Nassor groaned, slamming his fist on the desk. “They don’t need to think anything,” he lied. Of course he cared about what his people thought, not because of his ego, but because of how much faith they were willing to put in him. A scandal immediately after coronation would be horrible for his country’s morale.
“I paid for the transaction with my own money. I’m not hurting anyone. You, on the other hand, have used the taxpayer’s money to lure prostitutes into the castle. And you used illegal drugs. There’s a vast difference between you and me.” Hell, Rasheed had been lucky Nassor hadn’t exposed or sued him and preferred to focus on the future rather than on the past.
Rasheed lifted his eyebrow, cocking his head to one side. “Is there? Why don’t we let the public decide?”
“What do you want?”
“I want my job back.”
“Impossible. Regardless of your after-hours business, you weren’t doing your job well. I would’ve fired you anyway, like I did most of the former staff. I have a different vision.”
“And I have information you don’t want leaked.”
Nassor rubbed his temples. Rasheed didn’t have much to lose—if Nassor told his version of the story, Rasheed would get a slap on the hand from his enduring wives, and maybe be the subject of gossip for a while. At most, his wives could try to sue him for public offense. But he was already unemployed and could claim destitution and get little prison time.
If Nassor’s story leaked, not only would he be compromised, but so would Izzy. She’d be exposed to the world, and in the worst light. He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to her—even if he had to jeopardize his own principles. “I can’t rehire you. I can offer you double the severance package you received, money that will come from my own personal account.”
“That’s not enough. Five times as much.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Four,” he repeated. “I still have your bank information in the human resources files. I’ll wire the money soon. The subject dies here, though. If I hear you’re telling this to someone, or if you think you can extort more money from me, I’ll take you to the authorities. I’ll tell them how you broke the laws and you’ll have to deal with bad press and possibly lawsuits. And before I do all that, I’ll break your nose.” He stood and looked down at Rasheed. He could have called the authorities now, but that would only add fuel to the fire.
Rasheed got to his feet and stretched out his hand. He may be slimy, but Nassor bet money Rasheed had enough sense to take the money and leave him alone. “I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me.”
“For your sake, I hope so. Now go.”
Nassor waited long after he closed the door behind him to plop down in his chair and loosen his collar. Shit. He remembered the promise he’d made to Izzy to share his findings about Obasi with her. But this hadn’t been about Obasi, but a stupid blackmail he’d given in to to avoid a headache. Giving Rasheed the sense he’d gotten something out of their conversation had hopefully been enough to take care of the problem. If Rasheed had a working brain, he’d know Nassor wouldn’t cave again in the future.
Even if that messes things up for Izzy and me.
He opened the top drawer and grabbed a stress ball, doubting the foam object would make miracles and alleviate the kinks in his neck. He’d been able to clear a few hours from his schedule in the afternoon to take Izzy on a special—and secretive—date. Suddenly, spending time with her at night wasn’t enough anymore. He needed her by his side, during all hours. Needed her too much.
He squeezed the ball, staring at the door. Letting go of Rasheed as an adviser had been one of his best decisions—a man who dishonored his place of work by cheating on his wives and hiring prostitutes.
Prostitutes. Drugs. The words echoed in his ear like a faraway siren, and each time he willed himself to hear the sound, it became louder. Clearer. The face of the nerdy IT guy popped in his head. The guy who’d outed Rasheed to begin with.
Nassor pressed the intercom and called Guban. “Tell Vadik to come to my office immediately.”
He’d ask Vadik to look into who Rasheed used to get him the prostitutes and drugs. If Obasi was bringing women from out of the country for customers, most likely he had high profile clients.
And if Rasheed had used Obasi as a connection, Nassor could arrest both of them and take care of two problems at once.
…
“Where are we going?” Izzy asked when she slid inside the limo.
Two days had passed since she’d met his mother, and thank goodness, the woman hadn’t tried to poison her or send her away. Maybe she meant what she’d said. Kesia was a smart lady, and maybe she was buying time. There was no way to know for sure.
Nassor wore a casual ensemble of jeans, a blue shirt, and a baseball cap. She had opted for a flowery jersey dress with wedge shoes. He sat next to her, and her heart sang. “I’m showing you a couple of places from my childhood. Nothing too glamorous so we don’t get caught.”
“Sounds great.”
He scooped her hand from her legs and threaded her fingers in his. The contact brought a warm wave of awareness through her. “I have to tell you something,” he said, the contours of his face hardening a bit.
She straightened herself and thinned her lips. What if this was a casual breakup? Or worse, some halfway breakup where he’d take back what he said about caring for her, and wanting her to stay?
