“I like it. In return for them not bothering any of the ships coming to or from Rahmi. Although, I don’t know if they have any scientists left. Hopefully, they’ll take it. It will ease the fears of some of our allies if we get Tahjad to become a partner,” Zain said before a knock sounded on the door.
“Enter,” Mo called out and a second later Ahmed strode into the room. While Mo had aged somewhat, Ahmed defied the effects of time. He still looked like he could snap a man in half without blinking. Only a couple of gray hairs had even dared to appear at Ahmed’s temples.
“The riots?” Ahmed asked. He was always one to get straight to the point.
“Yes. We’re moving Kareem to work as a diplomat. I know you’re retired from the security force and are just a boring farm owner here with me, but I was hoping you would help us out some this week," Mo said seriously, yet with a slight smirk to his oldest friend.
Ahmed didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The excitement in his eyes said everything. He was happy to be back on the security team.
“Thank you,” Zain said as he tried not to smile. Not that Ahmed would ever smile, but since he was trying so hard not to show his excitement, Zain figured he’d better not either.
“Of course. You’re still my prince. Nabi and I will go over everything. Let me offer this one bit of advice. I know Abigail is here to help give tours and drive people around, but if you fear you need more security I would like her to be appointed to my team.”
“She’s your daughter, Ahmed. I would never ask you to put her life in danger,” Mo said solemnly. “You are already putting your life on the line to protect my son.”
“I would never allow her life to be in danger. I will watch out for her, but she is the best shot and the best at hand-to-hand combat here,” Ahmed said proudly.
“As you wish,” Mo said softly. Zain could tell the summit was no longer an event his father was going to stay out of. Not when friends were now involved in a potentially dangerous situation. If Surman was really out to disrupt the summit, then that meant they would have no qualms bringing the riots to Keeneston. Mo wouldn’t risk Deacon, Dylan, and Abby. Not even counting Ryan Parker, the head of the Lexington FBI, or his younger brother, Jackson, an FBI hostage rescuer. It didn’t matter that they were all adults now. They were the children of Mo’s best friends, and he would make sure they were safe, just as Zain would because they were his best friends.
Ahmed bowed his head and quickly left the room with Nabi. Zain wished his brother, Gabe, were here, but he had been sent on a diplomatic mission to South America. Zain started running over the agenda. He needed to carve out time to meet privately with both Surman and Tahjad first thing. “Dad, how much do you think Jamal will be in the way? I mean, it’s not that I don’t love my cousin. He is like a brother to me, but he’s, he’s . . .”
“A spoiled child. Yes, I know. Dirar and Ameera were so thrilled to finally have a child, they spoiled him to no end. They still do. At least he had to sit through those lessons with you and your brother every summer. I hope he will remember them. If not, I don’t mind reminding him of his duty. It’s about time he grew up. He shows promise; he just needs to stop being coddled.”
Zain moved toward the door. He needed to talk to Veronica. She was going to love a call this late at night. “Dad, can you do me one more favor?”
“What?” Mo asked as he moved to sit in his leather office chair.
“Can you tell Mom to chill out. She had that look again tonight.”
“What loo . . . oh. Why would she have that look tonight?”
Zain felt exasperated. “I was at the café with friends and the new German interpreter. Her luggage was lost, and Syd brought her some clothes. Abby invited her to stay for dinner. But then Mom came in with that look, as if any second I would run to have Judge Cooper marry us and in nine months have a baby. I don’t have time for that right now.”
“Of course, son,” his father said, but now he was giving Zain that look.
“Ugh,” Zain groaned as he headed to his house. He paused. Oh no. His parents’ house was full. That meant with Jamal’s unexpected visit, he would be bunking with Zain. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate, he now had to get ready for a major houseguest—a demanding one at that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, Mila woke to the sound of a bustling household. She’d spent the night dreaming of standing between Zain and Dylan—an angel and a demon. In her dream, she had wanted to turn to Zain, but the demon, Dylan, whispered, “Zain isn’t available, but I am.” She had told him no, it was Zain she wanted. There was a goodness about him that spoke to her. But then Dylan smiled and Mila was suddenly Eve in the Garden of Eden being handed an apple. “Mila,” she had heard Zain whisper before she took a bite. Her heart just wasn’t into it. While Dylan was sexy as sin, there was an air of isolation and secrecy she’d never get through. Mila had handed the apple back to Dylan and ran toward Zain who had held his arms open to her.
Sounds of people talking had woken her before her dream finished. Mila heard snips of conversation through her open window in accented English. She brushed the hair from her face and looked out the window. She didn’t see anything but could tell the voices were coming from the backyard. It was probably the other interpreters having coffee on the back porch.
Mila shook the dream from her mind. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t as if Zain were even available. Even if he had been, she wasn’t exactly princess material. Mila tried to hide her disappointment at those realizations. It didn’t matter that she liked everything about him. He was untouchable, and she was invisible. Mila padded the long length of the room to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day. She wanted to see if anyone knew of a car she could rent or find someone to drive her around town. If luck were with her, one of the other interpreters would know something about it.
She showered in a hurry, blasted her hair with the drier, and slipped into a Syd outfit. Outfit was too casual to describe the fabric that softly hugged her curves. It was nothing short of an elegant ensemble. The white skirt with tiny blue and yellow flowers hit her at mid-thigh and swished as she moved. The white, sleeveless shirt had a ruffled collar that trailed down both sides of her throat to form a V-neck before the ruffles tapered off. Mila felt so pretty she didn’t bother with makeup. She didn’t need it. She glowed in the clothes as she hurried downstairs.
Mila made her way to the kitchen and stopped when she saw Poppy at the kitchen sink. “Good morning. I was looking for the rest of the interpreters. I heard them outside just a little while ago.” Mila took a muffin and poured a glass of orange juice.
“I’m sorry, hon. But they left ten minutes ago for Desert Farm. I think they said something about getting the lay of the land, but I couldn’t be sure. My French isn’t very good. I’ve only picked up some from Anton.”
“Anton?” Mila asked as her heart sank. She’d missed her ride. They were doing exactly what she needed to do.
“Miss Violet’s husband. He’s from France and was the cook at Desert Farm until he retired and married Miss V.” Poppy leaned forward and looked out the window. “There he is now. It looks like he’s making his way out to his car. You might catch him if you hurry. He’s probably heading out to the farm, too. He’s been advising the chefs on the meals for the French president.”
Mila chugged her juice and shoved the muffin in her purse. “Thanks!” she called as she ran out the front door. She jumped down the steps and looked at the house next door. An old man with only half a head of white hair was opening the door to a black Lincoln town car.
“Mr. Anton!” Mila called out as she waved her arm. Nothing. Anton just fumbled with the keys. “Excuse me, Mr. Anton!” Mila shouted. Nothing. “Mr. Anton!” Mila yelled as loudly as she could.
“What?” the man asked as he looked up, surprised to hear his name being called. He finally looked at her and waved. “Oh, and a good morning to you, too, Poppy.”