Acquiring Trouble

want help from our satellites, perhaps access to our seismic technology, and the senator has friends in high places."
    Khan's smile had vanished. "I'm afraid you've jumped to conclusions, Ms. Cruz. I am not interested in help from the senator or his friends. I've come to discuss Altara's oil development plans with those best suited to advise me."
    "I must admit , I'm surprised by your willingness to admit you need advice from anyone."
    "Laurel," Travis had said in a low voice, "the prince is my guest."
    "Of course." Her smile had been saccharine-sweet. "But aren't we all supposed to address him as 'king'?"
    "Try speaking directly to me," Khan had said coldly. "You'll get better answers."
    "I doubt that."
    Travis had groaned. "I'm sorry, man. I don't know what—"
    "Don't apologize on Ms. Cruz's behalf, Travis." Khan's eyes had narrowed to icy slits. "And don't try to silence her. I'm fascinated. She is obviously a woman with strong opinions."
    "And you're not accustomed to women with opinions," Laurel Cruz had said, her eyes as cold as his, "or, at least, to hearing those opinions expressed.
    Another time, he might have laughed.
    His newly-appointed Minister of Education was a woman. His personal assistant, who was privy to all the secrets of running the kingdom, was a woman. He was about to appoint a woman to head up the newly-instituted Ministry of Health.
    "How nice," he said, with a twist of his lips that bore little resemblance to a smile, "that you are so well-informed."
    Travis had cleared his throat.
    "Listen," he'd said briskly, "I hate to break this up but—"
    ""Women like me are well-informed. And that's going to be the eventual end of you and men like you."
    "Jesus, Laurel," Travis had hissed, "what's the matter with you?"
    "Nothing's the matter with me," Laurel Cruz had snapped. "I'm simply making the most of an opportunity to ask questions."
    "I have not heard a question yet," Khan had growled. 
    "Well, here's one. Do you ever think about the people who grovel before you, Mr. al Hassad ? Probably not—but if you do, have you ever wondered if they do it out of choice—or because it is what you and your kind expect?"
    Khan had felt a vein in his temple start to throb.
    "And what, exactly, is 'my kind,' Ms. Cruz?"
    "You expect subservience," she'd said, answering her own question instead of his, her chin lifted, her eyes shot with cold fire. "Blind obedience. Being treated as if you own the world, especially by women. Men like you, Mr. al Hassad , are barbarians!"
    By then, she'd been breathing hard. Khan had barely been breathing at all. What he'd been was half-crazed with rage.
    He'd taken a step forward. She'd taken a step back. As far as he was concerned, that was the first good thing that had happened since Travis had made the mistake of introducing them.
    "I am addressed as Prince Khan," he'd said, his voice low and hard. "Or as Your Highness. And if we should ever have the misfortune to see each other again, you will also remember that you are to show me the respect I am due." One step more and his body brushed hers. Despite his anger, he felt the fullness of her breasts, smelled the light floral scent of her hair. That he was aware of her as a woman drove his rage even higher. "If we were in my country, you would do those things on pain of death—and what a pity it is we are not."
    The still-functioning part of his mind had wanted to laugh at the stupid, cheesy lies—but when the color drained from her face, he'd felt a kind of bitter triumph. He knew she was trying to come up with some kind of response, but she failed.
    It was time to walk away.
    "My regards to the senator," he'd said, and he'd moved past her, through the remaining knot of guests, and stepped through the open French doors to the patio.
    Travis had come after him.
    "Khan. I'm sorry about that."
    "Forget it."
    "You're our friend. Our guest. And Laurel—"
    Khan had whirled toward him.
    "What was that all about?"
    "Well, she's an attorney. A hotshot attorney. And—"
    "And, what does that have to do with anything?"
    "She's into human rights. Women's rights. Maybe you read about an incident here a year or so back. A bunch of cretins who'd come here from a place nobody could pronounce or find on a map, raped a woman. A girl, really. She was, I don't know, fifteen, sixteen. Anyway, she was a bloodied, beaten mess. Somehow, she got home to her folks—and her brothers killed her because they said her rape had dishonored the