Ava touched her shoulder. “My second infusion. Soon I’ll be as young as you.”
“Shame,” said Tariq, leaning over the arm of his chair. “Pity to waste all that experience.”
“Be careful,” said Ava. “I’m practically fermenting.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Tariq.
“Believe it,” said Ava.
“Well, then so much the better.”
“You’re a cheeky one.”
“I appreciate the finer things.”
“Like the Bugatti?” said Ava.
“Not just automobiles,” said Tariq, eyes not leaving her. “I know quality when I see it.”
“Anything that is fast and flashy,” said Ava, refusing to take him seriously.
“Flashy is overrated.”
“Says the man in the Vuitton sweatsuit and Patek Philippe Nautilus—diamond encrusted, of course.”
Tariq sighed, defeated for the moment. He sat back in his chair. “To be honest, I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a trap,” he said, ruminatively. “All these posts and pictures. The fans are insatiable. They want three, four, five interactions a day or they’ll find someone else.”
“Let them,” said Ava. “Why should you care?”
“It’s who I am,” said Tariq. “TNT. I have a reputation to live up to. Do you want to know a secret? It’s a mask. The whole thing. I have other ambitions. Politics. Service. It’s complicated.”
“The gift from your brother?”
Again, Tariq grew testy at the mention of his brother. “How did you know?”
“I’m a woman,” said Ava. “I know a thing or two about jealousy. I’m guessing he bought you the car to buy you off. He knows you’re smarter, more popular ... better looking. He’s scared.”
“He should be,” said Tariq. “Bloody bastard can’t just—” He bit his tongue as the nurse came into the room. She checked their drip bags, then removed the needle from Ava’s arm. After swabbing the puncture, she then applied a bandage and instructed her not to remove it for several hours. “Dr. Lutz will see you when you’re ready.”
Ava stood and took a moment to slide the tablet into her purse and gather her belongings. “Goodbye, then,” she said. “Don’t keep your mask on too long. You look rather nice without it.”
Tariq rose from his chair, guiding his IV bag alongside him. “You will have dinner with me this evening,” he said. “Chesa Veglia. Palace Hotel. Eight o’clock.”
Ava slid her purse onto her arm. For a few minutes, she’d forgotten that he was a real prince of a real country. A man accustomed to getting his way and having the money to pay for it. A man who rarely heard the word “no.” “You don’t even know my name.”
“What is your name?”
Ava studied him for long enough to make him squirm. “Ava Mercier.”
“Madame Mercier,” said Tariq, with a bow of the head. “I am Tariq bin Nayan bin Tariq al-Sabah.”
“Your Excellency,” she replied, her eyes skirting the floor. “Dinner in two weeks, when I return to see Dr. Lutz. I prefer the Grand Hotel Kronenhof in Pontresina. You will wear a proper suit and proper shoes. I know quality too.”
“As you wish.”
She touched his sleeve. “Who knows? By then, the stem cells may kick in.”
“Yours or mine?” he asked.
