Kyril turned his attention back to the field in front of them, where Inan was rallying his teammates to run—toward the wrong goal.
“You might be surprised, brother, to find that marriage isn’t as easy as running a background check.”
“This would be a business arrangement, though.”
“I’m saying you’re going to have to compromise to make things work between the two of you, even if you think it’s only going to be political.”
“Compromise?” Issam let out a huff. “I won’t need to give up anything. I’m saving her from certain death. It’s an easy equation.”
Kyril shook his head. “If this woman—if Mackenzie—becomes a member of the royal family, she will have the full rights owed to any of us. She might not fall in line as easily as you expect.”
“What makes you say that?” All Issam could picture was a grateful Mackenzie, tears in her eyes, throwing herself at his feet for his act of mercy and heroism.
“She must want something,” Kyril mused. “She wouldn’t have set up a meeting with you if she wasn’t intending to gain the upper hand for Al-Madiza.”
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as much as getting Mackenzie out of that cell and into a position where Al-Dashalid didn’t hang in the balance as a result of her car accident.
“Know that before you make any decisions,” Kyril warned.
“Too late, older brother,” said Issam. “I’ve already decided.”
* * *
Mackenzie held her head high as she was escorted into Issam’s private living room two hours later. She did not look like she’d been imprisoned in a holding cell. She looked like she’d swept directly off a jet and was ready to avenge those had wronged her.
He stood as she approached the sofa and two wing chairs in front of one of the massive windows overlooking the city. Issam saw her glance over to those windows as he dismissed the guards with a wave.
“Please,” he said. “Sit down.”
“Do I have a choice?” Mackenzie’s voice was cool, but there was a playful note that intrigued him.
“You may stand if you wish.” Issam sat in one of the wing chairs. Mackenzie hesitated, then sat down on the sofa across from him. She folded her hands in her lap, and it was then Issam realized they were trembling.
“All right,” said Mackenzie. “Is this where you pronounce me convicted?”
He blinked at her. “No. Of course not.”
“No?” She shook her head. “Then why did you bring me here?”
Now, sitting across from her, the words twisted up in his mind. Mackenzie was gorgeous. Her skirt suit was fitted as if it had been made for her, and he wanted badly to put his hands on her waist…and then everywhere else. Her dark eyes burned. Burned. He wanted to see her the way he was imagining her now. It was a rush of completely inappropriate thoughts.
He gathered himself.
“As far as I can tell,” he began. “There is only one way to circumvent the ancient laws about harming mosques.”
“What’s that?”
“To get married.”
“Yes!” Mackenzie cried, sagging forward with relief. “The sooner the better.
Issam was taken aback. He had expected shock. He had expected horror. Denial. Yelling. He had not expected this level of enthusiasm.
Mackenzie sat up again and looked him in the eye. “I came to the same conclusion an hour ago,” she told him. “The laws in Al-Madiza are similar. I researched them before agreeing to negotiate on behalf of my brother-in-law, with a particular focus on laws limiting women’s rights.” She smiled triumphantly. “I’m more than happy to marry someone in the family and negotiate our dispute as a member of the family.”
“I’m not talking about someone in the family.” He couldn’t think of a suitable person, anyway. “I’m talking about marrying me. That’s the way out of this. That’s how I’d have the most influence over your fate.”
Mackenzie gave him one sharp nod. “All right. I agree.”