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Chapter Eight

Z ynara simply removed the shirt.

Romaissa offered her own, of course, but Zynara waved her away.

She buttoned the suit jacket low and looked at herself in the restroom mirror.

She looked good. Strong. Proud. The tussle with the curly-haired blonde had put her in a mood.

The convenient thing about Malik’s girls was that they all talked to each other.

It meant Zynara could trust that any woman from the party house who hit her up knew precisely what she might get in return.

That particular cheeky little wench could spill wine over her any time—so long as it gave Zynara the chance to make her clean it up with her tongue.

Zynara found herself feeling urgent .

She strode out onto the terrace to find the woman waiting for her, shifting her weight impatiently on those amazing legs.

The girl’s eyes widened and tracked down the front of her blazer, stalling when they clocked the absence of her shirt.

Lottie , Zynara remembered. She ran her own eyes over the woman’s body.

There was certainly a lot going on there.

Zynara blinked away a sudden vision of all that beautiful skin straining at silken ropes.

Maybe later, if all went well.

She summoned the AlTair flier to their location with a touch to her phone and Lottie’s eyes bugged out even further. She held the pod door open for her.

“Thank you, Qasira.”

So she was a fast learner . Good.

Zynara copped a greedy look at two luscious thighs as the woman climbed in. Lottie sprung her looking—and she’d just opened her mouth for a sassy remark when Zynara deliberately closed the door on her. The outrage on her face was delectable.

Oh, winding this one up was going to be fun.

From the air, the sea was dark and wide.

The last purples of the setting sun were sinking into a soul-deep blue, the Azure islands glittered like diamonds and the towers of Azzouan rose like crystal spires in the distance.

There was an exceptionally eager woman at her side.

Zynara should have been on top of the world.

But the flier passed over her brother’s boat, moored like a deliberate insult right before her keenest hopes, and the music was audible even from the air.

She couldn’t stop a sigh.

Lottie Finch eyed her sideways. She seemed a little less confident now she was in the air in a flying machine even Zynara had to admit was the stuff of dreams. She looked between Zynara and Malik’s yacht and back again and Zynara was surprised to see understanding in her eyes.

“I hate that thing,” Zynara muttered, surprised again to be admitting it in front of— in front of a spy, in front of one of her brother’s whores.

“Well, it’s got nothing on this ,” Lottie breathed.

She seemed determined to rescue her in more ways than one, distracting her and flattering her ego in the same breath.

Clever girl. “What even is this amazing contraption we’re in?

Is it yours? Did you design it? And” —she looked around the bare console, an obvious fact only hitting her now— “no controls? Where are the controls?”

Zynara waved her phone.

“That’s it?” Her voice pitched up a little.

“It’s autonomous.” Zynara crossed her legs and shifted around in her seat to look at Lottie properly. Lottie’s eyebrows disappeared into her hair. “And yes, it is mine, and yes, I designed it. I can override its programming. Tour of the city? Never been in an air taxi before?”

“That’s what this is?”

Zynara deliberately misinterpreted her. “A tour of the city? You want it to be something more?”

“You fucking bet I do!”

There was a beat while indignation and a strange feeling of excitement wrestled in Zynara’s mind. No one talked to the Qasira like that. Not ever. Zynara realised she liked it. The laugh she’d been holding in all evening broke free. Lottie looked delighted.

She flicked the flier off auto and used her phone like a game controller. She tipped it toward the towers of Azzouan.

“AlTair is a company of electric vertical take-off and landing passenger drones running an autonomous service between the airport and the city,” she said.

“You can see them—there!—” She watched Lottie’s throat and breasts as they spilled against her dress as she leaned forward to see the pinpoints of light flitting behind the city. “This one is mine though.”

“It’s nice.”

“Nice?!” Why did Zynara even find that kind of cheek attractive?

“It’s cutting edge, thank you very much.

This is the long distance model. I designed it with a double set of ultra light carbon fibre fixed wings and propulsion motors combined with the VTOL capacity of the six electric rotors.

It’s fast, fleet and” —she spun them suddenly in a viciously tight midair circle, far more compact than any other aircraft could achieve.

Lottie squealed— “and can turn on a pin,” she finished.

Lottie gave her a look that made Zynara feel like doing it again.

“Well, it’s all clear now,” the girl drawled. “You’re a nerd,” and she deliberately licked her upper lip.

Zynara laughed again. What the actual hell? “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

She pushed the flier to its maximum speed and dropped them until they were skimming mere metres above the waves.

The beach was coming up fast and Zynara banked sharply in the air so they were hurtling along its length, the shining city on one side, the darkness of the Mediterranean on the other.

At the end, she gained just enough height to dance over the tops of the medina, then she plunged them into the needle-sharp towers of Azzouan, zipping between them and finally circling the tower that was hers.

Beside her, Lottie whooped—and the sound sparkled in Zynara’s chest.

Lottie even leaned in and peered at the controls.

“Cool. Looks easy. Can I have a go?”

Who was this woman?

“Not a chance,” Zynara said, smugly.

“Like to be in control, do you?”

“You fucking bet I do,” she said, her voice as low and dangerous as she could make it.

Lottie’s smile was unbelievably wicked.

There was a landing platform on the fiftieth floor of the Burj Al Saqr. An express elevator took them the next hundred floors to her city apartment. The doors opened at the touch of Zynara’s fingerprint.

“And she only has the most expensive penthouse in what is literally the tallest building on the planet,” Lottie mocked. “Do you think you could throw just a little more style around?”

Zynara ignored her. It was bluster—she was beginning to see how Charlotte Finch was wired.

The woman had done her best to act unimpressed when the flier landed and footmen had stepped forward to open its doors.

She’d sailed past the concierge with her chin in the air, but she hadn’t been able to stifle the quick intake of breath between parted lips when the man bowed.

It was a very real little sound that Zynara wanted to hear again.

Lottie smirked when the elevator shot vertical so quickly it left their souls behind on the fiftieth floor.

And that had almost been convincing, except her eyes were a tiny bit too wide and her breath came between open lips.

When she’d stepped into Zynara’s suite, her fingers trailed over the silk of the chaise lounge like she’d never touched anything so soft, and she steadfastly refused to say anything about the sensational view.

It was cute, but Zynara hadn’t yet decided how much of it was an act.

She might have just been taking one of her brother’s women home for a shag, but something far more complicated was happening.

Lottie Finch was a spy—and not one of Malik’s—though she appeared ready to play his games.

She’d made a deliberate play to get close to Zynara, and then revealed a little too much of her true self as her act fell apart.

She was brash, brazen, cocky and rude, and yet she bit her lip and flushed like she knew exactly the games the Qasira liked to play and wanted to play those too.

There was a look in her eye that promised something fun and carefree, and yet Zynara could see a need as yearning as her own.

On top of all that, Zynara remembered her from London—the warmth of her voice still in her ears, smooth and welcoming as she sang age-old songs about love. She’d sung like a siren, and Zynara had almost been pulled under. She wasn’t accustomed to women having such power over her.

Zynara was always the one in control when it came to liaisons like this.

The Qasira needed to be cool and aloof. She was the voice of the crown.

She was the only person holding the kingdom together.

She needed to be better than her brother, stronger than her father—strong enough to carry the many lives that depended on her.

The very future of her country was balanced on her shoulders.

So she didn’t need one of her brother’s playthings slipping under her skin.

One night then, Zynara decided. As usual. Just another of her brother’s women for a bit of relaxation, before she fell back into the rest of the work.

Nothing special.

Lottie walked straight onto the enclosed balcony and looked out at the world spread at their feet, Azzouan gleaming like a jewel on the velvet pillow of the Mediterranean.

Zynara poured them both more champagne.

“Not the penthouse, though,” Lottie teased. “Budget didn’t stretch?”

“I own the tower.” Zynara clinked their glasses and leaned against the railing, her back to the view. She’d seen it before. She crossed her legs at the ankles and put her free hand in her pocket.

There was that little gasp again.

“You own —?”

“One of my companies owns it, though I am the major stakeholder.” Zynara delighted in the way Lottie’s mouth fell open.

The girl wasn’t anywhere near as cool as she thought she was.

“I may have plunged some of the sovereign wealth fund into its construction, but the investment has more than paid for itself.”

“Ah. You nicked daddy’s credit to build a tower.”

“I tripled the country’s investment, thank you. Used the increased capital to fund ten solar farms on the outskirts of the city. They provide free electricity to the citizens in those regions. What do you take me for?”

Lottie hummed. It sounded like a concession. She gazed at the midnight city laid out below them and Zynara watched her sideways. When she sipped her champagne, she chased the bubbles off her lip with her tongue. Zynara wanted to do the same.

“It’s called the Burj Al Saqr, isn’t it?” Lottie asked.

“Nice pronunciation.”

“ Tower of Eagles? ” she translated.

“You speak Arabic?”

“Or is it falcons? ” She frowned, puzzling it out. And then she spoke in Arabic. “I actually feel like a falcon all the way up here.”

She looked at her like they might fly off the edge of the world together.

None of the other woman Zynara had ever fucked from Malik’s party house had bothered to learn Arabic. It was… stupidly alluring.

Zynara swirled the champagne in her glass. “Tell me something, Charlotte Finch.”

Lottie’s smile was slow and wide. “Whatever you want to hear.”

“You’d never normally do this, but you need to pay for your masters degree?”

The smile hitched. Lottie blinked.

“No?” Zynara went on. “Your grandmother’s retirement care?”

Lottie shook her head.

“Your little sister has a terminal illness?”

“Poor Qasira. Is that what the other girls told you? I hate to break it to you, princess, but they’ve all been lying to you.” Her voice was gentle.

“Don’t call me princess . ”

“This might be hard to believe for someone who lives in a literal palace and keeps a place like this as a love nest, Qasira , but the kind of money your brother offers is the only way to get into the real estate market these days. I just want to buy a flat in Clapham.”

“And that’s why you’re here?”

Lottie put her glass down. “No,” she admitted, softly, “but I absolutely promise I won’t spin you some stupid lie about it.”

She stepped away from the railing and stood facing Zynara. Slowly, looking deep into Zynara’s eyes as she did, she reached around her back and pulled down the zip of her dress.

Slipped the straps one by one from her shoulders.

She caught the tiny scrap of fabric as it threatened to slip to the floor, her arms folded under those lush, lush breasts—and waited.

Zynara felt her own lips fall open.

“I’m here because I saw an incredibly attractive woman in a club in London,” Lottie whispered.

“So did I,” Zynara murmured. “Doesn’t really answer my question, though.”

“Best I can offer right now, Qasira. But I can make it up to you in other ways. Are we doing this?”

“I always get what I want,” Zynara warned.

“I fucking bet you do.” Lottie grinned and let go of the dress.

The dress stayed where it was. Zynara raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shit,” Lottie squeaked. “Boob tape.”

She peeled it off, dropped the dress to the floor, and joined in with Zynara’s helpless laughter.