A Golden Betrayal Page 4

  “Damn you, Raif Khouri,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

  If the man hadn’t been so insistent about the statue. If he hadn’t lit a fire under the Interpol agents. If he hadn’t accused her, or kissed her...

  If it wasn’t for Raif, she’d at least have a fighting chance at keeping her job.

  * * *

  Raif gazed out at the nighttime view of Manhattan from the royal suite at the Plaza Hotel. Anger had churned in the pit of his stomach since he’d discovered Ann’s duplicity this morning. He’d wasted two days on a fool’s errand. Roark wasn’t in California. He’d probably never been in California. Sure, there was a reservation under his name in the hotel, but a little digging by Jordan had revealed the room had been charged to Ann’s credit card.

  Raif knew the woman was smart. Now he realized she was also cunning. Well, the gloves were off. He knew exactly where he stood, and he was going after her with no hesitation whatsoever.

  He heard the suite door open, then close.

  “It’s done,” said Tariq, his footsteps bringing him across the thick carpet to where Raif stood.

  “She bought it?” Raif asked without turning.

  “Ann will be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Good.” Raif smiled to himself in grim satisfaction.

  “You hungry?” asked Tariq.

  “Not in the least.”

  “I thought maybe later—”

  “I’ll be busy later.”

  Tariq was still for a moment. “Do I want to ask?”

  “No, you don’t. Jordan left?”

  “He did.”

  “You should go, too.”

  “Raif, you won’t—”

  Raif turned sharply. “Won’t what?”

  He could almost see the war going on inside Tariq’s head. Did he dare treat Raif like a cousin and boyhood friend, and question his actions? Or was now a time to defer to Raif as the future king?

  “You should go, too,” Raif repeated softly.

  “I worry about you,” said Tariq.

  “I worry about Rayas,” Raif responded.

  “You won’t hurt her,” Tariq dared to say.

  “I don’t know. She did what she did, and I need what I need.” Raif honestly wasn’t sure what he’d be willing to do to Ann. But he did know he didn’t need to justify it to Tariq. He changed the subject. “Kalila called today.”

  “Has she come to her senses?” asked Tariq.

  “Not in the least. She’s a spoiled brat.”

  Raif’s younger cousin couldn’t seem to think of anything but her own selfish desires—not the king, and not her country.

  “She’s a product of her time,” Tariq offered.

  “I never should have let her go to school in Istanbul.”

  Tariq joined him at the window. “She needs to understand the world.”

  “She needs to understand her duty.”

  Tariq was silent for a moment. “You don’t think it’s the Gold Heart curse?”

  “There is no curse.”

  Tariq paused for a thoughtful moment. “Then why are you falling for Ann Richardson?”

  “I want to strangle Ann Richardson.”

  “You want to kiss her senseless first.”

  Raif didn’t deny it. “That’s got nothing to do with romance. It’s lust.”

  There was no way Raif would give credence to the Gold Heart curse. Mallik’s young fiancée had simply changed her mind, and his cousin Aimee was better off with her replacement groom, Jacx.

  “You sure?”

  “Completely.” Raif was a healthy man, and Ann was a stunningly beautiful woman. There would be something wrong with him if he didn’t want to ravish her. It had nothing to do with any missing statue.

  “You step too far over the line, and they’ll deport you,” Tariq warned.

  “I won’t step over the line.”

  Tariq coughed out a laugh. “We’re in America. You can’t even see the line.”

  “I’ll be fine. You should go. I don’t want you getting any more caught up in this.”

  “Fine with me.” Tariq stepped back. “I know a great little club on Fifth Avenue. Fine music, great cognac, gorgeous women. Don’t wait up.”

  “I never do,” Raif responded, his mind already moving on to what he’d say and do when Ann showed up.

  The next sound he heard was Tariq leaving the suite and the whir of the private elevator as it descended.

  He waited ten minutes, then moved to an alcove in the living room to wait for Ann, choosing a spot where he wasn’t in the line of sight from the door.

  A few minutes later, as planned, a butler showed her in, seating her at the main furniture grouping in the center of the large room. Raif waited until the butler left, and until she began glancing around with curiosity, before he stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself.

  At his first movement, Ann came to her feet. “Hello. Mr. Oswald? I’m—”

  “Hello, Ann.” He moved toward her.

  “Raif? What?” She glanced behind her. “I’m supposed to meet—”

  “Leopold Oswald. Yes, I know.”

  The confusion grew on her face. “He’s interested in auctioning some of his paintings.”

  Raif came to a halt in front of her. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Did he change his mind? Don’t tell me you said something to him? Raif, you can’t—”

  “Think about it, Ann.” He gave her a moment. “Leopold was never part of the equation.”

  She stopped, eyes narrowing. He could see her catching on.

  “I was supposed to meet Roark,” Raif helpfully added. “You were supposed to meet Leopold....” He waited for her to fill in the blanks.

  “Leopold’s not coming.”

  “Give the woman a gold star.”

  “You lied to me. Or somebody with a very convincing German accent lied to me.”

  “Just like you lied to me,” he told her softly.

  “I thought Roark would be in Santa Monica,” she said, perpetuating the lie.

  Raif scoffed his disbelief. “You booked the reservation. You paid for three nights at the hotel.”

  She gave up the pretense. “Okay, you weren’t supposed to find out that part.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I had to get you out of my hair. This is a critical time for Waverly’s, a critical time for my career.”

  “So, you’re saying there can be times when it’s justifiable to lie?”

  “When you’re in the right, yes.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Then you’ll understand what I’m about to do.”

  She stilled, then took a half step back, suspicion evident in her tone. “What are you about to do?”

  “I’m going to call Roark Black and offer to make a trade.” He pulled out his phone. “Consider yourself kidnapped, Ann.”

  She blinked once, then a second time. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Raif just smiled, while she obviously struggled to put the pieces together.

  Predictably, she went for the suite door.

  “There’s a guard standing right outside. He’s Rayasian. Very loyal to me.”

  She stumbled a step, but kept going, opening the door wide, coming face-to-face with six-foot-four, two-hundred-sixty-pound Ali Geensh. Ali scowled down at her.

  Ann gave a little jump and quickly closed the door.

  She scrambled in her purse for her cell phone.

  In three strides, Raif was whisking it from her hands. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I’d get hold of Roark’s private number.” Raif pressed a key on her phone. “I trust it’s in your contact list?”

  “Give that back.” She tried to snatch it away.

  He held it out of her reach. “Don’t waste your effort.”

  “You have no right—”

  “Neither did you. I flew all the way across the country, and then all the way back again. I think you lost the moral high ground three days ago, Ann.”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t break any laws.”

  “That help you sleep better at night?”

  “I sleep just fine.”

  “So will I.” Raif scrolled through Ann’s contact list, finding Roark’s number. He pressed the dial button.

  She frowned. “I’ve left him a dozen messages.”

  “Not like this you haven’t,” Raif responded as Roark’s voice mail greeting played through.

  “Roark,” said Raif. “It’s Prince Raif. I have Ann. Call me.”

  Her eyes went round. “They’ll arrest you. Truly, Raif. This is really kidnapping.”

  “They won’t arrest me.” To start with, he had no intention of getting caught. He wanted the statue, and from what he’d read and heard, Roark would do what he had to do to save Ann.

  “You’re holding me hostage and ransoming me. How on earth do you expect this to end?”

  “I expect to end with Roark bringing me my Gold Heart.”

  “Along with the SWAT team. Call him back, Raif. Shut this down. Let me go.”

  Raif shook his head. “You had your chance to do this the honest way.”

  “This is honest to God kidnapping, Raif. They’ll throw you in jail for twenty years.”

  Raif scoffed. “At worst, they’ll deport me. And since Rayas is one of the only politically stable sources of rare earth minerals, they’ll get over my indiscretions awfully quick.” He tucked her phone securely into his suit jacket pocket. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

  Her eyes narrowed in obvious confusion. “Figured out what?”

  “Who I am. What I can do. I’m the crown prince of a foreign nation, Ann. I have diplomatic immunity. I can get away with anything.”

  She swallowed convulsively. “Diplomatic...”

  He clicked his jaw in pity. “You’re at my mercy now.”

  Three

  “I’m not about to play this game with you, Raif.” Ann thought seriously about sprinting for the hotel suite door, but she doubted the Rayasian sumo wrestler’s mood had improved in the past five minutes.

  “Who said anything about a game?” Raif asked evenly.

  He looked frustratingly calm and at ease in the opulent surroundings. His dark suit was crisp and beautifully cut. His white shirt was flawless, and his geometric burgundy and steel-gray tie gave him an air of authority. She’d never seen a picture of him anything but perfectly shaved, and she had to wonder if a barber trimmed his hair every morning. She could only imagine the price of his black wingtips.

  “Come on. You don’t seriously expect me to believe you’ll keep me here.”

  He shrugged. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “You’re welcome to try.” His expression was as level as his tone.

  Watching him warily, she took a sideways step to the nearest hotel phone. She lifted the receiver. Silence. She pressed the zero key. It made a tone, but nothing else happened.

  “You’ve disabled the phones?” she asked in disbelief.

  Raif said nothing.

  “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t your first kidnapping?”

  “It’s the first time anyone’s tried to escape.”

  “What?” she scoffed. “Your victims normally throw themselves panting at your feet?”

  “It happens.”

  “You live in a bubble, you know that?”

  “I’m aware that I’m living a privileged life.”

  “Privileged?” She smacked the receiver down into the cradle. “Privileged is a night nanny, your own bouncy castle and a Porsche for your sixteenth birthday. You’re an insufferable little potentate who desperately needs somebody to set some boundaries.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you’re a conniving little hypocrite who desperately needs somebody to hook her up to a polygraph.”

  “You got one of those?” she taunted. “Because I’ll take one, right here, right now.”

  “I have to admit, I didn’t think of that.” He looked regretful.

  “Too bad. We could solve this whole problem right now.”

  “We’ll solve the problem when Roark calls back.”

  “Roark’s not going to call.”

  The last thing international man of mystery Roark Black would do was enter into negotiations with a kidnapper.

  “I’ve got an auction tonight,” Ann pointed out. “I have to go to work.”

  Raif held his palms up in a gesture of surrender. “You have to go to work? Why didn’t you say something? In that case, I give up. You’re free to go.”

  “Jerk,” Ann muttered, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  She was, but she sure wasn’t about to admit it. There was no way she was accepting any kindness from him. She’d read all about Stockholm syndrome.

  “Not in the least,” she answered tartly. But she did plunk herself down on the sofa. She’d been standing in too-tight three-inch heels since she left the gym this morning, and her feet were killing her.

  She’d dressed to impress at tonight’s auction, but she didn’t give one whit what Raif thought of her. If she’d known this was going to happen, she’d have gone for a less fitted skirt, a less tailored blouse and jacket. And she sure wouldn’t have worn this particular bra. It was brand-new, with underwires and stiff lace. Not her wisest purchase ever, but it had looked awfully good in the store.

  “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked, taking the armchair at the end of the sofa.

  “I’m sorry,” she asked with false sweetness, “am I not behaving like a proper kidnap victim?”

  He stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles. “All you have to do is cooperate, and this whole thing will be over before you know it.”

  “Just so you know, I know it already, and it’s not over.”

  He twitched the tiniest of smiles. “Cooperate, Ann.”

  “By cooperate, you mean admit I stole your statue.” She was getting sick and tired of people trying to get her to do that.

  Raif pulled his phone out of his inside pocket and pressed a button. “Gold star for you,” he offered before raising it to his ear. “Ali? Dinner for one.”

  Ann rolled her eyes.

  “Change your mind?” Raif asked.

  “No.” She came to her feet. “Am I free to use the bathroom?”

  “Go ahead.” He nodded toward a wide hallway behind the grand piano.

  Ann turned on her heel and marched across the big room. The bathroom was halfway down on the left. While at the end of the hall, double doors opened into a massive master bedroom, with a four-poster king-size bed covered in a hunter-green satin quilt.

  She swallowed as she turned into the bathroom, banishing an image of herself in the bed with Raif.

  He wouldn’t.

  That would be going way too far.

  He might have diplomatic immunity, but she had to believe he had some kind of a moral code. At least she hoped he did. And she sure hoped it wasn’t some weird Rayasian moral code that allowed him to have his way with any woman who happened to be available.

  She closed the door behind her and firmly turned the lock, leaning against it and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt better locked inside the bathroom. It occurred to her that she could simply stay in here until Raif came to his senses.

  She opened her eyes and gazed at herself in the lighted mirror. Staying in here wasn’t a half-bad idea. The lock would keep Raif out. And if he wasn’t standing in front of her, she could pretend she wasn’t attracted to him.

  She glanced around at her surroundings.

  She was standing in the biggest bathroom she’d ever seen. A four-person tub was recessed into a frosted bay window. It was surrounded by leafy green plants and white candles, with a cushioned bench seat and a small table adjacent. There were his-and-hers sinks at opposite ends of a long marble counter. Fine toiletries were placed around the room in wicker baskets, and two plush robes hung on hooks on the wall.
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  The toilet was placed discreetly in a frosted-glass chamber, while a separate, huge shower stall featured a dozen nozzles along the walls and in the ceiling. There had to be ten towels, and a telephone....

  Hello.

  She crossed the room, lifting the slim ivory receiver. She held her breath and put it to her ear.

  Silence.

  “Darn.”

  She supposed that had been too much to hope for.

  Her gaze strayed to the tub again. She rubbed the side of her rib cage where the tight bra was digging in and the lace scratched her skin. A long, hot bath would feel awfully good. And it would certainly serve Raif right to cool his heels out there without her.

  If he expected her to get hysterical or collapse in a fit of despair, he was sorely mistaken. Diplomatic immunity or not, there were going to be consequences for his outrageous actions. Ann would make sure of that.

  But until then, her options were limited. She could go back to the living room and try to reason with an obstinate jerk. Or she could go back and watch him dine on room service while she sat hungry. Or she could stay right here and take advantage of the hotel amenities.

  “Take that, Raif Khouri,” she mumbled.

  She moved to the side of the tub, experimentally twisting one of the taps. Water instantly gushed out—hot, soothing water.

  She flipped the lever to engage the plug.

  But as the water bubbled up in the tub, she lost her nerve. Did she really want to get naked with Raif on the other side of the wall? Shouldn’t she get back out there and plead her case one more time? If she didn’t show up tonight, didn’t call, didn’t offer Waverly’s any explanation, it would very likely push the board toward firing her.

  Would Raif have any sympathy for her plight?

  She tried to picture it and couldn’t.

  He’d simply tell her to confess to the theft, and he’d let her go. He’d like it that she was under additional pressure. It would play right into his hand.

  She glanced back down at the water, wondering how long it would take for him to give up on the kidnapping plot. Overnight at least. Maybe even all of tomorrow.

  Then she wondered what the police or FBI would do once her friends reported her missing. Would they look for her right away, or would they wait the official twenty-four hours? Nobody knew she’d come to the Plaza tonight. And the Interpol agents might think she’d fled the city, or the state, or maybe even the country. There was every chance the law-enforcement officials would take her disappearance as confirmation of her guilt.