Ginni found Amal to be great at listening. She sat next to Ginni, hands folded in her lap, eyes bright, nodding every now and then. Ginni's own mamere had died when Ginni was only eight, and she'd missed having someone like this who'd just sit and listen.
She ran out of words and breath and slumped back in her chair. "If I could just get to Sheikh Ahmad."
Eyes narrowing, Amal asked, "Is that all you need? Tell me, just what are you willing to do to—as you say—make things right?"
Ginni sat up. "Anything. Well, just about. I won't do anythin' that'll end up slappin' back on Nasim. You got something in mind?"
Chapter Twelve
Nasim sat at the conference table in Tarek's office. Arif sat opposite. Three of Tarek's top ministers shared the table, along with their ambassador to Dijobuli, Yusef Laan. Tarek had listened to everything, a frown in place and a line between his eyebrows. Nasim's shoulders had knotted, and he wanted to get up and leave. This was useless.
Sheikh Ahmad turned down their offer of money, but the ambassador insisted the ruler of Dijobuli seemed open to perhaps a trade of oil fields or even an offer of some of the royal jewels.
Jaw tight, Nasim shook his head. "The man had his pride hurt. He's trying to do anything that will see me squirming."
The ambassador—an older man with gray in his beard—fixed Nasim with a hard stare. "You could divorce this American."
"And what would that do, Yusef?" Nasim asked, voice clipped and tense. "Jasmine Hadad married another man—she is never going to be my wife."
"And Virginia Leeland is such a prize?" Yusef nodded to the minister sitting next to him. Uneasy, the man pulled out his mobile, swiped up a photo and offered the image for everyone to see. "Your wife was seen having drinks with another man—the man she was supposed to marry in America, a man who also works for Leeland Enterprises. It seems your bride is really just a loose woman who is using you to get Leeland access to our oil."
Pushing back his chair, Nasim stood and leaned his hands on the table. "If you ever dare accuse my wife of infidelity again, I will—"
"Nasim!" Tarek's voice cut across Nasim's words. He bit off the rest of the threat. He wanted the man's head. But Tarek was right—Yusef had been a friend of Nasim's father. He could do nothing to harm the older man. He turned to leave, but Tarek's voice stopped him again.
"This meeting is over. Nasim and Arif, please stay."
Nasim walked over to the French windows that looked out into the garden, which shaded Tarek's office. He crossed his arms and kept his back to the room as the others left. When the door closed behind the ambassador and the ministers, Nasim turned. "Where'd he get that bloody photo?"
Tarek shrugged. He pulled off his keffiyeh. Like Arif, he'd worn traditional dress to the meeting. Nasim had opted for a suit and tie. He yanked the tie loose now and glanced around. "Got anything stronger than lemonade?"
"That would be setting a bad example for my people," Tarek said. But he opened a small fridge behind his desk and pulled out three bottles of Guinness. "Every now and then, I miss England, too, cousin."
They popped the tops, and clinked glasses. "To Zahkim," Arif said. The toast had been their tradition when they'd been at Oxford.
Nasim took a long pull off the bottle and then let out a breath. "Honestly, Tarek. Old Yusef is right. I don't know Virginia all that well. What if all of this is just about her wanting that deal for Leeland Enterprises?"
Arif gave a snort. "You haven't been watching your wife very closely if that's what you think."
Nasim shot him a look, but Tarek held up a hand. "Leave Sheikh Ahmad to me. Zahkim is my country to rule, and I will not see him strip us of either our oil fields or the royal jewels. If his pride must be placated, we will do so. In the meantime, a deal with Leeland Enterprises might not be such a bad thing. Right now, Sheikh Ahmad believes our only option is a pipeline across Dijobuli. Leaking word to him that we are in serious discussions to pull in American investment, expand and improve our roads to the north, may not be such a bad thing."
Arif nodded. "Ahmad is not stupid. American investment means any threat to Zahkim suddenly pulls American attention to Dijobuli, and not in a good way."
Tarek turned to Nasim. "Have a word with your wife, Nasim. Get the details of the deal, and we'll see they end up in Ahmad's hands."
"I'm also going to have a talk with her about this man she was seen with—I can't believe she is playing me false, but we should know if someone else from Leeland Enterprises is the real decision maker."
Arif shook his head. "Nasim, have you learned nothing?"
"Learned what?" Nasim turned to face his cousin. "Is this more of your talk about patience? What kind of patience do I need to find out if my wife of only a few days is playing me false already?"
Throwing his hands wide, Arif told him, "Fine. Go talk to your wife while you are in a temper instead of finding a cool head first. But I don't want to hear the complaints afterwards when you realize you have lost the wife chosen for you by fate. Didn't I tell you your wedding would be a disaster? You still won't open your eyes. You still believe you can barge ahead, not paying attention, and not waiting to see any signs that might be put in front of you."
"That’s because signs go on posts to mark roads—not life." Nasim threw the words at Arif and strode out before either of his cousins could reply. Signs! Patience? Was Arif never done with his lectures about the unseen world? He even had Tarek, who'd always been the practical one, listening now to such nonsense. Shaking his head, Nasim decided he would simply find his wife, ask her about the man she'd met, and then he would have a talk with her about the proper behavior of a sheikh's wife. It would all be very reasonable—and he would not lose his temper.
Trying to relax his hands out of the fists they had bunched into, he called for the staff. No one seemed to know where Ginni might be found. She had apparently taken tea with Sheikha Amal in the gardens, but she was not there now, nor was she in her rooms. Amal also could not be found to be questioned.
Arms crossed and fingers tapping on his jacketed arm, Nasim stared at the staff gathered in front of him in the main hall. "Well? Find her!" He swept out a hand.