“This way, madam,” the servant said, knocking on the doors once before bowing and disappearing further down the corridor.
Charlotte waited, her breath held, her hands wanting to fidget when her body knew she couldn’t give any indication of her anxiety. The doors were pulled inwards.
Ash stood there, his frame large, his expression unreadable.
And Charlotte knew she was lost.
Every single cell in her body was screaming, begging her to throw herself into his arms, to lift her mouth to his and demand that he kiss her.
“Hi,” she said instead, the single word a tight dismissal.
“Charlotte,” he murmured, and her name on his lips was a beautiful thing. Sensual and deep. “Please, come in.”
She nodded, following him into the room. But as soon as she’d moved a step in, she paused. “This is your apartment?”
“Not my apartment,” he corrected, clicking the doors shut. “But The Royal Apartment, where we stay when we are in Falina.”
She swallowed, resisting the urge to suggest they move back to his office. Though the more formal setting suited her better, she didn’t want to appear churlish. So she said nothing. Her eyes scanned the room – they were in a large foyer, and she could see a living room to one side and to the other, what appeared to be a dining room.
“Would you like a tour?”
She shook her head, even though she was filled with curiosity. “I think we should get down to business. I have something to get to after this.”
He arched a brow. “You may need to cancel it.”
“Why?”
“Because I have something organised.”
Charlotte spun around, her eyes clashing with his. “I’m here to go through the details of my wedding. That’s it. You have an hour.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw but he smiled – a tight smile that showed he wasn’t necessarily going to listen to her.
“I have lunch prepared.”
“Oh, yeah? You’ve been cooking?” She responded, inwardly cringing at the sarcasm in her voice.
“Yes,” he responded in a tone that told her he was joking. “In between meeting with the ambassador to Egypt and arranging the prisoner exchange of two top-level data thieves, I’ve been whipping up a storm in the kitchen.”
Chastened, she shot him a barbed look but he smiled and all was forgiven.
Ashad put a hand in the small of her back; a small gesture, his touch was light, and yet heat radiated through her, filling her with a swarming awareness. In the area she’d picked as a lounge room there were large glass doors that led to a balcony. It was the same balcony Ashad had stood on the night before, speaking to Zahir and imagining a way to make Charlotte his own.
“The day is nice,” he said softly. “Shall we?”
She nodded, moving ahead of him through the doors and taking in the table that had been set with a crisp white cloth. There was an ice bucket of champagne in the centre, an arrangement of fruit, and two plates covered with silver tops, keeping their contents warm, she presumed. Ashad moved to one chair and pulled it backwards.
Charlotte took the seat, expelling a breath. Her nerves were screwed.
His hands brushed her shoulders and her stomach clenched answeringly. What magic was at work with them?
He lifted the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.
“Are we celebrating?” She asked, watching as bubbles filled the crystal, effervescing into the air.
“You’re going to get married. Surely that’s worth a toast?”
Her skin prickled hot and cold. Could he so easily forget what had happened between them? Or was he working overtime to make sure they both remembered the truth of their situation?
“Thank you,” she said distractedly, as he placed the glass before her. “My mother has asked me to invite you to a party,” she said, before she forgot.
Ash paused, his lips lifting in an appreciative smile. “Your mother’s parties are legendary,” he said after a moment. “I would be honoured to attend.”
“You will be honoured,” Charlotte agreed. “At least, the guest of honour. She’s throwing the thing for you. To welcome you to Falina.”
“I have been to Falina many times,” he laughed.
“Ah, yes, but not in this capacity before,” Charlotte pointed out. “You are organising her only daughter’s marriage. And she wants you to have your pick of Falinese brides, apparently,” Charlotte added for good measure. The distance between what she wanted and reality was widening.
“And this will be a sort of bride-smorgasbord, will it? A choose-your-own-wedding adventure?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Apparently.”
“Ah. I fear her efforts will be wasted,” he said, leaning closer to Charlotte and lifting his glass. “To your marriage.”
She lifted her drink and chinked it against his. Her heart was heavy. “Why? Are you promised to someone too?”
“Not exactly.” His smile hinted at a secret, one that was filling her with envy.
“Not exactly?”
“I’ve recently learned that my parents were opposed to arranged marriages. Out of respect to their wishes, Adin refrained from promising me to anyone.”
Her heart rate accelerated. So there was no one?
“So there’s no one lined up for you?”
“I wouldn’t say that either,” he responded cryptically.
Charlotte frowned and opened her mouth, intending to questioning him further. But Ash spoke first. “Please tell your mother I would be delighted to attend her party.”
“It’s more of a ball, actually. A masked ball.”
“The perfect place for secret deeds.” He took the seat opposite and Charlotte frowned in confusion. Was he flirting with her? Or making her think he was? Why? What was going on?
“I’m sorry about your parents,” she blurted out, and then wished she hadn’t when his eyes met hers and she felt for herself his sorrow. He covered it quickly, but it was there. A deep sense of loss. “I had forgotten until recently.”
He dipped his head forward. “Thank you for your sympathy.”
But Charlotte wasn’t going to leave it there. They’d come further than that. “How old were you?”
He swallowed, his neck knotting visibly as he dealt with the emotions. “Seven.”
“Seven!” She shook her head. “Do you remember them?”
His smile was contemplative. “I do. I’m fortunate. Though in some ways perhaps it would have been easier if I had not the memories to grieve.”
Charlotte lifted the lid off her plate, staring down at the smoked fish and salad. It looked delicious. “What were they like?”
He sipped his drink, his eyes linked to hers. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer and she regretted the invasive question. “My father was Adin’s twin. Identical to look at yet very different personality wise.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Adin is calm and contemplative. He values his Kingdom above just about anything else.”
“And your father?”
“He was curious about the world. Passionate. He didn’t like rules and obeyed them only when it suited him to.” His smile was tight. “The day they were killed, they’d gone out without their guards, wanting to explore on their own. A romantic notion; one that put them intrinsically in danger.”
Charlotte swallowed. “You blame them?”
“Not at all,” Ash contradicted swiftly. “The same disinterest in following someone else’s instructions runs through me.”
Yes, she could see that. See it, want it, need it, she thought with a growing urgency to her attraction.
“I would rather die as they did, free and following my own path, rather than safely locked in this gilded cage.”
The words set fire to her blood. Or perhaps they merely fanned the flames of a blaze that had been simmering for years. “There are so many rules for people like us, though.”
“And have you ever broken them, Charlotte? Or are you as perfect as you appear?”
The compliment swelled her heart but the truth of her being contradicted it. “I’m far from perfect,” she said after a moment.
“In what ways?”
“Ways I choose not to advertise.” She refocussed her attention on the meal in front of them. “This looks delicious.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes bore into her; she could feel them on her face, her skin, her mouth. Truth scratched at her flesh, making her itchy and hot.
“Such as?” He pressed his fork into the fish, not distracted from the conversation.
“You first,” she said, dropping her eyes to the table.
“Yesterday wasn’t a good enough example?” He murmured, the timbre of his voice low and husky.
Memories of the kiss fired her belly. “You followed the rules there, as I remember.”
“Eventually.” He shifted in his seat.
“So if Adin and your dad were twins, why is Adin King?”
“Father was never interested in the job. As children, the plan had been that they would share the duty. But by the time my father was ten, his disinterest was apparent. His role in the Kingdom was more ambassadorial.”
“But technically you have as much claim to the throne as Zahir or Syed?”
“Yes, technically,” Ash nodded. “But like our fathers before us, there was a clear candidate for the role, and it wasn’t me.”