LITMIR.BIZ

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of the royal palace, interspersed in several places by shining mosaic fountains, majestic in stature and elaborately pleasing in their water displays. Much like everywhere in the royal palace, each facet of the landscape had been created with pleasure in mind. Everything his father had done had been first and foremost to please the wife he’d loved above everything and everyone else. Therefore his late father had spared no expense in providing the palace to rival the most magical and luxurious fairy tales, in order to please his mother.

      While she’d been alive, that love had flowed to him, and beyond, to the Dar-Aman people. His home and kingdom had been a charmed place indeed.

      And then she’d died, taking his unborn brother with her, and turning Rahim’s world to darkness.

      Rahim gritted his teeth as long-suppressed wounds threatened to rip open. Those wounds had been straining against the bandages of time since his return to the palace, a place he’d sworn on his eighteenth birthday never to return to. That last, blazing row with his father remained seared in his memory, along with the stiletto-sharp words his father had thrown at him that day. It had shocked him then how quickly fond and happy memories could be replaced with pain and desolation. But no matter how much he’d wished it otherwise, his mother’s death had changed everything, including, for a very long time, his life’s path.

      Even his people hadn’t been spared. Dar-Aman had suffered greatly since the death of its queen.

      Shock didn’t begin to cover his emotions at what Rahim had returned home to six months ago. And he had only himself to blame. From the moment he’d left Dar-Aman fifteen years ago, he’d mentally and emotionally cut all ties with his homeland. The people he’d surrounded himself with might have known he was the heir to a sheikhdom, but they’d been warned in no uncertain terms never to speak about his homeland. The blackout when it came to everything Dar-Aman had been complete.

      Now he stared at the kingdom spread beneath him with regret and sadness.

      Beyond the fairy-tale palace lay miles and miles of construction work, evidence of a painful rebirth where there should’ve been proud growth. Dar-Aman’s infrastructure had been left in the hands of a corrupt and greedy few who’d run the economy to the ground until his return had put an end to the chaos. The government that was once held up by the international community as forward-thinking had been perverted to the point where they were almost archaic.

      His mind veered from the monumental task that lay before him, to the impending visit of Allegra Di Sione. Although Rahim had crossed paths with the Di Sione twin brothers during his ‘party hard’ phase in college and afterwards, he hadn’t taken much note of the rest of the dynastic family. After college, Rahim had been too busy forging a life for himself that didn’t involve Dar-Aman, even though at the back of his mind he’d known he’d have to assume the mantle of sheikh one day. He’d built a successful hedge fund company worth billions, while living life to the fullest in every sense.

      And all the while, his home had been crumbling into decay and apathy. While he could channel his own personal fortune into restoring his kingdom to the respectable powerhouse it’d once been, he was aware of the more problematic issue of his personal image, his past exploits having raised more than a few eyebrows since his return.

      The attention-seeking antics of his teenage years, before he’d parted ways with his father, could have been explained away as youthful hormones.

      But Rahim knew his less than conservative lifestyle was the reason he’d met with so much resistance since his return to Dar-Aman.

      Turning from the window, he returned to his desk.

      Allegra Di Sione’s visit to Dar-Aman couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Her foundation’s work on rights-enhancing on behalf of women, especially in poverty-stricken countries, was just the launching ground Rahim needed for his people. And it wouldn’t hurt to have his own image makeover in the process.

      The Dar-Amanian people needed to believe he was invested in their future. They needed to believe he wasn’t just a playboy flashing by to throw money at a problem before disappearing again. He could do nothing about the reams of media reports about his high-octane lifestyle in the past decade. What he could do was demonstrate that he was here for the long haul. Once their confidence in him was restored, he could lay the firm foundations for his kingdom’s future.

      And Allegra Di Sione was the key to that plan.

      * * *

      Allegra rose and stalked to the door of the plane the moment the seat belt lights flashed off. The anger roiling through her belly threatened to rise up and choke her. She was ashamed that part of it was directed at herself.

      She’d boarded the royal Dar-Aman jet with every intention of hating every minute of the fourteen-hour flight. Instead she’d melted into the soft, luxury leather club chair, and after a brief resistance, graciously accepted the care and attention the staff had lavished on her. Plus the peace and quiet had been heaven to work in, the state-of-the-art technology keeping her linked with her office. She’d even grudgingly accepted why her brothers highly rated private jet travel. With the amount of international business they conducted, the ability to work or rest in transit without distractions would be a godsend.

      Allegra had even gone as far as to silently praise Sheikh Rahim Al-Hadi when one member of his plane staff had let slip that the jet was also used to transport food aid in the Arab region as and when needed.

      But all of that had been before she’d opened the glossy magazine Zara had included in her hurriedly put together ‘Things to Know about Dar-Aman’ dossier. The article had juxtaposed life on the streets as a common citizen against life as the ruler of the oil-rich kingdom.

      The dichotomy had been staggering.

      Shock had held her rigid as she’d leafed through glossy picture after glossy picture showing the sheer, almost nauseating wealth displayed in the royal palace. Compared to the neglected citizens and woefully inadequate infrastructure, Allegra had been deeply saddened and angered as she’d taken in the gold-leaf ceilings and Fabergé boxes dotted in careless abandon in guests’ rooms. Even the pillars and arches that flowed from hallway to room were painted with gold. Reaching the end of the article, she’d been truly stunned at the estimated wealth of the palace and its yearly upkeep. Since Zara had also included the annual gross domestic product of Dar-Aman in the dossier, Allegra had a direct comparison at her fingertips. The result had made her fingers clench hard around the magazine till she’d heard a rip.

      That rip echoed through her now as she stepped into the early-morning sunshine and onto the red carpet and spotted the convoy of black SUVs speeding towards the plane. In the middle of the gleaming vehicles, with miniature royal flags billowing from the bonnets, was a top-of-the-line Rolls Royce Phantom.

      Since one of her brothers had been toying with purchasing one last Christmas, Allegra knew the cost of the luxury car. She swung her gaze from the gleaming white, gold-trimmed car, to the man in flowing white robes striding towards her.

      Her breath caught as she watched him move. Despite the crisp robes covering him from neck to ankles, she couldn’t mistake the natural grace in his walk, or the animal awareness that whipped through his lean frame. As he drew closer, her gaze rose to his face.

      Disgruntlement morphed to something else. Something equally all-consuming, but a lot more dangerous, as her eyes met golden hazel ones. Surrounded by long, sooty lashes, the gaze was direct, piercing in a way that made her step falter and grind to a halt. Ashamedly dazed, she took in the high cheekbones, the square, chiselled jaw which sat beneath neatly trimmed designer stubble and the aristocratic nose that flared slightly as he conducted his own inspection of her.

      She’d met enough heads of state to separate the natural born leaders from those who relied on their position to throw their weight about. The sheer magnetism of the man who she’d only ever seen in a two-dimensional picture in a magazine didn’t need the trappings of wealth, or the majestic Dar-Aman royal-crested keffiyeh that rested effortlessly on his proud head, to show he was an alpha in every sense of the word.

      Allegra was still wrestling

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