Chapter 2
Mandy watched with fascination as her suitcase rolled through some odd-looking scanner. The massive, private plane was standing on the airport tarmac, waiting for passengers. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she had to admit that the security process was interesting.
“Are you ready to board the plane?” someone asked her.
Mandy turned, looking for the new voice. It was one of the flight attendants who was wearing a spiffy blue suit with a coordinating tie. Realizing that she’d been staring at the now-empty conveyor belt, Mandy turned around, nodding.
“Yes. Right. Of course.” She turned away from the security area and started towards the moveable staircase that had been pushed up to the huge plane. She’d expected to take a commercial flight to Sidrina but, when she called to speak with Zahir, Mandy’s call had been forwarded to one of his assistants and not the actual man in charge. He’d told her that the sheik is flying back to Sidrina today and she would fly with him.
Not that they would offer her a ride to the airport. The command was clear; get to the airport.
Mandy supposed that she could have flown on a commercial flight to Sidrina at her own expense. But having grown up at or near the poverty level, with only a single mother who worked two jobs to pay the bills, Mandy had learned to be extremely thrifty. Even with her new company’s recent success, she still hadn’t shaken the insecurities of growing up living from paycheck to paycheck. She lived in a tiny house, even though she could now afford something nicer. She pushed all of her new company’s profits right back into the business while also saving as much as possible, only spending money on amazing benefits for her employees and a well-decorated office to impress clients.
So here she was, standing on a hot tarmac on an unusually warm October morning in a black suit and matching heels, watching as a sleek, black limousine pulled up right beside the stairs.
Instantly, her heart began pounding against her ribs and Mandy tried to suppress her reaction to the realization that the sheik was nearby. It wasn’t him, she told herself firmly. He was probably already on the plane.
And yet, she stood very still while she watched as one long leg, then another, emerged from the limousine. Every cell in her body was vibrating, anticipating the moment when the rest of his body would emerge from the dark interior.
Sure enough, the great man himself stepped out and tugged his suit jacket into place. He buttoned the jacket, looking around, but the dark sunglasses covered his eyes.
He wouldn’t see her, she thought, wondering if she should shrink back towards the crowd of reporters that were gathered nearby. She assumed Sheik Zahir would just head on up the stairs to the plane and disappear into the back of the plane, then she could follow once the hullabaloo was over.
She was wrong!
Zahir ignored the frantic questions from the press, finding their intrusion into his life as obnoxious and invasive as ever. His entire focus was on finding Mandy Sullivan and having another conversation with her. After his previous conversation with her, Zahir had finally admitted to himself that his interest in her was more than simply professional. He was utterly fascinated. She was intelligent, independent, and had an integrity that was unusual in the people he normally met.
In contrast, life at the palace was a constant state of combat. Everyone vied for a closer position to him, not because they were friendly, but because he represented power. Not just in Sidrina, but worldwide.
Mandy Sullivan was different. He didn’t know how or why, but she was different and…she caused his blood to simmer with a desire that had been absent in his previous relationships.
Until two days ago when he’d offered her the contract with his country, Zahir hadn’t even considered her to be wife material. But now, as he waited with anticipation to see her, to speak with her, he knew that he was secretly adding her to the list of candidates to be his wife.
He wouldn’t tell her that though. He knew that, if she discovered his interest in her for anything beyond a professional capacity, Mandy would reject him outright.
How he knew that, he wasn’t sure. His security team had done a thorough background check on her and her company. So, he knew that her father had died in a tragic construction accident when Mandy was ten years old. She’d grown up with a single mother and had attended the University of Pennsylvania with a full scholarship. That was an impressive school, although not one of the ivy leagues. Zahir had seen her test scores and knew that Mandy could have attended any of the higher level schools. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had the financial resources to do so.
However, it was her integrity and her beauty that intrigued him the most. As well as that indefinable sensation he felt whenever she was near.
Like now.
She was close by. Was she on board already? His assistant had informed him that she’d arrived ten minutes ago. Was she waiting for him on the plane? He’d instructed Masri that he wanted to speak with her as soon as they were airborne.
Something, a movement or perhaps a ripple in the wind, caused him to look to his left. And there she was! Ms. Mandy Sullivan! She looked lovely, despite the stern business suit and boring black heels she’d chosen for the flight. He preferred the rather adorable leggings and oversized sweatshirt she’d been wearing last time. And he’d enjoyed seeing her in her home, seeing the way she’d lived and the simple décor in which she’d surrounded herself. The woman had chosen a small house with comfortable furnishings and he respected her more for that.
Not that she’d have that kind of environment in the future, he thought. Palace life wasn’t comfortable. It was elegant and…and he’d change things. He’d hire a new decorator so that she would feel more comfortable in the palace.
Yes, he wanted Mandy to enjoy palace life.
Walking over to her, he ignored the press. He knew that they were snapping dozens, possibly hundreds, of pictures of him escorting the young beauty onto the plane. But he didn’t give a damn! He was eager to speak with Ms. Sullivan and he was sick of the press. Let them think what they liked.
“Ms. Sullivan,” he said, watching her carefully. He immediately noticed the blush that stole up her cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to have you on my team.”
“Thank you for the honor, Your Highness,” she replied. Then he watched as she leaned forward. “Am I supposed to curtsy?” she whispered, glancing self-consciously over at the press who were literally climbing over each other to get a better picture of them.
He laughed softly, not bothering to glance towards the mass of reporters. “Citizens from other countries should never bow to a sovereign, regardless of rank.” He offered his arm. “However, I would be honored to walk you to the plane, if that doesn’t insult your independence.”
Her sweet, uninhibited smile sent a bolt of lust through him. “I would truly enjoy the honor of walking up the stairs with you.” And she delicately placed her fingers on his arm. Mandy shifted slightly, glancing self-consciously over her shoulder at the throng of reporters. “I’m guessing that those journalists will assume that I’m one of your future candidates and it amuses me to let them think that you would consider me to be one of them.” She laughed softly and he enjoyed the sound.
Little did she know, she was at the top of his list! She was so damn refreshing!
“You’re probably right, but how about if we ignore them and just do what we want?”
She grimaced, then realized what she’d done and tried to cover up her expression. “On second thought, perhaps it would be better if I walk onto the plane after you. As a business woman, it might not look ‘right’ if people think our relationship is anything other than professional.”
He leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial manner, whispered, “They don’t need any encouragement. They’re going to assume it anyway.”
She glanced at them again, then shook her head, unable to smother her chuckle at his teasing. “Let’s not risk it.”
He laughed but stepped back. “Be my guest,” he said, gesturing to the staircase.
Mandy looked around, startled to discover that the security personnel had finished their pre-boarding tasks. In fact, it appeared that everyone was waiting patiently for them to board. So instead of arguing, she nodded briefly, and walked towards the stairs. As she ascended, Mandy was painfully aware of her butt being right at his eye level. She didn’t have a very interesting butt, so she was fairly certain that he wasn’t watching her. Still, she was self-conscious and relieved when she was able to step into the main cabin of the plane.
“This way,” he said, putting a hand to the small of her back.
Mandy shivered and tried to step away from his touch. It was overwhelming and she didn’t understand, nor enjoy, the sensations or her hyperawareness of the man. Unfortunately, the space was too crowded for her to step out of reach. There were several people milling about, finding seats in the crowded space.
“When will I get my computer bag back?” she asked. “Security took it when I arrived.”
“They’ll bring it to you shortly,” he told her, then gestured towards another doorway. “Your seat is this way,” he explained.
She followed him back through the door, wondering who everyone was. She’d never been on a private plane, but she’d seen them in movies before. However, the planes in those movies only had one cabin. They might be luxurious, but still, just a single area for the wealthy to sit, or whatever it was that the rich did while they were traveling.
“Where should I sit?” she asked, still heading towards the back of the plane.
There were fewer people in this section.
“Just a bit further,” he told her. “We’ll have breakfast after takeoff and we can talk a bit more about your assignment.”
She kept going until he pushed open a door into what appeared to be a private sitting room. There were large, comfortable looking leather chairs that were more than twice as big as any seat on a commercial plane. All of them appeared to recline as well, something that regular airplane chairs couldn’t do anymore.
“This is really nice,” she said, more to say something. Mandy suddenly felt very awkward.
“I’m glad that you like it.” He gestured to one of the chairs, then waited for her to sit down before he chose the seat next to her.
A flight attendant arrived with a tray of coffee. “Your Highness,” he said, setting a steaming cup of coffee onto the table beside him.
“Thank you, Jim,” he replied. Then he turned to Mandy. “Would you like coffee or tea with breakfast?”
“Jim” stood silently, waiting for Mandy’s order.
“Oh…um…I’m sorry but you don’t have to serve me anything.” She reached down to pick up her tote bag. “I brought a granola bar with me.”
Jim’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He glanced at the sheik before he said, “Ms. Sullivan, I have a delicious, hot breakfast ready for you. You don’t have to suffer through a dry granola bar.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
He smiled and lowered his head slightly. “It’s a twenty-two hour flight. We’ll be serving breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks to all of the passengers and flight crew. And we can make anything you’d like.”
“Oh…” she glanced at the sheik who was waiting patiently for her to reply. “I’ll just have some coffee,” she finally said to Jim.
The man immediately nodded and walked out of the area. But before Jim could leave, the sheik said, “She’ll also have a full breakfast with me, Jim.”
Jim nodded his acknowledgement of the command and left the area without another word.
“Actually, the coffee will be enough.”
“You will eat.”
Mandy’s eyebrow lifted at his autocratic tone. “I will?”
She watched as his mouth curled into a half-smile. “You will. It’s a long, tedious flight and I don’t want you passing out from lack of nutrition.”
She sighed and adjusted into her seat, locking the seatbelt. “You’re being a bit dictatorial, don’t you think?”
“More than you realize,” he replied and connected his seatbelt as well. “But you’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not sure that I will,” Mandy replied. “One of the benefits of running my own company is that I don’t have to take orders from anyone.”
“Except your clients.”
“Yes, I take orders from clients, when they ask politely.”
He grinned and Mandy had to fight not to react. The man was certainly charming.
“Will you please have breakfast with me, Ms. Sullivan?”
She refused to be charmed, but knew that being polite would cost her nothing. “I would be honored to enjoy breakfast with you, Your Highness.”
“Please, we’ll be working closely with each other over the next few weeks. Call me Zahir, just as you did while we were at your house.”
“I was wrong to speak to you so informally before,” she admitted, having done a bit of online research over the past few days. “I don’t think that it would be appropriate for me to use your first name, Your Highness.”
“Two days ago, you commanded me to use your first name. Now you are determined to call me ‘Your Highness’ which means that I would be required to continue calling you Ms. Sullivan?”
She shrugged and tilted her head slightly. “That seems like a safer path forward, Your Highness.”
He chuckled and she clasped her hands together in her lap. He reached behind his chair and picked up a stack of files. “These are the first batch of candidates for your investigation,” he explained. “As I’d mentioned, along with your expertise, I’ve also hired a professional match maker to help with this project. Ms. Raven Markley is a psychologist who specializes in behavioral analysis and interview techniques.”
Mandy took the files, flipping through them briefly before looking back up at him. “That sounds interesting. I didn’t know that there were people who made a career in helping people find matches,” she commented, settling the files onto her lap. “But I suppose that makes sense.”
“Many people in my world use professional matchmakers. We don’t have the time to date. Because of security issues, casual dating isn’t really an option for me either.”
Mandy looked up at him after that explanation. It sounded so…hard. “You’ve never…dated?” she asked, surprised.
“I’ve been on dates with women,” he replied in a bland tone of voice.
She eyed him carefully, noticing the tightness around his eyes. There was a story behind that statement. But she didn’t know him well enough to ask about it.
“That sounds lonely, but I’m sure that your life has pros and cons, just like anyone else.”
“True,” he replied. “Will you explain your process for hunting down someone’s financial secrets?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied, more than willing to explain how she discovers someone’s secrets. Mandy shifted in the leather seat, eager now that they were discussing business. “I suspect that my investigation process is similar to any other kind of detective work. I start with a person’s social media. By looking through their online personalities, I can find out more than people realize. A bank account is only one layer of a person’s financial life. When I start to understand what the person spends their money on, then I can develop a multi-dimensional understanding of their lives. I don’t have to spy on them. Not when most people put their whole lives online for anyone to see.”
“That sounds fascinating,” he replied. He nodded when Jim came in with a rolling tray of food. He set a pot of coffee on the table, then the plates. A moment later, the whole table was rolled towards them.
“Jim’s coffee is excellent,” Zahir explained as Jim poured the brew into a delicate porcelain cup. “Unlike most airlines, my chef is excellent.”
Mandy’s coffee cup froze halfway to her mouth. She stared at him. “You have a chef on your plane?” she asked, startled by the news.
“Of course,” Zahir replied, taking a long sip of his own coffee.
Jim lifted the silver covers off of several serving plates. “Enjoy, Your Highness,” he said, then looked at Mandy and added, “Ms. Sullivan.” He backed away a few steps. “If there is anything you need, please ring for me.”
And then he was gone. Mandy couldn’t resist one of the fluffy biscuits sitting in a basket between their plates. “My father used to make biscuits every Saturday morning,” she announced, then frowned slightly, startled by that admission.
“What was your favorite topping?” he asked, taking a biscuit himself and spreading butter over half of it.
“Honey,” she replied, then popped a bite of the flaky pastry into her mouth. “My mother’s favorite was strawberry jam. But my dad and I preferred honey.”
“I’ll ring for honey,” he said, starting to reach for the call button.
“No!” she gasped, straightening in her seat. “Please don’t bother the man. This is all so wonderful. I rarely have time in the morning for breakfast, so this is a special treat.”
He pulled his hand away from the button and reached for the plate of eggs instead. When he started spooning eggs onto the plate, then set it down in front of her, she automatically lifted her fork to eat.
“You were telling me about social media and your investigations.”
“Right,” she replied, then continued to explain how people revealed the extravagant vacations they took or showed off their new car or furniture, perhaps their home renovations. “Once I know what to look for, I can dive into the cost of those extravagances. It’s amazing how easy it is to find the true amount that a person paid for a new car or a kitchen renovation. One person I looked into even posted a picture of his new in-ground pool, which had cost him more than twice his annual salary.”
“How do you eliminate any money that a person might have received from an inheritance?” he asked.
She shrugged and spread some jam on her biscuit. It was an unfamiliar, but delicious flavor and she almost moaned at how good it tasted.
After a taste, she set the biscuit down on the edge of her plate and wiped her hands carefully on the linen napkin. “That’s also pretty simple. When a person dies, there are records for that passing. Almost everything is online these days. A simple fee for the right records gives me the information I need. So if a relative passed away, leaving someone with an unexpected amount of money, then I can easily discover that. However, usually, it’s even easier than that since most people brag online about an inheritance as well. Sometimes on social media and sometimes just in their emails. It’s amazing what people tell each other online.”
“So, you don’t hack into their bank accounts and other personal data?”
She grinned. “So far, that hasn’t been necessary. But keep in mind that most of my clients are companies looking for embezzlers. They give me the person’s salary and from there, it’s easy to do the math and figure out if someone is spending within their means. Or if they have a gambling habit or a drug problem. It’s all pretty simple, really.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “If someone is good at their jobs, then they don’t understand how another person would consider their tasks complicated.” He put another biscuit onto her plate. “How did you decide to specialize in forensic accounting?”
“Well, I sort of fell into it after my father’s death.”
He paused in serving her some sausage. “How do you mean?”
She took another bite of eggs, surprised at how good they were. The carbs and excellent coffee must have dimmed her inhibitions, because she rarely spoke about her father. But sitting here, in a luxurious plane traveling who-knows-how-high above the clouds, Mandy didn’t feel the need to hide her past.
“My father died in a suspicious manner. I was only ten at the time, but my mother kept getting these letters from the construction company he’d worked for. The letters were concerned at first, offering sympathy. But after a couple of months, they were asking for documents and invoices that this person said were missing from my father’s office files.”
“And did your father have those files?”
“Yep,” she replied. “I helped my mom go through my father’s desk to find them. And as soon as I saw them, I knew that something was off. I’d already gone through my dad’s online files, looking for utility company login information and bank information after my dad’s funeral. At the time, my mother was overwhelmed with funeral costs and other details. And since I was good with numbers, I started to sift through the information. I realized that the numbers didn’t make sense. Plus, there were documents that my dad had brought home from work. I just…read through everything as a way to distract myself from my grief. I was so devastated by his death and searching for answers seemed to help me process everything.”
“And you figured out…what?”
“I accidentally found the invoices that my father had brought home. He’d stuffed everything into a small drawer in his desk. I was going through it one day, looking for anything I could find that would take my mind off of the sorrow I was feeling for a moment. It worked because I realized that the invoices in that drawer didn’t match the invoices from the same company. The dates were the same, but this set of invoices had different amounts. The second batch was too big for the same construction materials on the initial invoices I saw.” She was silent for a moment, letting the sadness from his passing ease over her. For some reason, talking about it with Zahir didn’t hurt as badly as it used to.
“So, you discovered that the company your father had worked for had…?”
“They’d bought inferior products,” she finished. She tilted her head. “Could we talk about something else?”
Mandy looked over at him, surprised to see the compassion in his eyes. Since that made something in her heart lurch, she pushed forward with her explanation. For the next hour, he asked her questions and she answered. It was both exhausting and exhilarating. She had to think quickly to explain some aspects of her job, wanting to give him a complete explanation. The man was paying for her expertise, after all. But it was also amazing to have someone care. Someone who actually listened to her.
When she realized how long she’d been talking, she blushed. “You’re very kind to be so interested in my accounting system. Most people find numbers and accounting quite dull.”
“I find you fascinating,” he told her.
His comment made her feel all warm and soft inside, but she wasn’t sure why.
“Do you enjoy your job?” she asked, shifting the focus away from her.
He shrugged. “I didn’t really have a choice of careers.”
She blinked, startled. “But…you…?” she stammered, not sure what she was trying to ask.
“I sort of fell into it after my father’s passing,” he teased, repeating the words she’d used to describe how she’d discovered her love of forensic accounting.
Mandy laughed, but it was short and self-conscious. “But surely there are some aspects of your work that you find enjoyable, right?”
He shrugged again. “I was raised to rule Sidrina. I don’t know any differently.”
“How is one raised for one specific job?”
“Tutors, mainly. I had a nanny when I was a toddler. Then a governess when I turned five years old. After that, I had a series of tutors that taught me various subjects, and then I was sent off to boarding school in Switzerland. After that, I went to Oxford University and then I came home to rule alongside my father. He passed away about five years ago and,” he waved his fork dismissively. “The rest is history.”
Mandy opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, a knock sounded on the door. A moment later, Masri, Zahir’s personal assistant poked his head into the room. “I apologize for interrupting, Your Highness, but that phone call you’ve been waiting on has come through.”
Mandy immediately stood up, grabbing her bag and the files. “I shouldn’t have taken up so much of your time, Your Highness. I know that you’re very busy.” She started towards the door, but she paused and turned back.
“It was a pleasure dining with you, Ms. Sullivan,” he replied, standing as well.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she started to say.
“For what?”
She opened her mouth, then hesitated, thought about her answer, then said, “When you first came to me and told me about finding a new fiancée so quickly after your broken engagement, I was upset. I judged you as unfeeling and cold.” She tightened her grip on the stack of folders, feeling awful. “But I get it now. I understand and I will do whatever I can to help you.”
After delivering her apology, Mandy turned and rushed out of the room. She made her way towards the front of the plane, hoping that it would be an appropriate place to sit down and work. She found an empty chair and sank down into the soft leather. The seat was smaller than the one she’d just left, but still much more comfortable than the cramped, tiny spaces on a commercial flight.
It took her several minutes to pull herself together. But finally, she was able to concentrate and get to work.
Zahir was only half listening to his phone conversation with the prime minister. His thoughts centered on Mandy and her parting words. What did she understand? What had he revealed to her? Mentally, he reviewed their conversation, but he had to admit that he’d been more focused on the shifting expressions on her lovely features. She was a beautiful woman and Zahir doubted that she was aware of her appeal. Plus, she hid behind dark, stiff suits, as if wearing something more feminine might diminish her professional appearance.
Perhaps it would. She was so lovely, that maybe she needed the stiff suits to be respected. He knew that, despite several leaps forward in women’s issues, they still faced constant challenges in the work force.
For the next several hours, he worked with only half of his normal concentration. He wanted to speak with Mandy again, to find out if she’d made any progress or if she had any thoughts about the potential candidates in the files he’d handed her.
Unfortunately, there was no break in his schedule. It didn’t matter that he was flying thirty thousand feet over the earth. The plane had state of the art technology that allowed him to run the government no matter where he was.
His intense schedule had never bothered him before. And he wasn’t bothered now, so much as wishful of a few more private moments with Mandy. However, he’d had more time with her this morning than probably ten other people combined today.
He’d find more time to be with her once they’d landed. He would tell his assistant to block out time every day once he was back home.