She chuckled, eyes glinting with something close to the old Nahla.“You don’t lose in negotiations.When you enter a negotiation, the outcome is practically preordained.”She narrowed her eyes at him.“So what’s really going on?”
“Nothing you need to—”
“Right,” she cut in, lifting a hand and rolling her eyes.“Nothing I need to worry my pretty little head about.”She puffed out her elbows and pursed her lips, mockingly mimicking his stance and voice: “You and the othermenfolkwill take care of us delicate ladies.”Her voice dropped to a ridiculous, gravelly tone, and she burst out laughing when he scowled.
“I don’t sound like that.”
“Youdo.And that’s exactly your attitude,” she said with a grin, walking over to collect her tea.“I don’t understand how you, Saif, Ramzi, and Rylan can be such Neanderthals when it comes to women.”
He raised a brow.“Just because we want you to be happy and healthy?”
She shook her head, sighing.“I would’ve thought Mom and the aunts would’ve broken you of that habit.But I guess Dad, Uncle Joran, Uncle Raj, and Uncle Amit undid all their good work.”She gave a dramatic shrug.“Such a shame.”
“When are you leaving for Paris?”he asked, already planning to speak to their mother before Nahla took off.
“When I’m ready.Jenny said to come whenever I wanted.”She walked to her closet, clearly intending to pack.“Now go finish whatever very important things you’re supposed to be doing.I’ll be fine.”
Zayn frowned, still unconvinced.“Nahla, you’re one of Lativa’s primary diplomats.You took over Angela’s role and have made asubstantialdifference in our foreign policy.”
“Yes, yes, but I’m still the little woman who needs protecting,” she muttered.“Even though I’m perfectly…” She stopped.Then sniffed and pulled out a suitcase.“Well, it doesn’t matter.”
Had her voice…cracked?
And why hadn’t she finished that sentence?
Something wasdefinitelywrong.If she wasn’t willing to tell him, then it was time to bring out the big guns.
Mom.
Zayn found his mother at her desk.She no longer worked directly for his father, but she still ran several charities and organizations—often more efficiently than most government departments.
“Mom, have you—?”
He stopped short.His mother wasn’t alone.
Four sets of eyes turned toward him.His mother.Aunt Tila.Aunt Marianna.Aunt Helen.
Hell.
They were terrifying on their own, but together?They were practically a mythological force.
“I’ll come back later,” he said quickly, lifting a hand as he started backing toward the door.
Unfortunately, his mother stood up.“Dear, we need to talk.”
Tasha Al-Sintra moved toward him, and just like that, the other three women scattered—rushedout of the room, in fact.Cowards.
When they were alone, his mother gestured for him to sit.Once he settled, she poured him tea.
“What’s wrong?”she demanded, skipping the small talk like only a mother could.
Zayn took the delicate porcelain cup and saucer in his big, callused hands, feeling—once again—like a gorilla at a tea party.But her tone meant he had to respond.
Seeing the sharp intelligence in her gaze, he opted for redirection.
“Wrong?Withme?”He lifted the cup and blew on the tea.“I came to ask you about Nahla.She’s upset about something.”
“Nahla is struggling.That’s true.”She moved to sit beside him, then reached up to cup his cheek.“Butyou’rehurting too.What’s wrong, Zayn?”
