His Majesty's Mistake

But somehow it seemed wrong to break the news to her like this, now, when she looked so beautiful that she took his breath away.

“That’s a new dress,” he said curtly, his tone almost accusatory.

Bewildered by the sharpness in his voice, her brows pulled together. “No. It’s not new. I’ve had it for a while.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

She ran a light hand across her lap, as if smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the silky chiffon. “I haven’t ever worn it around you before.”

“Why now?”

Her lips pursed and she looked at him strangely. “I can go change if you’d like.” She started to rise. “I didn’t realize the dress would upset you—”

“It hasn’t.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll put on something else—”

“Sit.” His deep voice rumbled through the garden, sounding too loud as it bounced and echoed off the high garden walls. It’s not her fault, he told himself. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d decided to send her away. She hadn’t asked to go. “Please,” he added more quietly.

She sank back into her chair, her wide lavender-blue gaze wary.

He closed the distance between them, leaned on the back of his chair and struggled to find the right words. The words that would allow him to put her on the plane to Heathrow tomorrow with the least amount of drama possible. He hated drama. Hated tears.

But closer to her wasn’t better. Closer just made him more aware of how very appealing she was.

The pleated orange-chiffon gown left her slim, pale shoulders bare. The dress’s neckline was hidden by a wide gold collar. And with her long dark hair loose and her eyes rimmed in a smoky gray, she looked like an exotic princess from a children’s storybook. He could almost imagine she was waiting for the brave knight, the noble prince, who could sweep her away, give her that storybook ending.

If he were the sort of royal who believed in that sort of thing.

Which he wasn’t. He didn’t. He was too practical. Too driven. Too ambitious. He had a purpose in life. A mission. It wasn’t enough that he be a great leader for his people. His personal mission was bigger than the borders of Kadar. His mission was to help the world.

It sounded grandiose. Perhaps it even made him sound a bit like a prig. But if his father could accomplish what he had with a brutal degenerative disease, then Makin could accomplish even more.

He had to.

The world was polluting itself to death, choking on chemicals and strangling on debt. The rich were getting richer and the poor, sick and hungry were still suffering and dying at a staggering rate.

For the past five years he’d met privately with powerful, wealthy visionaries from the music industry and high-tech businesses, to pool resources and make an even greater impact around the world. The goal was to get clean water to all people, to help immunize children in all third-world countries, to provide mosquito nets to help protect all vulnerable people from malaria.

Food. Shelter. Education. Safety.

For all children, regardless of religion, race, culture or gender.

This was his goal. This was his life’s ambition. And this was why he was sending her away.

She’d become a distraction. A liability. And nothing could come between him and his work.

“Sheikh Al-Koury, are you firing me?”

Her uncertain voice broke the silence.

He turned his head, glanced at her, felt a dull ache in his chest.

Damn her. Damn the garden. Damn the moonlight and the orange floaty fabric of her dress that clung to her small, firm breasts and made him want things he couldn’t want with her.

“Yes,” he said roughly. “No. Not firing. It’s a transfer.”

“Transfer to where?”

“The London office.”

“But I live in Dallas.”

“You’ve always enjoyed London.”

“But my home—”

“Will now be London.” His gaze met hers. He steeled himself, reminding himself that the only way to pull this off was to be ruthless. Hard. “If you no longer wish to work for me, I understand. But if you do, you’ll embrace the challenges of your new position in the marketing and public relations department for the international division.”

There. He’d said it. Makin exhaled. For the first time in days he felt relief. He felt in control again.

Silence stretched. The only sound in the garden was the bubble and splash of the fountain and the swish and whisper of palm fronds overhead.

Hannah’s smooth jaw shifted, her lips compressed, but still she said nothing, which provoked him. She worked for him, not the other way around. It was her job to accept. Acquiesce. To make this change comfortable and easy for all of them.