Page 28 of High Treason
A large silver server held a feast. Fatima rolled it near a sofa and two chairs. The sights and aromas tempted Monica—fresh coffee, a carafe of hot water, a chest of assorted teas, dates, olives, various cheeses, and hot breads.
“Breakfast has been brought to us this morning,” Fatima said. “My brother would like for you to join us.”
Being a woman on this assignment left her out of the loop. Yet getting close to Prince Omar’s sisters meant learning their opinions about the events besieging their family.
A few minutes into the meal, Monica turned to the sisters. “Thank you for including me. The prince’s invitation to share breakfast with you is a beautiful way to start the day. The cheeses and hot breads are delicious.” She poured another cup of rich coffee. She must find the source of these beans. “Prince Omar is a good brother.”
Seventeen-year-old Yasmine smiled, her face bathed in youth. “Omar takes excellent care of us.”
“I wish your visit to the US was not laced with tragedy.”
“We’re optimistic the clinical trials for our mother will be successful.”
“I wish healing for Princess Gharam too,” Monica said. “This is a trying time for all of you.”
“Thank you. Fatima and I are glad to be here.”
So proper. Monica turned to the older sister. “Do you have special interests or hobbies?”
“I sketch landscapes,” Fatima said. “I find it relaxing.”
“That’s wonderful. Perhaps I can observe your techniques while you’re here.”
“If there’s time.” Fatima took a bite of warm bread.
“Yasmine, what about you?” Monica said.
The younger sister’s dark eyes sparkled. Her thick hair hung below her shoulders, and her delicate features gave her an exotic look. “I play piano.”
“I’d love to hear you.”
Yasmine blushed. “There’s a music room on this floor. Perhaps I can play for you.”
“Excellent. What do you want to see and do while in Houston?”
“Shopping at the Galleria. A trip to Starbucks. I’d like to see horses, and I know the Houston Rodeo is an attraction. Once Mother makes progress, I’ll ask Omar what we can do.”
“You would love the rodeo. One of my favorite events is the livestock show that allows boys and girls an opportunity to earn money for their education. Some are able to display and compete with their animals. Bull and bronco riding is a thrill. Were you wanting to attend a concert?”
She nodded. “My brother would have to select one he feels is suitable.”
In their culture, men protected the women. “My father gave me strict rules to live by while growing up. At the time, his demands angered me, but then I realized his guidelines were because he loved me. After I came to my senses, I listened and obeyed.” Monica recalled a bit of rebellion. “Not all the time, but I did better.”
“What caused you to be obedient?”
“I rode in a car with an intoxicated driver. We were in an accident, and my arm was broken. The pain and close encounter with death served as a reminder of my father’s words to never ride in a car when the driver had been drinking.”
“I see. Why did you decide to work with an assistant press secretary who is really FBI?”
How did she answer that? “Kord is an excellent teacher, and I’m learning much from him.”
Fatima coughed. Fake. Okay, what did the older sister know? Or had Monica’s nearness to Kord prompted the green monster into action? Fatima was a lovely woman, a mirror of her mother. “What would you like to do while in Houston?”
“What do you recommend?” Hostility brewed stronger in Fatima’s words than the coffee.
“The options depend on your interests.”
Fatima stiffened her back. “Yasmine and I are to assist in Mother’s care. Entertainment has not been discussed.”
