*****
Zuri decided that she would eat American-style pancakes every day for the rest of her life, if she could. That and hash browns and bacon. She loved the sausage as well. But she couldn’t do that if she was only going to spend five minutes on the treadmill and call it a workout. If Daemon was trying to convince her to stay in America and run the resistance from the comfort of his home instead of returning to Bendola, giving her this new dress and filling her with an amazing breakfast was a very good counter move.
Another excellent counter attack? His body.
Back in the gym, Zuri couldn’t handle being in the same room with Daemon. She had felt—or maybe she was imagining it—his eyes on her, and it had made her skin tingle, her stomach flutter, and her heart rate rise to an uncomfortable level. All while walking slower than two miles an hour. She would’ve had a heart attack if she’d decided to jog.
That’s when she decided to dismiss whatever he would’ve thought about her leaving the gym before breaking a sweat. She’d go back to her room and try to go back to sleep. Her active mind had awoken her. For the first few seconds, she couldn’t determine where she was and fear filled her. Then it had all returned: her father was dead, she had escaped Bendola, and she was staying in her bodyguard’s home—in his mother’s favorite room. The style of the room was so soothing and comforting. How could such an arrogant protector come from a woman of such creativity and beauty?
Her hands extended over the soft, elegant pencil dress that hugged her as snuggly as Daemon’s embrace. Daemon was more than arrogant—he was bold.
Her bold protector.
Bold to wrap his arms around her, teasing her to cross the line she had set up for him. To make him kiss her. His hard, sweaty body should’ve repelled her, but it hadn’t. She had wanted him closer. Had almost pulled him in. His pouty bottom lip, mere millimeters from her mouth, had pleaded with her to taste—to step over that line she had insisted remain drawn between them.
Zuri prided herself on her disciplined willpower. The guy might believe he could have any woman, but he’d never met her. Couldn’t have her.
She smiled as she stared out of the window of Daemon’s high-end, bulletproof SUV, not because of the beautiful view of the approaching downtown DC, but because she felt herself slowly becoming immune to the man sitting beside her talking on the satellite phone. While he talked on the phone, she focused on the spectacular view that partially inspired the revolution in Bendola.
An expansive green lawn stretched to the tall pillar that looked like an obelisk. The Washington Monument, a symbol commemorating one of the greatest generals in all of global history: George Washington. He had led his small country to freedom against the colonizing British. Zuri felt akin to Washington’s purpose in desiring freedom for her country, even though King George could hardly compare to the evils of President Gohi. People who disagreed with his policies disappeared off the streets. He enacted laws restricting speech and the press. The only religion that was tolerated was the worship of himself.
Zuri rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms. She wasn’t nervous to talk about her country and articulate their current needs, but now she would be presenting to a number of people who might not be as invested in Bendola’s future as other influential Bendolans. Bendola was a tiny country rich in minerals but on the periphery of political issues to powerhouse nations. Most of the country’s gross domestic product went to Gohi’s pockets, so the nation’s mining industry was woefully underdeveloped. If countries wanted to invest in their mining industry, they would have to lend Bendola the capitalandeverything else. All Bendola could provide were men and women willing to work.
Although she had the support of several countries, once the country was in the hands of the people, they would need street-level assistance to boost their economy, train their military and law enforcement, improve medical care—the list was virtually endless. Daemon was right: Bendola would be extremely vulnerable to a hostile takeover. Plenty of terrorist groups operated on the continent and could see the potential of a government in transition. Zuri had ranked several items from urgent to less important. Perhaps the advocacy groups would be willing to help if she didn’t hold out her hands and ask for everything.
Daemon ended his call, then peered over her shoulder. “Have you thought about incorporating industrial firms into your plans?”
Zuri looked at him. “You mean asking Knight Industries?”
His eyes sparkled. “I hadn’t thought of my father. He’s not easy to convince. And if it’s not making money for the firm—”
“He’s not a philanthropist, is what you’re saying.”
“More or less. That was my mother’s passion.”
“But I should pitch an industrial firm?”
“You’ll need plenty for contraction projects, technology…”
“Water treatment plants, electricity... Yes, you’re right. It’s a lot to think about. I’ve been focused on humanitarian aid. We’ll need a lot after the fight.”
“True. Later on will come the big projects.”
“Then why not your father? You’re the best at what you do, right?”
“Sure. We can handle protection and intelligence. My family’s company has branched into several industries over the generations. We’ve been in business for well over a hundred years.”
“What other industries?”
“Farming, infrastructure, tech, and some financial. You’re going to want the support of private businesses. They can come in and easily provide services. The less you have government red tape limiting everything, the better. Competition is better as well. Drive down prices and naturally create options for your people. At the core of democracy is choice.”
She nodded in agreement. She had learned about that by studying history and the world democracies. All of what he said appealed to her, like it had to her father. Tears stung her eyes.
He slid closer, his warm finger sliding down her arm, causing more gooseflesh. “What’s wrong?” he asked tenderly. “What did I say, Princess?”
“For starters, you’re still calling me Princess.”
He genuinely smiled. “I’m always going to call you that.”
