“And I am ordering you to go. Or do you wish to find new employment?” The two men swapped
uneasy looks. Khalid let out a breath and added, “What kind of man do you think I am if I cannot control my own woman?” That seemed to leave them thinking. They also gave short bows and left. Thankfully, they had no real knowledge of Casey, and Khalid had no illusion that he controlled this woman—that article she had written proved such a thing.
Opening the door, he stepped inside to find her pacing. She stopped and glanced at him. Relief seemed to spread over her face and she came to him at once and put her arms around him. She hugged him tightly, let go and then asked, “Where have you been? I’ve been stuck here all day trying to get word to you that your father has me kept a virtual prisoner. Do you know your brother is being forced into a marriage with—”
“Yes, I know, and no, I do not care. I have it handled.”
“Handled?” She took another step back. “What does that mean?”
Instead of answering her, he headed to her computer. It was on, and he pulled up the same website his father had shown him. “It means you need not concern yourself. But you may tell me why you write such praises of Sharjah? I thought you meant to write a scathing article on arranged marriages?”
Blinking, she came over to him, moving wary, as if she feared he might pounce on her. He turned the screen so she might see her work displayed. Her mouth sagged open. She leaned over the computer and paged down on the article. “That’s not…I mean it is my writing, but that’s not my article. That’s the background information I sent to Luke, my editor. It wasn’t supposed to see print.”
“Well, the result is that you have pleased my father—he is now all for our marriage.”
Casey faced him. “What? I mean—he’s supposed to disapprove and throw me out of the country. I’ve got my interview.”
It was Khalid’s turn to stare. A pulse began to beat hard behind his left temple. “What interview?”
“Uh…well, with Fadiyah. I found her in the garden just about in tears over being forced into yet another marriage. Did you know she’s in love with the head of your security?”
Khalid waved away the comment. “That does not matter. I told you, I have it handled.”
Casey crossed her arms. “Well, you haven’t told me how you have it handled.”
“It is—”
“I know—no concern of mine. But it is. I promised Fadiyah to help.”
With a low growl, Khalid stalked across the room and back. Facing Casey, he told her, “My father thinks you a fit bride. We now must set a wedding date because of your praising Sharjah in print.” He waved at the computer screen. “That is our problem.”
“Oh, please.” Dropping her arms to her side, she slammed the computer lid shut. “The other article I sent to Luke will make your father unhappy.”
“And when does that appear? In a week? A month?”
Skin going pale, Casey lifted her chin. “You want out of this engagement so badly.” Lifting her hands, she struggled to pull off the ring. It wasn’t budging. Huffing now, Casey said, “Consider it off—ended. I’ll be on a flight out of here the day after tomorrow.”
Putting a hand over hers, Khalid tried to stop her from pulling her ring off. She jerked away from him. “Casey, this does not mean we have to stop seeing each other. I don’t want—”
“What? You don’t want to get married, but you don’t want me to go. So you just want a good time with me and then to move on?” Tears sheened her eyes. “I’ve been such a fool. I thought last night might have meant—oh, never mind. Just get out. I’m tired of you telling me you have everything handled with Fadiyah, but you won’t tell me a thing. I’m tired of being a pawn in this power play between you and your father. And I…I just thought…” She let the words fade. Turning away, she yanked off the ring and slammed it down on the table next to her laptop.
“Casey, I—”
She turned on him. “No. Not one more word. Just go.”
13
The palace ballroom looked better than any tent ever could. Gold and white fabric draped the ceiling and walls, peaking at a huge lantern with colored glass that cast rainbow hues onto the fabric. Candles flickered in a hundred other lanterns. And thank heavens, just about everyone had worn traditional robes and headscarves—Casey included.
She had managed to slip out of her room early in the morning, before the heat of the day or even before the sun had risen. After she’d thrown Khalid out, the guards had come back to bar her door, so she’d gone for the sheet-rope after all. She’d managed to shimmy down it and land without too much bruising. She’d waited near the front gate, lurking behind bushes and feeling more like some kind of stalker—until Fadiyah had arrived in a limo. Fadiyah had also arrived with maids and friends, all of them chattering. It had been easy to follow Fadiyah, but it had taken some work—and borrowing a maid’s uniform from the laundry—before Casey could at last corner Fadiyah in the bathroom where she was dressing.
“There’s not much time, so you have to do exactly as I ask,” Casey had told her.
Fadiyah just nodded as if she trusted Casey implicitly.
Now Casey was just hoping this whole thing didn’t blow up too soon. She kept her head down and her veil over her face. The henna on her hands marked her, but no one seemed to really be noticing that. She could also keep her hands mostly hidden in her robe. The veil covered her head and most of her face, leaving only her eyes revealed. She’d put on a lot of makeup and kept her stare lowered. And no one seemed to think she should say much.
Risking a glance around the room, she took in the two dozen people gathered.