Conveniently His Princess. Оливия Гейтс

say this once, and we will not speak of this again. I will not get married. Not to become Zohaydan and become your minister of economy, not for any other reason. If you really need my help, I’ll gladly offer you and Zohayd my services.”

      Shaheen, who had clearly anticipated this as one of Aram’s answers, was ready with his rebuttal. “The level of involvement needed has to be full-time, with you taking the top job and living in Zohayd.”

      “I have my own business...”

      “Which you’ve set up so ingeniously and have trained your deputies so thoroughly you only need to supervise operations from afar for it to continue on its current trajectory of phenomenal success. This level of efficiency, this uncanny ability to employ the right people and to get the best out of them is exactly what I need you to do for Zohayd.”

      “You haven’t been working the job full-time,” he pointed out.

      “Only because my father has been helping me since he abdicated. But now he’s retreating from public life completely. Even with his help, I’ve been torn between my family, my business and the ministry. Now we have another baby on the way and family time will only increase. And Johara is becoming more involved in humanitarian projects that require my attention, as well. I simply can’t find a way to juggle it all if I remain minister.”

      He narrowed his eyes at Shaheen. “So I should sacrifice my own life to smooth out yours?”

      “You’d be sacrificing nothing. Your business will continue as always, you’d be the best minister of economy humanly possible, a position you’d revel in, and you’ll get a family...something I know you have always longed for.”

      Yeah. He was the only male he knew who’d planned at sixteen that he’d get married by eighteen, have half a dozen kids, pick one place and one job and grow deep, deep roots.

      And here he was, forty, alone and rootless.

      How had that happened?

      Which was the rhetorical question to end all rhetorical questions. He knew just how.

      “What I longed for and what I am equipped for are poles apart, Shaheen. I’ve long come to terms with the fact that I’m never getting married, never having a family. This might be unimaginable to you in your state of familial nirvana, but not everyone is made for wedded bliss. Given the number of broken homes worldwide, I’d say those who are equipped for it are a minority. I happen to be one of the majority, but I happen to be at peace with it.”

      It was Shaheen who took him by the shoulders now. “I believed the exact same thing about myself before Johara found me again. Now look at me...ecstatically united with the one right person.”

      Aram bit back a comment that would take this argument into an unending loop. That it was Shaheen and Johara’s marriage that had shattered any delusions he’d entertained that he could ever get married himself.

      What they had together—this total commitment, trust, friendship and passion—was what he’d always dreamed of. Their example had made him certain that if he couldn’t have that—and he didn’t entertain the least hope he’d ever have it—then he couldn’t settle for anything less.

      Evidently worried that Aram had stopped arguing, Shaheen rushed to add, “I’m not asking you to get married tomorrow, Aram. I’m just asking you to consider the possibility.”

      “I don’t need to. I have been and will always remain perfectly fine on my own.”

      Eager to put an abrupt end to this latest bout of emotional wrestling—the worst he’d had so far with Shaheen—he started to turn around, but his friend held him back.

      He leveled fed-up eyes on Shaheen. “Now what?”

      “You look like hell.”

      He felt like it, too. As for how he looked, during necessary self-maintenance he’d indeed been seeing a frayed edition of the self he remembered.

      Seemed hitting forty did hit a man hard.

      A huff of deprecation escaped him. “Why, thanks, Shaheen. You were always such a sweet talker.”

      “I’m telling it as it is, Aram. You’re working yourself into the ground...and if you think I’m blunt, it’s nothing compared to what Amjad said when he last saw you.”

      Amjad, the king of Zohayd, Shaheen’s oldest brother. The Mad Prince turned the Crazy King. And one of the biggest jerks in human history.

      Aram exhaled in disgust. “I was right there when he relished the fact that I looked ‘like something the cat dragged in, chewed up and barfed.’ But thanks for bringing up that royal pain. I didn’t even factor him in my refusal. But even if I considered the job offer/marriage package the opportunity of a lifetime, I’d still turn it down flat because it would bring me in contact with him. I can’t believe you’re actually asking me to become a minister in that inhuman affliction’s cabinet.”

      Shaheen grinned at his diatribe. “You’ll work with me, not him.”

      “No, I won’t. Give it up, already.”

      Shaheen looked unsatisfied and tried again. “About Kanza...”

      A memory burst in his head. He couldn’t believe it hadn’t come to him before. “Yes, about her and about abominations for older siblings. You didn’t only pick Kanza the Monster for my best match but the half sister of the Fury herself, Maysoon.”

      “I hoped you’d forgotten about her. But I guess that was asking too much.” Wryness twisted Shaheen’s lips. “Maysoon was a tad...temperamental.”

      “A tad?” he scoffed. “She was a raging basket case. I barely escaped her in one piece.”

      And she’d been the reason that he’d had to leave Zohayd and his father behind. The reason he’d had to abandon his dream of ever making a home there.

      “Kanza is her extreme opposite, anyway.”

      “You got that right. While Maysoon was a stunning if unstable harpy, Kanza was an off-putting miscreant.”

      “I diametrically differ with your evaluation of Kanza. While I know she may not be...sophisticated like her womenfolk, Kanza’s very unpretentiousness makes me like her far more. Even if you don’t consider those virtues exciting, they would actually make her a more suitable wife for you.”

      Aram lifted a sarcastic brow. “You figure?”

      “I do. It would make her safe and steady, not like the fickle, demanding women you’re used to.”

      “You’re only making your argument even more inadmissible, Shaheen. Even if I wanted this, and I consider almost anything admissible in achieving my objectives, I would draw the line at exploiting the mousy, unworldly spinster you’re painting her to be.”

      “Who says there’d be any exploitation? You might be a pain in the neck that rivals even Amjad sometimes but you’re one of the most coveted eligible bachelors in the world. Kanza would probably jump at the opportunity to be your wife.”

      Maybe. Probably. Still...

      “No, Shaheen. And that’s final.”

      The forcefulness he’d injected into his voice seemed to finally get to Shaheen, who looked at him with that drop-it-now-to-attack-another-day expression that he knew all too well.

      Aram clamped his friend’s arm, dragging him to the door. “Now go home, Shaheen. Kiss Johara and Gharam for me.”

      Shaheen still resisted being shoved out. “Just assess the situation like you do any other business proposition before you make a decision either way.”

      Aram groaned. Shaheen was one dogged son of a king. “I’ve already made a decision, Shaheen, so give it a rest.”

      Before he finally walked away, Shaheen gave him that unfazed smile of his that eloquently said he wouldn’t.