Conveniently His Princess, page 8
“Didn’t you hear me when I said that I don’t know what she is? All I know is that she’s an inapproachable bundle of thorns. An unstoppable force of nature, like a…a…hurricane.”
“That’s more of a natural disaster.”
He almost muttered “smart-ass” in the exact way Kanza had to him. He was exasperated with having his enthusiasm interpreted into what Shaheen and Johara wanted it to be. When it was like nothing he’d ever felt. It was as unpredictable as that hurricane in question.
One thing he knew for certain, though. He wasn’t trying to define it or to direct it. Or expect anything from it. And he sure as hell wasn’t attempting to temper it. Not to curb Shaheen’s expectations, not for anything.
“Whatever. It’s the one description that suits her.”
“That would make her Hurricane Kanza.”
With that, Shaheen took him back to Johara, where he endured her teasing, too. And he again made her and her incorrigibly romantic spouse promise that they wouldn’t interfere.
Then as he left the party, he thought of the name Shaheen had suggested.
Hurricane Kanza. It described her to a tee.
After he’d compared her effect on Johara’s office to one a lifetime ago, she had proceeded to tear through him with the uprooting force of one. All he wanted to do now was hurtle into her path again and let her toss him wherever she would.
But she wouldn’t do it of her own accord. She must still be processing the revelations that, given her sense of justice, must have changed her opinion of him. But it no doubt remained an awkward situation for her, since her prejudice had been long held, and Maysoon was still her half sister.
Not that he would allow any of that to stand in his way. He fully intended to get exposed to her delightful destruction again and again, no matter what it took.
Now he just had to plan his next exposure to her devastation.
*
Aram eyed Johara’s office door, impatience rising.
Kanza was in a morning meeting with his sister. Once that was over, he planned to…intercept her.
He’d done so every day for the past two weeks. But the sprite had given him the slip each time. He never got in more than a few words with her before she blinked out on him like her fellow pixies did. But what words those had been. Like tastings from gourmet masterpieces that only left him starving for a full meal again.
He’d let her wriggle away as part of his investigation into her components and patterns of behavior. It had pleased the hell out of him that he still found the first inscrutable and the second unforeseeable. But today he wasn’t letting that steel butterfly flutter away. She was having a whole day in his company. She just didn’t know it yet.
Johara’s assistants eyed him curiously, no doubt wondering why he was here, again. And why he didn’t just walk right into his sister’s office. That had been his first inclination, to corner that elusive elf in there.
He’d reconsidered. Raiding Kanza’s leisure time was one thing. Marauding her at work was another. He’d let her get business out of the way before swooping in and sweeping her away on that day off Johara said she hadn’t taken in over a year. He’d arranged a day off himself. The first whole one he’d had in…ever.
The office door was suddenly flung open, and Johara’s head popped out, golden hair spilling forward. “Aram—come in, please.”
He was on his feet at once, buoyed by the unexpected thrill of seeing Kanza now, not an hour or more later. “I thought you were having a meeting.”
“When did that ever stop you?” Johara’s grin widened as he ruffled her hair. “But as luck would have it, the day you chose to go against your M.O., I found myself in need of that incomparable business mind of yours, big brother.”
He hugged her to his side, kissing the top of her head lovingly. “At your service always, sweetheart.”
His gaze zeroed in on Kanza like a heat-seeking missile the moment he entered the office. Déjà vu spread its warmth inside his chest when he found her standing by the filing cabinets, like that first night. The only difference was the office was in pristine order. It had looked much better to him after she’d exercised her hurricane-like powers.
He noticed the other two people in the room only when they rose to salute him. All his faculties converged on that power source at the end of the office, even when he wasn’t looking at her.
Then he did, and almost laughed out loud at the impact of her disapproving gaze and terse acknowledgment.
“Aram.”
While it no longer sounded like a curse, it was…eloquent. No, more than that. Potent. Her unique, patented method of cutting him down to size.
Johara dragged back his attention, explaining their problem. Forcing himself to shift from Kanza to business mode, Aram turned to his sister’s concerns.
After he’d gotten a handle on the situation, he offered solutions, only for Kanza to point out the lacking in some and the error in others. But she did so without the least contention or malice, as most would have when they considered someone to be infringing on their domain. In fact, there was nothing in her analysis except an earnest endeavor to reach the best possible solution.
Aram ascribed his lapse to close exposure to her, but he was lucid enough to know he was in the presence of a mind that rivaled his in his field. Having met only a handful of those in his lifetime, who’d been much older and wielding far more experience, he was beyond impressed.
As the session progressed, what impressed him even more was that she didn’t compete with him, challenge him or harp on his early misjudgment. She deferred to his superior knowledge where he possessed it and put all her faculties at his disposal during what became five intensive hours of discussion, troubleshooting and restructuring.
Once they reached the most comprehensive plan of action, Johara leaped to her feet in excitement. “Fantastic! I couldn’t have dreamed of such a genius solution! I should have teamed you and Kanza up a long time ago, Aram.”
He couldn’t believe it.
How had he not seen this as another of Johara’s blatant efforts to show him how compatible they were? Would he never learn?
He twisted his lips at Johara for breaching their noninterference pact again as he rose to his feet. “And now that you did, how about we celebrate this breakthrough? It’s on me.”
Johara’s eyes were innocence incarnate. “Oh, I wish. I have tons of boring, artistic stuff to take care of with Dana and Steve. You and Kanza go celebrate for us.”
If anyone had told him before that business with Kanza that his kid sister was an ingenious actress, he wouldn’t have believed it. But though he didn’t approve of her underhanded methods, he was thankful for the opportunity she provided to get Kanza alone.
He turned to the little spitfire in question, gearing up for another battle, but Kanza simply said, “Let’s go, then. I’m starving. And, Aram, it’s on me. I owe you for those shortcuts you taught me today.”
His head went light as the tension he’d gathered for the anticipated struggle drained out of him. Then it began to spin, at her admission that she’d learned from him, at her willingness to reward the favor.
Exchanging a last glance that no doubt betrayed his bewilderment with Johara, who was doing less than her usual seamless job of hiding her smug glee, he followed Kanza the Inscrutable out of the office.
*
Kanza walked out of Johara’s office with the most disruptive force she’d ever encountered following her and a sense of déjà vu overwhelming her.
In the past two weeks he’d been taking this “get to know him” to the limit, had turned up everywhere to trail her as he was doing now. Instead of getting used to being inundated in his vibe and pervaded by his presence, each time the experience got more intense, had her reeling even harder.
And she still couldn’t find one plausible reason why he was doing this.
The possibility that he was attracted to her had been the first one she’d dismissed. The idea of Aram Nazaryan, the epitome of male perfection, being romantically interested in her was so ludicrous it hadn’t lasted more than two seconds of perplexed speculation before it had evaporated. Other reasons hadn’t held water any better or longer.
So, by exclusion, one theory remained.
That he was nuts.
The hypothesis was loosely based on Johara’s testimony.
With his repeated appearances of late, which Johara hadn’t tied to Kanza, Johara had started talking about him. Among the tales from the past, mostly of their time in Zohayd, she’d let slip she believed he’d been sliding into depression. Kanza had barely held back from correcting Johara’s tentative diagnosis to manic-depression, according to that inexplicable eagerness and elation that exuded from him and gleamed in his eyes.
Johara believed it was because he’d long been abusing his health and neglecting his personal life by working so much. Again, Kanza had barely caught back a scoff. In the past two weeks he hadn’t seemed to work at all. How else could he turn up everywhere she went, no matter the time of day? Her only explanation was that he’d set up his business with such efficiency that its success was self-perpetuating and he could take time off whenever the fancy struck him.
But according to Johara, he had been working himself to death for years, resulting in being cut off from humanity and lately even becoming physically sick. It had been why she and Shaheen came so often to New York of late, staying for extended periods of time, to try to alleviate his isolation and stop his deterioration.
Not that Johara thought they were succeeding. She felt that their intimacy as husband and wife left Aram unable to connect with either of them as he used to, left him feeling like an outsider, even a trespasser. But she truly believed he needed the level of attachment he’d once shared with them to maintain his psychological health. Bottom line, she was worried that his inability to find anyone who fulfilled that need, along with his atrocious lifestyle, was dragging him to the verge of some breakdown.
But this man, stalking her like a panther who’d just discovered play and couldn’t contain his eagerness to start a game of all-out tackle and chase, seemed nothing like the morose, self-destructive loner Johara had described. Which made her theory the only credible explanation. That his inexplicable pursuit of her was the first overt symptom of said breakdown.
Not that she was happy with this diagnosis.
While it had provided an explanation for his behavior, it had also influenced hers.
She’d dodged him so far, because she’d thought he’d latched on to her in order to combat his ennui, and she hadn’t fancied being used as an antidote to his boredom. But the idea that his behavior wasn’t premeditated—or even worse, was a cry for help—had made it progressively harder to be unresponsive.
“So where do you want to take me?”
Doing her best not to swoon at the caress of his fathomless baritone, she turned to him as they entered the garage. “I’m open. What do you want to eat?”
“You pick.” He grinned as he strode ahead, leading the way to his car. Seemed it was time for that spin in his near-sentient behemoth, a black-and-silver Rolls-Royce Phantom that reportedly came with a ghastly half-million-dollar price tag.
She stopped. “Okay, this goes no further.”
That dazzling smile suddenly dimmed. “You’re taking back your invitation?”
“I mean we’re not going in circles, each insisting the other chooses. I already said I’m open to whatever you want, and it wasn’t a ploy for you to throw the ball back in my court, proving you’re more of a gentleman. I always say exactly what I mean.”
His smile flashed back to its debilitating wattage. “You have no idea what a relief that is. But I’m definitely more of a gentleman. It’s an incontestable anatomical fact.”
She made no response as he seated her in his car’s passenger seat. She wasn’t going to take this exchange that lumped him and anatomy together any further. It would only lead to trouble.
Focusing instead on being in his car, she sank into the supple seashell leather while her feet luxuriated in the rich, thick lamb’s wool, feeling cosseted in the literal lap of luxury.
After veering that impressive monster into downtown traffic, he turned to her. “So why did you suddenly stop evading me?”
Yeah. Good question. Why did she?
She told him the reason she’d admitted to herself so far. “I took pity on you.”
“Yes.” He pumped his fist. At her raised eyebrow, he chuckled. “Just celebrating the success of my pitiful puppy-dog-eyed efforts.”
“If that’s what you were shooting for, you missed the mark by a mile. You came across as a hyper, blazing-eyed panther.”
Those eyes flared with enjoyment. “Back to the drawing board, then. Or rather the mirror, to practice. But if that didn’t work…what did?”
And she found herself admitting more, to herself as well as to him. “It got grueling calculating the lengths you must have gone to, popping up wherever I went. It had me wondering if you’re one of those anal-retentive people who must finish whatever they start, and I was needlessly prolonging both of our discomfort. I also had to see what would happen if I let go of the tug-of-war.”
“You’ll enjoy my company.” At her sardonic sideways glance, he laughed. “Admit it. You find me entertaining.”
She found him…just about everything.
“Not the adjective I’d use for you,” Kanza said with a sigh.
“Don’t leave me hanging. Lay it on me.”
Her gaze lengthened over his dominant profile. She’d been candid in her description of his outward assets. Was it advisable to be her painfully outspoken self in expounding on what she thought of his more essential endowments?
Oh, what the hell. He must be used to fawning. Her truthfulness, though only her objective opinion, wouldn’t be more than what he’d heard a thousand times before.
She opened her mouth to say she’d use adjectives like enervating, like a bolt of lightning, and engulfing, like a rising flood—and as if to say the words for her, thunder rolled and celestial floodgates burst.
He didn’t press her to elucidate, because even with the efficiency of the automatic wipers, he could barely see through the solid sheets of rain. Thankfully, they seemed to have arrived at the destination he’d chosen. The Plaza Hotel, where Johara had mentioned Aram stayed.
As he stopped the car, she thought they should stay inside until the rain let up. They’d get soaked in the few dozen feet to the hotel entrance. Then he opened her door, and lo and behold…an umbrella was ingeniously embedded there. In moments, he was shielding her from the downpour and leading her through the splendor of the iconic hotel. But it wasn’t until they stepped into the timeless Palm Court restaurant that she felt as if she’d walked into a scene out of The Great Gatsby.
She took in the details as she walked a step ahead among tables filled with immaculate people. Overhanging gilded chandeliers, paneled walls, a soaring twenty-foot green-painted and floral-patterned ceiling and 24-karat gold-leafed Louis XVI furniture, all beneath a stunning stained-glass skylight. Everything exuded the glamour that had made the hotel world famous while retaining the feel of a French country house.
After they were seated and she opted for ordering the legendary Plaza tea, she leveled her gaze back on him and sighed. “Is that your usual spending pattern? This hotel, that car?”
“I am moderate, aren’t I?” At her grimace, he upped his teasing. “I was eyeing a Bugatti Veyron, but since there are no roads around to put it through its two-hundred-and-fifty-miles-per-hour paces, I thought paying three times as much as my current car would be unjustified.” He chuckled at her growl of distaste. “Down, girl. I can afford it.”
“And that makes it okay? Don’t you have something better to do with your money?”
“I do a lot of better things with my money. And then, it’s my only material indulgence. It’s in lieu of a home.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve never bought a place, so I consider my cars my only home.”
This was news. Somewhat…disturbing news. She’d thought he’d been staying in this hotel for convenience, not that he’d never had a place to call home.
“But…if you’re saying you don’t splurge on your accommodations, it would be far more economical—and an investment—to buy a place. A day here is an obscene amount of money down the drain, and you’ve been here almost a year.”
His nod was serene. “My suite goes for about twenty grand a night.” At her gasp, his lips spread wide. “Of which I’m not paying a cent. I am a major shareholder in this hotel, so I get to stay free.”
Okay. She should have known a financial mastermind like him wouldn’t throw money around, that he’d invest every cent to make a hundred. It was a good thing their orders had arrived so she’d have it instead of crow after she’d gone all self-righteous on him.
She felt him watching her and pretended to have eyes only on the proceedings as waiters heaped varieties of tea, finely cut sandwiches, scones, jam, clotted cream and a range of pastries on the table.
They had devoured two irresistible scones each, and mellow live piano music had risen above the buzz of conversation, when he broke the silence.
“This place reminds me of the royal palace in Zohayd. Not the architecture, but something in the level of splendor. The distant resemblance is…comforting.”
The longing, the melancholy in his reminiscing about the place where he’d lived a good portion of his youth, tugged at her heart…a little too hard.
Suddenly his smile dawned again. “So ask me anything.”
Struggling with the painful tautness in her throat, she eyed him skeptically. “Anything at all?”
His nod was instantaneous. “You bet.”
It seemed Johara had been correct. He did need someone to share things with that he felt he could no longer share with his sister or brother-in-law. And as improbable as it was, he seemed to have elected her as the one he could unburden himself to. His selection had probably been based on her ability to say no to him, to be blunt with him. That must be a total novelty for him.
