Back Chapters are at Beautiful Memoirs or at my site http://rambles.proboards.com/
Note: Strangely enough, this chapter was fun to write
With a forced smile, Elizabeth lifted her arms, stretching them out from her sides.
Seconds before she’d left the Villa, Taggart had warned her that this search would happen; Jason had relayed the information while he was en route to their rendezvous destination. Having prior knowledge before she arrived at the Palace had thankfully given her the chance to mask her utter revulsion – and it also let her know that Jason was okay.
“It’s perfectly alright, Mr. Ruiz. Security protocols must be enforced – no matter who is entering the residence.”
Bowing his head as if humbled by her acceptance and embarrassed that he was ‘forced’ to do this, Ruiz took a step closer before halting at the deep command that came from behind him.
“That will not be necessary, Manuel.”
Someone else may not have noticed it beneath his friendly visage and relaxed posture, but Elizabeth detected a barely discernable bite to the King’s tone. With his hands casually tucked in the pockets of his khaki chinos, he took a few unhurried steps closer.
“Ms. Webber and her entourage were thoroughly searched upon their arrival in our country,” the leader added, shifting his apologetic gaze to Elizabeth, “I hardly think she needs to suffer any further insult.”
Elizabeth smiled appreciatively, easing the King’s concern over the attempted indignity. Feeling reassured, he turned his attention back to his second in command, “And that isn’t a task for someone in your position anyway, Manuel. That is something our security should handle.”
Not able to look his King in the eye, Ruiz nodded before risking an explanation. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency. I didn’t mean to offend Ms. Webber; I only asked because it is a mandated protocol and when your security didn’t do it, I thought it best that I did. I was trying to avoid embarrassing them by calling them in here and reminding them of their job. I was only trying to help.”
Accepting the man’s answer and believing he may have been too quick to judge, the King clapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “It’s okay Manuel, you know I appreciate all you do for me.” Trying to make it up to his loyal – albeit sometimes standoffish – friend, he addressed Elizabeth and added with sincerity, “I would not be half the leader I am without Manuel; I owe him a great deal.”
Ruiz returned the affection and lifted his smiling face to his King, “Thank you Sir, but I think you’re overstating my usefulness – which is most kind of you.”
“Nonsense, you’re indispensable.”
Elizabeth watched as the two exchanged a meaningful glance that she didn’t understand. There was a mix of warmth and mutual appreciation in it that was highly perplexing. She couldn’t fathom their relationship. The King seemed to vacillate between reminding Ruiz of his place and canonizing him.
“Aw, what a sweet love fest between psychotic killers; such a Hallmark moment.” Turning to face Stan, Brenda finished, “Do you think they have a card for that?”
With an absent chuckle because his focus was elsewhere, Stan answered, “Probably.”
Knowing he was waiting for documents to print while monitoring the numerous video feeds, Brenda wasn’t affronted that Stan didn’t immediately respond with suggested prose for said cards.
Prior to meeting up with Taggart, Jason had sent Stan images of documents he’d ‘found’ – no one asked how he stumbled upon them. They’d been in Spanish so Stan blew them up to print. Before the ink could dry on the last page, he handed them to Brenda for translation.
“Thanks. I’ll take a look later. Right now I have to focus on moving my chess pieces.” Brenda pointed to the screens she was watching, indicating that everyone was in place and ready to go.
Delighted by her analogy, Stan responded after rubbing his hands together with glee, “We even have a King and a Queen in our game this time.”
Shaking her head to imply that he was wrong, Brenda inclined her head toward the screen, indicating he should take another look.
In the feed coming from Elizabeth’s necklace, the dining room of the residence came into view. “Looks like our chess match will be missing a key player,” she finished despite Stan seeing for himself what she meant, “That table is set for two.”
The room positively glittered.
The dimly lit yet stunningly ornate chandelier, aided by numerous candles, sent light dancing across the crystal stemware and polished-to-gleaming silverware. The result was a spray of refracted twinkling lights that bathed the room in a soft glow, enveloping its inhabitants in intimate warmth.
Clearly noting the number of gold-etched place settings, Elizabeth inquired, “Will the Queen not be joining us?”
Looking uncomfortable, her companion for the evening responded solemnly, “I apologize, but no.”
Elizabeth was about to express her sorrow at the news, but then she noticed the King appeared to want to say more.
His brows were furrowed as if in thought, making his handsome features look pensive. With a hand on her elbow, he began escorting her to her seat. The two settings on the table were next to each other; one at the head, the other directly to its side. The table was small, and given that it was in the residence and meant for the private use of the King and Queen, the proximity wasn’t unusual. What was surprising was that he pulled out the chair at the head, indicating she should sit there.
Elizabeth gently shook her head, “Oh no, please, this seat is for you. I’ll just-“
He gently stilled her before she could sit in the adjacent seat. “Elizabeth, please allow me to seat you at the head of the table,“ he laughed playfully, “it is just a chair, I’m not handing over control of my government to you.”
Hesitating another moment, she eventually accepted with grace, letting him push her chair in before he joined her at the table.
Once he sat, he removed his jacket and tossed it onto the empty chair next to him. He then unbuttoned the cuffs of his light blue shirt and rolled the sleeves to his elbows. Sounding just shy of pleading, he asked with a smile, “For tonight, can we just be Elizabeth and Basaam? No formality, no worrying about etiquette?”
Seeing the sincerity in his eyes and being surprised by it, she nodded her agreement, managing a small smile of her own.
With her acceptance, his body immediately lost all of its remaining tension. He relaxed back into his chair and his smile spread, making him look years younger.
With a chuckle, he said, “Thank you. I swear, sometimes I want to scream at the ridiculousness that surrounds my position.”
She slightly squinted and tilted her head to the side as if not quite understanding what he meant. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she had the impression something very stressful had happened before he came to dinner tonight. That may be why he initially snapped at Ruiz, and why he seemed to want to relax this evening.
He laughed, rubbing a hand over his face once as if washing away any remnants of whatever stress had lingered. His tone was that of a co-worker expecting his colleague to commiserate. “You have to know what I am referring to. Do people not treat you differently because you are an actress? Give you preferential treatment, talk to you with a kind of reverence you find completely unnecessary?”
She couldn’t help but laugh in agreement, “Yes, I know what you mean, but we are completely different. I am an actress; I do not govern a country and make monumental decisions that affect other people’s lives on a daily basis. I would think by comparison, you deserve the kind of reverence you’re treated with.”
Basaam tilted his head to the side as if weighing her words before reaching a conclusion, “While I understand your point, and to a certain extent you are right,” his voice lowered almost sadly, “sometimes I just don’t want it.”
He looked away as if shy or embarrassed by his admission, as if it were something he never should have admitted out loud.
She was having a hard time discerning the honesty of his words. Was this all part of his act to draw in unsuspecting women? Was she the thirtieth woman to hear this song and dance, giving him plenty of time to perfect it? She knew she had to act as if she believed every single thing he said, even if she questioned it.
Similarly lowering her own voice, she reached out and lightly covered one of his hands with hers. “You don’t have to explain.” Pulling back her hand, she finished happily, “We’ll just be two new friends having dinner, and that’s it.”
Before she had fully released his hand he quickly captured hers, staring at their joined hands as he lightly ran his thumb over her fingers.
She carefully tugged, trying to pull away from his grip as she awkwardly looked anywhere but at him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
He tugged in return, remaining silent until she looked at him.
His voice was slightly hoarse as he said, “I believe I told you yesterday that I do not mind you touching me when others are not around,” he laughed in an attempt to add levity, “and I am quite sure I just told you I don’t want to stand on formality.”
Blushing, she looked down as she used her other hand to mindlessly straighten the napkin in her lap. It was all she could do not to sigh in relief when he finally let go of her hand. Using the awkward moment to refocus, she thought of her friends and colleagues and the danger they were in as they moved about the Palace. She had a job to do; she had to keep this man distracted.
And she would.
Finally raising her eyes to his, she nervously cleared her throat. “I- I realize that you’ve said you don’t mind,” she paused, letting her nerves show, “It’s just that… Well, you’re married. While I see something like touching your arm or hand as a casual gesture of friendship, I’m not sure your wife would view it the same way.”
His features darkened, “You don’t have to worry about what my wife thinks, Elizabeth.”
She was not the least bit surprised by his answer but she feigned she was. He raised a hand as if to stop her erroneous train of thought.
With a quick push of air, he apologized. “I am sorry if that sounded… harsher than I intended. It is just that my wife and I… It is very complicated and I don’t know the right words to describe what we are.”
He took a moment and recalled the footage he had seen of his beautiful dinner guest beside her pool today. He knew she found him attractive – which thoroughly pleased him – but he also knew she’d never do anything about it because he was married. Her moral code was unnecessary in his case for a number of reasons.
“Elizabeth, may I be quite… How do you say it,” he paused, trying to identify the right American expression, “blunt with you?”
No. “Of course, we agreed to keep this evening relaxed and friendly.”
Nodding, Basaam lowered his gaze as if he were nervous before lifting his smiling eyes to hers, “I find you very attractive, and I believe,” he let hope fill his voice, “that you feel the same as well?”
Her eyes widened in shock.
With a chuckle, he continued, “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I do not want you to feel pressured to answer that question and I certainly don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in my presence. I only mention this because I feel it may be causing some undue tension.”
He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued. “All I am trying to say is that you need not worry about Safiyya because – believe me – she does not worry about you, or any other woman for that matter. We have what I believe you refer to as… an open marriage.”
Elizabeth did her best to appear confused yet willing to hear more.
Noting that she wasn’t appalled, he began to elaborate. “Our marriage was arranged when I was eight years old and she six. Our actual marriage took place when I was 16; she was 14. I realize this probably sounds quite shocking to you, but in many royal families in this part of the world, this is quite normal.”
She merely nodded her head, barely registering the staff who had served both of them wine and what appeared to be appetizers of some kind. It didn’t even dawn on her to show surprise that he drank alcohol.
Motioning for her to eat, he continued. “At first it was awkward. We barely knew each other, but as fate would have it, we actually did fall very much in love during the first few years. Our life was somewhat idyllic and carefree. My father was still alive and I was only beginning to learn what my life would later be. The two of us had a great deal of money and free time,” he smiled as if caught in a very happy memory, “and we enjoyed ourselves to the fullest.”
He took a bite himself before moving on, “I will skip ahead a bit as the story would be too lengthy otherwise, but when responsibility fell on me, life became more complicated. We still were in love, but things became harder. “
She watched as he swallowed. It was obvious that what he was going to say was difficult – or at least he was pretending it was.
“About five years ago, she gave birth to our twin daughters.”
Elizabeth’s fork rattled against her plate as she nearly dropped it, “You have children?”
This was not something anyone at Scorhouse knew. Hell, no one in the world seemed to know. At the same time she uttered her question, each member of the team who had been listening had the exact same thought. How the hell did no one know this?
Laughing at the obvious incredulity in her tone, he answered, “Yes, I do. It is not surprising you did not know. I have tried to keep them protected from the world and it seems I have done a good job.”
He took a sip of the wine in front of him, “While my countrymen know, I have made it a point not to let them be seen in the public eye often, and photographing them is strictly forbidden.”
Finding her voice, Elizabeth managed to say, “I can’t say I blame you. In the United States our Presidents’ children are subjected to horrible scrutiny by the media, as are the children of celebrities.”
He nodded, grateful she understood. He returned to the previous topic as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “The reason I brought them up is because we were discussing my wife. In an attempt to be brief, I’ll simply say that something seemed to break in her after she gave birth.” He tapped his head as if implying a mental breakdown. “I don’t quite understand it, but she has required near constant care since. She is… not well and is often medicated.”
You piece of shit. She gives you two daughters, probably has post partum depression and you spend the next five years drugging her into oblivion? “I am so sorry to hear that, for you and your daughters.”
He waved a hand as if telling her not to worry, “It is manageable now that we’ve grown accustomed to it. In her lucid moments she is actually quite affectionate with our daughters, almost fiercely so. While it may come as a surprise to you, I love my children very much and spend as much time with them as my schedule permits.”
How considerate of you. Will you be arranging one of their marriages to Ruiz one day? Sicko.
Oblivious to her internal thoughts, he cleared his throat, preparing to wrap up the unpleasant conversation and move on with their evening. “I just wanted you to be clear that while I am technically married, my wife has not truly been my wife for a number of years. In fact, she has given her blessing for me to find… companionship elsewhere as I please.”
Forcing herself to ignore the disgust rolling through her at his words and remembering Brenda’s long-ago presentation about the man’s harem, Elizabeth blushed and did her best to appear shyly intrigued by his rather unsubtle declaration.
With a slightly flirtatious note to her tone, she said, “That was an awfully detailed explanation of why I should feel comfortable reaching out to touch the hand of a... friend.”
He watched her fingers play with the stem of her wine glass before lifting his own in a toast. He knew she understood the implications of his words, and he was incredibly stirred that she appeared responsive, even if slightly hesitant.
With desire obvious in his eyes and a husky timbre in his voice, he toasted, “To you Elizabeth, and to the numerous ways one can find pleasure in… friendship.”


