Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (15 page)

Someone was going to get a kick to the head when Noelle saw him next. For now, she had to make do with stomping down the palace corridor.

A male guard passed, sporting a bullet-resistant vest that would normally deserve a good, long appreciative eyeballing. An excellent look on any guy, so long as they weren't also pointing phallic weaponry at anyone who dared take a step.

Instead, she scowled at him. He grinned back with good humor that made her scowl even harder, at great risk of her face staying that way, as her stepmom would have insisted.

A head-kicking, yeah
, Bonnie piped up.
That'll teach him for walking in while you're kissing his brother. And so do all these nice people who are just doing what they're told so they don't lose their jobs.

I thought you were on my side
, she thought at the imaginary voice in her head, wishing very much that she could scowl at Bonnie.

Always. But only when you're right. Why'd you kiss that guy?

She sighed to herself, a drawn-out, nearly silent sound that made her shoulders droop. At least she managed to do it quietly, avoiding the attention of the other person walking down the corridor toward her. That person might not have noticed anyway, since she probably had to concentrate to balance the stack of boxes she carried. The tower nearly came up to her eyes.

Why had she kissed Thale? Because they'd connected. Because he'd empathized with her. And because he wasn't so damn hard to be around.

He felt...
easier
, she admitted, turning down the hallway to her room.

Because pirate princesses like easy things,
Bonnie said, with all the contempt an eleven-year-old could muster.

Whatever
, Noelle returned, feeling preadolescent herself.

What was that shuffling sound behind her? She turned. Box person had followed her when she turned. Hmm. Those flowy peach-colored trousers. The way the now-familiar paralysis snuck up her arms. Could that be...

"Faridah?" she asked.

The person stopped. Now the multicolored cardboard boxes were an unfriendly brick wall, a division between them.
 

Right. The last time she'd seen Faridah had been in the market, in the lingerie shop. When she'd used her young friend as a human shield to hide behind while she searched for an escape.

Not one of her stellar moments. Totally justified, though. If only Faridah had known how much she needed to get out of here.

The heaviness that had started in her fingers sprinted up to her shoulders. Everyone else saw how useless Noelle was, how she was basically just good for spending money.

She had never asked for Faridah to place all her hopes on her. The young woman had come up with all of that herself. Noelle was just a regular person, after all. Not a hero. Barely even competent. And to have to carry the burden of Faridah's over-the-top dreams? It was hard not to resent Faridah for what she wanted to place on her.

"I am coming to your chamber," Faridah declared, a polar vortex in her tone of voice.

"No problem." Noelle inched closer to the girl, hands out to take the big box off the top of the pile.

"No." The stack was whisked to the side, without tottering. Not a bad skill, that one. Especially when anger blasted from narrowed eyes.

"Faridah, I tried to come see you. Look, I just want--"

Faridah's already stiff back stiffened even more. "I must take these to your chamber."

Crap. Noelle had a feeling this was not going to go well. Probably because it hadn't so far. "Okay, let's not talk in the hall."

Faridah let her open the door to her room, at least. When the servant had dropped the stack of boxes on the table, she turned to Noelle full on, with her lips turned down in unceasing contempt. "Your parcels, ma'am."

"Parcels?" she asked. And
ma'am
.
Ma'am
did not sound open to an air-clearing dialog.

"Gifts." The word was said with impressive irritation.

"Look, Faridah, I don't care about these--"

Her attempt to turn the conversation was chopped off. "You do not care about them. But of course not, because you are so rich." Faridah flipped a hand toward the packages. "These were given to you by those who have much less than you do."

What? They weren't from Walid? Or, more likely, Thale?

"When I said I don't care, that's not what I mean." She gestured toward the stack of parcels. "
This
is very kind. But my relationship with you is more important. I want to apologize. I want to make it up to you."

Not that she had any idea how to make it up to Faridah, not when she didn't have her freedom or her pocket money. It wasn't like they could go dancing until dawn and pick up guys on the Oldrich tab. Her arms felt like steel blocks. Not arms at all, but shiny, immovable metal.

"Faridah, ditching you in the market was wrong and I'm sorry. I--" What? What was she supposed to say?
I'm sorry I'm not your legendary princess reborn, come to save you all from whatever it was I'm supposed to save you from. Oh, and by the way, your sheikh is a criminal jerk who is holding me against my will. So, no, I wouldn't rescue him even if I knew how
. "I hope you'll forgive me. I want to be friends."

"Certainly, mistress," came the reply, icy enough to put Princess Elsa's frostiness to shame. "We are friends, if that's what
you
want. Is there anything else you would like?"

"Okay, I guess I deserve this for how I treated you." She was trying to be the bigger person here. Why couldn't Faridah see that? Why did Faridah insist on holding her to some impossible standard that no one could ever live up to? "Thanks for bringing these."

I like her,
said Bonnie, once Faridah had gone, leaving nothing but the stack of boxes and the scent of fresh peaches behind her.

I like her too, but I think she hates me now.

She'll like you again after you rescue Walid.

"What happened to us escaping?" Her voice dripped with frustration.

Wait, had she just said that out loud? Crap, she was talking to herself. What was worse? Talking to a pirate princess in your head or with your lips? She held back an epic sigh.

Oh, right. I forgot about that part,
admitted the pirate princess.

Stay on target. I need you
, she ordered her imaginary voice.

Who sent us presents? I love presents!
enthused Bonnie.

Noelle pressed her index and middle finger to the bridge of her nose. She couldn't have had a nice, mature adult imaginary friend, could she? Nooooo, it had to be a preteen for her.

Oh well. No way would she get Bonnie back on track until they opened the packages. Besides, who didn't love presents?

She pulled the first box off the pile. It was the length of a forearm, but only an inch deep. Also, the box had a gaudy flower print and an intricate bow, tied with silvery ribbon.

She could have used some scissors. Of course all the sharp objects had been removed from her room. She'd done a thorough search. Not even a letter opener.

She hadn't gotten a manicure since she arrived, so at least she had a nice long nail to slide under the tape that sealed the box flaps shut.

Parting the rich ruby tissue paper revealed a beautiful item, and the person who had sent it to her.

Mr. Lodhi-Rajput.

The scarf was made of pure gorgeousness. Light as the bubbles in champagne, it seemed to catch an infinitesimal breeze in the air, one that she didn't even notice.

She touched it to her face like a stupid-ass actress in a toilet paper commercial. Dumb, dumb, dumb... but the fabric was so soft and delicious. Cotton candy spun into a liquid you could wear around your neck.

How much would her overspending "friends" pay to have one of these? Or a closetful. She could picture it right now, separating them from their money, and having them
thank her for it
. The pleasant tingle she'd felt at his shop started again. No wonder her dad got such a rush out of business.

Too bad she never intended to come back to Askar once she finally got out of here.

Faridah had been beyond right when she said this was a gift from someone who had a lot less than she did. Even if she wasn't coming back, she could make sure Mr. Lodhi-Rajput got a bigger gift in return. Being on Faridah's good side would have made that easier. Instead of getting her help, Noelle would have to draft someone in her dad's company who could get things done. A lot of people in her dad's company knew how to get things done.

Too bad she wasn't one of them herself.

Presents,
said her inner eleven-year-old, as if Santa had arrived and the adults were lingering over coffee.

She opened another box carefully, in case it contained anything as delicate as Mr. Lodhi-Rajput's scarf. She pulled out a hand-blown vase twisted together from glass in shades of brown from deepest chocolate mocha to toasted gold.

Ooooh, pretty,
said Bonnie, as Noelle held up the glass to the light to make the tiny sparkles in it dance.

She'd heard about Askar's famous hospitality, but this bordered on insanity. She'd admired the stunning piece for an instant as she passed that glass shop in the market. How had the shopkeeper even noticed?

Another box; another present. This one a lovely dark wood box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl tiles in an intricate pattern of flowers intertwining. She recognized it, too. She'd told the merchant how nice it was, how talented the designer.

Each gift turned out to be something she'd admired on her field trip to the
souk
. Scarf, vase, box. A couple pieces of pretty jewelry. The merchants had just given them to her. Because she'd said she liked them.

It wasn't the first time she'd gotten gifts from businesses--mostly designers who wanted her to wear their stuff in public and tell everyone about it. But there didn't seem to be anything manipulative or cynical about these presents. She couldn't help any of the owners at all. She'd liked the things, so they'd appeared for her.

She lifted the final box. She hadn't complimented any other items in the market, so where was this flat parcel from?

Oh crap. The only other shop she'd gone into was the last one she'd visited. From there, she'd tried to escape to the U.S. embassy. She had given one final compliment, sort of.

Something under her ribs clenched as she revealed what she knew would be there. Her tongue decided it was a great time to stick to the roof of her mouth.

Oh, that thing,
said Bonnie.
The other stuff was good, though.

The glare of the red satin corset almost hurt her eyes. The lingerie hadn't gotten any subtler than the first time she'd seen it. Everything about the garment (and calling it a garment was pretty generous) screamed
sex
at the top of its lungs.

Sure, she'd had a couple boyfriends. Four, actually. Had sex with them, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness to another person. Loved the orgasms. But the guys had dribbled away. Gotten interested in other people, or at least gotten less interested in her.

Cameron, who she'd been most serious about, and had seemed to be serious about her in the six months they'd dated, had suddenly accepted a job offer in another city. If he'd asked her to go to Vancouver with him, she would have. He didn't. And that had been it for them.

Not great for a girl's ego.

So what the hell was she supposed to do with this? It wasn't as if she wanted to sleep with any guy here. She only wanted to
torture
one.

A flash of scarlet in the mirror across from where she sat caught her eye.

 
Something in her made her stand, hold the satin against her chest, and look full on into that mirror. At least the thing was the right size for her. Looked like it would hug her curves like it was painted on, actually.

If she did want to seduce a guy, all she'd have to do was put it on. Any hetero guy would have it off in a second. But, again, she wasn't in the seduction business. Only the torture racket.

Or... A devious idea sidestepped into her brain. Maybe those two things were closer than she thought.

Gazing into the mirror, Noelle held the corset tighter to her waist, tossed her blonde hair, and started mentally picking out a shade of lipstick.

Seven

W
ALID
GAVE
A
quick nod to the two female guards outside the door to Noelle's apartments as he let himself into his own. Were guards still required? She had been peaceful the last few days. Right up until he found her kissing his brother, of course.

She had not prevented his employees from doing their duties, had not interfered with the smooth running of the palace or the country, had not disturbed him in any way. Not since the interview with her parents.

The clock was nearing midnight, and he had an important meeting with the environmental engineering firm involved with the Nahr pipeline. But his mind would not slow. Instead, it filled with Noelle, and so he loosened his tie and settled behind his desk.

If he had been a man to drink, this would have been the time.