For Duty's Sake

He felt honored she had planned this time for them, no matter what nerves had prompted it.

“Your en suite is huge. Is that a royal thing or a rich thing?”

“It is a Zahir thing.” He spent his life serving his people. When he got an opportunity to relax, he wanted to be able to do so in absolute comfort.

“I suspected, but well…it’s not as if I’ve ever gone into my parents’ en suite or my uncle’s, for that matter.”

“You have refused to live in your parents’ home since their reconciliation.”

“It happened when I was an adult.” She paused as if thinking of the past. “It was time for me to get my own place anyway.”

“Had you been raised in Jawhar, you would have remained with your parents until our marriage.”

She tensed, but her tone was even as she said, “But I was not raised in Jawhar.”

“No, you were not.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No.” While he found her independence somewhat disconcerting, he found he liked the woman floating in his arms.

“You’ve made a couple of comments that implied it did.”

“Mere observations on differences are not an accusation of unacceptability.”

“Sometimes, they feel like they are.”

“Feelings are not fact.”

“True.”

“Emotions cannot be trusted.” That reality had been drilled into him from childhood as he trained from his earliest memory to take over leadership of the kingdom of Zohra.

“Perhaps that is true sometimes, Zahir, but the lack of emotion can be just as bad.”

“To control one’s emotions is to control the negotiation.”

She sat up, unexpectedly sliding away from him in the water. “All of life is not a political negotiation.” She settled on the underwater bench opposite, her gaze searching, her expression earnest. “Don’t tell me you use those tactics when dealing with your family?”

“Not telling you would not make it any less true.”

Her lovely brown eyes widened and then narrowed.

“You mean that.”

“I do not make it habit to lie.”

“You hid your relationship with Elsa Bosch for years.” An expression of chagrin came over Angele’s features before she bit her lip, clearly wishing she had not said that.

Nevertheless, he would answer the implication. “I kept it private. This is a necessary survival tactic for those of us who spend the majority of our lives in the public eye.”

“Discretion is minimal, subterfuge preferred,” she said quoting something he knew his uncle often said.

“Sometimes subterfuge is necessary, but that does not make me a liar.”

She looked away, her brows drawn together, but then she sighed. “So, you treat your parents like competing world leaders?”

While it was hardly a subtle way for her to change the subject, he did not call her on it. He had no desire to discuss one of the major mistakes of his life.