“I know all I need to know about you, Dalilah,” he said quietly. “You’re Omair’s kid sister. And you’re a princess—a precious commodity to your kingdom, and you’re about to become queen of almighty Sa’ud. People want you back. A desperate man wants you dead. I’m the lackey in the middle.”
“You know nothing about me!” She spat the words at him in exasperation. “I’m more than someone else’s princess, someone’s fiancée. Someone’s commodity. I’m my own damn person, too!” She fisted her hand, and beat it against her chest. “I worked hard to get where I am, and I pay my own way, I’m a foreign investment consultant with a solid legal background. In my spare time I volunteer for ClearWater, and if I do spend my family fortune, it’s always for my volunteer work. If I do use my family name, it’s to raise funds for impoverished villages so that they can get access points to clear water. And yes, I attend a ton of glitzy charity events, but it’s to raise funds so I can come here, to Africa, to places like Zimbabwe, and do good work. Work that makes a difference in people’s lives, Brandt! And I might live in a plush Manhattan penthouse, but I paid for it, and I have friends there who like me for who I am....” Her voice hitched, and she swore, turning away, her eyes bright with tears.
She was cracking, thought Brandt. He had to go easier on her.
She spun back, calming her voice, but when she spoke it was shaky. “The only reason I’m in this position now is because my brothers weren’t open with me, and I couldn’t take adequate safety precautions because of it.” She took off her hat, shoved back her hair, damp, tendrils stiff with mud. “How do you think that makes me feel? My controlling brothers taking over my life again, and then lump me in with someone like you.” She rammed the hat back onto her head.
Surprise rippled through Brandt.
Then he said, very quietly, “Are you going to keep doing this charity work, keep your nice Manhattan apartment when you marry in nineteen months?”
She stared at him, the pulse at her neck racing, color in her cheeks high, maybe too high. Grasses rustled softly in a sudden hot breeze.
“Well, will you?”
Her hand went to her stomach, pressed, as if she suddenly felt sick. And he could see her searching for an answer.
“No,” she said after several beats of silence, her voice not sounding quite her own. “I will work, though, for the Kingdom of Sa’ud, Haroun’s diplomatic functions. I’m sure I’ll find some charities—I...I’d have to live there, of course.”
He took a step closer.
“And that makes you happy—that’s what you want?”
She met his gaze. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because you sound pretty damn passionate about the other stuff you were just yelling at me about. And you were so darn motivated to get me to take you to Harare to ink that water deal that you weren’t even thinking about the attackers on your tail.”
She swallowed, glanced away. “It’s because this was my last opportunity to do something with my ClearWater work.” She inhaled deeply. “I wanted to leave some kind of legacy, show that my freedom was worth something. Apart from...” She faded, her eyes gleaming with emotion.
“Freedom?” he said. “Versus marriage—is that how you see it?”
She moistened her lips.
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes going to her ring. “Give it all up for some dude who owns most of the world’s oil. For a moment back there in Zimbabwe, I was really impressed. But I read you wrong.”
“You’d respect me more—be impressed if I wasn’t going to marry? Marriage takes compromise.”
“And what’s Haroun giving up—what’s his compromise?”
Her eyes flickered.
He snorted. “You’re talking to the wrong man about marriage, Princess. Been there, done that, failed miserably. Sometimes compromise is not what it’s cracked up to be.”
“So you were married once?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
She blinked, then gave him a measuring look. Brandt swallowed, his gaze locked with hers.
“What does impress you, Stryker?”
“If you’re following your passion, Dalilah,” he said quietly, “I’m impressed, whether you marry or not. And ClearWater, your job, your independence, is very obviously your passion.” He shrugged dismissively. “Trade it all off for a life behind palace walls? I’m not seeing a clear picture here.”
When she didn’t reply, he said, “It must make you happy. Or you wouldn’t do it.”