The Royal Elite: Ahsan (Elite, Book 2) (7 page)

Suffering a reality check as she hung up the tops and slacks, Sessily refused to allow anything to ruin her mood. Ahsan might pick up on her melancholy or fear and question her about it as he was wont to.

Just as she finished the task and stowed the suitcase in the closet, the cell phone in her pocket vibrated. She'd turned the ringer off so that she didn't get an uncomfortable call at an inappropriate time. Fishing it out, she checked for a message.

What she got instead of a message was a picture. Just a picture, no words needed.

Iris sat in a metal chair, in a gloomy, dingy looking room, hands bound in her lap. Someone just out of camera range was the center of her terrified attention, eyes wide and fixed. Were those faint bruises on her cheek, or just a trick of light and shadow?

Sessily's heart flipped over. “That bastard.”

Instantly furious and frightened for her sister at the same time, she pulled up Bashir's contact number and had half a message typed out before she stopped. What good would useless threats do? Probably get Iris beaten. Maybe get both of them killed. Bashir could hire someone else to do what he was blackmailing her to do. They were expendable, tools to be used and discarded at will.

What had she been thinking, laughing and playing with the Sheikh? Had she forgotten he was this monster's
brother?
Iris was in pain, scared out of her mind, and here she was, making plans to ride and have lunch and swim.

Humbled, she deleted the message and slid the phone into her pocket again.

She had a mission, and that's all she would concentrate on from here forward.

. . .

There it was again. That
something.
Ahsan regarded Sessily when she wasn't watching, taking note of her downturned mouth, the somewhat somber look in her eyes. This wasn't the same woman he'd left upstairs two hours ago. During the tour and lunch, she'd mumbled through her appreciation of his home and the food, picking at the meal rather than really eating it. Several times he'd started to ask what was wrong, because something was obviously very wrong, and stopped before the words hit the air. What could have happened in the short time he'd left her in her room and her reappearance downstairs? Maybe she was one of those moody women, happy and jovial one second, morose and self-destructive the next.

He hoped not.

Standing at the bottom of the staircase, he said, “I had someone put a few swimsuits in your suite. We keep extra clothing here in case my guests forget something.” It was a long, long drive to the nearest store. He'd learned to be prepared for any eventuality.

“Would you be offended if we skipped the swim and went to the stables instead? I realize it's too hot to ride yet, but I'm in the mood to see the horses.”

He frowned, then cleared the expression from his face. “Of course.”

“I'll still change—these clothes aren't suitable for being around horses—and be right back down.” She paused, one hand on the banister.

“I'll be waiting.” Ahsan rubbed his fingers over his whiskered jaw as Sessily ascended to the second floor. He found it impossible to look away from her whenever she was in sight. After she disappeared down the hall, he paced a lazy circle, puzzled at her actions. His staff wouldn't have interacted with her unless she'd summoned them, and she hadn't. Who else?

Perhaps she'd had a phone call from home. Trouble in the family. One could never tell.

True to her word, she didn't take long to change. Appearing in denim that fit low on her hips, held in place by a suede belt, she was just finishing doing up the last button on a matching suede vest with no sleeves. The outfit accentuated the minute span of her waist and the subtle curves that begged a man to touch. She'd piled her hair high, a few straggly wisps resting against her throat.

“Ready?” he asked, resisting the urge to loop his arm possessively around the low of her back.

“Yes. How many horses did you say you have?” She turned her face up to him and fell into step at his side.

“More than a hundred. You?” Senses on high alert, he discerned from the forced lilt in her words that she was struggling to maintain a happier facade. The pleasing roll of her accent sounded strained instead of sultry.

“Not nearly that many. Thirty or so.” She paused, then said, “Did you get your love of them from your family?”

“We've always had them, but most of my family only rides occasionally, leaving the breeding, training and raising to others. I decided I wanted to do it all.” Exiting out the back doors, he guided her through the gardens, past the pool, and around a few sitting areas. Water trickled over rocks and the wind rustled palm fronds to and fro.

“I see. Why did you move out here, away from the rest of civilization?”

“Because I like my own space and solitude.”

“Forgive me, but I overheard a few guests mention you last evening. Your father is the Emir, correct?”

“Yes.” He glanced aside while they left the last archway and headed across the flat land toward the stables. Horses nickered in the distance and somewhere a dog barked. Sessily's expression turned thoughtful.

“I don't know how far you are from your family, your mother and father, but...don't they miss you? My family always stayed close together, living within a few miles of each other.”

“They're on the other side of the country. Let's put it this way, Sessily,” he said, leading her through two doors at the furthest end of a long stable. The sunlight cut out, only streaming in through a few stall windows. Several horses poked their heads out from their stalls, eyes glistening and curious. “I'm something of a black sheep where the Afshar's are concerned. I go my own way, which is usually the opposite of everyone else.”

He expected her to tease him, to throw some harmless, candid quip about his status into the mix. Instead, she surprised him and frowned.

“I'm not sure what you mean, you go your own way.” She glanced at him, then laughed when one of the horses pressed its nose against her arm. Pausing to croon, she petted the animal's nose and jaw, eliciting a few quiet nickers and a stomp of a hoof.

The change that came over Sessily while she baby-talked the steed was a heartfelt emotion. Loving, adoring, sweet. Not like the distracted frowns from earlier at lunch and during the tour. He leaned an arm high against the stall, allowing her to greet the horse at her leisure.

“I mean that I don't subscribe to their way of life. For the most part, I do my own thing in regards to relationships, culture, and religion.”

“Give me an example. I'm not familiar with your culture or your way of life.” She stroked the steed's muzzle, appearing content with the contact.

“Without getting too explicit, I don't want multiple wives. All my brothers who are of age have at least two, some as many as four.” It just wasn't his preference. What his brothers did was their own business, and while he didn't want it for himself, that didn't mean he judged his brothers for their way of life.

She straightened, stepping away from the stall door. “
Four
wives? Wait, how many brothers do you have?”

“Eight. And nine sisters.”

Sessily's mouth dropped open in shock. “Eighteen children, including you?”

“My father has several wives. It's common here, just like it's common in other cultures to only have one wife. The Emir wants to make sure he has an heir of his choosing to pass the kingdom down to. More children means more choices.”

“So you might one day become the Emir? If he chooses you?”

He laughed and coaxed her into a slow stroll. “He would never choose me.”

“Why not?” Sessily paced at his side, paying more attention to him than the horses.

“For the reasons I just stated. He needs someone who will carry on traditions. Someone willing to follow in his footsteps.”

“And you go your own way,” she said, repeating him “which takes you out of the running.”

“Yes.” Vaguely amused at her curiosity, he led her along the many stalls, petting a few of the horses who stuck their necks out to reach him. The way Sessily ran the pad of her finger along her lower lip struck him as thoughtful, contemplative. “Something on your mind?”

“Oh, I was just wondering why you're content to let him choose another. Isn't that the desire of heirs, to want to rule when it's time?” She slanted a sidelong look at him.

He met her eyes, sliding a hand into his pocket. “Some heirs, not me. I have no desire to become Emir.”

“Why not?”

“Many reasons, not the least of them the politics one has to play when they accept that title. I have other, more important things to do with my time.”

“I'm intrigued by that. Your decision, I mean.”

“Trust me, if you had to deal with the politics and the clandestine situations that come up, you wouldn't want to be anywhere near it.” Those were not half the reasons, but the ones that sounded best in his mind. He did not relish being hounded every second of every day by lobbyists who wanted this or wanted that, and the jealousy of his brothers. There was always animosity within the ranks after a new Emir was chosen, and a body could never truly trust those closest to them, even if they shared the same blood. It would be a lifetime of watching over his shoulder, of never knowing when a strike might come.

He preferred to hunt, rather than be the hunted.

“It sounds like you have made up your mind for good on the matter,” she said next.

“I have. Long ago.” At the juncture of barns, he paused to let her decide whether she wanted to pet the horses here, or keep walking down the other long row of stalls.

Sessily smiled at him, one of those sweet smiles that did strange things to his heart.

She said, “You have made what appears to be an excellent life for yourself here, away from all that. Our stables and homestead are not half so luxurious.”

He laughed. “It suits me. I like to travel, so I am not here as much as I could be. You've told me very little about your family and your business.”

She glanced ahead, strolling forward with her hands clasped behind her back. “I have one sister, Iris. My mother passed away some years back, and my father travels extensively for the business. He made sure I knew my way around the stables though, so I'm the one who oversees the day to day running of it.”

“And is that the life you envisioned for yourself?”

“Yes and no. I love the horses, though I wish I could travel more with my father, see the world.”

“I've never seen you at any of the big events.” The ones that attracted the elite like bees to honey. Anyone who wanted to be noticed or mingle with some of the most powerful people in the world showed up to at least one of the balls each year.

“This is my coming out, I guess you could say,” she replied with a quiet laugh. “My father or one of his other businessmen attended these things.”

“Pavel,” he said, testing her surname on his tongue. “I do not recall ever meeting your father, unfortunately. Which is typical with how many people can sometimes show up at an event.”

Sessily slanted a startled look aside. “I never told you my last name.”

Indeed. He'd had one of his men do a little extracurricular research. “I know.”

Stopping to face him, she cocked her chin, apparently indignant. “Did you look me up?”

“Of course.” He rocked back and forth on his boot soles, enjoying the flash of fire he saw in her eyes. “Didn't you do the same to me?”

Flustered, she stammered through a few incoherent noises before saying, “No. I didn't.”

“Then you should have. Going home with a stranger and everything.”

Her expression turned...displeased. Ahsan tried not to smile.

“What else did you look up?”

“There wasn't much
to
look up, considering I couldn't find anything to do with stables or your parents or other news.”

She gasped in outrage. “Maybe I don't want people snooping around.”

He arched a brow. She didn't want people snooping around, yet she'd just put him through the ringer with question after question? He didn't need to even say those words aloud; Sessily picked up on her own hypocrisy and blushed.

“It's always a wise idea to look into a person's background, especially if you're about to invite them into your personal domain.” He meant to make her think about it, to take the warning more seriously next time. It wasn't just his position in the Royal Elite that made him wary and slightly paranoid. He'd lost brothers to questionable deaths that likely revolved around murder. Digging up information was easy in the age of the internet and word of mouth. It wouldn't have been much trouble for her to do a quick background check on him before they departed Dubai.

“I'll make sure to do that if I ever go home with an almost-stranger again.” Temper cooling, she resumed walking, a distracted look on her face.

“I hope you do.”

“I notice that you didn't hesitate to still bring me here even though you couldn't find much about my family.”

“I like mysteries.”

She laughed, some of the tension easing from her posture. “I'm hardly a mystery. Just not of the caliber of people you're used to running with, I think.”

“On the contrary, you're exactly the kind of people I prefer to run with.” He preferred those who spoke their mind and got straight to the heart of a matter. The games that went on in the circles of the elite could only amuse him for so long.

From an empty stall, a sudden flurry of movement drew his eye. Four kittens, no more than six weeks old, bumbled out. Playing, oblivious to their presence for the moment.

“Oh, look how adorable!” Sessily, apparently forgetting all about her annoyance, crouched down and crooned to the babies.

One kitten popped up in surprise, another ran back into the stall on unsteady legs, and a third raced pell-mell in the other direction. The fourth plopped onto its haunches and stared up at her with owl-like, wide eyes.

Amused beyond reason, he bent to scoop up the escaping kitten and cuddled it against his chest. They were tame and used to people, just a little rambunctious as kittens tended to be.

Sessily managed to get her hands on the sitting kitten and stood, holding it up near her throat. “They're adorable. Not very old, either.”