at least make the effort.”
He seemed to mull that over for a minute while Madison held her breath. “All right. Since you are protected by a legal document, and I’ve been stripped of my power to dismiss you, I will cooperate on a trial basis. But that cooperation hinges on your ability to meet my terms.”
She should have known he’d have an ulterior motive behind his sudden change of heart. “And what would those be?”
His smile returned, slow as a desert sunrise. “I’ll let you know in the upcoming days.”
Something told Madison his terms could be somewhat suspect. Still, she was more than curious, as well as determined to win him over. “Fine. We can begin tomorrow morning.”
“We can begin tonight after dinner,” he said, followed by a long visual journey from her neck to her bare feet. “I personally have no objection to your current attire, but something a little less distracting might be more appropriate.”
She’d basically forgotten what she was wearing—or wasn’t wearing for that matter. “Since I’ve spent a good deal of time attending state dinners, I know how to dress properly.”
He rested one hand on the ornately carved footboard. “This isn’t a diplomatic affair, Ms. Foster, only a casual meal.”
She felt somewhat uncomfortable having him so close to the bed. “Will both your brothers be dining with us?”
“Only Rafiq. Adan’s currently away on a mission.”
She was disappointed she wouldn’t meet the youngest Mehdi son. “Diplomatic assignment?”
“Military. He’s testing a new aircraft.”
“That’s right. I’d read somewhere he’s a pilot.”
“Adan’s affinity for danger is second only to his appreciation of beautiful women,” he said. “He will be greatly disappointed if he does not have the opportunity to meet you.”
Maybe it was best if baby brother stayed away for as long as possible. Two womanizers under one roof could be too much to handle. “Will he be back for the coronation?”
Zain pushed away from the bed, allowing Madison to breathe a little easier. “As far as I know.”
She hugged her arms closer to her middle. “I’ll meet him then.”
“If you are still here,” he said.
He wasn’t going to get rid of her that easily. But she did plan to dismiss him for the time being. “Since it’s getting late, I should probably get dressed now.”
“Yes, I suppose you should,” he said, a hint of fake disappointment in his tone. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in the black dress you have hanging behind your business suits.”
He’d been more observant than she realized. “I’ll decide what I’m wearing after you’re gone.”
“You should definitely consider the red lingerie.”
Madison didn’t understand his fascination with her underwear, or how he’d correctly guessed her fondness for red silk, until she followed his gaze to some focal point at her hip. When she looked down, she saw her bra strap hanging from the closed drawer like a crimson snake in the grass. She quickly stuffed it back inside before pointing toward the door. “Out. Now.”
“Dinner is at five-thirty sharp. Do not be late,” he said as he walked out the door and closed it behind him.
The man’s overbearing behavior equaled his fortune, but he had a thing or two to learn about Madison’s determination. She didn’t appreciate his observations, even if he had been on target when it came to her clothing. Still, no sexy, bossy sheikh—even if he happened to be a king and her current employer—would dictate her choice in panties. In fact, Zain Mehdi would have nothing whatsoever to do with her panties. And the next time she had him alone, she planned to set him straight about what she expected from him. Namely respect.
The sudden knock indicated she could have an immediate opportunity to do that very thing. On the heels of her frustration, she strode across the room, flung open the door and greeted the offending party with, “More commentary on my underwear?”
When she saw the demure lady with silver hair and topaz eyes standing in the hallway, Madison realized she’d made a colossal mistake. Yet she couldn’t seem to speak around her mortification.
“I’m Elena Battelli,” the woman said as she extended her hand. “And I am not concerned with your undergarments.”
She accepted the gesture and attempted a self-conscious smile. “I’m Madison Foster, and I’m so sorry. I thought you were—”
“Prince Zain, of course.”
Realizing her state of undress had only compounded the erroneous assumptions, Madison hugged her arms tightly around her middle. “I know how this must look to you, but His Highness accidentally walked in on me.”
The woman sent her a knowing look. “Prince Zain never does anything accidentally.”
She wouldn’t dispute that point. “Regardless, nothing inappropriate occurred.”
“Of course,” Elena said, her tone hinting at disbelief. “Do you find your accommodations satisfactory?”
Who wouldn’t? The massive marble jetted tub alone was worth any grief Zain Mehdi could hand her. “Very much so, thank you.”
She took a slight step back. “Good. Dinner’s at six.”
“Prince Zain told me five-thirty.”
“I am afraid you’ve been misled,” Elena said. “Dinner is always served at 6:00 p.m. That has been the designated time since I’ve been an employee.”
Madison saw the woman as the perfect resource for information on the future king. “How long ago has that been?”
She lifted her chin with pride. “Thirty-four years. I arrived before Prince Zain’s birth to assume my role as his bambinaia, or in English, his—”
“Nanny,” Madison interjected, then added, “I speak Italian. I studied abroad in Florence my sophomore year in college.”
Elena’s expression brightened. “Excellent. I am from Scandicci.”
“I visited there a few times. It’s a beautiful place. Do you go back often?”
All the joy seemed to drain from Elena’s face. “Not as often as I would like. My life is here with the royal family.”
A royal family with adult sons who no longer needed a nanny. A keeper, maybe, but not a nursemaid. “How do you spend your days now that the princes are grown?”
“I am basically in charge of running the household while waiting for my opportunity to raise another generation of Mehdi children.”
Madison didn’t quite see Zain as father material, an opinion she’d keep to herself.
