Kitabı oku: «The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride»

Chapter Two

This is just a business dinner, Emily told herself that evening as she turned in front of the mirror to check the back of her dress. There’s no reason for me to be nervous. The simple cocktail dress was a Vera Wang design, the off-the-shoulder black silk tasteful and perfect for a business dinner with royalty. Not that she’d ever had dinner with a prince before, she thought, refusing to consider that the butterflies fluttering in her midsection might be caused by Lazhar’s handsome face and charming smile and not by his royal status.

She smoothed a hand over her hair, noting absentmindedly that it brushed against her shoulders; she made a mental note to call her hairdresser and schedule an appointment to have the thick fall trimmed a quarter of an inch. One last inspecting glance assured her that she was as ready as she’d ever be. She turned away from the mirror, picked up a tiny black handbag and left the bedroom.

The doorbell rang just as she entered the living room and she glanced at the antique French clock on the mantelpiece.

Seven o’clock. Not only is he royal, he’s also punctual.

She pulled open the door and although she’d thought she was prepared to see him, still her breath hitched and she found herself staring helplessly at the man outside her entry. He took her breath away. In the hours since she’d seen him at the office, she’d managed to convince herself that he couldn’t have been as heart-stoppingly handsome as she’d first thought. But she’d lied to herself, she realized as she met his gaze. He really was as sinfully sexy as she’d remembered.

“Good evening.”

His gaze swept her from the crown of her head to her toes, making the return journey just as swiftly, his mouth curving in a smile. “Good evening. Ready to go?”

“Yes.” Emily stepped across the threshold and pulled the door closed behind her.

He moved back, falling into step beside her as she walked toward the elevators.

“Do you like living here?” he asked, his tone curious as he surveyed the hallway while they waited for the lift.

“Yes, very much.” Emily’s gaze followed his, moving over the red and cream floral carpet, the pale green walls with their gold-framed prints, and the matching discreet name and numbers beside the six doors that opened off the short hallway. “I love living in the center of the city and though the building is older, it’s well-maintained and secure.”

“Ah. And security is important in San Francisco,” he commented as the elevator pinged and the doors opened.

“I suppose it’s important everywhere, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” His voice turned grim. “Very important.”

He took her arm and ushered her into the lift, his body briefly brushing hers as he leaned past her to push the button for the lobby floor. The faint scent of soap and aftershave reached her, the slightly rough texture of his suit jacket teasing the bare skin of her arm. Although he was impeccably polite and made no overt moves, she felt crowded by him and too aware of his much bigger body. He was so blatantly male that he made her feel overwhelmingly feminine. She couldn’t recall any other man of her acquaintance eliciting such a strong response.

“Does Daniz have a crime problem?” Emily asked, determined to conceal her reaction. She vividly remembered the photos she’d seen in a travel brochure of the small kingdom on the Mediterranean Sea. Tucked between the eastern border of Spain on one side and France’s southern edge on the other, Daniz’s sun-drenched beaches were adored by tourists and its fabled Jewel Market was equally revered by the gem industry. Crime didn’t seem a part of that fairy tale picture.

“I suspect every country in the world has a problem with crime, some more so than others.” Lazhar’s deep voice sent a slow shiver up Emily’s spine. “Daniz’s crime rate has never been high when compared to many countries but there’s always room for improvement. We’ve increased the police force and taken an aggressive proactive approach over the last few years and the result has been a decrease in all types of crime.”

“Is this part of your plan for national security?” He raised an eyebrow in inquiry and Emily smiled. “I confess I did some online research this afternoon in an effort to learn a bit more about your country before we talked this evening. Part of what I learned is that you were appointed to lead the Daniz National Security Forces five years ago.”

“Ah.” His mouth quirked. “I hope you only visited the official Daniz Web site and not the sites featuring gossip from the tabloids.”

Emily laughed. “I did visit the Daniz government site, but I also read a few very interesting tidbits at a site called Secrets of the Royal Families of Europe.”

Lazhar groaned and shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask what you learned there. I hope you didn’t believe anything you read.”

“Most of it sounded like pure fiction. Unless—” she looked at him with interest “—you really did fly across the Mediterranean on a hangglider to spend the night with a harem dancer?” The swift expression of horror that flitted across his face made her laugh. “No?”

“Absolutely not.” His deep voice held disgust.

“Pity.” Emily sighed, watching him through the screen of her lashes. “I thought perhaps she was your fiancée.”

“No, definitely not.”

The elevator reached the lobby, the doors opening with silent efficiency. Two muscular men in dark suits stood sentry at the door to the street; they snapped to attention, one of them speaking into a small two-way radio as Lazhar took Emily’s arm and they exited the elevator. They crossed the black and white marble floor and one of the guards opened the door while the other fell discreetly into step behind them. Outside, another black-clad, burly man held the door of a long black limousine open wide. Emily was about to enter the limo when someone called her name.

She paused and glanced down the street. “Hello.” A smile lit her face. Her brother Cade was striding toward them along the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m picking up Stacy—she’s visiting Anabeth.”

“Oh, I wish I’d known she was near, I would have stopped in for a hug.” Emily adored Cade’s five-year-old daughter; the precocious little girl shared Emily’s love of shopping and they’d formed a mutual admiration society of two. Stacy’s friend Anabeth lived in the next apartment building and the two often shared playdates.

“I’ll call you the next time I bring her over, I promise.” Cade nodded at Lazhar and held out his hand. “Lazhar, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I’ve just arrived—the trip wasn’t on my schedule and my aides didn’t have time to contact you.”

Emily glanced from her brother to Lazhar. “You two know each other?”

“Yes. Of course.” Cade grinned at her. “But I didn’t know you and Lazhar were acquainted.”

“We just met today,” she said calmly. Cade was her fraternal twin and loved to tease her as if they were still twelve-year-olds. When his eyes twinkled, she knew he’d jumped to the conclusion that she was dating the handsome prince and was going to comment. “But I’m looking forward to doing business with him,” she said smoothly, before he could speak.

Cade blinked at her and she could almost see his brain shift gears.

“Business? What kind of business?”

“Wedding planning, of course,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss on his cheek. “Give my love to Stacy and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Cade nodded at Lazhar as the prince handed Emily into the limousine. He bent to peer into the interior, his hazel gaze intent. “You’re in good hands with Lazhar, Emily.”

Emily barely had time to wonder what he meant by the cryptic comment before the bodyguard closed the door and the limo pulled smoothly away from the curb. She glanced back to see Cade standing on the sidewalk, watching them drive away.

“How is it that you know my brother?” she asked Lazhar as the car eased into traffic.

“We met some months ago when he came to Daniz to visit the Jewel Market.”

“Ah,” Emily replied. Cade was an attorney and he handled much of their father’s contracts for the Parks jewelry store; he was being trained as the heir apparent to succeed when Walter retired. Not that anyone who knew Walter thought he would ever retire, in fact, it was generally agreed that he’d probably die at his desk, working on a new deal. But nevertheless, Walter considered Cade his heir and demanded that his son spend a large amount of time on Parks Empire business interests. “So you’re in the gem industry, like my father?”

“Not quite like your father, I suspect,” he corrected gently. “For centuries, the Daniz Jewel Market has been a center for international jewel dealers and gem trading is important to my country. Because my family rules Daniz, I’m involved by necessity with the Market, but gems aren’t my sole business.”

“So you’re not obsessed with jewels?”

His dark eyes were grave. “No, Emily, I’m not obsessed with jewels. I have neither the time nor the inclination. I’m deeply committed to the people of Daniz and to my family and I find they require all my attention.” He shrugged. “I suppose some might call the depth of that commitment obsessive, but I choose to believe otherwise.”

“I find it admirable that you choose people over business interests,” Emily commented, unable to look away from his warm gaze. “In my experience, such a choice is very unusual. My father’s primary commitment is to his business…he’s driven by the next negotiation and making each new contract bigger than the last, with more money, more perfect gems, higher profile clients. The men in his circle that I’ve met, no matter how old or young, all seem to feel the same. It’s refreshing to meet someone who’s involved in the gem industry but whose life is apparently not owned by it.”

Lazhar laughed, white teeth flashing against tanned skin, his dark eyes amused. “I confess that I’ve met traders at the Jewel Market who were willing to sell their soul for the price of a rare diamond, ruby, or sapphire. But I’m not one of them.”

“I’d love to visit the Jewel Market,” Emily said. “I’ve heard it’s a fascinating place.”

“I think so,” Lazhar agreed. “We’ve preserved the building and the interior much as it was when it was first built, three hundred years ago, by the King of Daniz and the Prince of Persia. The mosaic tiles on the floors and walls, the handmade carpets and wall hangings, the gold minarets…all are well worth seeing.” He smiled at Emily. “I’ll give you a tour when you visit my country.”

“I’d like that very much.” He really is charming, Emily thought. The limousine slowed and she realized that she’d been engrossed in their conversation and hadn’t noticed their route. She glanced out the window and then back at the prince, puzzled. “This looks like the airport.”

“It is.” He agreed.

“We’re having dinner at the airport?” She wasn’t aware of a five-star restaurant located at the San Francisco International Airport. Certainly not a restaurant that a man of Lazhar’s caliber would choose, she thought.

“Not at the airport.”

The car slowed and parked beside a sleek jet. The bodyguard seated next to the driver leapt out and opened the door for Lazhar. He exited, turning to hold out a hand to Emily, and she followed him out onto the tarmac. The evening was warm and balmy; a slight breeze lifted her hair, skeining it across her face. She brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear.

They were standing a few feet from the steps leading up to the main cabin of a private jet. The logo on the tail spelled out Daniz in vivid blue and gold. Beside her, Lazhar spoke to one of the bodyguards in what Emily thought was French. Finished, the man nodded, bowed and reentered the car, which pulled away.

“This is your plane?” Curious, she glanced from the jet to Lazhar.

“Yes.” He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and led her toward the steps. “I think you’ll find it comfortable.”

Emily abruptly stopped walking, her movement halting Lazhar as well. “I’m sure I would,” she said carefully. “If I were traveling on it, but I’m not.”

“Actually we are.” Lazhar’s smile flashed, his dark eyes teasing. “And our destination is a surprise. I think you’ll find the food well worth the trip.”

“We’re flying out of town for dinner?”

“Yes.”

Uncertain, Emily hesitated. She didn’t know Lazhar well enough to get aboard a plane with him headed for an unknown destination. On the other hand, Cade did know him well and had assured her that he was trustworthy. Her brother’s recommendation overcame her innate wariness and she gave in.

“Very well—if you promise the food is worth the flight.”

“I promise.” Lazhar led her up the steps to the cabin.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” The whitecoated steward greeted them with a bow.

“Good evening, Carlos.” Lazhar seated Emily in one of the high-backed, upholstered seats next to the window with a small table between them. Both chairs and table were bolted securely to the floor and the chairs had seat belts. Behind him, the steward closed the outer door as the powerful jet engines rumbled to life, vibrating the cabin floor beneath Emily’s feet.

“I need to talk to the captain for a moment, please make yourself comfortable, I won’t be long.”

Emily murmured an assent, her gaze following Lazhar until he disappeared through the door at the end of the cabin. The summerweight, pale gray suit he wore was beautifully made and clearly custom tailored to fit his long legs and broad shoulders.

She sighed and shook her head at her own foolishness. Lazhar Eban was engaged to be married—already taken and off-limits. And even if he were available, he wasn’t her type of man at all. He was much too high profile, too powerful and too rich—all qualities that her father also possessed. Emily had intimate knowledge of just how difficult it could be to live with such a man.

On the other hand, Lazhar Eban was quite possibly the handsomest, sexiest man she’d ever met.

“If you’ll fasten your seat belt, ma’am, we’re about to take off.” The steward advised.

“Of course.”

He nodded his thanks when Emily clipped the latch and tugged the belt snugly across her abdomen. He left the cabin, Emily assumed to take his own seat elsewhere, and in moments, the sleek jet taxied down a runway and lifted smoothly into the air. She glanced out the window to see the Golden Gate Bridge appear off the wingtip before fluffy white clouds obscured her view.

Lazhar must have had to remain in the cockpit with a seat belt on, until we’re airborne, she thought as she gazed curiously around the luxurious cabin. The interior of the Daniz royal family’s jet was unlike any private plane she’d ever been on. There wasn’t a utilitarian piece of furniture in sight, even the sturdy chair she sat in was upholstered in a glorious deep blue fabric that felt like rough silk. Her feet rested on a thick carpet with jewel tones of scarlet-red, cobalt-blue, antique-gold and pearl-white that complemented the cabin fittings. The walls were a discreet, smooth pearlywhite, the wooden doors a deep mahogany set into arched doorjambs that reminded her of Spanish architecture. A collection of small French Impressionist paintings were clustered on one wall, their muted colors glowing against gold frames. Emily’s gaze lingered on the unique furnishings that made the plane’s interior as comfortable as a lavish hotel suite, and she was reminded that Daniz bordered Spain, France and the Mediterranean. Clearly the royal family enjoyed the best of all their cultures.

The plane climbed steeply and it wasn’t until it finally leveled out that Lazhar rejoined her, the steward following closely on his heels with a tray holding a chilled bottle of wine and two stemmed glasses.

Lazhar took the two filled glasses from Carlos’s tray and handed one to Emily. “To your health—and to our successful business enterprise.”

“To a beautifully organized wedding ceremony,” Emily responded, tilting her glass in salute before tasting the wine. “Mmm, delicious.”

“It’s a Spanish vintage from the Penedes region.” Lazhar dropped into the chair next to her and lifted his glass to eye the golden liquid. “And a favorite of my father’s.”

“And of yours?”

“And of mine,” he agreed.

“Would you like to have it served at your wedding?” Emily set the exquisitely cut wineglass on the parquet table that separated her chair from Lazhar’s and took a small notebook and gold pen from her bag.

Lazhar shrugged. “Yes, of course. If you think it’s appropriate.”

“I think it’s an excellent choice. I’ll make a note to request that the caterer use it. What is it called?” He told her, his deep voice smoothly switching to Spanish. She wrote down the name, vintage and year, then closed her notebook and placed it on the table, her pen next to it, before picking up her wineglass once more. She took a sip and observed him over the rim of her glass. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going for dinner and if the menu will be Spanish to match the wine? Or must I wait until we get there.”

“We’re having dinner aboard the plane.”

“Aboard the plane?” Confused, Emily stared at him.

“But tomorrow,” he continued, “we’ll have lunch in Daniz. I’ll have the palace chef uncork another favorite vintage for you to taste.”

“I beg your pardon?” Emily was certain she’d misunderstood him. Daniz was at least a ten-hour flight away from San Francisco.

“By lunchtime tomorrow, we’ll be in Daniz.”

Emily was speechless. His gaze didn’t flinch from hers, he seemed to be waiting for her to react to his blunt statement. Her surprise quickly gave way to anger and she returned her wineglass to the table with a snap.

“Are you telling me that this plane is flying to Daniz?”

“Yes.”

“With me on it?”

“Yes.”

“Without your asking me if I were willing to go to Daniz?”

“You told me this afternoon that you’re willing to go to Daniz. It was only a question of the timing.”

“I also told you that it would take at least two weeks to clear my calendar.”

“Which is why I discussed the situation with your assistant, Jane, and why the staff from my embassy in San Francisco will be reporting to your office tomorrow. They’ll do whatever your assistant requires of them until you return. They’ll also install the necessary equipment to link your office to the palace media room so you can be in touch with your staff at any hour of the day or night, whenever you feel it necessary.”

Emily was furious. “How kind of you. But that doesn’t change the fact that you failed to ask for my permission to do any of those things. Nor did you bother telling me about your plans when you lured me aboard this plane.”

“I can only apologize. When I spoke with Jane she assured me that she would be happy to take your appointments over the next couple of weeks. She also told me that the chance to combine a holiday in Daniz with work was something that she firmly believed would be good for you.” Lazhar paused, eyeing her. “She seemed quite taken with the idea, in fact, she volunteered to go to your apartment to pack your bag and get your passport this evening.”

“Jane helped you with this conspiracy?”

“She assisted with the arrangements, yes.”

Emily fumed, silently wondering what on earth Jane could have been thinking.

“I know you might not like my method of getting you to come to Daniz, Emily, but I’m sincere about the limited time frame. I don’t know how familiar you are with Daniz politics, but the news reports about my father’s health are true. He’s not well. We don’t know how much time he has left and he wants to see me married as soon as possible. I want your firm to handle the wedding plans but I can’t wait two weeks—not because I’m being difficult and high-handed, but because I don’t know how long my father will be with us. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to give him what he wants,” he added grimly.

His words defused Emily’s anger as little else could. She didn’t have a good relationship with her own father, but she could understand a son’s wish to please a dying father. “Very well,” she said. “When you put it that way, there’s little I can say. However,” she added when she saw relief ease the tense lines of his face, “I want to talk to Jane about the office arrangements before I agree.”

“I thought you might.” He lifted the tabletop between them, revealing a telephone in the cabinet beneath. “While you’re talking with her, I’ll check with the pilot about our flight time.”

Her temper still simmering, Emily pointedly waited until the door closed behind him before lifting the receiver and dialing, tapping her nails impatiently against the arm of her chair while she waited for Jane to pick up.

“Hello?”

“I’m going to fire you for this, Jane.”

“Hi, Emily.” Jane’s voice held a smile, despite Emily’s grim tones.

“I can’t believe you did this—what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that a) You’ve got a genuine shot at planning a royal wedding that would send Creative Wedding’s status through the roof; b) You’re so conscientious that you would never want the Benedicts or Katherine Powell, or any of your other clients, to feel that you gave royal wedding arrangements priority over theirs; and c) You can’t miss this opportunity. It’s just too good.”

“I know all of this, Jane. I took it into consideration when I told Prince Lazhar that I could fly to Daniz in two weeks, after I cleared my calendar.”

“But the prince made it very clear that he can’t wait two weeks,” Jane said. “And although I know you want to be there for each and every detail for your clients, Emily, I looked at your schedule for the next two weeks and I really can handle your appointments till you come home.”

“What about your own work?”

“Most of what I’ve booked as priority for the next few weeks is glorified errand-running and double-checking details for the Andersen and Heaton weddings next month.”

“Hmm.” Emily sighed, still not totally convinced.

“Emily,” Jane’s voice coaxed. “We’ve known each other since high school. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No.”

“Then trust me, going to Daniz is the best opportunity you’ve ever had to build your business. It’s like found money. This could make Creative Weddings the most important bridal consultant firm in the U.S. Not to mention,” Jane added persuasively. “That you’re going to spend a week or more in one of the most beautiful countries on the Mediterranean. And you’ll be staying in the palace. You haven’t had a vacation since we left high school—this is the perfect chance.”

“You’re sure you won’t be buried under at the office?”

“Positive. Besides, your prince said he’s sending over staff from the Daniz Embassy. They’re accustomed to dealing with diplomatic receptions and galas and they can do all the errand-running on my calendar while I’m free to deal with your appointments.”

“All right,” Emily said reluctantly. “You’ve convinced me. But I’m still not happy with the fact that neither you nor the prince asked me if I was willing.”

“Hon, you would have refused,” Jane said with an affectionate chuckle. “I can hardly get you to go out to dinner on a weekend because you’re working. Getting you to agree to anything that takes you away from the office is difficult. You really need this break.”

Emily sighed. “Brenda told me last week that she was worried that I was working too many hours.”

“Brenda’s right,” Jane said promptly.

“I’ll expect you to stay in touch, daily,” Emily said.

“Absolutely,” Jane replied.

They discussed a few items on the morning’s schedule before they rang off, after Jane promised to check in with Emily each day while she was in Daniz.

The receiver had barely settled onto the phone base when the cockpit door opened and Lazhar strode into the room.

Emily waited until he sat down next to her before she spoke, answering the unvoiced question in his eyes. “Jane will handle my schedule while I’m in Daniz but she’ll be in contact every day, and if something comes up that needs my attention, I’ll fly home immediately.”

Relief mingled with satisfaction on his face and he nodded. “This jet is at your disposal, should an emergency arise. And if all goes well, I’ll fly you home when you’ve had time to tour my country, visit the palace, meet the people of Daniz and feel you have enough information to plan the wedding.”

Emily picked up her notepad and pen. “I suppose that’s reasonable,” she said reluctantly. “How long do you think that will take?”

“A week, perhaps two. It depends on when you feel you’ve seen enough to feel comfortable planning a wedding that fits within our culture.”

“I’ll pencil in a week.” Emily gave him a cool look. She’d always secretly longed for travel and adventure but her single-minded focus on building her company had taken up all her time. Of necessity, she’d put that dream on the back burner. Lazhar was unwittingly fulfilling one of her childhood wishes but she was still annoyed at his high-handed method of gaining her cooperation.

“A week,” he repeated with a nod. Emily read satisfaction in his eyes before his gaze left hers. He pushed one of the buttons located in a key pad on the chair’s armrest, then picked up the wine and refilled their glasses. As he was returning the bottle to the tabletop, the cabin door opened and the steward entered.

“Ah, Carlos,” Lazhar greeted the man. “We’re ready for dinner.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” Carlos bowed and disappeared through the doorway, only to return promptly with a wheeled cart. He worked efficiently and quietly, whisking a linen tablecloth and napkins from the cart to cover a mahogany table near the back of the cabin. He took silverware from one of the cart’s compartments, china and stemware from another, and in moments, the table was set, food steaming on the plates.

He bowed and pushed the cart out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Emily, who had watched the steward’s transformation of game table to dinner table, glanced at Lazhar. “Is Carlos a genie in his off-hours? Because that was quite a trick.”

Lazhar returned her smile. “He’s very good at his job.” He stood and held out his hand. “Shall we?” Emily took his hand and let him draw her to her feet. “He’s worked for my father, and now me, for over twenty years. I followed him around as a child when our family traveled, trying to uncover his secret for producing food at the precise moment my parents wanted it, but I never did. The only thing I ever managed to learn was that he’s amazingly organized.”

Lazhar pulled out a chair and seated her before taking his own seat across from her.

“This looks wonderful.” Determined to maintain a polite, professional distance between them, Emily picked up her fork and took a bite. The grilled fish was crisp on the outside, perfectly cooked on the inside. She sampled the paella as well, the flavors of saffron, red and green peppers blending with shrimp and mussels in a mouthwatering combination. “It tastes even better than it looks.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased. I’ll pass your comments on to Carlos.”

They chatted easily during dinner. Lazhar seemed more than willing to answer her questions about his country and the customs that would impact the royal wedding. He had a wry sense of humor that had her laughing and his insightful comments about the differing economic stratas in his country made her realize that he wasn’t a prince who isolated himself in a luxurious castle. He must spend a lot of time working alongside the residents of Daniz, she thought as he related a story about attending a rural wedding of a distant cousin. The wedding celebration continued for a week and during that time, the male guests helped erect a small house for the newlyweds. It was clear that Lazhar relished the physical activity of pounding nails and raising walls.

Their dinner long finished, their dessert plates empty and the bottle of wine drained, they remained at the table, Emily listening with fascination to his stories about life in Daniz. I could care too much for this man, she realized as she gazed at him, his features animated when he described how the guests had carried his cousin and his bride around the house on their shoulders before leaving them inside the finished structure.

“We’ll drive out to the country and visit my cousin and his wife while you’re in Daniz,” Lazhar commented, glancing at his watch and lifting an eyebrow in surprise. “It’s late. I’m afraid I’ve been boring you with family stories.”

“No, not at all.” Emily glanced at her own small diamond-studded watch and was shocked to find that it was after midnight. “I had no idea it was this late.”

“You should try to get some sleep.” He stood and once again, held out his hand. “The bag Jane packed for you is in the bedroom.”

Emily put her hand in his, palm against palm, her fingers sliding against his rougher, larger ones. She was getting accustomed to having him take her hand, she realized, and for some reason, didn’t mind it. There was something about him that found its way past her defenses and instilled confidence, generating acceptance.

He showed her to a beautifully decorated bedroom off the main cabin and left her with a polite good-night. A wave of weariness hit Emily as she closed and locked the door, her gaze searching the room. Her suitcase sat atop a luggage rack next to the bed and she pulled out her pajamas and toiletry bag, quickly preparing for bed. She was so tired she barely noted the opulent fittings of the bath and bedroom before she turned out the light and slipped between the silk sheets. Within seconds, she was sound asleep.

Their landing and transfer from the plane to the black Mercedes limousine waiting for them the next morning was smooth and effortless. The driver left the airport by a private gate, nosing the big car into busy morning traffic along a wide avenue. Seated next to Lazhar in the back, Emily was entranced by glimpses of the azure sea as they passed narrow side streets leading from the vehicle-choked avenue down to the Daniz Harbor. The limousine made a sharp turn and she caught her breath as they plunged down one such street, so narrow that oncoming vehicles nearly brushed door handles.

“Don’t worry,” Lazhar said, his deep voice amused. “Antonio has driven this route a thousand times and never so much as scratched the paint.”

Emily’s gaze left the colorful scene outside her window and glanced at him to find him watching her, an understanding smile curving his lips. A reluctant smile lifted the corner of her mouth in response. “I thought I was accustomed to narrow streets and steep hills,” she commented, gesturing at the window beside him. “But San Francisco didn’t prepare me for this.”

He chuckled. “This part of Daniz City is built on a series of hills that march up from the harbor and since it’s been here for centuries, the streets weren’t built to accommodate automobiles. I’m accustomed to it since I’ve lived here all my life, but I warn visitors that they should think twice before hiring a car and driving here.” He paused, his gaze intent on her face. “What do you think of my city?”

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice sounded as enchanted as she felt. Their car stopped at an intersection, waiting for a crowd of strolling pedestrians to cross the street in front of them, and Emily leaned closer to Lazhar, the better to see out the side window. A carpet with a pattern worked in deep burgundies and rose-reds hung outside the shop on the corner, its lush colors vibrant against the pink-tinged stones of the building behind it. The shop door set into the heavy medieval archway stood open and Emily caught a glimpse of an Aladdin’s cave of brilliant color before the car moved forward, leaving the shop behind.

They drove past an open-air market, flowers and fruit making brilliant splashes of color against the ancient stone walls laced with black ironwork balconies above.

“You’re sincere about finding my city beautiful.”

It was a statement, not a question, and when Emily drew her gaze from the view outside the window to look at Lazhar, his expression held a quiet pride and satisfaction.

“Yes, it’s absolutely fascinating.”

They shared a spontaneous smile of accord and for one brief moment, she felt as if she’d known him forever, that he understood exactly how much she enjoyed this glimpse of his city, so very different from her native San Francisco despite both being built on steep hills. Then he glanced away from her and out the window, pointing out the fountain in the center of the square they were currently circling, and the moment was gone.

Emily’s first view of the Daniz Royal Palace left her speechless. The castle sat atop a hill, with breathtaking views from all sides. The rose-tinted stone building had medieval square towers with crenellated tops standing guard at each end, the walls connecting the towers lined with high, arched windows on the top two stories, the lower story having only small, square openings covered with glass. It looked like a fortress, which indeed, it had been during its early years.

The limousine smoothly negotiated the winding avenue, lined with Italian poplars and centuries-old buildings housing apartments above and shops at street level. Then they passed through impressive wrought-iron gates manned by uniformed guards to enter the palace grounds. Lush green lawns dotted with huge, century-old trees edged the driveway leading to the palace itself; the car swept to a stop on the cobblestone circular driveway before an imposing door.

The driver and bodyguard immediately exited and held open the door for Lazhar, who handed out Emily, turning away for a moment to converse in low tones with the guard.

Emily’s fascinated gaze swept the castle facade, drinking in the sight of stone sculptures carved above each of the many windows and what seemed to be a hanging garden halfway down the building’s length, one floor up where a stone balustrade topped the first level.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Lazhar took her arm and they walked toward the doorway.

Emily barely had time to note the coat of arms carved into the stone above the arched doorway, the two snarling panthers holding crossed swords over a crown. Then they were inside, crossing an entryway tiled with a blue and gold mosaic pattern; the room was easily large enough to hold several hundred people.

“Antonio is taking your bag to your room,” Lazhar told her as they ascended one side of the curving staircase to the second floor. “My mother and sister always need to rest after flying home from the States due to the jet lag. When you’re ready, your maid will tell you where to find me and we’ll discuss the itinerary for your stay.”

“Very well,” Emily murmured. She caught glimpses into rooms off the hallway that were decorated in a mix of Mediterranean architecture, Persian carpets, Italian glass, French furniture, and Moroccan pillows. She was charmed by the beautiful building with it’s jewel-box rooms; somehow the interiors she saw managed to combine palatial elegance with the warmth of a real home.

“Here we are.” Lazhar pushed open a door and halted. “If there’s anything you want or need that you don’t find, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.” Emily stepped into the room, her gaze quickly sweeping the lovely furnishings before she turned to look at him, her fingers closing over the door handle. “You’re very kind.”

“Not at all.” He shrugged, his lashes narrowing as he assessed her. “You look ready to fall asleep standing there. Get some sleep,” he said abruptly. “We’ll talk after you’ve rested.” And he reached out and caught the edge of the door, gently moving it out of her grasp, closing it between them.

Left alone, Emily surveyed her room and realized that it was actually a suite of rooms. The ruby and cream Persian carpet was thick and plush beneath her feet as she walked across the airy sitting room to peek through an open door. Here, the drapes were partially drawn across floor-to-ceiling windows, barring the hot sunlight from the interior. The wide bed was draped in sheer white panels, the pale lemon sheet and green silk coverlet turned back invitingly below the embroidered pillows. Despite the effects of jet lag that had her yawning, Emily walked to the archway and stepped out into a lovely garden. Walled on three sides for privacy with bougainvillea spilling hot pink flowers over the sand-colored stones, the garden was a riot of white and pink roses, fragrant lavender, sage, rosemary and silvery artemisia. One wall was only waist-high and the view of Daniz Harbor and the Mediterranean Sea beyond was breathtaking. Emily drew a deep breath. The tang of salt carried by a faint breeze from the harbor mingled with the sweet scent of the garden’s floribunda roses. The breath turned into a yawn and she reluctantly turned away from the spellbinding view of sea and garden to reenter the bedroom. She showered, pulled on a nightgown, and climbed into bed.

She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

When she woke, the midafternoon sun was slanting through the half-open drapes. Disoriented, she stared at the ceiling for a long moment, wondering why it was a pale rose instead of the eggshell-white she normally saw when waking in her bed in San Francisco.

Because I’m not home in San Francisco. She sat up, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and stared around her. The airy, shaded room was exotic and opulent, a mix of architecture that reflected the countries and cultures that bordered Daniz. The Spanish archway leading to the sitting room was edged with Greek tiles in green and gold and the French influence was apparent in the delicate Louis XIV chair placed in one corner near her bed. An exquisite Italian vase of handblown glass stood on the dresser, its shade of deep green a perfect foil for the white roses and trailing greenery it held. And the high ceilings and airy hangings tied back on the bed, that matched the sheer white draperies at the windows, reminded Emily that Morocco was just across the Mediterranean Sea.

It was so lovely and so exotically different from her apartment in San Francisco that she felt transported into another world.

It is another world, she reminded herself. The royal palace in a foreign country is definitely light years away from my apartment in San Francisco.

She tossed back the silky sheet and light coverlet and rose, wondering what time it was and how long she’d slept. She picked up her watch from the nightstand.

“Two o’clock? How could I have slept so long?” she murmured, dismayed that the day was half gone. She hurried into the bathroom where she found herself pausing once again to stare with pleasure at the effect of green and cream tiles, thick cream-colored turkish towels, and pale jade marble tub and sink. It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to the beauty and comfort that money could provide. She’d grown up in her father’s opulent mansion; her playmates and friends all lived in similar wealthy homes. But there was something subtly different about Lazhar’s home. The deep jewel tones of the carpets were softly muted as if they had covered the teak and marble floors for years. The paintings of ladies and gentleman that hung on the walls bore a resemblance to one another and Emily suspected that they were Lazhar’s ancestors. The furnishings spoke of centuries of wealth and history yet conveyed a welcoming warmth that she’d never felt in her father’s oddly sterile mansion.

Emily shook herself out of her reverie and turned on the shower faucets, stripping quickly and stepping into the tiled surround.

A half hour later, showered, hair blown dry, makeup applied, wearing only a towel she walked back into the bedroom and halted abruptly. A maid dressed in a soft royal-blue uniform edged in gold, was just setting a tray with teapot and scones atop the small table near the window.

“Good afternoon.” Her soft voice was friendly and polite, the English words faintly accented with a musical lilt.

“Hello.” Emily glanced at the very English teapot with its pink tea rose pattern. Yet another country heard from, she thought.

The maid opened a door to a walk-in closet. “I unpacked your bag this morning and hung your dresses in here.” She pulled open a drawer. “And I folded your lingerie into the drawers.” She looked expectantly at Emily. “Would you like me to help you dress, ma’am?”

“I think I can manage but thank you for unpacking my things.”

“You’re very welcome,” the young woman murmured. “When you’re dressed, I’ll show you to the breakfast room.”

“Thank you.”

The maid smiled and left the room.

Emily waited until the door closed behind her before walking into the closet. She recognized only three of the many dresses and suits that hung on the long rod suspended along one wall. The closet was filled with gowns and casual wear, shoes on racks against the end wall, lingerie tucked into the drawers fitted against the opposite wall from the dress rack. She flipped through a row of dresses, noting the designer labels, before pulling open the drawers to glance at the filmy lingerie, all in her size. The clothing and underpinnings were gorgeous but Emily was torn between appreciation for the beautiful clothing and sheer annoyance that Lazhar obviously knew her measurements, right down to her bra and panties.

Was it possible that he’d ordered an entire wardrobe just for her? No, she thought, discounting the idea. That was a grand gesture that a very rich man might make for a potential lover, not for a business associate.

Still, he’d clearly noticed some things about her since he’d guessed her measurements perfectly.

Unless Jane told him, she thought. Emily resolved to have another serious talk with Jane about her role in aiding Lazhar’s high-handed methods when she returned to San Francisco.