Chapter 2
Tiro watched Angela walk down the stairs, fascinated and, if he were honest with himself, charmed by the combination of sensuality, intelligence, and…something he couldn’t define. Princess Angela Al-Sintra was definitely a mystery. He’d anticipated her animosity, which was justified. What he hadn’t anticipated was the intense awareness of her as a woman.
This awareness was…dangerous. She was the ambassador to his most hated rival, Lativa.
Tiro had been acutely curious to learn if the rumors were true. Through diplomatic channels, he’d heard about Princess Angela’s ability to charm just about anyone, but Tiro hadn’t anticipated how affected he would be by her soft lips and sharpness of her tone. Because of her connections to the royal family, Tiro had assumed he’d be immune to her brand of charm.
He'd been wrong!
Tiro had fought against his initial instinct to pick her up and carry her away from this stupid gala. He couldn’t even remember what the event was for. Was this a charity event or a political thing? He hated both . Hell, Tiro hated anything that pulled him away from his country. He hated anything that slowed his country’s progress toward a better future for his people. And he hated everything about Lativa.
Except for Angela, a small thought silently interjected.
“Your Highness,” Osman, his personal assistant, stood at Tiro’s elbow, clutching his tablet to his thin, bony chest.
Tiro sighed, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the doorway through which Angela had vanished. “What is it?” he grumbled. Now that she was out of sight, Tiro was bored, wishing that he could just get on his plane and go home. He hated tedious social functions. Why the hell would anyone care if he showed up for some pretentious dinner party?
“The hosts of tonight’s dinner are awaiting your presence in the dining room.” He cleared his throat and looked at the floor, pretending that he hadn’t just watched his employer consorting with his country’s enemy. “They don’t want to insult you by starting without you.”
Tiro rolled his eyes as he pushed away from the stone banister. “Right,” he grumbled, then turned and walked down the stairs. If his hand brushed against the railing, it wasn’t to try and touch the same places that the lovely lady had touched. He knew that it was ridiculous to think that inanimate objects could retain another person’s essence.
Still, his fingers lingered where the woman’s hand had touched. He thought about the moment he’d touched her arm, keeping her from bumping into another guest. Her skin had been warm and inviting. His hands itched at the memory of her soft, sensuous curves and the dark brown hair piled into curls on top of her head, wishing to hold her. Visions of her full lips and the dark depths of her brown eyes danced behind his eyes. The woman was beyond stunning.
Did she know that? Is that why she’d turned to look back at him after reaching the bottom of the stairs ? Had she looked back because she knew that he was watching? Had the bewitching woman known that he was w ondering what she looked like naked? Had she sensed his need to strip her of every piece of clothing so that he could imprint himself on her?
Alleanat ealayja! He snarled silently as he made his way through the maze of tables in the large dining room. As soon as he sat down, the waiters immediately swarmed the dining room, carrying large, round trays containing the first course.
Because of his rank, Tiro was the first person at his table to receive the first course and he looked down at the anemic bowl of soup –barely worth calling broth, really– trying to stifle his look of irritation. The liquid was golden, and basically transparent, with some fru-fru, edible flower floating on top. What the hell was he supposed to do with the flower?
With a mental eye roll, he lifted his soup spoon, a tiny piece of silver that nearly disappeared in his huge hand. His hands were made for battle. Not dainty, pointless soup spoons! After the first mini-spoonful of the insipid soup, he wanted to growl with irritation.
Wanting to dismiss the infant-sized portion, Tiro looked up, his eyes immediately finding the woman who hadn’t left his thoughts since he’d met her thirty minutes ago. She delicately sipped the pointless broth with the same delicate spoon. She sat three tables away, but her seat on the opposite side of the table meant that they faced each other. As he watched, the lovely princess sipped her soup and smiled at something someone said. But he could tell that she wasn’t impressed with the nearly flavorless soup.
Tiro grunted and gripped his soup spoon, glaring at her. But he carefully ladled another spoonful of the broth and lifted it to his mouth. He resisted the desire to simply pick up the bowl and pour the tepid broth into his mouth.
He had to remind himself that he was no longer a soldier. He was the ruler of his vast country and needed to behave accordingly.
Still, he was a bit peeved when he looked up and saw the amusement in Angela’s gaze as she watched him. She couldn’t read his mind, he assured himself, shooting an irritated glare right back. But when she lifted her spoon again, turning her head toward the guest on her right, he wanted to leap to his feet and roar with irritation. Tiro wanted her attention back on him.
Instead, he turned to the guest on his right. The woman was in her mid-thirties, perhaps, and was wearing a dress so low-cut, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she moved too quickly.
The woman tittered and he suspected that she’d just tried to laugh “enticingly”. She’d failed.
“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness,” the woman simpered, offering him a warm smile that suggested that she was more than willing to do a whole lot more.
He glanced over to the other table in time to see Angela’s eyes drop to the table, her soup spoon poised inches from her mouth. He gave her a look, trying to convey that he wasn’t interested in the ostentatious woman. Almost immediately, the beautiful princess’s shoulders relaxed, the spoon continuing its journey to her mouth. She smiled politely at the man next to her, but there was no warmth to her expression. Good, he thought and answered the annoying woman’s questions about his country.
After nine courses of pretentiously prepared and artistically displayed food, Tiro was ready to escape. He didn’t give a damn about the speeches that would come next, nor did he care about whatever elaborate dessert was on the way. He just wanted to get out of this tuxedo and settle in with a glass of scotch. He wanted to talk with the woman who had been glancing his way all evening. He wanted to feast his eyes on her beauty, watch as she pulled the strategically placed pins from her hair so the dark tresses tumbled over her shoulders. He wanted to listen to her tell him about the conversations at her table and hear her sigh with relief as she kicked off her heels.
Tiro knew she’d been watching him because he’d been watching her. He hadn’t even tried to hide his interest in Angela. She was a beautiful woman and he desired her. Yes, he knew with certainty that there was absolutely no way he could act upon his desires. But the pretty blushes and shy glances his way made this evening bearable.
“Your speech has been loaded onto the teleprompter, Your Highness,” Osman whispered into Tiro’s ear.
Tiro nodded with resignation, and looked toward the host. The older woman nodded encouragingly at him while whispering in her assistant’s ear. He stood up and walked up to the dais. Tonight’s speech was about…something blah, blah, blah…unity. The speech had been suggested after two other countries in his region had attacked each other. Tiro knew the real reason behind the attack. One country was working on a land grab so they could gain financial control of a newly built canal that would bring in billions in shipping fees and would allow cargo ships to travel from the Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean. The new technology would allow ships to move through this canal faster and more easily than the current canal, which was a much smaller, more narrow and less efficient canal.
The whole attack was ridiculous political maneuvering and financial greed hidden behind a facade of “religious” righteousness. In his mind, it was pointless. The violence was a horrific waste of lives for financial gain by a small group of people. The governments, or more specifically, the corporations that would supply the war materials to both sides of this conflict would receive massive contracts, as well as kickbacks due to this “war” effort.
As soon as Tiro stood in front of the podium, the entire ballroom silenced. Tiro looked out at the crowd before his eyes landed on the woman sitting to his left. She looked lovely and even offered him a polite smile instead of the required disinterest that a more experienced diplomat would offer in this situation. It was smart of the host to put Princess Angela and himself on opposite sides of the room. He looked around and noticed several other global enemies in similarly strategic positions. The host was smart to have separated enemies, but also brilliant by bringing everyone into one room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, allowing his eyes to move over the other guests before returning to the only woman in the room who actually interested him. Only then did he continue his speech. He didn’t stick to the script though. During the points when the rhetoric started to become heated, he pulled back, tempering the speech. He recognized the startled responses in the crowd, but ignored them, glancing repeatedly at Angela. He knew she was surprised by his words, and he wanted to finish the speech, walk over to her and take her hands so that he could take her to a private area where he could ask her opinion. He wanted to know what she thought about his changes, about the possibilities of peace and cooperation between the warring countries.
Instead, he looked to his right. Osman was valiantly trying to hide his shock at how Tiro had diverged from the speech. Then he caught the eye of his head of security, Aziz Ortmon. They’d served together in the military years ago. As soon as Tiro ascended to power after his uncle passed, he’d pulled Aziz out of the military, asking him to serve on his security team. The man had vowed to protect Tiro with his life.
His stoic head of security’s expression was one of abject horror. His mouth had fallen open as he stared, wide-eyed, at Tiro. However, by the time Tiro finished his speech to deafening applause, and even a standing ovation, Aziz had mastered his surprise, hiding behind ascetic unconcern.
Tiro ignored his guard’s bland countenance and glanced over at Angela. She still looked startled, but now, was also impressed. A surge of pride washed over him with her approval, but he somehow managed to turn away and greet the host who was approaching. She shook his hand, said something banal about his speech, and then Tiro turned and walked off the stage. He didn’t give a damn who was supposed to speak next. He just wanted to get out of this suit and into something more comfortable.
That was another thing he preferred about being home. He didn’t feel pressure to wear suits and the noose of a necktie. This bowtie was absolutely miserable!
He considered slipping out of the ballroom and finding a place where he could relax, sip some excellent scotch, and review the meetings he had planned for tomorrow. But if he left now, Tiro wouldn’t be able to continue to admire the lovely princess. So instead of slipping away, he returned to his seat. Did he listen to the next four speeches? Nope . Did he clap politely? Also, nope. He wasn’t sure what was said, and clapping might send the message that he approved. So instead, he did nothing.
Except watch the lovely woman sitting across the room from him. Thankfully, no press had been allowed in the room. He suspected several of the guests had snuck pictures of him, but he was relatively confident that there was no way anyone would capture him staring at Angela. They’d need to be sitting behind her or behind him in order to truly confirm where his gaze kept wandering.
Besides, he felt a jolt of triumph every time their eyes met. Occasionally, he even caught her pretty cheeks flush with color.
Of course, by the end of the night, the lovely lady was glaring at him. He chuckled a little, causing the woman beside him to inquire what he found so funny.
He didn’t even check to see if her leaning toward him caused her nipples to pop out. He didn’t care.
There were other comments from the people seated around the table. Tiro must have offered the appropriate responses because they all appeared happy with the event.
The doors at the other end of the ballroom opened up to a dance floor.
“Will you honor me with the first dance, Your Highness?” Nipple Woman asked, a teasing “try me” smile on her too-glossy lips.
Tiro looked at the man beside her. He was obviously her husband, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by his wife’s flirtatious nature. Perhaps because the man might stand to gain something from his wife’s infidelities? It was definitely possible. Tiro was no longer shocked by the lack of morals in the upper echelons of international politics and finance.
The wealthy loved to talk about how amoral poor people were, but the truth was the wealthy had no boundaries. If an action created more wealth or power, it was justified, in their minds.
“Another time,” Tiro replied, pulling his arm from her clinging grasp.
He ignored her glossy pout and glanced across the room again.
“She’s gone,” Nipple Woman whispered in his ear. She leaned closer, pressing her impressive cleavage against his upper arm. “But if you’re in the mood for… companionship , I’m more than happy to oblige.”
Tiro shuddered, unable to hide his revulsion. The husband had turned away, chatting up another man. A different woman by the husband’s side glanced over her shoulder at the wife. There would be a bit of spousal sharing going on in the dimly lit hallways tonight, he knew.
“Thank you for the offer,” Tiro told the woman, taking her hands off of him and patting them gently, but firmly. “However, I have other business to deal with.”
“Pity,” she muttered, then turned, heading toward her husband and more fruitful prey for the night.
Tiro watched her go, then shook his head in disgust. He knew things like that happened all the time, but he couldn’t imagine having such a relationship. Nor did he think he wanted to be so bored with his marriage that swapping with strangers was the only answer.
With an irritated huff, he turned, frustrated that the woman that had been on his mind all evening was gone.
“Let’s head out,” he said to Aziz and his assistant. Both men fell into step behind him and Tiro gritted his teeth as the other guards surrounded him. This was his life, he thought.