Chapter 9
“Zahir, we shouldn’t–” Mandy stopped as a servant appeared with a bottle of wine. She waited patiently while the man poured the wine, her body still tingling.
She heard Zahir chuckle, but couldn’t look at him.
Lifting her glass, she took a delicious sip of the perfectly chilled, white wine, then carefully set the glass back down on the table.
“Please share the joke, Your Highness. I’m not sure that we–”
Another servant stepped into the room, placing a bowl of soup in front of each of them.
With a frustrated sigh, Mandy waited while the servant ground pepper with a flourish over each of their bowls, then disappeared again.
“We should be left alone for at least five minutes,” Zahir explained, lifting his spoon as he watched her carefully.
Mandy was uncomfortable under his intense perusal. Or maybe she was uncomfortable that he could so easily do…that…to her. She felt…out of control. Yes, that was it. She didn’t like that he could…!
“Talk to me, Mandy,” he urged. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can see that you’re upset.”
She wiggled in her chair and set the soup spoon down, unable to sample what was most likely a delicious soup because her hand was shaking.
Her cheeks heated and Mandy hated that she was so transparent. “I don’t like…,” she stopped, trying to find the words to explain her issue.
“Are you about to say that you didn’t like what I just did to you?” he offered.
“Yes!” she snapped. The amused expression in his eyes made her realize what she’d just said. “No, of course I enjoyed it.” She huffed a bit. “I don’t like that you can just…take me into a room and make me feel so out of control, Zahir.”
He chuckled and that sound sent a sharp stab of longing through her.
“I understand,” he replied. “Would it help you to know that right now, at this very moment, I have one of the most painful erections I’ve ever experienced?”
Startled, she looked up at him. “You…do?”
He nodded, then took another spoonful of the soup. “And it’s only getting more painful when you blush like that because I know that you’re thinking about what I just did to you.”
“I’m not!” she gasped, then pulled back slightly. “I’m just…well, yes, I’m thinking about it, but not in the way that you’re imagining.”
Zahir shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how you’re thinking about it, I want to do it again. And again. And I want to be buried deep inside of your body when you climax for a fourth time. I want to feel every part of your body quake while I’m inside you and feel your climax clench around my shaft.”
“Stop it!” she hissed, turning to look around and reassure herself that the room was otherwise empty.
His response was an unrepentant grin, and his eyes dropped to her breasts. “Tonight, I want you naked and I will be much more thorough.”
Mandy stared at him, remembering how thorough he’d been when he’d been kneeling on the floor in front of her, licking her, sucking on her body, and making her gasp with pleasure. More thorough? Mandy wasn’t sure if she would survive it!
“Eat your dinner, Mandy,” he urged. “You’re going to need your strength.”
He continued with the soup course, but Mandy could barely get two sips of the delicious soup down. She couldn’t stop wondering HOW he planned to be more thorough.
The soup was taken away, replaced with a salad that looked beautiful. Zahir’s chef was masterful at both presentation and an interesting mix of flavors. But again, Mandy couldn’t do justice to the man’s efforts.
Finally, Zahir sighed and stood up. “We need to speak in private,” he told her. When the next servant stepped into the dining room, Zahir said, “Apologize to Henri and ask him to keep our meal warm. We’ll finish dining later.”
And then he took Mandy’s hand, gently tugging her from her chair. Thankfully, his apartment was close to the dining room so they didn’t have a long walk. Mandy knew that she was about to melt into a puddle of lust.
Still, as soon as they were in his private suite, she stepped away from him, needing space and time to recover from….well, everything!
“Zahir, I don’t think–”
“I think you’ve done enough thinking,” he interrupted. “I think that I should slowly strip your clothes off and explain my intentions to you as I do.”
She stepped back, her eyes staring into his. “We should talk.”
“Good. We’ll talk. Later,” he promised, walking towards her, his intentions clear in his eyes.
“We should talk now,” she insisted, lifting her hands up to him.
He took her right hand in his, lifting her fingers to his mouth. When he sucked on her finger, her knees almost gave out. “Zahir!” she gasped, closing her eyes as the heat coming from his mouth shot a bolt of lust right to her core.
“I thought we were going to talk!” she gasped, then moved closer as he took another finger into his mouth, doing the same and the result was just as intense.
“We will talk,” he promised, leaning in to kiss her. This kiss was sensual, amazing and intoxicating. When she realized what he was doing, her hands found his shoulders and Mandy pulled him closer, needing the connection.
“I need you now, Mandy,” he hissed, backing her up.
She felt something against the back of her legs, but was too intent on unbuttoning his dress shirt to pay attention. “Yes,” she replied, exposing his tanned skin. She kissed him there, lightly exploring the ridges and angles of his chest with her lips and tongue. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. So much more!
Suddenly, she was falling backwards. Clinging to Zahir, she looked around, then realized that the sofa was right behind her. Still holding onto his shoulders, she let him lower her onto the cushions and her arms and legs wrapped around his neck and waist. She pushed his shirt off of his shoulder, needing to touch more of his bare skin.
“You’re so raw!” she whispered, feeling his erection press against her core. “So much!”
“You have no idea,” he muttered against her neck, kissing, nipping, and teasing the sensitive skin.
Moments later, he pulled away, but only long enough to get her naked. When he started to come back down to her, she stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Take off your clothes first,” she ordered.
Zahir might have smiled at her command, but he wasn’t sure. He needed to be close to her and yes, being naked would definitely help. He heard something rip, but wasn’t sure what he’d torn in his effort to get rid of every obstacle to being close to his woman.
When he’d finally divested himself of his clothing, he returned to her, focusing on her breasts as he settled on top of her. This time, he didn’t need to pull her legs apart. Instead, she opened for him and he growled with appreciation. He wanted nothing between them, not even inhibitions. Not tonight. He had plans tonight, but those plans started with driving her so wild for him, she would tell him exactly what he needed to hear.
Because of those plans, he showed no mercy as he sucked one of her pert nipples into his mouth. With his teeth, tongue, and lips, he teased her until she arched her back, screaming out his name. Zahir noticed that her fingers were in his hair, but not pulling his head away. Moving to the other breast, he gave that one the same attention, intoxicated by the feeling of every part of her quivering with the same need that overwhelmed him.
“You’re so beautiful!” he groaned, moving lower, kissing her stomach. There was a deliciously soft curve here on her stomach and he nibbled on the soft flesh, teasing her hip bones before moving even lower.
He thought about standing up and starting with her feet, wanting to make her so crazy with lust that she didn’t have the ability to stop him, but his need was too urgent. Feeling her like this, writhing under him and begging with her gasps and her moans, her trembling need was a potent aphrodisiac.
Once again, he felt her fingers tug at his hair, then her soft hands cupped his face. When she looked at him, he swallowed at how gorgeous she was. Her lips were swollen, her nipples peaked, and there was an urgent heat in her eyes that he loved.
“I need you inside me, Zahir. No more teasing. I’m begging you, please just…!”
With her plea, he couldn’t hold back. His plan to do this slowly went out the window. Grabbing his slacks, he pulled out one of the condoms that he kept on him now that she was his, rolling it down over his painfully aroused shaft.
When he came back to her, Zahir watched as he entered her, so turned on by her pink folds taking his shaft that he had to look away. As he stared into her eyes, pressing deeper into her delicious body, he knew what he needed to do.
“Marry me,” he groaned, thrusting deeply into her and feeling her body tighten around him.
Her only response was a moan of pleasure as her fingers tightened on his shoulders. She closed her eyes, arching again, urging him deeper still. Taking her hands, he thrust into her slowly, ramping up her pleasure, making sure to rub that nub every time. She felt so damn good! And he wanted this forever. With her! Only Mandy. Ever since he’d seen her last year, he’d known that there was something special about her.
“Faster!” she whispered, biting her lip.
He slowed down, but still kept her primed, right on the edge. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wild. “You haven’t answered my question, Mandy,” he warned, then let his thumb slide against that nub. Not hard, but with enough pressure to keep her right where he wanted her.
“No…question!” she replied, gasping as her hips shifted, angling against his thumb.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, increasing the pressure. He could tell that she was close, teetering on the edge of her climax. But he pulled away, tormenting her further.
Her eyes widened and she growled, starting to reach down to touch herself. And damn, wasn’t that hot?! He loved that she was so wild right now, but he shook his head, pulling her hand away. He pinned her hands above her head as he slowed his thrusting even more.
“If you give me what I want, then I’ll give you what you want.”
“Not fair!” she hissed, sliding and angling desperately against him.
Zahir laughed and shook his head. “Nope, probably not. But we both know that we work damned well together.”
“Cheating!” she gasped and tried to pull away from him, still tugging at her hands.
“Probably. But if you say the word, I’ll give you what you need, Habibi.”
Mandy bit her lip, her body so close, so desperately close, and he understood that she was barely capable of thought. Zahir knew her body, knew exactly how to touch her and he continued to tease her without release.
“Can’t marry you!” she whispered, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek.
“You can,” he countered, thrusting into her harder, hitting that nub perfectly. “You just have to say yes and we can do this all the time, every night for the rest of our lives.”
Zahir shifted his hips, giving her a better angle and he would have laughed at the way her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head, except that he was right there with her. He needed release more than he needed his next breath.
So it was with a huge relief when she screamed, “Yes!” That might have been in response to the pleasure he was giving her, or it might have been an answer to his question. At that point, he no longer cared.
He pounded into her soft heat faster and almost immediately, he heard her cries of release as her inner muscles clamped down on his shaft. In that moment, knowing that she was going to become his wife as well as the way she screamed out his name, his control shattered. He let loose as his own orgasm washed over him. And he felt as if his whole soul was draining into her. He cursed the condom that prevented his seed from flowing into her, wanting to get her pregnant immediately.
But that would be wrong, he thought. They had to talk about children first. Plus, he wanted her all to himself for a while. He wanted to get to know her better, to understand how her father’s death had determined the path of her life, her choices. He wanted to understand how she’d become such a beautiful person.
Cradling her in his arms afterwards, he listened to her breathing and felt her pulse against his fingertips where they rested against her chest. She was silent, but he could “hear” her.
With little difficulty, Zahir stood up, cradling Mandy in his arms as he carried her into his bedroom. There, he laid her down on his bed and gazed down at her, seeing the dreamy smile in her eyes, he couldn’t hold back.
He made love to her all over again. This time, he went slower and more thoroughly, just as he’d promised he would. Once again, he took her to the heights of pleasure, but he didn’t ask her for promises this time. He already had her agreement to become his wife. No way would he let her take back that promise!
Hasan paced across the expanse of his living room floor. What the hell was taking so long? He’d paid the palace guard an enormous amount of money and now he needed to hear the news that the bitch had died! Hasan had ordered the man to make her death look like an accident, so that questions wouldn’t be asked.
So, what had gone wrong? What was taking so long? All his contact needed to do was push the woman down the stairs, or hit her with a car when she crossed the street!
“Dear, what’s wrong? Why are you so anxious?” his wife, Milta asked as she came into the room, wiping her hands on a cloth.
“Nothing. Go back to the kitchen,” he snapped.
Milta ignored his order and came closer, smiling as if to placate him. “You have been anxious for over a week, my dear. Please tell me what’s going on to make you so nervous.”
Hasan swung around, glaring at his wife of forty years. “Go back to the kitchen and mind your own business!” he roared.
She reared back and, instantly, Hasan knew he’d made a mistake. His wife was a good woman. She’d raised four children, all of them settled in excellent marriages that had helped him progress in his career. Milta made their home comfortable and never questioned where the extra money came from. She cooked his favorite meals, had a glass of wine already poured when he came home from work ,and never complained when he worked late or even when he didn’t come home. She probably suspected that he visited the brothels, but she never spoke a word against him for his extra-marital activities.
She was a good wife. He’d apologize to her as soon as he’d received word that the bitch was gone. Yes, that was an excellent plan. He’d take Milta out for a special dinner to celebrate, not revealing to her why he was suddenly relaxed.
Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he stared out into the dark night. Why hadn’t he received word? He’d hired one of the best in the business. The accident should have taken place tonight. He’d received word that a group of palace employees were heading over to the bar, so why hadn’t he received the code word that meant the bitch was dead?
The buzzing of his cell phone startled him and he ripped his slacks in his haste to pull out the phone. “Didn’t happen. Target didn’t attend.”
That was it? Just the news that Mandy Sullivan hadn’t attended the after-work happy hour? But why not? She’d attended all of the other happy hours! Why had this night been different?
He walked into the kitchen and smelled the braised chicken in the oven. His wife focused on writing something in that infernal notebook. He had no idea what the woman wrote about, but whenever he angered her, Milta resorted to writing. It was probably just a diary. Every time her feelings were wounded, she wrote until her hand cramped. Stupid woman! Useless woman! He should divorce her. She didn’t have periods any longer, which meant that she couldn’t have any more children. So what was the point of remaining married to her?
Yes, he’d divorce Milta and find someone younger, someone who could give him more children. After all, what was a man if he didn’t have children? His four children were well situated in life, but they didn’t need him any longer.
He should get a younger wife. Someone who was beautiful and could better protect his image. Milta was old now, and a bit haggard. Some might say she was still pretty, but the grey streaks in her dark hair warned that she was no longer fruitful.
Yes, he would get rid of her. But not in a divorce. No way was he giving the old hag any of his hard-earned money! A better idea was to have her killed off. The extra funds from his secret projects would adequately fund his wife’s demise.
Or maybe he’d save money by doing it himself. The idea was surprisingly enticing. Killing his wife? Yes, that might be an interesting side project! How would he do it? How would he convince his neighbors that she’d passed from natural causes?
Maybe he’d invent a disease. Something that would require her to accept hospice at a far-away hospital. Switzerland sounded like a good place for his wife to “convalesce”. Plus, a long, drawn-out disease would garner him sympathy from his colleagues!
Oh, this plan was even better than he’d first thought!
He could start planting the seeds tomorrow. Maybe he could even convince Milta that she wasn’t feeling well. He remembered that movie, “Gaslighting” or something along those lines. The husband slowly convinced his wife that she was crazy by turning down the lights or the heat and convincing his wife that she was sick. And crazy? He chuckled to himself. Yes, he’d enjoy the challenge of convincing his wife that she was both sick and nuts.
Still, the plan to get rid of his wife didn’t help his current problem. He still needed to get rid of the investigator, or forensic accountant. Whatever. She was a female and, therefore, stupid, even though she’d broken through his assistant’s firewalls. Stupid bitch! If she had just stayed away, he wouldn’t have to get rid of his wife.
Now he was inconvenienced and that wasn’t something he enjoyed. Milta, for all of her aging issues, had given him a good, easy life. She’d made his home life comfortable and had been a reliable mother.
So, what to do? If the woman wouldn’t leave the palace, he’d just have to go in after her! Yes, that seemed like an excellent plan. He’d go into the palace and get rid of her. In disguise, of course.
But, how would he do that? How could he sneak a disguise into the palace? Every time he entered, he was searched. His briefcase and any other bags were sent through the scanners and x-ray machines.
A moment later, Hasan had a splendid idea! He could ship his disguise directly to the palace! He chuckled at the brilliance of his plan. If he shipped the first part of his disguise to himself, with the address of the palace, he could intercept the packages. No, not intercept them. He could send a series of packages with silly materials to the palace and then, when asked about them, he’d say someone was pranking him. He’d order the packages to be stored in a rarely used closet or supply room and ask the security detail to start an investigation.
The same man who had failed him tonight could still be useful. He’d spare the man’s life if the guard intercepted the packages for him. Hasan would tell his contact to ensure all of his packages were held in one storage area. It would take a few days, maybe a week, before he had everything he needed. Then he could simply come to the palace for a meeting, disguise himself with a wig, glasses, and…and…? A uniform? No, that wouldn’t work. Everyone in the palace was an employee of the Sidrina government. So, what sort of disguise could he use?
A servant!
Yes, that was the perfect disguise! He could walk around the palace dressed as a female servant!
The idea wasn’t just perfect, it was brilliant! He could order several odd packages to be delivered to the palace under his name, and maybe several of the other department heads. Clapping his hands together, he nearly laughed out loud! All of the department heads would chuckle at the strange packages that arrived daily to the palace. And, if others received packages too, then suspicion wouldn’t fall on him!
This wasn’t just brilliant, it would be fun!
With a sigh, relieved that he had a new plan, Hasan walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his wife and kissed her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear. He’d have to be the ultimate husband going forward for his plan to work. “I was a bastard and you deserve better.”
Mitla closed her diary and turned, smiling up at him. “You are a wonderful husband,” she whispered and kissed him. But her worried eyes examined him carefully. “But you are tired. You need food. I made your favorite,” she said softly and pulled out of his arms to stand up. “Give me five minutes and your dinner will be ready.”
Hasan sat down, his finger tapping against the polished wood of the kitchen table. Her diary sat alone and unprotected on the table. What had the bitch been writing? He wanted to pull the diary closer, to read through her notes and discover her thoughts. But that would have to wait until tonight. Later, after he made love to her, he’d sneak downstairs and read through her diary.