Page 37 of Royal Pain
Chapter 13
Zan
It pisses me off I can’t greet Belinda when she comes through customs. It’s not like when I was in New York and easily able to disguise myself. My security. It’s too much of an issue, and I wouldn’t put my guards in harm’s way unnecessarily either. So instead, I’m here in the limousine waiting, my stomach twisting. Ever since I got the first text saying the plane had landed it’s been that way.
“Do you have any of those antacids left?”
Chudda reaches across the passenger seat and retrieves a small plastic bottle from the glove compartment. “Take two,” he says, tipping them into my hand.
“Thanks. Where the hell is Baas?” I say, looking at my watch. “It’s been an hour already.”
“Don’t know, man. Keep your pants on, Z.”
The easy relationship I have with my staff suits my style. The high level of respect I get from my countrymen and women is appreciated. But I yearn for normalcy in my personal relationships. Early on I asked my security details to bring it down a notch. No Prince Zan bullshit except for when we are in public. Not for the men who put their lives on the line for me.
“Here they come,” Chudda says, popping the trunk.
I look up to see her sprinting toward the car. Baas is behind her with the luggage. Good man, he didn’t let her carry anything but her purse. I open the door and only get one leg out when she’s on me. We don’t even say hello. Our lips do all the talking. She missed me. I missed her. And every other message of… love? I only know she’s where my heart lives. It feels so right.
“Oh, I’m finally here! I may not stop kissing you for a day or two.”
Her beautiful blue eyes lock on mine.
“I don’t want you to ever stop, baby. Are you tired? Did you sleep on the plane?”
I move over, making room for her to stretch her legs out.
“Are you kidding? If you can’t be lulled to sleep by good music and soft pajamas, champagne and scones you have insomnia. It was the best experience. Thank you for all you did. You’re a great boy—”
She stops mid-sentence. I’m glad she wants to say more. Like I do.
“You can call me your boyfriend. Yeah. That sounds good to me.”
Her smile is wide and it looks like she’s holding back a squeal. It’s so fucking cute.
* * *
Belinda extracts pleasure from every new sight. It’s good to see the land through fresh eyes. We’ve only come fifty miles outside Johannesburg, but the real Africa begins to appear.
“The whole country is a garden,” she says.
“A garden God planted. And there’s birds and beasts for company.”
She looks in my eyes and the corners of her mouth lift. “I know it’s a secret, but you’re a romantic.”
“What? Well, maybe I am with you.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Here we are.”
The limousine turns onto the gravel road and continues half a mile between patches of brush and pale brown grass. Thorn trees line the last thirty yards. Belinda must be thinking I’m taking her to a dump. That’s what I’m hoping. I want to watch her face when she sees the house.
When we come to the heavy iron gate attached to a high walled enclosure, Baas gets out and reaches through a tall particular shrub. He enters a code and the gate slowly swings open.
“I’m excited to see this,” Belinda says almost to herself.
Passing through, we drive onto a firmer surface. Now it’s a paved road that takes us on the final approach. After a few more turns the one-story wide house comes into view. It’s pristine. White wood façade. Huge windows looking over the land. The garden is tended and the massive trees well cared for. It’s a stark difference from the lead in. No brown grass here.
