Chapter 3
Alexandra Downing set her daughter in the seat next to hers, the dark material of her stretch jeans curving enticingly over her ass. The woman was enchanting. Amir watched her surreptitiously as she adjusted her little one’s seatbelt. The jet was powering up its engines, and the little girl was already searching the toy box on the seat next to her. He had enjoyed watching her with the child all the way from her little home to the airport, and when she had seen the aircraft, with the emblem of his country emblazoned on its side, her eyes had widened, even as her daughter said,
“Mommy, are we going in the plane?”
He had listened to her answer her daughter’s question, and all the other ones that the little girl had had. She was patient to a fault, and it was obvious to him that she loved her baby more than life. He thought the man who had married her had been a lucky man, who, had he not died, would no doubt have made it impossible for Amir to have hired her. No man in his right mind would let a woman like her leave him to live in a foreign land without him there. He found himself thankful that she was no longer tied to any man, and was free to choose another.
Amir didn’t question the feeling. He had been attracted to her from the moment she had walked into the restaurant, her expression apprehensive, and then awestruck when she had turned and seen him. The way she had looked him over, the admiration he had seen in her eyes, had made him feel happy to have inherited his father’s size and his mother’s beauty. He knew he was attractive to women, and was more than glad that she was not immune to his good looks. She had been restrained, as a prospective employee should be, but he knew that an attraction had simmered between them, though he knew he would have a hard time getting her to admit it.
After their dinner interview on Friday, he had not seen her again. But by the time he had picked her up earlier, she had been in full professional mode. His smiles went unreturned, and her focus had been on her child, mostly, he thought, as a way of keeping her distance from him. He understood her actions, and respected her for them, but he would not deny the effect she had had on him when she had appeared at her door dressed in body-hugging jeans and a long overblouse that covered her to her hips. She wore high heels and had her hair up in a high ponytail. She carried herself with unconscious grace and poise, and it was clear to him that she was entirely unaware of how stunning she was.
Now she put her own seatbelt on and gripped the arms of her seat. It had not even occurred to him that she might be afraid of flying, and the sight of her white knuckles as the jet gathered speed and began its ascent made him wish he was sitting closer to her. Though what he thought he could do he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know her, but felt very protective of her. Her daughter was taking the whole experience in her stride, like all children would, unafraid no doubt because she was unaware of the dangers. He knew telling her mother that more people died on the road than in the air would not set her mind at ease. He offered her a drink, instead, but she refused it.
“I took some medication,” she said, “and I can’t have alcohol with it.”
He refrained from smiling, knowing she had probably taken some prescription drug for anxiety but was unwilling to let him know her weakness. She was a strong-minded, independent woman, and for her to show weakness must be a sign of failure. He respected her more each moment he was in her company. She would be a worthy partner for a lucky man. His family was known for marrying strong women. At the thought of marriage, he sobered. When his father died, which looked to be sooner rather than later, he would be thrust into leading his country, and the expectations that went with that were burdensome to him. He did not like to think of his father dying, not just because he was his only living parent, but because his death would mean Amir had to marry within a year, and produce an heir within two more.
He had never liked to be coerced into doing anything, but the laws of his country regarding accession to the throne were set in stone. Amir understood the reason for them, but that did not mean he had to like them. And so far, the closest he had come to choosing a woman to pursue had been the two dinner parties at her parents’ mansion, and the four evenings he had spent alone with Princess Amina Mohammed, whose father was seeking to use her as the way to sealing closer ties with Mubaira. She was not without charm, and was in fact quite beautiful. But there was something about her that made Amir recoil, and he had always been one to trust his gut. He was grateful that at least his parents had not subscribed to the widely-held practice in their culture of choosing marriage partners for their children at birth. He would rather give up the throne than marry someone he did not love. And he knew he would never love Amina, despite her best efforts to show her pleasing side.
Alexandra Downing was an entirely different matter, though. A woman like her would be easy to love. She had a spark that never went out, and that seemed to have lit an answering one in him, one that he had no desire to put out. Certainly not for Amina, for whom he felt nothing, despite their having known each other for three months, and despite his attempts to engage with her on a more personal level. If he were asked to compare the two women, Alexandra would win hands down, and he had only met her two days ago. He knew there was something more to her by the very way his body reacted around her. Amina did not even raise his temperature, but Alexandra made his body hard, and his breathing heavy, and he thought those physical signs of his interest in her were as important as all the other things he had been discovering since he first met her.
The jet was still climbing, and he decided that engaging her in conversation would help to ease her further.
“Malik tells me you had an interesting day on Friday. Was it always that…frantic?”
Her smile filled something empty inside him. “No, Your Highness. Most days, I just needed to find where Mr. Maloney had gotten to…he liked to play hide and seek with us, though I’m sure he would deny it if we accused him of it.”
She spoke with great affection for the elderly man whom Malik had informed him had slipped away almost as soon as she had finished helping him dress and escorted him to the common room. He liked that she seemed to enjoy her job, and while he wasn’t happy that she had lost it, he was pleased that he was the one fortunate enough to have got her before someone else snapped her up. He watched the smile that curved up her lips, and could only smile in return.
“You don’t seem to be bothered by it,” he remarked. “You must have a great deal of patience. That is admirable.”
She smiled absently, her thoughts clearly on the old man. “He was alone,” she said. “No one ever came to visit him, at least not while I was there. So I tried to make him feel…”
“Loved?” Amir supplied. “Cared for? Special?”
The look she threw his way seemed to say she was shocked that a prince would understand such things. Little did she know how important he thought those things were for everyone, but especially for the elderly. His mother had died when he was still very young, and after so many years without her, he had learned how age can isolate a person, especially one who has lost the light of his being. He dreaded his father’s death, not just because of all the the responsibilities that it would drop onto his shoulders, but also because he feared he would never be able to fill the void he knew existed in his heart that no one had yet filled. And that was why he resisted the idea of a marriage of convenience, because he knew that that void would widen and freeze over if he married someone he didn’t love. At least he still had his father to love and care for, and that would have to be enough.
Shaking the somber thoughts away, he listened as she tried to explain her reaction to her patient.
“There are too many older adults who are lonely,” she said, “and who have no one to care for them properly. Some of them are ill, and sometimes I am the only person they see who treats them as though they still have a brain and a heart.”
Amir’s gut twisted with a variety of conflicting emotions. Paramount among them was the overwhelming sense that she knew first hand of the truth of her words, and he wished he could make her pain go away. These feelings were unprecedented for him, as unexpected as peace in the Middle East would be. He wished he understood the reasons she called to his spirit as she did.
“My father is a very intelligent man,” he said, “with a sharp tongue, as you will no doubt discover. When he is fully in the present, he will be a challenge.”
He watched her think about the question before she asked it. “And what is he like when he isn’t in the present?”
Amir chose his words carefully. “The challenge is different,” he finally said, after a moment of thought. “Do you have…difficult patients to deal with?”
“If you’re asking whether or not there were violent patients, the answer is most certainly yes.” She paused, and her face twisted into a frown that told him the memories were disturbing. “One of them, a woman, had been systematically abused for a long time before she came to us, and she was always looking for a weapon to defend herself. Sometimes, she managed to steal a steak knife, or a fork, and a couple of us were hurt when she attacked us as we were getting her ready for bed.”
Amir’s gut clenched, and he watched her to see how upset the memory was making her. She smoothed her hands over her upper arms, and he wondered if that was where she had been wounded.
“She was a very large, very strong, very traumatized woman. After the second attack, she was removed to a psychiatric facility.” She sighed heavily, then straightened her shoulders. “I sometimes wondered why they hadn’t placed her there to begin with. She was moody and sullen most of the time.”
“Happily for us, Ms. Downing, you were not severely injured. I admire your courage.”
A wry smile curved her lips. “Perhaps necessity rather than courage,” she murmured. “One has to pay the bills.”
The comment reminded him that he had not had her sign the contract, and he thought the document would keep her occupied and focused on something other than where she was, and what she was traveling in, and all the other reasons she might have for being anxious. He turned to look for Malik and found him just walking down the aisle, preceding the hostess who was pushing the trolley with lunch.
“Ah, Malik, would you hand Ms. Downing the tablet so she can read the contract? I need them to be signed by the time we land in Johar.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly and turning to retrieve his tablet while the hostess served lunch.
Amir watched as his new employee helped her daughter cut the sandwich she had been given into bite size pieces, and then affix a bib she pulled from an overnight bag to the little girl’s chest, before saying,
“Okay, baby, remember, the soup is very warm. Blow on it before you eat, okay?”
Simone nodded, and Amir found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her little face. She was her mother’s daughter in every way but the color of her eyes, which were a clear hazel, where her mother’s were a deep brown. Her curls were tight, and fell to her shoulders from a ponytail high on her head. She had long, slender limbs, and her round cheeks were rosy with good health. She had the undisturbed demeanor of a happy child. It was just another sign to him of how well suited his new employee was for the job he had hired her to do. She took excellent care of a small child while managing to hold down a challenging full time job each day. She would care well for his father until his passing.
After lunch, he became embroiled in business and did not look up again until well past dinner, which he had asked to be kept warm for him. The others had eaten, and the little girl was sitting in her mother’s lap, both of them asleep. Something twisted in his chest at the sight, and he wondered what it would be like to have his own child, and what the beautiful young woman across the aisle would look like heavy with child. Putting aside his briefcase, he went over and touched her shoulder lightly. When she opened her eyes, he crouched beside her and said,
“There is a perfectly serviceable bedroom in the rear, Ms. Downing. Please take the little one and get some rest.”
She blushed prettily, and he stood up, taking the sleeping child from her and carrying her in his arms back to the bedroom he used. He knew what she saw when she walked in ahead of him…a richly-appointed bedroom, complete with queen sized bed, white silk sheets and a black and gold duvet. There were more pillows than one man would ever use, and she pushed most of them aside to make room for the child, who had still not stirred in his arms. He laid her down gently, and then said,
“The bathroom is through that door. It is private. I’ll have Malik bring your overnight bag to you. Enjoy your rest.”
She looked into his eyes for a moment, and he saw the heat of interest flare there for a second before she doused it. He felt her withdrawal like a sharp loss of contact, and he wished he could pull her in and hug her. He let her see that he returned her interest, and then he turned away and left the room before he forgot himself. He was still a prince, first and foremost, and he could not allow himself to lose his focus. She was not in his private jet, in his own bedroom, because she was anything to him personally. If she had not had a child with her, he would have let her stay in the reclined seat.
That falsehood took him back to his seat in the main cabin where he immediately called up the last screen he had been working on and tried to re-immerse himself in the documents he had been studying. It was a struggle, and he finally gave up just as Malik walked up to him and said,
“Are you ready for dinner, Your Highness?”
“I think I might as well be, Malik,” he replied, and stood with him, going back to the elegant dining space that doubled as a conference table when he had business meetings aboard.
The hostess served his dinner, while Malik sat across from him answering his questions about the latest border treaty Mubaira had just signed. The terms had been hard won, but the trade would be worth it, as well as providing an assurance of joint support in protecting each other from hostile intrusions. Then their talk turned to the woman asleep with her child in his bed.
“What do we know about her, aside from the few things she has told us?” he asked.
“There don’t seem to be any relatives, my Lord,” Malik began, “and the child’s father has apparently been absent for a significant amount of time as well.”
“So she is truly alone in the world,” Amir murmured to himself.
“Indeed,” Malik replied, eyeing him without further comment.
Amir smiled. He and Amir had forged a relationship which it would be difficult to describe to anyone else. Malik was the youngest brother of his father’s closest friend, a member of the sheikh’s cabinet. He had fallen on hard times when he lost his wife and child, as well as his house, to a fire that ravaged the whole community where he had lived. He had disappeared for over a year, and when his brother found him, he had been at the point of death. He had needed considerable rehabilitation, and a new purpose, if he were to avoid a relapse into the addictions from which his brother had saved him.
Enter Amir, then a sullen and introverted fourteen-year-old, whose mother had died only the year before, and whose father was at a loss as to how to reach his only son. Malik had been hired as his personal assistant — Amir insisted he was too old for a babysitter, so his father had given Malik a new title — and it had been his job to train the boy to be a man, even as his father was training him to be a king. Malik had been the one to hire his personal trainer, to establish his training routines in horse riding, fencing, mixed martial arts, including krav maga, swimming, rugby…anything Amir had evinced even the slightest interest in was something Malik made happen for him. He had been there through Amir’s four years of university in Scotland, and his three years of postgraduate work in England. He had been there for the two failed attempts on his life, back before their borders had been properly secured, and the enemies of the state were looking to give the king a reason to give up his throne.
Now Malik managed his life in every aspect, from the time he woke in the morning until the minute his head touched the pillow. The only things Malik didn’t do for him were wash and feed him. He had even, on occasion, acted as Amir’s valet, helping him make wardrobe decisions, and making sure he was well-turned out for important social and state functions. Amir didn’t quite know what he would do when Malik finally decided that he had had enough. But he knew he could trust the man who was smiling back at him with his life. They had talked about everything over the years, including what Amir ought to do about Amina, and about his father’s looming death.
“Go ahead, Malik,” he said, chuckling. “Have your say. It’s not as though you haven’t been thinking about all you want to say since Ms. Downing first met with us last Friday.”
Malik sat back in his seat, the professional demeanor dropping away, replaced by a warm regard for the younger man sitting across from him.
“She is a worthy young woman,” he began, cutting to the chase. “And she has no recognition of her value or appeal. You could not do any better than her.”
“I will not deny that I have observed, the same as you have, the way she is efficient and unpretentious,” Amir commented.
“I am sure you have also noticed her womanly charms, and her warmth,” Malik added, smirking. “You cannot deny it to me, my Lord. I have been witness to it. And I have never seen you respond to any other woman as you have to this one, not even the ones who throw themselves at you. And definitely not to Amina.”
“Don’t you think we are perhaps getting a bit ahead of ourselves, my friend?” he wondered, his gaze turning inward.
“Your father is not long for this world, my Lord,” Malik reminded him gravely, “and I cannot think how you will manage with Amina as your consort. You must be aware of how fiercely she is pushing her own candidacy? She has brought her parents over for unofficial visits on two occasions, once this past weekend while we have been here. She will not happily release you, unless you cut whatever ties you have made with her immediately.”
Amir sighed. “I have made no ties, nor do I ever wish to.”
“That is good. She cannot call upon a closer relationship, or any hopes established thereby, to bind herself to you. Ms. Downing is ripe for the taking…”
“As long as she is willing,” Amir interrupted him.
Malik tsked impatiently at him. “At this point, my Lord, don’t you think you ought to give in to the more practical aspects of such a partnership, and get her to see the benefits of a connection with you, than trying to wait for love? After all, she may never love you, but she will always be perfect for you.”
“I must disagree with you there,” Amir said seriously. “I will never marry, unless it be for love.”
“Then let us hope you each fall quickly. Your future depends on it.”