“My plan doesn’t need any boosts in efficiency,” Najeeb said. “I’ll force my father to back down.”
Numair looked at Najeeb, his lips twisting in irony. “What a coincidence. That is exactly my plan.”
Jen’s laugh rang out again. “See? You two are so alike, you’re almost twins.” As their faces darkened again at her assertion, she placated them. “Not that either of you can see or admit it now, but one day you’ll realize I’m right. And boy, will I enjoy saying I told you so. But since we have more pressing issues at hand, and you at least admitted you share a common goal, how about you share the specifics of your plans to force Hassan to back down?”
* * *
Neither man ended up sharing the specifics of his plan. Or made any promise to work with the other, either.
But at least the hostility that had erupted between them had subsided.
At least it had on Najeeb’s side. As for Numair, it seemed as if an impenetrable shield had come down around him, stopping her from reading his thoughts or sensing his feelings, leaving her wondering what their truths were. But she couldn’t ask. Not because Najeeb was around, but because she’d never probe into private stuff Numair didn’t volunteer.
Najeeb, on the other hand, was a totally different matter. She’d insisted he stay and share their dinner, and he’d accepted her invitation, gradually relaxing in their company. Shedding his confrontational attitude, he’d asked Numair informed, in-depth questions about his work, seeming genuinely interested, then impressed. He had even ended up asking if Numair could use his unique experience and influence to collaborate with him in his humanitarian efforts. Numair had seemed reluctant to give any answer. She felt it was not because he didn’t want to help, but because it would involve him with Najeeb. But Najeeb was a master negotiator and had somehow managed to extract a promise from him.
By the time she’d seen Najeeb out alone, as Numair had taken an important and long call, Najeeb had given her his verdict on Numair.
He was big enough to admit he’d been wrong. Both his opinion of Numair and their relationship had changed radically. He’d said he knew men, could sense any sign of sleaze, exploitation or mistreatment a mile away. And he’d seen and sensed only respect and consideration in Numair’s treatment of her. He’d also felt how passionate Numair was about her, and how protective.
Before he’d crossed to the massive clearance where the helicopter had been waiting to take him back to the airport, Najeeb had laughingly said it looked like the Black Panther of Black Castle had finally found the one to tame him. He’d always heard that the most dangerous predators, once tamed, made the best lap cats.
“I thought he’d never leave.”
Jen yelped in delight as Numair did this incredible thing he always did. He appeared out of thin air and snatched her off her feet with the utmost ease, then drowned her in the staggering, cherishing power of his embrace.
She clung to him with everything in her as he strode eagerly with her across this unique place, nuzzling her face and lips into the power of his warm neck. At the villa’s far end, they entered the most stunning bedroom suite she’d ever seen. Though they were totally alone now, Numair still kicked the door closed, as he always did.
As he crossed to the king-size bed, she took in the tasteful decorations in what looked like authentic Zafranian antiques and handcrafted furnishings. Painted glass and copper lanterns hung from heavy chains, while complementing sconces hung on the walls. Bedouin jars and vases in varying sizes lay on shelves and tables and stood beside the heavy mahogany doors leading to the suite’s bathroom and dressing rooms. A braided-wood-and-straw chest sat at the end of the bed, while sofas with the same design and materials and ornate stone-and-bronze tables filled the sitting area facing the balcony doors. All over the floors and even on select places on the walls were hand-woven carpets in the deepest reds, honeys and browns, the same hues of the whole villa. And she suddenly realized.
All the colors in this place were hers!
She’d at first thought he’d bought this place furnished. But this was too specific to be a coincidence. He had to have done this for her, an answer to her bedroom in New York. But she couldn’t even imagine how and when he’d managed to order it done, and no doubt to oversee its realization to his precise vision. It was another proof that Numair was even more powerful than she could imagine.
But he’d taken it beyond matching her coloring. There were other incredible touches. For instance, binoculars on one table and a telescope by the balcony doors, to watch the animals in the morning and the stars at night. But what touched her to her core, had tears surging in her eyes, was an easel with every kind of canvas and paper and art material neatly stacked next to it.