Gambling With the Crown(10)

                Kyr. My God.

                It was perhaps the most foreign of any location he had ever taken her to, with the exception of Singapore and Hong Kong.

                “When?”

                Kadir blinked, and she wished she had her notebook. She felt professional with her notebook and pen. She also had a tablet computer, of course, but she liked the feel of the pen scratching over the paper as she made quick notes—and then she transferred them later so that she could access everything on the tablet. His calendar was there, too, but not until she’d jotted it out on paper first.

                “In the morning.”

                Emily bit her lip. Kadir didn’t take his eyes off her and she started to worry that he’d had a shock of some sort. He was not behaving like himself, that was certain.

                “I will be sure to have everything ready. What time would you like me to request wheels up?”

                “I have done this already.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around her room as if he’d never seen it before. Which, she supposed, he hadn’t. “Do you perhaps have a bottle of wine? Some scotch?”

                “I—um, there might be wine. Just a moment.”

                She went to the small refrigerator tucked beneath the cabinets on one side of the room and pulled out a bottle of white she’d been nursing. Then she took down a glass and poured some in it. But when she turned, he was behind her. He’d moved so silently she’d not heard a thing.

                Or perhaps it was the way her blood beat in her ears that prevented her from hearing something so basic as a person walking across the floor. He loomed over her, so tall and vital and surprising. It jarred her to realize that without her heels, she really was much shorter than he.

                She thrust the glass at him without a word.

                “Please have a drink with me.”

                Emily turned and poured wine into another glass, thankful to have something to do that did not involve looking at Kadir. But when she pivoted again, he was still there. Still in her space, still big and dark and intense.

                She thought he might move, might go over and sit on her couch, but he didn’t. He simply stood there, staring at the liquid in his glass. And then he raised his gaze to hers, and she felt the blow of those eyes like a twist in her heart.

                She recognized pain when she saw it. His seemed to swallow him whole, turning those clear gray eyes to the darkest slate. She had an urge to lift her palm to his cheek, to tell him it would be okay.

                But that was a line she could not cross. He was her boss, though she was having a very hard time remembering it just now.

                “What is the matter, Your Highness?” The words were tight in her throat, but she forced them out anyway.

                His brow furrowed. And then he lifted the glass and took a deep swallow of the golden liquid. Once more, his eyes were on hers. As if she were an anchor. As if it were her alone keeping him tethered to the earth, keeping the pain from engulfing him.

                “My father is dying.” The words were simple, stark, and her heart squeezed into a tight ball in her chest. She knew the pain of those words, knew how they opened chasms in your soul. How they could change you.

                But she also knew the bittersweet joy of finding out there was a way to save the person you loved. The worry over if there would be enough money to pay for the procedure—not that this last was a worry a king would have.