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The woman was draped prettily on Petrov’s arm, just like all the other women, but there was something different about her.

Malik’s party girls tended to fall into two main categories—the hedonistic who were unashamedly there for a good time, and those who saw what Malik offered as a means to an end.

Strangely, Charlotte Finch didn’t seem to fit into either category.

Her body language said she was wholeheartedly into Antonin Petrov, but her eyes never stopped moving.

Zynara had the impression of a hunter rather than a songbird.

Their eyes met across the room and Zynara caught the faintest flicker of surprise in the woman’s expression, like she’d been caught off guard. She was suddenly a finch again, and she actually bit her lip.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Zynara’s lips. Cute .

“Want me to set up a liaison for you?” Sami asked mildly. He looked too damn happy with himself.

“Wasn’t it only yesterday you were warning me away from Malik’s harem?”

“Since when have you ever taken my advice?” he grumbled. “If you did, you’d still be in line for the throne and we wouldn’t be scrambling over this mess with the Q’sar’s abdication.”

Zynara dropped Charlotte Finch’s gaze and frowned at Sami. He held up his hands and backed away good naturedly. A delegate from Brazil seized the moment, and Zynara was deep in diplomacy once again.

So, she wasn’t surprised an hour later when she turned from talking with the German environment minister and found herself suddenly doused in red wine—a splash of it all over her shirt—and a very clever pair of light blue eyes dancing back at her.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see you— I totally—”

Whatever Charlotte Finch was going to say was silenced by four members of Zynara’s personal guard who instantly stepped out of the crowd—women, dressed in gowns as if they were guests, but easily able to take down anyone who approached the Qasira with their bare hands.

Two stepped between them, a protective wall between the Qasira and the threat.

Charlotte Finch’s eyes widened, though not with panic. More as if she was impressed.

Definitely an intelligence agent, then.

Zynara spoke softly. “Thank you, ladies. We’re fine.”

On opposite sides of the room, both Sami and Romaissa watched them closely. Zynara gave the signal for everyone to stand down. The guards bowed and the four of them blended back into the crowd.

Charlotte Finch was still staring at her, her hand up to her mouth in an exaggerated performance of dismay and innocence that was extremely convincing. She was quite the picture with her breasts rising and falling in the adrenaline of the moment.

Zynara took a moment to admire the view then locked eyes and stared her down.

There was a beat.

She pinched wine-soaked fabric between the tips of her fingers and pulled it away from her body. The woman’s eyes fixed on the V of her shirt. Her lips fell open.

“Nicely done,” Zynara allowed dryly. “What was your next move?”

It was absolutely not a coincidence that the woman had a paper napkin in her hand. She advanced, hands outstretched.

“Really?” Zynara smirked.

There was another moment and Charlotte Finch dropped the dizzy act like a stone. It fell from her shoulders, from her whole body, and in its place came something far more casual. A true confidence. A genuine smile. One that turned saucy in seconds and not even the slightest bit apologetic.

Gorgeous.

She slung her weight onto one hip and Zynara’s poise nearly crumbled. She scrunched her nose and Zynara knew it was all over.

This one was perfect.

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you that badly. I’m well off my game. Turns out I’m completely intimidated by royalty.” She swept an unashamedly lecherous glance up and down Zynara’s body and rounded the whole show off with a wink.

Zynara barely stopped herself from laughing out loud. No one had looked at her like that in a very long time.

But there were rules.

“ Qasira ,” she said.

“What?”

“My correct form of address.”

“Pfft. And there I was about to say you could call me Lottie.” Lottie pouted and tossed her head, ridiculously cocky, curls and breasts bouncing all over the place.

Zynara wondered how cheeky she’d be naked on her hands and knees with Zynara’s strap buried deep inside her.

That wicked twinkle in her eyes suggested probably more.

Which might be fun .

“Hello, Lottie,” Zynara said, low and slow.

The woman grinned like the sunshine and held out the napkin. “You just going to stand there dripping pinot noir?”

Zynara smiled despite herself. She dabbed at her shirt.

“I could do that for you.”

Zynara raised an eyebrow and waited.

“I could do that for you, Qasira. ” Lottie’s flush was a total giveaway.

“Better.”

The girl’s nostrils flared, and after a long moment, dropped her eyes extremely prettily. She bit her lip. When she looked up, the spark in her eyes made it clear she hoped Zynara had noticed.

Oh, so that was how Lottie Finch liked it. This could be lots of fun indeed.

Zynara decided to play. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked. “Your recycling?”

“Rude.”

“You threw your drink over me for a reason, I presume.”

Lottie’s chin went up again. Zynara was quite beginning to like her.

“I wanted to say that I admired your speech in Geneva last week and that I agree entirely. The current economic trajectory is unsustainable without a fundamental, radical and courageous change in priorities of profit and greed over humanity and egalitarianism, and that while the engagement of communities and grassroots actions is commendable, real effective change is only possible at the corporate and governmental level. The magic will happen when corporate and government change empowers community movements, don’t you think? ”

Zynara raised an eyebrow. “Nice recovery,” she said. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Zynara looked down at her ruined shirt. The tedious evening suddenly had potential. “I’m obliged to attend my brother’s party after this. I’m sure I will see you there.”

She waited.

Lottie looked confused. “What?”

“This is when you bow and take your leave,” Zynara said.

She watched the woman’s brain short out at the idea of bowing to her.

“Wait! I threw my drink over you for a reason,” Lottie repeated. “Let me help clean you up. We can go somewhere private. You don’t really want to be here, do you?” The bimbo act was back—big eyes, big tits, bouncing curls, her teeth savaging her lower lip. “Please, Qasira?”

The nerve of this one! It was a teasing charade that made Zynara want to wrap her fingers around her throat, back her to the nearest wall and kiss her until she begged for more. Lottie looked like she’d kiss her back. Zynara looked forward to it.

She took a step forward. Lottie’s chest lifted as she sucked in a breath but she didn’t give any ground. The rest of the party fell away.

“You’re new,” Zynara murmured. “But you’re here attracting my attention on your very first day. You must know what you want.”

Lottie looked thrilled. “I know what you want,” she said.

“Presumptuous.”

The woman smirked, all trace of that pretty submission of moments ago replaced by a sass Zynara found just as attractive.

“Obvious,” Lottie drawled.

Once again, Zynara found herself wanting to laugh. She tipped her chin at her brother’s group.

“Very well. Tell your minders you’ll be leaving with me. I’ll see you out on the terrace in five minutes.”

Lottie grinned like she’d won a million dollars. “Yes, Qasira. Thank you, Qasira,” she simpered, stupidly prettily and still working that teasing smile.

“Don’t overdo it.”

The woman sauntered right into Zynara’s space and whispered into her ear. “Don’t be grumpy.” And then she was gone, strutting away leaving Zynara watching her arse and wondering who, exactly, had won that round.