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‘She is bold,’ Mahmoud said.
Ilyas did not agree with the advisor’s findings.
‘No,’ he said, again reading the message. ‘If this Suzanne believes that she can bribe me she is a fool.’
He examined the attached photos and knew at first glance that they had been taken aboard his brother’s yacht.
A stunning redhead with green eyes and delicate-looking pale skin had been photographed in a willow-green bikini.
There was another photo, grainy as if it had been taken from afar and zoomed in, that showed her lying on a bed as Hazin walked into what Ilyas knew to be the royal cabin.
The message warned that the more explicit footage taken inside the cabin would be shocking, but Ilyas wasn’t buying it.
‘If they had more they would already have sent it.’
‘They have more,’ Mahmoud said as Ilyas moved to the next photo.
It was a full frontal of his younger brother in a less than regal pose.
Hazin was completely naked, though, in fairness, Ilyas could see he was just rinsing off, presumably after a swim.
‘This is nothing that our long-suffering public has not already seen. There are more full-frontal naked pictures of Hazin circulating on the Internet than I care to count. It’s nothing.’
Well, hardly nothing—Hazin took after his brother in that department and this particular image made no secret of that fact.
There was another issue, though.
‘This was taken in Zayrinian waters.’ Mahmoud pointed out exactly what Ilyas was thinking. ‘You can even see the palace in the distance. The king promised his people that there would be no more scandal from Hazin.’
It was his father who was the fool, then.
Hazin and Ilyas might be similar incertaindepartments but were completely different in nature. Ilyas simply didn’t deal in emotion and so rarely encountered it that, if he did, it held little sway on his decisions. He was always focused and supremely composed while his brother, on the other hand, ran wild. Hazin was a loose cannon who chose to live the life of a playboy, yet, Ilyas was certain, after the warning he had served his brother prior to his visit, he would not have brought this behaviour home on this occasion.
Right now, Hazin was aboard the royal jet and heading back to London, oblivious to the latest development in the unfolding scandal.
‘Sit tight,’ Ilyas told Mahmoud. ‘If there is any further contact I am to be informed. Not my father,’ he added.
He could see Mahmoud’s silent struggle as to whether or not he should brief the king.
Over and over Ilyas had warned Hazin to be mindful of long-range lenses but these images looked like they had been taken from a phone.
Probably not a professional, then.
But, no, he would not be swayed.
Ilyas again flicked through the photos. Despite his blasé response to Mahmoud, the naked image alone could prove extremely damaging. The people more easily dismissed Hazin’s transgressions while overseas, but, Ilyas knew, they would not be so forgiving if Hazin brought scandal home.
Then he looked at the woman, uncertain if she was this Suzanne woman or just the lure used to tempt Hazin.
He could actually see how his brother might have been taken in.
She was stunning.
Her long, wavy red hair was swept back by the wind and her body was not the manufactured kind that so often attended parties such as this.
She was incredibly pale with a dusting of freckles on her arms and thighs. Her body was slender and her curves subtle and very feminine, while in the picture her lips were full and parted in a smile.
Yet it did not reach her eyes and Ilyas was certain the smile she wore was a false one.
