yet. Soon however I will be—a bride is necessary before I ascend to the throne of Nurul. It will be merely a political marriage.”
Again, his gaze strayed toward Natalie, and Quint had the urge to smack him upside his handsome face. His impulse was stifled by the arrival of the man Natalie and her father had been talking to.
He introduced himself. “Gordon Doeller, vice president in charge of marketing. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before, Prince Zahir.”
“Indeed,” Zahir said.
Though Zahir presented a decidedly cool face to Gordon Doeller, Quint noticed a nervous spark between them. He reckoned these two men were more than nodding acquaintances, and made a mental note to have Gordon Doeller checked out through the computers back at Solutions, Inc.
Gordon didn’t look like a bad guy. He was all angles, from his flattop haircut to his square-toed shoes. His shoulders and torso formed a perfect rectangle. A straightforward guy. But looks could be deceiving.
Natalie clapped her hands, drawing their attention. “Prince Zahir,” she said, “we are honored by your visit to Quantum and have prepared a simple reception upstairs in the penthouse. Would you all please come with me.”
Quint made a point of being on the same elevator as Zahir and Natalie. He watched with satisfaction as the prince made smoldering advances toward her, and Natalie politely kept him in his place. Every woman wants a prince? Obviously, not Natalie! She was a professional public relations person, able to put everyone at ease and make them feel accepted. And to rebuff unwanted attention.
In the penthouse lounge where several windows offered an impressive view of the city, Natalie had arranged via cell phone for canapés, snacks and an open bar for beverages. Several Quantum employees milled around, waiting to meet the prince, who was escorted toward a comfortable sofa by Natalie’s father.
“Nice job putting this together,” Quint complimented her.
“It wasn’t hard,” she said. “We have a chef on payroll, and he’s accustomed to quick receptions. Getting the employees to hang out was probably more difficult, but Maria Luisa can be incredibly persuasive.”
“I’m still impressed,” he said.
She whispered, “I had to act quickly. To head off the ambush.”
He liked that she was confiding in him. Maybe she was only being nice to him because of her job, but he still appreciated her talent. He appreciated her…a lot.
She made a flicking motion with her hand. “Go mingle.”
“Yes, ma’am.” If she’d asked him to jump out of the penthouse window, he might have given her suggestion serious consideration.
NATALIE STOOD at the edge of a conversation, not really listening as she sipped her Perrier with a lime twist and considered the possibility of eating something. The crab cakes, miniquiches and assorted hors d’oeuvres looked appetizing, and she needed caloric sustenance. But when she reached for a thin cracked-wheat cracker brushed with Asiago cheese, she pulled back her fingers. The inside of her stomach felt like a pinball machine—an unfortunate reaction to the stress of Zahir’s surprise visit.
She couldn’t fault her staff for the way they’d responded—they’d created a simple reception for the prince without alerting the press and thereby pressuring Quantum to take a position on future dealings with Nurul or questions about Imad. Their work had been satisfactory and things had gone smoothly. All lines of protocol remained intact. Why, then, was she feeling so edgy? Was it her forced association with Quint?
Glancing around the room, she spotted him easily. In his cowboy boots, he towered above everyone else. Though he interacted with perfect manners, he seemed to stand apart. A stillness surrounded him. Yet, she sensed, he was not at peace. His body language bespoke a certain tension. Even when he grinned, his jawline was taut. Occasionally, his gaze drifted, and he squinted as if searching a distant horizon.
Natalie found herself wondering about this habit. Though he made his money in oil, he was also a rancher. She imagined him on horseback, tall in the saddle as he surveyed his lands and tended the little lost calves gone astray. He was a natural protector—solid and reliable, staring into the distance, anticipating the arrival of wolves and predators. But now, he was in the city. What was he looking for?
When her father touched her elbow, Natalie startled, spilling a lithe cascade of Perrier on his sleeve. “Sorry, Henry. I didn’t see you coming.”
Brushing off his sleeve, he said, “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’m going to have cameras installed in your office.”
Her reverie of Quint and his ranch vanished as she snapped back to reality. Natalie didn’t like the idea of being under constant surveillance. Most especially, she didn’t want protection dictated by her father. It felt like he was asking for a baby monitor.
“Why in my office?”
“The package you received today—the one you handed over to your friend, Whitney—didn’t come through the mail room. It was hand delivered.”
“The hall cameras must have—”
“Our security men reviewed the tapes. A couple of times, the door to Maria Luisa’s office opened and closed, but they couldn’t identify anyone going in or coming out.”
“Not even after they paused and enhanced the image?” Natalie asked.
“Nothing definite. And, of course, there were people who had legitimate reasons to enter your office. The guy from the mail room. One of your assistants. Gordon Doeller.” He exhaled a slightly ragged sigh. “I’m worried about you.”
Which was exactly why she didn’t want special security measures. All her life, Natalie had struggled with accusations of nepotism. Of course, she’d ascended through the ranks at Quantum more quickly than someone not named Van Buren. She was the youngest vice president and the only female one at corporate headquarters. Still, her job performance justified her position. She worked hard and was more than competent.
She asked, “If someone else—Gordon Doeller, for example—had received these threats, would you insist on a camera in his office?”
Her father’s hesitation provided an answer.
“I thought not,” Natalie said. “Please understand, Henry. I don’t want an office camera. It’s an unnecessary expense, and I need privacy.”
Henry scowled. “What for?”
“Sensitive aspects of public relations. I might leak information to one reporter and not another. My staff meetings need to be confidential. I don’t want a record of everything I do.”
She thought of her confrontation with Quint this morning. Their game of grab-the-package would have made embarrassing viewing for a bored security guard. “Please, Henry. Respect my wishes.”
“We’ll see.”
She and her father moved forward to say their goodbyes to Prince Zahir and his entourage, who were preparing to take their leave. As if she’d needed further confirmation that her position at Quantum was unique, the prince singled her out for his attention.
He
