Daman huffed a breathe and threw the stack of papers across the boardroom letting each sheet waver in all directions. His employees jerked back utterly shocked at witnessing their usual calm and collected boss being livid.

"I asked you if the quotation was correct multiple times. Multiple times! Do you know how gravely you've messed up? I had to up the percentage to 24%, Tatum. Was it that difficult to simply transcribe a 12?"

The frightened finance clerk cowered away and profusely apolgised for her carelessness. She was at fault though of which she acknowledge. The interest percentage was supposed to be at 12% yet she errored in her drafting. Seemingly Daman tried his best to negotiate from a mistaken 32 to 24. So much more than they had bargained for.

"Sir, I'm sorry, if you'll let me call them and-"

"Everyone leave," Daman growled. "Consider this your first official warning Tatum. I want the Florence data captured and emailed to me in 20 minutes and I need the tax invoices for the cargos sent to Andrew this instant. Everyone get on with it."

Daman wasted no time in marching out of the boardroom with a scowl. For the first time ever he had felt that his staff was incompetent. Nothing seemed to be going right since he stepped foot in the premises. Customs was proving to be difficult for their latest shipments, one of their cargo ships was faltering despite maintenance, air freight had been in a 3 day delay due to bad weather in Australia and then the incorrect drafting of the interest percentages for a very sly client who would undoubtedly snatch the opportunity of error.

As the duke took a seat in his office, Ikbal entered with his iPad in hand. "Sir, you have a video call from the Doulah Institution in 10 minutes. Here is the agenda," he said and placed a copy of the topics in front of Daman. "The charity subsidiaries need your approval for the stipulated territories and the department of trade and industry need your signature for a number of permits."

"Are the islands surviving without my grandmother's presence?" Daman asked distractedly as he shuffled through the trade and industry files mentally recapping his concerns.

Ikbal nodded his head, "The institution is very protective over their territory as you know. Ilayda is leading well at the moment. Your grandmother had trained her well."

Ilayda was voted as the deputy head after the queen. Doulah was progressing in their method of monarchy, allowing corroborations with a democracy. It was a system that was in the works for the first time.

"Schedule a flight for next week Friday, I should do a routine visit," Daman instructed not thinking about the details. Ikbal looked quizzically upon the duke and licked his dry lips seemingly dumbfounded at his instructions.

"But sir, it's your wedding on that Saturday. Well, the signing of the license to be precise."

Daman closed his eyes chided himself for forgetting such an important fact. To be completely fair, he hadn't planned anything one bit. It was all his grandmother's doing.

"That will be all, Ikbal. Thank you." The duke dismissed his trusty assistant just as the invite to the video meeting started.

The talks about the island progressed from one minister's opinions and concerns to the other. Ilayda was effective in her leading skills never letting the men undermine her. She stood her ground when certain matters discussed were foolish in essence while Daman only spoke when needed to.

All throughout the meeting, the duke scrolled through his phone and his newly downloaded Instagram that Hera had managed to make him succumb too. Scrolling on her page, he saw Hera post a story of her outfit of the day which was a pencil skirt that hugged her generous hips perfectly along with a white blouse and paired with white heels. He'd noticed that skirt suits were her signature outfits for work.

"What do you say, Mr. Faiyaz?" Daman was snapped back to the computer screen clueless at what they had been on about. Not caring much for it, the duke turned his camera off pretending as if the connection had went static. He could still hear them but they didn't have to know that.

Back to his phone, a WhatsApp text appeared from Hera.

-Are you alright?

Daman let out a breath and finally stopped his sulking. He realised that he had no right to be bothered. It was the past and he couldn't let such dictate his present with her.

The duke made a mental reminder to text her back as soon as the meeting was over. He'd turned his camera back on and participated with adequate attention until it was over.

Lunch time had come by and Ikbal entered the office with a tray in hand. You've been here since 4am and you haven't eaten since. Your grandmother would have me hanging by a rope if she found out."

Daman smiled at that at opened the bottle of water that accompanied his favourite Dagwood sandwich.

"Marco sent these as well. It's the invoices you asked for." Ikbal placed the 2 blue usb sticks on Daman desk who nodded in thanks as he devoured his sandwich.

Multi-tasking, the duke placed the stick into his computer needed to print the invoices but the files seemed to be something else. Swallowing his last bite, Daman looked closer to see files consisting of a compilations of what appeared to be voice notes.

* * *

Amaani begrudgingly took time from her day to accompany the queen to her nieces and nephews who were expecting her for the day. The princess remembered Daman blabbering about his cousins since when they were spending a weekend in Ajmal together, exploring the beaches and resort life. She couldn't even remember that conversation clearly since it was of no interest to her.

Afterwards, the queen dismissed her saying that she had personal matters to attend to. Amaani could only wonder what personal things the queen had in a foreign country.

Now she sat at an aesthetic looking café typing onto her laptop. With a demonic smile, she hit the confirmation button as she deposited the negotiated amount in Mikael Roman's bank account. The bastard was greedy Amaani had concluded. Demanding for so many thousands for some pictures and private, intimate voice notes that was enough to make Daman go ballistic. She was sure the duke wouldn't be a fan of listening to his darling Hera talk dirty and loving to another man over the phone.

Hera and Daman's behaviour was evident in the morning that all was not right. She was so close to yelling check mate upon Hera. She simply needed to get rid of a few other pawns before she could slide her queen piece to where it belonged – next to the king protecting him.

Amaani took a split second to ponder about why that Mikael guy even kept the pictures and voice notes. Whoever in their right mind would do so, but she wasn't complaining. It was to her benefit.

Once Amaani married Daman, she'd have 2 territories to call her own. Power and wealth would be ever-flowing and her eyes lit up at the thought. Once married to Daman, she'd do her last year for her PhD at Oxford and once graduated, they'd be no stopping the great Amaani Zara. She had everything sorted out.

The princess flicked her head back took out the second phone from her purse. One last time she looked at the WhatsApp texts of which she could only imagine had Hera scared as a mouse.

If you know what's good for you, then you'd stay away from Daman

I'll kill you if I ever see you

You two are not fooling anybody

Daman would never go for a fat gorilla like you, you must have trapped him somehow

Bitch. Gold-digger. Whore.

Of course Daman to the rescue as per usual but at least it was something to bother the fat, piss poor, whore. Amaani ripped the phone of the sim an dumped it in a nearby trash can to erase her traces. God forbid Daman found out she was behind any of it.