“As you know, there are a few very important guests tonight,” he explained. “You three are to join the line to welcome the Egyptian and British Prime Ministers. Simply shake their hands, say hello and they’ll tell you good job, congratulations. No need to look so worried, Karl.” Soliman then directed them to stand by their assigned table and wait for the VIPs to pass by.
Leila settled into her spot and smiled politely as the emcee announced the special guest. The British Prime Minister appeared in a doorway, smiling and waving. He made his way down the line, shaking each hand as he went. Slowly, he neared the team of archaeologists.
Leila twisted her hands. The spotlight inched closer. All eyes stared in their direction. Her stomach twisted. In less than an hour, she would have to stand up and speak in front of all these people.
The Prime Minister came nearer. She lifted her head, not wanting to appear nervous, and her gaze locked with a pair of familiar, dark eyes, standing beyond the beam of the spotlight. Her heart leaped into her throat.
Xander?
Suddenly, the Prime Minister was in front of her. He held out his hand and waited with a grin. Taken aback, she gasped and briskly gripped his hand, returning the smile. As they exchanged formalities, Soliman leaned in to explain to him how Leila was the one who discovered the now-famous tomb. Hardly listening, she forced herself not to glance back at the crowd. At least, not until the Prime Minister was gone.
Leila heaved a sigh of relief when he moved on to Karl, who had gotten so pale she was sure he was about to pass out. Her gaze darted to the crowd. He had to be here. Xander must have accepted the invitation at the last minute.
She examined each face, only to be disappointed when she didn’t recognize any of them. She peered over her shoulder at Vivian, who lingered a few feet behind her. Vivian’s curious gaze followed the Prime Minister as he proceeded down the line. It didn’t appear she was aware of any Xander look-alike in the crowd. She would have said something. Leila shook her head. It must be nerves. She was imagining things.
After the Egyptian Prime Minister made his way down the line and shook their hands, the emcee’s booming voice asked the guests to find their seats before dinner was served.
Leila made her way back to the table and settled into her seat. Mouth-watering aromas drifted from her plate, but, with a swarm of scarabs roiling in her stomach, she could only pick at her food. Why did she have to agree to speak? It was a horrible idea.
She sat back in her chair, glancing around the guests at their tables. It would have been fine if she was in front of a group of peers, but this crowd was full of political figures and scholars. Not to mention someone who looked like Xander.
A whole lot like him.
After everyone at the table seemed to be finished with the main course, she excused herself to find the bathrooms. She had to get a hold of herself. She slipped from the crowded lobby and followed the signs for the restrooms to a side hallway. A groan escaped when she found them. The line wound outside the door. Eager to find some peace and quiet, she pivoted on her heel and headed deeper into the museum.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Leila stood at the entrance of the Neferkheri exhibit. A small group of people in suits and evening dresses headed in that direction, their lively chatter echoing throughout the hall. As much as she would have liked to see the finished exhibit, she decided against going in. It was already too crowded. She took the stairs and wound her way to the museum’s permanent exhibit of King Tutankhamun.
The dimly lit hall seemed to be deserted. After walking along row after row of glass cases containing the famous artifacts, her breathing evened. This was the place to find her peace. She came to a halt in front of the glass case displaying Tutankhamun’s golden face mask, illuminated in a soft yellow glow. Trying to keep her mind off the impending speech, she studied the curve of his blue and gold headdress, the beady, lifelike eyes of the vulture and cobra heads at his forehead. King Tutankhamun watched her with sleepy eyes, his wise face stoic.
She tore her eyes away from the mask and took out her notes. It was no use trying to avoid it. For the hundredth time, she read them over. She could do this. Maybe.
At the sound of footsteps, she stuffed her notes back into her clutch. So much for being alone. Unless someone had come to find her. It couldn’t be time to give the speech already. She glanced up at the newcomer and froze.
Xander stood before her, dressed in a black suit and black tie. There was no sign of the unrefined archaeologist she knew in Saqqara.
Her heart squeezed. It couldn’t be him. She was hallucinating.
“Hi,” he said.
That voice. Deep, soothing, calm. If this Xander-look-alike were real, he was doing an awesome job.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” she choked out despite her dry mouth.
“Technically, I’m not here.”
She pinched her brows together. Yep. It was Xander. Vague as ever. “What do you mean?”
“I’m only here to blend into the background.” He winked and her knees weakened slightly.
While she wasn’t sure what he meant, it didn’t seem like he was going to enlighten her. She remembered he had requested not to be publicized as a part of the team, but why?
“Thank you for inviting my sister,” he went on before she could say anything else. He inched toward her. “I think she’s enjoying herself.”
“I thought she’d like it.” Leila wished her voice would stop shaking. He made her even more uneasy than the speech did. “She seemed nervous at first, but I think she’s having fun.” She fixed her gaze on her hands, willing them to stop twisting.
“Are you all right? You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I’m fine.” She lifted her eyes to find him within an arm’s reach. “No. I’m not okay. I mean―” She opened her clutch again, glad for a reason to keep her hands busy. “I can’t do this.” She got out the folded papers of her speech and handed it to him. “It’s horrible.”
Xander raised an eyebrow. “You’re speaking?”
“Yep.”
“You’re not on the program.” He frowned then inspected her notes.
“Soliman asked me at the last minute,” Leila explained, watching his eyes dart back and forth as he read her speech. He was reading swiftly but the silence went on for what must have been an eternity. She couldn’t believe he was here. It took all the self-control within her not to reach out and touch him. Just to make sure.
“It’s all right,” he said and handed the notes to her. “You’re going to say what they all expect you to say.”
Leila took them back and their fingers brushed against each other. Her skin tingled from the contact.
“Exactly.” She forced herself to say something. “It’s just…” She sighed and tucked the paper into her purse. “Rushed. Passive. Not me. I wish Soliman had given me more time.”
“What is it you want to say, then?” he asked softly.
She had no idea. Somehow it didn’t matter, either. After snapping the purse shut, she lifted her gaze to meet his. The speech vanished from her mind.
