For Duty's Sake (12 page)

Either she trusted him, or she didn't. She chose to.

“We couldn't cut all ties—it wasn't what was best for Zohra, but they have been minimized,” he added in the silence that followed.

She felt she should respond to that in some way, but
wasn't sure how. She finally settled on a quiet, “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed.” His words were more forceful, as if trying to impart a message he did not want to come right out and say.

And apparently, that was that, because he didn't say anything further and answered his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. However, she felt a lightness in her heart that could not be denied.

Their connecting hotel suites were both luxurious and comfortable. His comment that she could use the bedroom in hers as a dressing room put paid to any doubt she might have about where she would be sleeping over the next three days.

 

Despite the fact that she now traveled with a security entourage, Angele found no difficulty in getting last minute VIP seating for the main runway shows. It was past midnight when she made it back to the hotel that night. She was tired, but wired.

“You really love the world of fashion, don't you?” Zahir asked.

She shrugged as she kicked off her pumps. “What can I say? It's in my genes.”

“Fashion is a lucrative industry.”

“It is.”

“Considering how little you like to plan events, I do not suppose you would consider coordinating a fashion week in our capital?”

Excitement made her heart rate increase. A fashion week, or even a single runway show was nowhere near as boring an event as a State dinner. “That depends. Can
I hire a team to help me? Can we designate a charity to couple with and make the event about more than just fashion?”

“Of course.”

“Then, yes, absolutely. I would love to.”

“Good.”

“It's no longer seen as quite the thing for a political wife to be without some interests of her own,” she acknowledged.

The British weren't the only country that pushed a princess to be more than her title.

“Just so.”

She smiled, enjoying the fact he had thought about what sort of interest would make her happy. Because she knew Zahir was not a spontaneous guy. “You've been thinking about this for a while.”

“Years.”

Wow. Just, wow. “I thought so. I could have continued writing freelance fashion articles, you know. We don't have to invent an industry for me.”

“I'm sure you will continue the writing. You are very good, but it is time Zohra joined the rest of the world in showcasing modern fashion.”

“Right, like you really care if there is a runway show in Zohra's capital.”

“What is important to you, is important to me.”

She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “I just love you so much, right now.”

He laughed, his eyes going hot with an expression she was coming to know very well. “That is good to hear.”

She cocked her head to the side and smiled up at him. “I don't want our children raised by nannies.”

“Agreed.”

So, a very part-time interest. She could work with that.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked.

“I'm tired, but not sleepy.”

“I think I can fix that.”

And he did.

T
HE
next day, she got up early and when he left for his meetings, she accompanied him. The car dropped her and her security detail off at the main pavilion. She spent her morning focused on the German designers and boutiques, taking dozens of pictures in between miniinterviews with designers, boutique owners and other attendees of the show. It was unsurprising, but nevertheless pleasing how eager people were to be quoted in an article written by the soon-to-be wife of the Crown Sheikh of Zohra.

Her pregnancy caught up with her around lunchtime and she returned to the hotel for a nap after eating a light snack from the food stalls.

She woke up hungry and decided on a late lunch in the hotel restaurant before returning to the Fashion Week festivities. The
hauptkellner
looked surprised to see her, but then nodded to himself as if working something out. He said something in rapid German to another waiter that she was sure Zahir would understand, but Angele's German was not up to such rapid speech. Then he turned and led her toward the back of the restaurant, where the
tables afforded a lovely view of the garden out the wall of windows.

She was so intent on the view she didn't immediately see the other occupants at the table the head waiter had stopped beside. He snapped his fingers and the other waiter appeared with a third chair, since the two already at the table were occupied.

By Zahir.

And Elsa Bosch
.

Zahir's face had gone completely blank, but Elsa looked both amused and slightly sick to her stomach.

It was an interesting reaction that Angele cataloged almost subconsciously as she took the chair the waiter held out for her. The
hauptkellner
placed her napkin in her lap while the waiter laid another place setting at the table.

He went to hand her a menu, but she waved it away. “I'll just have a chicken Caesar salad.”

She didn't know if they had it on the menu, but was confident the chef could come up with something. It was taking all her concentration to maintain an air of calm and casual demeanor while seated at the table with her soon-to-be husband and his former mistress.

The waiters left and Angele released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. “Well, this is awkward.”

Neither of her companions had an answer for that, so she turned to Zahir. “Not to be rude, but I believe you told me this particular problem had been taken care of.”

Elsa made a sound of annoyance, but didn't say anything.

“I believed it had, but then further developments arose.”

“She's trying to blackmail you now?” Angele asked in Arabic, fairly confident none of their fellow diners could overhear to quote her for the gossip rags.

She made no attempt to hide either her disgust or her shock. Only an idiot risked making an absolute enemy of a man like Zahir.

“No.”

“I am not sure if that makes me more relieved or worried.” Perhaps a week ago, her reaction to this situation would have been much different. Okay, there was no maybe about it, but she'd decided to trust him. Totally and completely.

And she was going to keep doing so, unless she was given a whole lot more than a public lunch as evidence she shouldn't.

“Elsa was not the blackmailer.”

Angele's gaze flicked to the other woman, who seemed to be listening with interest. “No? You confirmed she was.”

“She did not deny it when I confronted her and threatened to bankrupt and dismantle her personal production company if so much as a single picture from that envelope ever found its way into the press.”

“I imagine a tell-all article would have paid her well enough to tempt her regardless.”

“I was more than generous in our parting. She signed a contract stipulating absolute media silence in exchange and would have to pay back every penny I ever gave her or spent on her if she broke it.”

“So, how could she think she would get away with blackmail?”

“She didn't.”

“It was my brother,” Elsa spoke in English, but made it clear she had enough understanding of Arabic to have followed the gist of their conversation.

“Your brother?” Angele asked in the same language, feeling shock on shock.

“He hadn't signed anything.” Elsa shrugged. “He's an idiot. He did not realize that the way the contract was worded that I had signed, it wouldn't matter. I would still have to pay the price.”

“Elsa is here to pass over all the printed copies of the pictures as well as her brother's hard drive and backup thumb drive.”

“He could still have other copies.”

“He doesn't,” Elsa said.

“I'm supposed to take your word for it?” Angele asked, maintaining a tone of slightly bored interest for which she was rather proud, considering the maelstrom of emotions roiling inside her.

Elsa's shoulders gave an elegant roll, sort of a shrug and sort of something else.

Angele's gaze flicked to Zahir to see his reaction, but his eyes were fixed intently on her and her alone.

“Do you believe her?” Angele asked him.

“It does not matter if I do, or not.”

“Because you will not leave it to chance.”

“No. Even as we speak, he is on his way to Zohra to face blackmail charges.”

“What?” Elsa demanded a lot louder than was probably wise.

Zahir finally settled his gaze on her and Angele shivered. She wouldn't want that look fixed on her. Ever.

“I am not convinced you were unaware of your brother's schemes. In fact, I can almost guarantee he's too stupid to have considered Angele the better target.”

Elsa blanched.

“If he names you as accomplice, expect extradition proceedings.”

“But you can't do this. I brought you the pictures.”

“Thank you. They and your brother's hard drive will be used as evidence in his trial.”

Elsa looked stunned. “But that's not fair.”

Angele wondered at the other woman's lack of understanding of the way that Zahir thought and the type of action that thought process would lead to.

“And you think blackmail is fair?” he asked, not sounding like he really cared if she did, or not.

“But you said you would not prosecute if I ceased and desisted.”

Had Zahir ever really fallen for that damsel in distress act? Angele could barely suppress the need to roll her eyes.

Looking as unimpressed as she could hope, Zahir said, “That was when I believed you to be the culprit. I owed you some level of protection, regardless of how things ended between us.” He
was
an old-fashioned guy. He'd said so on more than one occasion. Zahir would not have sent Elsa to prison, unless she forced him to it. Her brother, on the other hand, was another matter. Being a man,
being someone willing to trade on his sister's former relationship, in Zahir's eyes, Mr. Bosch was fair game.

“But Hans wasn't going to do anything more.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Zahir looked intently at the other woman, as if weighing her veracity. Angele, for one, believed her or at least that Elsa believed what she'd said.

“Then, explain the blackmail letter Angele's father received last week.”

“My father?” Angele asked in shock as Elsa's perfectly painted mouth opened and closed like a landed carp.

Zahir returned his gaze to Angele. “Yes. Cemal came to me immediately with the demand.”

“Oh, stop harping.” Elsa frowned at him. “You make Hans sound like a criminal when he was just trying his luck.”

“I did not say it was Hans,
Aziz
.”

Elsa gasped and then glared at them both. “So, that's it. You've tricked me into naming my brother and providing you with evidence against him.”

“Would you prefer to face the charges on your own?” Zahir asked pitilessly.

Once again, the other woman went pale, this time her hands shaking as she went for a sip of her white wine.

“No.”

“I thought not.”

“I could still go to the tabloids with my story.”

“You've tied all your money up in your productions company. You can't afford to pay me back.”

“So sue me for the money, the story will be out there for all the world to see.”

“I have already released an official statement admitting a past liaison with you that I deeply regret along with the news that your brother will be tried for blackmail in my country.” He was speaking to Elsa, but looking at Angele, as if her reaction was the only one that mattered.

“That sounds like the smartest move you could make.” He'd shown her with news of the baby that in some cases transparency circumvented a media frenzy.

Once again Elsa did her carp impression and this time it was even less attractive than the last. “I…”

Zahir turned back to her. “Would do well to keep your media silence. Or you will pay the price for your poor judgment just as your brother must pay the price for his.”

“But that's all it was, it was poor judgment. He can't go to prison for that.”

“Poor judgment that leads to breaking the law also leads to jail.” Zahir shrugged and stood. “It is the way of things.”

He put his hand out to Angele. “Come,
ya habibti
.”

She stood without hesitation. She still had plenty of questions for Zahir, but they could wait for privacy. She turned to Elsa before leaving. “You have a choice right now.”

Elsa said nothing, but cocked her head as if inviting Angele to continue.

“Zahir forgave your betrayal and was willing to overlook even worse in his eyes because of your shared past. Don't make him an enemy now.”

“Isn't he already?”

“If he was, you would be on the plane with Hans right now.”

“He's my brother.”

“I understand that, but he broke the law and my guess is this isn't the first time.”

Elsa's flinch confirmed Angele's supposition.

“It's just the first time he's had to pay for it. Believe it, or not, Zahir is doing Hans a favor.”

“How do you work that out?”

“The next time, your brother could have attempted to blackmail the wrong person. That person might not take legal recourse, but something far more permanent than a few years in prison.”

“But prison in Zohra.”

“Isn't
a third-world hellhole. It's prison. With family visitation and guards who face far stricter reprisal for corruption than most other developed nations.”

Elsa's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded. “I'm not stupid. I'm not going to the media with a tell-all.”

“I appreciate it.”

“He was always yours.”

“I've come to realize that.”

“I deserved a chance at happiness.” Elsa meant the man she'd betrayed Zahir with.

“Yes, you did. But so do we.”

“Can he serve his time in a German prison?” Elsa asked Zahir without looking at him. “At least then, I could visit him often.”

Zahir did not answer, but Angele gave the other woman a look meant to convey her intention of dis
cussing the matter with him. Elsa must have gotten it because she nodded slightly.

The waiter was coming with Angele's salad as she and Zahir walked away from the table. Zahir instructed the clearly confused man to have her food delivered to his suite.

 

Neither Zahir nor Angele spoke on the elevator ride up to their floor. Once they were in his room, he let out a deep sigh, but didn't say anything, either.

“Was this the State business you had to take care of?”

“No, but the other business made a good cover for handling this issue.” Zahir looked like he was waiting for something.

An explosion perhaps? Only Angele didn't feel like exploding.

“Do you have any more work you have to do today?” she asked him.

“No.”

“Would you like to come to the Fashion Week with me?”

She didn't think she'd ever seen Zahir looking so nonplussed.

And then he frowned. “No. And I would prefer you did not leave, either.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

“Spell it out for me.”

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“About what happened in the dining room, damn it.”

Zahir rarely cursed in her presence.

She took heart in it. He was upset. And while maybe she should feel badly about that, she was actually pleased. “What exactly did you want to talk about?”

“You caught me having a meal with my former mistress.”

“You were gathering evidence for the court case against her brother.”

“You would expect me to have told you my plans prior to meeting him. I'm sure you are further angered by the fact I did not tell you about the attempt to blackmail your father.”

“Nope.” She thought about it to make sure and then shook her head. “Not angry.”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it again without speaking.

“You wanted to protect me from upset while I was pregnant.”

“I cannot guarantee I would behave differently if you were not pregnant,” he said, as if admitting some deep dark secret.

“I get that.”

“You do?”

“What do you think I mean when I tell you that I love you, Zahir?”

“I do not know.”

“That's becoming more than a little apparent. I don't just love the bits about you I find comfortable. I know you see the world through eyes influenced by generations of responsibility that comes with your role. You
protect your family, you protect your people, you protect me. It's in your DNA.”

“That does not bother you?”

“I'm not promising never to get angry, or call you out over it, but for the most part? It makes me feel safe. Cherished.”

“I do cherish you.”

“I believe you.”