The Prince and the Working Woman (Desert Prince Book 1)

The Prince and the Working Woman

By

Kat Attalla

ISBN: 978-1-77145-352-3

http://bookswelove.net

Copyright 2015 by Kat Attalla

Cover art by: Jasmin Attalla Copyright 2015

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

The Prince and the Working Woman

(Desert Prince Series Book One)

Chapter One

Amanda Wilkes glanced around the great room of the palace. A freaking palace! She pinched herself. Women from rural Nebraska didn’t end up in a Persian Gulf country as a guest of a king. They either married too young for all the wrong reasons or got the hell out. She had done both. Married at eighteen and widowed by twenty. But not without a few broken bones along the way. Why did men pursue a woman and then try to change everything about the woman they claimed to love? And why did they become violent when they didn’t succeed? She would never be so stupid again.

As she watched her friend and former college roommate enjoying her bachelorette party, or the Nadiarian equivalent thereof, she could understand why women got lost in the fantasy. Of course her friend got to spend her nights with a prince.  A real prince. Okay, Mona was a princess in the literal sense of the word but she never acted like one. She and her parents opened the marble sanctuary to her friends as if they were family. Since arriving three days earlier on a private jet, Mandy had been on a whirlwind vacation as if she was royalty herself. Her only regret was that their other roommate Angie had not been able to make the reception.

Laughter filled the cavernous room. A henna artist provided amazing temporary tattoos to the party goers. She glanced at her own leg with a long vine of mini roses wrapped around her ankle. She had never been a girly-girl but the artist didn’t understand the request for barbed wire.

Mona dropped herself into the plush club chair next to Mandy. Her blouse was rolled up to her midriff to allow the henna to dry. Her choice of picture needed some sort of explanation. Three arrows - one pointing left, one pointing right, one pointing down - with Arabic words circling her belly button.

"Okay. I give. What does it say?" Mandy asked.

Mona pointed to the ornate words. "It says
start here
."

Mandy shook her head and giggled. "He doesn't know where to start yet?"

"He's not supposed to."

"You've been married for six months."

"But only the immediate families know. And you."

When she first met the princess, she thought Mona a sweet but incredibly naïve young lady. By the end of the year she came to know her as a smart savvy woman with a grasp on reality despite her fairytale life.

"Well I hope your husband gets the joke."

Mona smiled. The love and admiration for her husband shown in her eyes. "He will. Let's just say he doesn't need directions."

"So after the reception where will you two settle? Have you decided yet?"

"For me there will be a lot of back-and-forth between Nadiar and Touzar. But that is what I wanted to speak to you about. Do you know what you want to do?"

Mandy knew what she had to do. "Find a job and a decent apartment and start paying off my student loans."

Although the princess had been much too kind to say anything, the roommates all knew they’d lived in a dump. Between fighting with the landlord for heat in the winter and blowing the circuits when running the air conditioning in the summer, their apartment in Boston had been one challenge after another.

"Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"I've been sending my resume all over the country. Have job will travel."

“Would you consider something a little further away?"

"Like where?"

"Touzar."

In truth, Mandy might be able to find it on a map but she really knew nothing about the mysterious oil rich country. "Really?"

"Our neighbors to the east, also known as my in-laws, are looking to open their borders to more international trade like we do here."

"I know very little about international trade."

"They are more interested in your current degree in Woman’s Studies. Remember the community center my sisters-in-law took you to?"

"Yes." The beautiful compound offered a variety of services including a café, gift store, library, classrooms and information center for expatriates in Nadiar to find services they would find in their homelands. Women who followed their husbands’ jobs to the country found a sanctuary where they could meet, interact and vent when they needed to be with others who understood the unique issues of living abroad.

"Well the kingdom is looking to open a center like that in their capital."

"And you and I would run it?" Mandy asked.

"Just you. You would work for the Touzarian government. And you would run the center after you set it up."

. "I wouldn't even know where to start." To run a project like that from scratch? Excitement and anxiety battled for control of her racing pulse.

“Start with a plan. Study the center here for a few weeks and then you decide what kind of services you want to offer. What kind of classes you think might be interesting to families relocating to Touzar. Believe me; the vendors will come to you. Would you be interested in something like that?"

"Definitely. But…" She ran her fingers through her two tone hair. Even by American standards she was considered a radical. Many Middle Eastern countries were patriarchal societies where women had few rights.

Her friend seemed to read her mind. "You thought those same things about here? Do you still believe it?"

Mandy did have that mindset in the beginning. Until Mona explained that both civil laws and religious laws did have protections where women were informed of their rights and how to protect themselves. Besides, having a modern American husband hadn’t protected her from the receiving end of a fist. Men could be dogs in any country.

"I am interested."

Mona grinned broadly. "Good. We'll talk about it after the party. I need to run to the kitchen and get the desserts."

"You can't go like that. The henna hasn't dried. I'll go."

"Are you sure?"

Mandy nodded. She rolled down her pants leg and straightened her North Boston tee-shirt then sprung to her feet.

"It's on the table. Cut it into cubes then heat up the caramel sauce and pour it over. And don't forget the ice cream," Mona said.

Turtle brownies and Rocky Road ice cream. How the hell did that petite woman suck down so many calories a day and not gain a pound? And she lived in a palace! If Mandy didn't like her so much she would hate her.

She found her way to the kitchen with no problem. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered when she saw the cake on the counter. She had eliminated dairy from her diet as part of a series of tests for allergies.  The gooey chocolaty dessert tempted her to risk her health. She put the sauce in the microwave and waited 30 seconds for the ping. The aroma was heavenly. She poured the thick caramel over the top. Before she compromised the results she placed the bowl in the sink and went to the walk-in freezer to get the ice cream. As she dropped it on the tray she noticed that one of the squares had been removed from the pan.

"What the hell?" She spun around and caught sight of a shadowy figure in the corner. A shriek burst from her lips. Her heart thumped.

She jumped back knocking a pint of Rocky Road to the floor. The intruder stepped out of the darkness. He was dressed in a black robe with the black headscarf and sunglasses. Holy shit! Darth Vader has landed on Earth.

He babbled something at her in Arabic. At least she hoped it was Arabic but it could've been Klingon for all she knew. What was he doing in the residential area? Mandy had already met the entire royal family. He was not one of them.

Her stiletto heels gave her a couple of inches on him but his broad shoulders and solid chest spoke of strength greater than her own. He took a step forward. Her instincts took over. She raised her crossed arms to block his hand. The object in his fingers dislodged and landed caramel side up onto his caftan.

"What is your problem?" Anger darkened his chiseled features and angry men made her nervous.

"Stay back!" She searched for a knife but only found a frying pan. With two hands she swung it in front of herself.

"Put that down you crazy fool." He scooped up the ice cream container and returned it to the tray.

"I’m a fool?” Her volume rose with her temper. “What kind of idiot sneaks up behind a woman and scares the crap out of her?"

"Did you just call me an idiot?"

In other circumstances she might have found his indignation amusing. She bit her tongue.
Do not antagonize a man!
Painful life lessons had taught her not to wave the red cape at the bull.  Too bad her brain had not passed on that message to her mouth.

"You’re a thief too. You ruined the cake."

"So you dumped it on me?"

“You dropped it on yourself."

He groaned. "Why don’t you admit you are overreacting?"

"Yes, sure, if it will get rid of you. I'm overreacting. You can leave now."

“So can you. I'm not stopping you."

She paused to gather her thoughts. She wanted to make a quick and smooth retreat but he blocked her path. Her gaze darted around the room looking for another exit. Apparently she took too much time.

"I'm not surprised you can't make up your mind. You can't even decide if you want to be a blonde or brunette."

She yelped in frustration and grabbed the tray.  "Screw you!"  She shoved past him and ran out the door. A howl of laughter and the click of her heels followed her down the hall.

* * * *

Prince Hamid Omar Khalid strode down the marble corridor. Floor to ceiling windows showed off the stunning gardens and blazing dessert in the distance. The royal Nadiarian compound was as different from his home as day from night. The granite and limestone façade with four huge minarets in the corners and a massive central dome rivaled the Taj Mahal in beauty. Although twice the size of his family estate in Touzar, the citadel here housed both residential and government offices. The People’s Palace they called it.

This was not his first trip to his neighboring allies, but it was his first unofficial visit. The marriage of his youngest brother to the daughter of the Emir came as a surprise to say the least. His father, the king had tried several times to solidify the countries with a marriage to the princess for one of his sons. Who would've guessed she would choose the one least likely to ascend to the throne?

He came to the reception at his father's request. No, at his father's demand. He and his other siblings had never been particularly close to their half-brother. His marriage to the beautiful princess after she had refused several other offers had not endeared Rashid to them either. Still the wedding of the children of two ruling kings meant that the full family needed to show their support and strengthen the ties with their neighbor at their western border.

He knew that politically Nadiar was much more open and modern than other nations in the area including his own. European and North American influences blended seamlessly with the historic Arabesque architecture. Economically it had worked to their advantage. His father hoped to do the same in Touzar.

Hamid stopped at an intersection unsure whether to go left or right. Normally he had perfect recall, but his run-in with an outspoken crazy American had derailed him. He’d had to make an unplanned change of clothes or attract every insect in the area. Upon his return he got turned around.

Who the hell did she think she was? He was not used to being treated in such a fashion. And what was she doing in the residential kitchen? Was she part of the house staff? He couldn't imagine that she was a friend of either his brother or new sister-in-law.

He finally found the game room where the men from the two families had gathered. The clack of pool balls and shuffling of air hockey pucks mixed with the cheerful conversations filtering into the hall.

Rashid was on his way out the door when he saw his brother. "What the hell took you so long? Did you get lost?"

Hamid refused to admit that he had indeed gotten lost after leaving the kitchen. "I would've been here sooner but I was assaulted by a giant Oreo Cookie."

"Say what?"

Bad enough Hamid had to speak in English with his brother but he hated having to battle with the Americanisms. He hadn’t lived in the States since his college days a decade ago. "If you mean what did I say? I said I was attacked by an American Amazon with black and white striped hair."

His brother let out a hearty chuckle. "So you've met Amanda?"

"Is that her name? What’s she doing here?"

"She's Mona’s
maid-of-honor
.”

If that woman was a
maid
in the true sense of the word
,
he would eat his shoe.

“And your partner for the dinner at the reception,” Rashid added.

Rashid probably would've preferred either one of his wife's siblings to be best man but to keep peace their father asked him to pick one of his own. Hamid still wondered if the choice had been an act to bridge a relationship or just plain spite.