Chapter Eighteen
A weekafter returning from Pakistan, I sat in the same room where I’d dressed for my wedding and prepared to have my first official dinner as the first lady. I was feeling jittery and restless. Like I needed to do something with my energy.
Maybe my anxiety had to do with the fact that I kept waiting for the shoe to drop from Hamir’s death.
International outlets had reported a rebel group loyal to the Burki, the original ruling clan of Janestan, as the ones responsible for Hamir’s and Tarik’s deaths. It helped that the Burki family had claimed they’d received word of an assassination plan to slaughter any and all dependents of their clan gave weight to the necessity of removing Hamir from power.
Thankfully, Kartik had used his connections to erase any and all evidence of our involvement. He’d gone as far as staging Hamir’s and Tarik’s bodies near the Janestan boarder to keep nosey reporters away from the area where everything went down.
This should have eased my mind, but all I kept thinking was that it seemed too neat and tidy for a mission of this caliber.
Then there was the fact that I’d had no contact with Ameera after we landed on Kartik’s estate. Solon had essentially whisked her away to an undisclosed location. I knew it was standard procedure after a hostage situation, but all I wanted was to have a few words with her and give her a big hug. She was my sister in everything but blood and I couldn’t reach her.
I released a deep breath, shifted in my seat, and rubbed my back.
Damn, my body still ached from the rescue. Fieldwork was no longer my favorite thing.
Normally, it would only take me a few days of locking myself in my house to recover. But this time, my body was screaming for sleep and sex. The need for sleep was normal but the desire for sex was a new one. And the fact, Ashur had spent the last ten days in Oslo and then traveled to various countries in Europe hadn’t helped.
I had needs, and the man wasn’t here to satisfy them.
Ameera had told me that sex quenched the adrenaline and endorphins released from high-stress situations.
Thank God Ashur’s plane had landed a half hour ago. The moment we were alone tonight, I planned to jump his ass and not come up for air until I was satisfied.
“Drink. This will settle your stomach.” Walter, my makeup artist, finished applying my lipstick and then set a sparkling water bottle with a straw in front of me.
“Thanks.” I picked up the water and drank deep. “How’d you know?”
“I have my ways. Plus, I can tell when a woman is restless. And that my dear, you are.”
“Since when did you become the expert on women?”
“Since forever. I have five sisters. I’m the last-ditch effort to get a boy and I’m the father of two girls.”
I smiled at the mention of Walter’s twins. He and his partner of fifteen years had wanted to adopt for over a decade, with no success. Then they were given the opportunity to have biological children of their own via a surrogate. They jumped at the chance and now he was the proud daddy of two four-year-olds who adored him.
“How are Allison and Trinity?”
“Nice try.” Walter closed the lid to his makeup case and came toward me with a compact and brush. “No trying to change the subject. What gives? Man trouble already?”
If he only knew. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d have to be around Ashur to have trouble with him.
When the fuck had I become so needy?
I lifted my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I swear if you touch your face, I will smack your hand and I don’t care if you are the first lady.”
I scowled at Walter, who was putting away makeup pallets in his roller case and had his back to me.
“How can you see what I’m doing from over there?”
“It’s a bad habit you’ve always had. Why do you think I threaten you with bodily harm if you mess with the perfection I created?”
“Conceited much?” I muttered.
“It’s not conceited if it’s a fact. Now what gives? From the news reports, you’ve been locked away in your ivory tower sick from a severe cold.”