldn’t move on. And that she hadn’t moved on, either. He was still obsessed with their every touch, had starved for her every pleasure. Love didn’t enter into the equation. Not only was it an illusion, it was one he couldn’t afford.

But the pact he’d struck with Kamal was real. As was his hunger for Jala. That was more than enough. In fact, that was everything.

Kamal waved his hand. “Don’t answer that. I don’t think you can answer. If you haven’t seen her in years, whatever you felt for her back then might be totally moot once you come face-to-face with each other again. So I won’t hold you to this proposal for now. But since Jala is the most intractable entity I have the misfortune to know and love...” At Mohab’s raised eyebrow, Kamal sighed. “Aih, she takes after her older brother, as Aliyah tells me.”

Mohab did a double take. It was amazing, the change that came over Kamal’s face as he mentioned his wife and queen. It was as if he glowed inside just thinking of her.

Kamal went on. “But for this to have a prayer of working, I need to give you much more of a helping hand than putting you in the same room with her. I need to give her a shove. I’ll make it sound as if refusal isn’t an option. Of course, if she really wants to refuse, she will, no matter what.” His lips spread into a smile again. “All I can hope is that if I make things sound drastic enough, it’ll give you that chance to make your approach. The rest...is up to you.”