“How did you do your research?” Rafe asked.
Cleo shrugged, her pretty face completely open. “Mostly on the Internet. Zara’s at the University, so she looked in some books there, but I checked online. I have Internet access at my work. It was pretty easy. There’s a ton of information on the history of the country and the royal family. We downloaded pictures and everything.”
Zara winced. Cleo was only making things worse, but Zara couldn’t tell her that. Not in front of Rafe. He’d already decided they were gold diggers. Now he would think they were using technology to gather information to aid their scheme. Not that she could blame him. If she looked at the situation from his point of view there really wasn’t another explanation.
It was time to go home, Zara thought. She’d been crazy to think this would ever work. Even if King Hassan was her father, she wasn’t likely to have any contact with him—there would be too many watch-dogs in place. She’d survived twenty-eight years without a father; she certainly didn’t need one now.
The limo pulled up in front of their hotel. Zara remembered neither she nor Cleo had told Rafe where they were staying. The realization that he could get that information so easily made her shiver and reinforced her decision to leave. She wanted to go home where she felt safe. In Bahania she would only ever be out of place.
Rafe climbed out first, then held the door open for them. Zara forced herself to be gracious as she thanked him for the ride.
“You’ve been very kind,” she said. “We won’t be troubling you again.”
But he didn’t climb back into the car. Instead he took her arm and led her into the modest hotel. “I think we have more to discuss,” he said, not giving her an opportunity to protest. Cleo trailed along behind.
Zara made one attempt to pull free of his grip, but as she’d suspected, he didn’t let her go. No doubt he wanted to scare them into leaving. As soon as they were in private, she would tell him that he didn’t have to worry. She and Cleo would be heading back to the States as soon as possible.
They moved through the lobby toward the elevator. Zara tried not to notice the clean but slightly shabby furniture. Prints added color to the white walls. There were a few plants scattered around, but little else in the way of decorations.
She knew what he was thinking. She could read his thoughts as clearly as if they were her own.
“Just because we’re on a budget doesn’t mean we’re in it for the money,” she said in a low, angry voice when they stopped for the elevator. “You have no right to judge me or find me wanting.”
Those amazing blue eyes turned toward her. She met his gaze, despite the powerful force he exuded. Pride stiffened her spine and made her strong.
The elevator doors opened, breaking the spell.
“So do you know the king?” Cleo asked, oblivious to the tension between them.
“Yes.”
She laughed. “You’re not real chatty, are you? It doesn’t matter how mad you want to be. The truth is Zara is his daughter. She has letters and a ring. I think you should do your darnedest to prove them to be fakes. When you can’t, you’ll have no choice but to accept her for who she says she is.”
For the first time since they were led away from the tour group, Zara felt herself relax. Maybe it was a little too soon to think about running away.
“You have an excellent point,” she told her sister.
“I am more than a pretty face,” Cleo reminded her, as the elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor.
Zara turned to the man who still had a death grip on her arm. “Are you willing to look at the evidence? Despite already reaching a conclusion?”
“Absolutely.”
“And when you find out you’re wrong?”
“Let’s discuss that if it happens.”
Thirty minutes later Rafe was less convinced this was a hoax. He fingered the dozen or so letters Zara had shown him. The subject matter—especially the comments about the cats—made him suspicious. All the information could have been gathered by careful research. However the handwriting looked like Hassan’s, and the syntax was pure royal-speak. But what convinced him the most was the feeling in his gut.