Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1) by Rosie Pike

the handsome Prince himself.
    His posture was so at odds with the confident and composed man that she had come to know over the past few days that, had she not known it was him, she wouldn't have believed it. He was bent over, holding himself up with a hand placed on the heavy mahogany desk that dominated the room, a phone held tight to his ear. From time to time, she saw the back of his head nod in a defeated fashion as though he were acquiescing to some new, terrible demand.
    She watched in turn, and quickly averted her gaze, worried that she might get caught. But her curiosity got the better of her, and before long she was staring straight back into the room. Tariq was now seated resting on the desk, feet on the floor, his shoulders hunched. Chloe hadn't seen an expression like that on his face before – it was almost haunted, completely unrecognizable.
    In a flash, she understood that his situation was, in fact, no different from her own. He was no more in control of his life that she was of hers. While Tariq had been born into power and wealth, whereas Chloe had worked hard every day of her life to achieve just one of those, he had to meet the same goals and expectations – except for him, they were set by his father, rather than by the need to pay rent on time.
    Tariq no more wanted to spend his time buying guns than Chloe did. But he didn't have a choice.

13
    " E veryone get the fuck out," Khalid screamed to the room as Tariq put the phone down and emerged from his study. Staffers and aides fled in fear, a migrating herd of junior political advisers fleeing from an apex predator.
    Chloe hesitated, and the unhinged Interior Ministry colonel turned on her in a flash. "That includes you, woman ," he hissed. "You're not even one of us, what makes you think you can stay?"
    A jarringly tired looking Tariq intervened, holding up his hand to forestall another outburst. "Have some respect, Khalid."
    "Why should she stay? What does she know of us?" Khalid asked accusingly, outraged at Tariq's apparent acquiescence. "What right does she have?"
    "I told you to keep quiet, Khalid," Tariq snapped, startling Chloe, who up until now had only ever seen him act calm and amiably. "Did you grow up in England?"
    Khalid's lip curled at the question. "You know I didn't. What does that have to do with anything?"
    "Not that it's any of your business," Tariq snarled, "but I want someone here who understands how people operate in this country. Do you? Of course not." He dismissed Khalid and turned to Chloe with an apologetic smile.
    "I can go if it helps…" Chloe offered, honestly wanting nothing more than to do that, but Tariq dismissed her suggestion out of hand.
    "No – I need you here." Shielding the act from the others’ view using his body, he patted her affectionately on her hip. Lowering his voice he said, "We'll talk after, okay?"
    He turned away without waiting for a response, presumably to ensure that nobody noticed their closeness, but left Chloe confused about his true intentions, and even how she felt about them – and him. He beckoned the people left in the room towards him and sat on a sofa in the main seating area of the Presidential Suite. Chloe, Khalid, Abdul, and Omar followed and chose seats around him. Chloe was careful to pick the one furthest away from the unpredictable Khalid.
    "I'm sure you all know what's happened, but I'll run you through it anyway so I know we're all on the same page. This morning a man called Rashid Al Mansouri was interviewed on television and made the case that we should not be allowed to do business here, and if necessary, the British government should prevent us from continuing to ink deals.
    "All with me so far?" Heads nodded around the room.
    "Good. The embassy has been receiving calls all morning – the phones are off the hook. We've got little old grandmas calling in outrage, but more worryingly right now, I'm told we had Members of Parliament and junior ministers calling in to