The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит
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accepted the glass, a feeling of determination blooming in his chest and spreading outward. He would not allow her to control the situation. Not in regards to what he drank, or ate, or did. He was not a slave to his body, or her dress.
He leaned back in the chair, keeping his eyes on her, on the way her fingertips slid uneasily along the stem of her wineglass. It was a small display of nerves, but he would take it. Would take it as a sign that he was very much in control.
“I do hope you don’t have any particular dietary restrictions.” He regarded her closely.
“Such as?”
“Vegetarian, gluten-free.”
“I don’t. But thank you for asking.”
“Well, don’t thank me prematurely. I was about to tell you that if you do I will not be able to accommodate you tonight, but tomorrow and the evenings thereafter we would have.”
“Thankfully, there is nothing to accommodate. So, I thank you again, for your thoughtfulness.”
“Have you poisoned my wine?”
“Why would you ask such a thing?” Her green eyes were wide, the essence of wounded innocence. He didn’t buy it for a moment.
“You are being awfully nice considering your current situation. Much nicer than you were only hours ago.”
“I’m being professional. This is a professional meal, isn’t it?”
He lifted his wineglass to his lips. “I see.”
“Do you? What is it you see, exactly?”
“I see that you are ready to play the game.”
“This is the game, this is my career. And beyond that, this is a friend’s livelihood at stake.”
“Interesting. What does your friend’s livelihood have to do with any of this?” She looked away from him, biting her lip. “I see, you have given away more than you intended to. This is very interesting.”
“The only thing you need to know is that we have a common enemy,” she said, looking up, her eyes blazing now. “I don’t think either of us are James Chatsfield’s biggest fan. As far as I can see, that’s all either of us need to know. For now.”
“For now.”
The double doors to the dining room opened again, and more staff entered, with platters laden with food. They set them down in the center of the table, they did not speak, as the palace staff here in Surhaadi were trained to do. In his own quarters, he treated staff differently. When he had lived predominantly in the other palace, things had been structured differently. But this was the way his father had run things, and the way his mother preferred to run things, as well. And while they were no longer in residence here, the established protocol remained the same.
They were served in silence, and both he and Sophie let the silence rest. Once their plates were filled, and the staff had filed back out again, she turned her sharp green eyes to him. “You promised me an interview. You promised me a scandal. I would like to collect on that now.”
“During dinner? I do not conduct business during dinner.” That was a lie, he had conducted business during dinner plenty of times, but he did not like her dictating the terms. And he also needed to figure out how to keep her interested for the next few weeks. There was also the small matter of what he was going to tell her.
The simple fact was, he had no information on James Chatsfield he was willing to share. That was the sort of scandal she was after, and it was not one he could give. Which meant he was going to have to lead her on a journey that would not end where she expected..
He just hadn’t decided where yet.
“It is a very good dinner. But I did anticipate getting down to things. We traveled quite a lot, and I am feeling tired.”
“Do you want your story? Or not?”
“Obviously I do.”
“Then you will wait and you will hear it on my terms.”
He could read the annoyance plainly on her face, and he found it perversely enjoyable. Yet another point in his win column. Yet more evidence that he was still in command, no matter how well fitted her dress was.
“Tell me, then,” she said, looking back up at him, attempting to look friendly, but still looking like she would rather sink her teeth into his neck. Unfortunately, something about that image sent a sharp jolt of heat straight to his gut. He ignored it.
She cleared her throat. “Which topics are on the table for dinner? So that I know for future evenings.”
“We may discuss the weather, though, invariably it is hot.”
“The weather is hot, there we have covered that.”
“Very well done.” He took a bite of couscous, and let the conversation rest until he was finished. “We may also discuss issues of the day. I see no reason why we ought not to occasionally discuss politics, or even religion. Seeing as I doubt either of us are worried about offending each other.”
“True, after you take control of someone’s person and force them to come back to their country with you, you have sort of made it clear that you don’t care whether or not you offend them. But I do wonder if discussing politics might get dicey, as the fact remains that if we discuss politics in Surhaadi, we will be discussing you.”
“Then we can stick to American politics.”
She laughed, a short, one-note sound. “No, that’s something I can’t discuss while eating, for fear I will be sick,” she said, her tone dry.
“Fair enough. Perhaps I will take this opportunity to ask you about you.” He didn’t really care about his beautiful captive, neither should he. She was a liability, and she needed to be minimized. That was what one did when something was a liability. It did not matter where she came from, or who her friend was that she seemed to be intent on protecting. It did not matter if she had a lover, or if she did not.
All that mattered was protecting Leila.
“And what is it exactly you want to know about me?” she asked.
“Whatever it is you would like to tell me.”
“I’m not sure how it would make any difference to you.”
“Why wouldn’t it make a difference to me?”
“We seem to have these kind of circular conversations, and I find them quite annoying.”
“Indulge me,” he said.
“Fine. I don’t see why you would care because you’re a sheikh. Because you’re important. Because you have money and that means other people rarely matter in a sincere way.”
“Is that what you think? It seems a very cynical way to view the world.”
Her cheeks colored, her mouth pulled into a tightly drawn line. “Hey, I’ve earned my worldview, on that you can trust me. I wasn’t from a family with a name anyone recognized. That made me lesser. So you can see why I feel a little bit surprised that someone like you would care to hear about me.”
He was happy to use this moment to keep the microscope on her. To keep her in the iron sights of this conversation rather than submitting himself to an examination. “Your surprise is misplaced. Now that you’ve said all that, I find I’m even more curious.” What she was talking about was something that was far outside his experience in many ways. People had always treated him with a certain amount of deference because he was a ruler. Because he had power and, as she had mentioned before, money. However, he also knew far too well that it did not erase all of one’s problems.
“There isn’t much to be curious about. I grew up in your standard low-end neighborhood. On a small street, with smaller houses. I had a single mother who worked quite a bit, so I was left on my