Mohammed had been schooled in Zazinia, and there was a considerable faction in the country who considered that, for stability, Mohammed would make a more suitable Crown Prince and subsequent King. The article stated that some of the elders were now calling for the Accession Council to meet and for a final decision to be made.
At the end of the piece there was a photo of Mohammed and Omar, but most damning of all was the caption below: Like Father, Like Son.
Apart from the years that separated them, Mohammed and Omar were identical—not just in looks but in their staid, old-fashioned ways.
The only change that Omar had made while Crown Prince had been an update to the education system. Over the years Kedah had made no progress with his father either. Kedah was a highly skilled architect, yet every design he’d submitted had been rejected and every suggestion he’d made either immediately turned down or later overruled.
He had hoped, now that his grandfather was dead, that things might change, but his latest proposal for a stunning waterfront hotel and shopping complex had been rejected too.
His father had pointed out that the new building would look onto the private royal beach.
‘There are ways around that,’ Kedah had insisted. ‘If you would just let me—’
‘The decision is final, Kedah,’ the King had interrupted. ‘I have discussed it at length with the elders...’
‘And you have discussed it at length with Mohammed,’ Kedah had said. ‘I hear that he was very vocal in his criticism of my plans.’
‘I listen to all sides.’
‘Well, you should listen to me first,’ Kedah had said. ‘Mohammed is not the Crown Prince.’
‘Mohammed is the one who is here.’
‘I have told you—I will not live in Zazinia if I am to be ineffectual.’
Kedah turned off his computer so he did not have to see the offensive article.
Earlier today, when it had first appeared, he had called Vadia, his assistant in Zazinia, and had been assured that it would be pulled down from the internet. There was no denying, though, that things were coming to a head. Even before their grandfather’s death Mohammed had decided that he would make a better Crown Prince and future King. Many of the elders thought the same, and—as the article had stated—there was a strong push for a meeting of the Accession Council to discuss the future of the royal family formally.
His father would have the final say, but rather than declaring outright that he would prefer his younger son to be King one day, Omar seemed to be pushing Kedah into stepping aside.
Kedah refused to.
Instead he was busy making plans.
He had many rich and influential friends, and he knew a lot of bad boys too. Matteo Di Sione was both. He had a reputation that rivalled even Kedah’s.
They had met up in New York a couple of weeks ago—and not by chance. Kedah hadn’t told Matteo the issue, just that he was expecting turbulent times ahead and needed someone tough who could handle things. Matteo had made some discreet enquiries on his friend’s behalf and had come back to Kedah with his findings.
You need Felicia Hamilton.
Kedah glanced at the time. Usually a potential employee who arrived late for an interview and then asked for time to freshen up wouldn’t even make it through the door of his office.
What the hell was she doing? he wondered.
* * *
She was reading.
Felicia hadn’t actually intended to keep Sheikh Kedah waiting for quite so long. The West End was gridlocked—thanks to a red carpet awards show taking place tonight, the taxi driver had told her. So Felicia, sitting in the back and doing some final research on Kedah on her way to the interview, had decided to walk the last couple of blocks. But then a very interesting article had turned up on her tablet and, after arriving at his impressive office, she’d wanted a few more moments to go through it.
Now perhaps she understood why she had been called back after that disastrous interview yesterday. Anu had spoken to her as if Felicia wanted to work for Kedah—a real job, so to speak—and after an awkward twenty minutes, during which it had become increasingly clear that Felicia was not the type Sheikh Kedah employed, the two women had parted ways.
Still, her phone had rung this morning and Felicia had smiled to herself when she had been invited to return and meet with the man himself. Of course Kedah didn’t want a PA—it was her troubleshooting skills he required.
Now she knew why!
It would seem that Crown Prince Sheikh Kedah of Zazinia was fighting for the throne—and Felicia was now sure he wanted to commence the clean-up of his reputation.
From what she knew of him, it would take more than industrial strength bleach!
If there was a scale for playboys, then Kedah was at the extreme top. In fact his partying ways were legendary.
How the mighty fell!
Today this oh, so arrogant man would reveal his troubles to Felicia. Of course she would look suitably unshocked as he did so, and assure him that whatever trouble he was in she could sort it.
Felicia was very good at her job because she had been doing it all her life.
She had been taught to smile for the cameras alongside Susannah, her long-suffering mother, long before she could even walk. She had on many occasions sat in the family lounge with spin doctors and PR people as they had debated how her father’s multiple affairs and the trashy headlines and exposés should best be dealt with.
There had even been times when they had come to her school. Felicia could remember sitting in the headmaster’s office with her parents, being reminded that cameras would be on them when they left. She had been told what to do as they walked, as a family, to the waiting car.
‘Remember to smile, Felicia.’
‘Susannah, hold his hand as you walk to the car and don’t forget to laugh when he whispers to you.’
And her mother had done as she was told. Susannah had done everything that had been asked of her. But in the end it had all been to no avail. When Felicia was fourteen her father had decided to update to a younger model and had walked out on them.
A legal wrangle had ensued.
The lovely private boarding school that had been such a haven for her had disappeared when the school fees hadn’t been paid, and with it had gone Felicia’s friends and her beloved pony.
Susannah had fallen apart, and it had been up to her daughter to be strong. They had rented a small house while waiting for the money to be sorted out and Felicia had enrolled in the local school—but she hadn’t fit in. Her dreams of being a vet had long gone by then, and she’d left school at sixteen. She had taken an office job to help with the rent.
Those days were gone now.
Felicia was highly sought-after, and her troubleshooting talents were coveted by the rich and famous. Her mother lived in a house that Felicia had bought and paid for, and Felicia owned her own flat.
Some questioned how she could defend these men—but, really, Felicia was just doing what she’d been taught.
The only difference was that now she was paid.
And paid handsomely.
She ran a comb through her dark blonde hair, touched up her lip gloss and added a slick of mascara to bring out the green of her eyes. As she headed out Anu told her to take a seat. Guessing the newspaper article would soon be taken down, she took a few quick screenshots on her phone as Sheikh Kedah now kept her waiting.
Oh, well! She had done the same to him.
Working with this type of man, Felicia had found that it was