The Prince and the Working Woman (Desert Prince Book 1) (12 page)

By the following Thursday, Mandy had moved into her new apartment. She used her cell phone camera more in the past two days than she had in the past year. Arranging and re-arranging furniture while trolling the internet for advice on fung shui helped her find the perfect balance. She’d asked Hamid what he thought but as far as he was concerned, unobstructed access to the bed made it perfect. To get some unbiased opinions, she posted to a ‘rate my room’ website. She got more compliments than complaints so she figured she had done well.

The night of King Omar’s birthday bash she stayed home working on plans for the center. Hamid had asked her one last time to attend with him and then did not press the issue. A part of her wished she had gone when she saw the news coverage. Limos arrived at the palace like a modern day version of Cinderella. Dignitaries and royalty entered the massive doors under a military color-guard. The event rivaled the red carpet of the Academy Awards.

The English language news service tended to focus on the same points as the Oscars. Commentary on designer dresses and jewels led the newsfeed. She searched the television for glimpses of Hamid. Unfortunately every time the camera found him he had a different woman at his side. The French ambassador's daughter. The Bulgarian ambassador’s daughter. The Japanese ambassador's daughter. She would almost think he had a thing for ambassadors’ daughters except for the ever-present smirk. Why did these women insist on getting photographed next to one of the royal princes?

She knew what to expect. He had warned her. Sitting around watching only made her angry. With him. With herself. Ali Baba scampered into the room. She scooped him into her lap.  He purred softly while she scratched his fur but the minute she stopped he jumped down and went in search of the food bowl. 
Typical male. Feed me, pet me and then leave me alone
. When the camera focused again on the other male driving her crazy, she muted the sound and went to her office/guest room.

She glanced at the clock. Adjusting for a seven hour the time difference she figured Angie should be home. Mandy pulled up Skype and called her friend. They spent the first few minutes talking about the wedding and then her home. She walked around the apartment with her computer so that Angie could see the finished work.

“It is so beautiful.  You deserve it. You worked really hard.”

It had been a long five years--particularly the last one where she jammed two years of credits into one year. She really should have taken a few weeks to enjoy her accomplishments instead of jumping into a job and relationship, both of which demanded her absolute attention.

"I saw Mona. She said you are friends with Rashid's brother. Anything you want to share?"

Their matchmaking roommate just didn’t give up. How much did Mona know and how much had she guessed.

Mandy shrugged. "We are working on a project together."

"That's all?"

"That's all I'm going to talk about."

Angie pouted in disappointment. She always had been the dreamer of the group. "So I won't be calling you Princess Mandy any day soon?"

"You will never call me that." Last week, after her day out with Hamid, she had actually begun to dream about long term. Watching the coverage today she realized she would never fit into his world on a permanent basis. She rubbed her hand over the dull ache in her chest.

“So money won't spoil you?"

She choked back a laugh. "What money? They pay monthly here. I haven't gotten my first paycheck yet."

"There must be some perks to dating a prince."

Dating would imply that they went places. Other than their trip to the mall they rarely went out. Her choice she knew. Watching the news tonight only fed her insecurities. Her Salvation Army wardrobe wouldn’t fit into a palace lifestyle. Even the business suits in her closet were last year’s styles purchased secondhand. They suited her needs and the average colleague didn’t judge a person by their wardrobe. But the media?

Another image flashed across the muted television. The camera panned the great hall of the palace, pausing on Hamid and two of his brothers. Which embassy did the woman dressed in Valentino and clutching his arm, represent?

She had to stop watching.

"Mandy?" Angie called out from her computer.

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"What's wrong?"

"I was trying to find the perks, Ang. You know, they are just like real men. They pass gas, belch and leave clothes all over the floor. Cinderella never told us about that."

She let out a surprised squeak. "Oh my God, you fell in love with him."

"Where did you get that?"

"Your expression, for one thing."

Talking on Skype had its downfalls. The visuals went two ways. Falling for the man had not been part of the master plan. “It doesn’t really matter. It’s a short term affair at best.” Even as she said the words, sadness washed over her.

"Love conquers all."

A nice saying to embroider on a pillow but Mandy lived in the real world. At least she tried, which hadn't been easy in her surreal situation. An affair with a working woman was new to the prince. What would happen when the novelty wore off?

* * * *

Hamid made his way through the long empty hall at the western side of the palace. With all guests drawn to the main lawn for a spectacular fireworks finale he decided to make his escape. Near the back door exit, he heard two distinct voices. He couldn't make out the words but the whining female grated on his nerves almost as much as the persistent male comebacks. He could only imagine which brother and which social climbing darling he’d have to avoid.

"You lying bastard." The slap of a hand across a face was followed by a set of heels heading towards him. As she rounded the corner he couldn't avoid the confrontation. The offended young lady made full body contact and spewed of line of obscenities that made him wonder if she actually was a
lady
.

A dazzling overhead display of fireworks lit the sky again. He got a clear view of the disheveled woman making her way down the hall. The man in question didn't even make an attempt to follow her. Hamid continued toward the exit, surprising his sibling.

"Oh it's only you," Tarik said. He took a flask from his pocket, popped the cap and swallowed a long swig. Obviously not his first drink. Off balance, he stumbled against the wall.

"The entire press corps is here and you couldn't stay away from that for one night?"

"When did you become so high and mighty?" His words reverberated down the cavernous hallway.

Hamid swallowed a grown. He would take the little shit to task but that would bring more attention to his brother and give him what he wanted.

Tarik rubbed his cheek. "Little bitch had a hell of a left hook."

"You're lucky she only slapped your face instead of kicking you in the balls with those stilettos. What the hell were you doing bringing her here anyway?"

"She wanted to see where I spend my nights."

Hamid laughed. “The bars are closed for the holiday?”

His two younger brothers spent most of their nights trolling the clubs around the city until the early hours of the morning.

"This isn’t even near your suite."

Tarik pressed his hands to his temples as if to fight off a headache. "I was taking the scenic route."

"Jackass," Hamid muttered. He had to get out of there. He had gone through his own wild times but he'd like to think he'd grown out of it in his twenties. And he never brought it home.

"Am I keeping you from your own liaison?"

"No. I'm leaving." He tried to step around.

“Take me with you. Anywhere. I don’t care where.”

“I’m meeting someone.”

Tarik grunted and stepped back. "Oh. You and the American, huh? It has been over a month now. That's a record for you."

He wasn’t going to discuss his relationship with Mandy. "See if you can get back to your room while avoiding the press until you sober up."

“Who cares at this point?”

“Father. So maybe this one day of the year you can make an effort.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Tarik held up a hand to dismiss Hamid.

He left before he broke the spoiled bastard’s fingers. He wondered if he was ever as obnoxious as the twins. He hoped not but he probably had been.  They were all in their thirties now and the hard-working people of Touzar did not find the antics of the royal offspring amusing any longer.

His driver met him at the back door. The cross city traffic was almost impassable. It had been a long party and he was relieved to have it over with. He couldn’t wait to get to Mandy. Around her he could be himself. Before arriving at her apartment he pulled off the caftan and robe, leaving it in a pile on the back seat. Better than being likened to a Star Wars villain.

He made his way to the sixth floor but the greeting he received took his mood and his ego down a peg. "Did I wake you?"

Her green eyes sparked. "No I was hanging out waiting for you."

Sarcasm? Absolutely. His gaze shifted to the muted television set on the English news channel. He could guess what she had watched all night. "Are you angry?"

"No. Just surprised to see you." A sleeveless tee-shirt with no bra beneath clung to full breasts and pink boxer shorts revealed her ultra-long legs.  She sure dressed like she expected him. More accurately like she expected to torture him.

"Why are you surprised?"

She turned as he tried to reach for her and stormed into the living room. "Word on the street is you would be attending a few embassy parties."

"You're jealous?" Maybe he should've kept the amusement out of his voice because it only ticked her off more. The fact that she displayed jealousy ironically filled him with relief. The woman had hiding her emotions down to an art form.

"Don't flatter yourself. We don't have a committed relationship."

"The hell we don't."

"You are… free… to see anyone you want." She might've been more convincing without the stammer in her words. Did she really think that he had any interest in the line of publicity seeking women hanging on for a photo op?

"You're giving me permission to sleep with other women?"

"You don't need my permission."

"Damn right. And I don't want it either. And for the record I don't give you permission to sleep with other men."

She flopped into the sectional sofa with a moan. "I didn't ask for it."

"Then why are we fighting about this?"

"We aren't fighting."

"Then what the hell is this?"

She didn't answer. She folded her arms defensively.

"Talk to me." He took the remote and switched the television to a music channel. He saw enough of the party while he was there. Standing in a receiving line left him feeling like a cartoon character paid to take photographs with the tourists at Disneyland. 

Mandy averted her gaze. "I did something stupid."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I broke the rule."

He wasn't aware they had rules.  "Which one?"

"The
just sex, no emotion
s rule."

It took a moment for her words to sink in. He had been so sure that she was going to say something else. He didn't know whether to laugh or shake some sense into her. With Mandy life was as close to normal as he would ever know. He also understood that her life would change in ways that frightened her despite her tough as nails exterior. "It was a stupid rule anyway."

"You didn't think so back in Nadiar."

He had agreed to the terms. Hell, he had set the terms. But that was before he knew her. Before she stole his heart. "Neither did you."

"Well what am I supposed to do about it now?"

"We renegotiate the rules. And we start with the one where you don't go out with me."

She shook her head. “Can we start with another one?"

"I can't change who I am. Who my father is. You have to deal with it."

Like always when she didn't want to deal with the conversation she reverted to distraction methods. He grabbed her wondering hand. "Stop, Mandy."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously finish the conversation and then you can seriously put your hand anywhere you want."  She tried to move closer. He kept a restraining hand on her shoulder. No easy feat when he wanted to pull her into his arms.

“We’re going to the Jubilee together.”

“That’s a month away. Should I come back then?”

“No.”

“New rule. We go out a least once a week.”

“Every week?” Her voice pitched in feigned shock.

“It must be a hardship to be forced into going to restaurants, museums, theaters and other horrific events.”

“You make me sound ridiculous. I would happily go anywhere with you alone.”

Hamid moved closer. “Mandy, you deal with contractors, vendors and even protesters with no fear. Why are you afraid of the press?”