Zane gave a charming half-smile and proceeded down the hallway with me keeping pace next to him. “Fortunately, all of that is true. Al-Dali has a rich history of great civilizations and early settlements. More recently, we were lucky enough to uncover some of the world’s most massive oil reserves within our borders, and this has allowed us to elevate the status of the entire country and all its citizens. We have peace and prosperity now, which for centuries was not the case.”

  I pointed to a section of the palace wall that was very clearly older, its stone carvings worn down to mere shadows, with shinier, newer white stone placed around it. “What are these darker stone accents? I’ve seen them everywhere, inside and out.”

  “Good eye. When my great-grandfather built this palace, he did so on the ruins of one of the older palaces of my ancestors. Al-Dali has been the home of great civilizations for millennia, but much of what they left behind has been lost to the desert. This hilltop preserved quite a few archaeological wonders that were incorporated into the building of the new palace, in order to merge the history of Al-Dali with its present and future.”

  I stopped to get a better glance of the section of wall, marveling at the expanse of space and time I was standing in front of. “Incredible,” I said breathlessly as my gaze ran over the weathered outlines of animals and people. “It seems like a lot of pressure to live with every day—constant reminders of the greatness of those who came before you.”

  When I turned back to Zane, he had a thoughtful look on his face, tinted with sadness. But that handsome half-smile was still there, too. “Indeed, it is a lot of pressure. Quite similar to the pressure I’m sure you feel in Hollywood. Cinema is barely a century old; you are competing with its originators, its trailblazers. You see their names on the ground and live in their old houses. I imagine it can be very taxing.”

  “You know, I never thought about it like that,” I replied. “But I guess you’re right. We haven’t really had time to escape the shadow of the first ages of Hollywood.”

  “I think that pressure is familiar to anyone who is trying to achieve something with their life,” said Zane. He offered his arm to me, and I accepted, slipping my hand through his elbow. He led us down the hallway, my heels clicking on the marble floor. “Trying to somehow forge your own identity, steal just a little bit of sunshine from a forest of giants so you too can grow big.”

  Zane’s thoughtful speech was conjuring up all the bitter emotions I was having about my career. He was absolutely right—being an actress was like being a starving little sapling in a redwood forest, just trying to push through the undergrowth so that one day I might join them, taking their place when one of them fell. Because fall they would, and the forest had to stay intact. Someone had to take their place—why couldn’t it be me?

  I shook the thoughts from my head, realizing I hadn’t heard the last thing the Sheikh had said. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “I was just saying we should stop by the kitchen, because my cook usually makes pudding for the staff’s children to have when they get off school, and it’s about that time.”

  A girlish grin spread over my face. “Oh, I definitely approve of that tour stop.”

  Zane was right about the pudding, but what he didn’t prepare me for was the beauty of his vaulted-ceiling kitchen that looked like it could hold a staff of twenty at the same time. There were only five or six working at the moment, but when big meals were being prepared, Zane said, this place was a circus of activity.

  Nor did the Sheikh prepare me for the group of beautiful children, giddy after a long day in the classroom and a gourmet sugar rush. I was surprised when they excitedly told me they knew who I was, and they were all too happy to pose in a group picture with me. I signed each of their school notebooks, making sure to include hearts on the signatures. One of their mothers rushed them out of the kitchen impatiently, convinced they had bothered me enough, and Zane and I took the opposite exit out of the kitchen, into the dining hall.

  And what a dining hall it was. Paneled with dark wood and accented with oil lamps, the grand table was probably twenty feet long, an elegant maroon silk runner extending its length. The table settings hadn’t been put out yet, but it wasn’t hard to visualize a gorgeous setup of china and crystal and well-dressed guests dining on dishes of steaming, first-class cuisine.

  Zane showed me the water gardens, explaining that there wasn’t a palace within three thousand miles in any direction that didn’t have one. Every family that could afford to build them created their own smaller versions.

  “When you are carving your existence out of an unforgiving desert, the opposite quickly becomes holy to you: water and life.”

  He waved a big hand out towards the gorgeous square courtyard. A bubbling, ancient fountain sat in the center, circulating crystal-clear water that Zane said was from an underground well and fresh to drink. A veritable jungle of tropical plants, ferns and flowers surrounded the fountain and the courtyard walk, creating a tiny oasis in the middle of the palace. Birds sang happily, darting from tree to tree, and a smaller pond lay near the southeast corner, filled with shimmering koi fish and dotted with water lilies.

  “This is like heaven,” I told him, taking a deep breath. The earthy smell of the desert was almost entirely overwhelmed by the sweet fragrance of flowers and freshness of water.

  “That’s the idea,” smiled Zane as he gently touched the petals of a large pink flower. “When the desert drains your life and spirit, you can retreat here, to your own little piece of heaven where life flourishes.”

  “I can see now why your society loves these gardens,” I agreed. “This is magical.”

  The Sheikh’s face lit up and he bowed his head politely. “Thank you, Julianne. I’m truly glad you like it here.”

  “I do. And thank you for inviting me. I don’t think I would have visited your country otherwise, and I know now that that would have been a huge mistake on my part.”

  Zane smiled, and offered his arm again, leading me back inside the palace and down a new hallway.

  “I have to tell you, Julianne, I’m truly thrilled that you’re here,” said Zane with a sly smile. “When I contacted your agent, I was convinced that you would write me off as an unnecessary distraction, or worse, some sort of uncouth stalker. I’m sure your life is very busy, and I’m grateful that you found the time to pay us a visit.”

  I tried to let out a laugh, but it didn’t come very casually. Instead, it only seemed to amplify my obvious stress at talking about my current life status. I swallowed against a tight throat, and decided to be honest with Zane. He was already a fan of my work; I didn’t need to try and impress him any further.

  “To be frank, I almost did write you off.”

  He gave me a curious eyebrow. “You did?”

  “Oh yeah. It was a hard ‘no’ when Katherine first read me the proposal.”

  He paused a moment, and then asked quietly, “May I ask why you changed your mind?”

  We turned a corner, heading down a new hallway that was shorter than the rest.

  “My phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook these days,” I confessed. “Things can change fast in Hollywood and, well, it seems I’m at the ‘ebb’ portion of the ‘ebb and flow’ of things. I decided, since being a risk-taker is what got me this far, that I should take another risk with you and say yes.”

  Zane’s brow furrowed, as if he smelled something unpleasant. “That is unbelievable. Why would anyone not want to give you work? You are the most talented actress working in America today. They should all be clawing each other’s eyes out at the chance to hire you.”

  I laughed and felt my cheeks flush. Zane’s eyes glittered at the sight.

  “You’re too kind,” I replied. “More talented women than I have been chewed up by this same machine for a hundred years now. It’s just the way things are.”

  “My father hated that phrase.”

  “Oh?”

  “There was a lot wrong with Al-Dali when he took the throne,” started Zane, tilting his head as he recalled the memory. “My grandfather was a much more militarily-minded man, and left a lot of messes to clean up when he passed. My father said my grandfather’s staff and advisors liked to use that phrase when he questioned some outdated or illogical practice. He said as soon as he heard it spoken when he confronted someone, he knew he had to upheave everything and change it.”

  “Wow,” I breathed. “He must have been a brave man. That sounds like the set-up to some Shakespearian-level conflict.”

  For a hot second, I worried that my use of humor as a defense mechanism had gotten me in trouble once again. But Zane only laughed, his handsome face lighting up.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” he chuckled.

  “But it also sounds like that didn’t happen in real life.”

  “No,” he chuckled. “Thankfully, things went much more reasonably for my father. Once he showed them things could be different—that ‘the way things were’ was always temporary—most people couldn’t wait to follow him into a peaceful future. To my recollection, my father never lost a single staff member to violence. He worked to be peaceful.”

  “And you’re maintaining your father’s legacy?”

  “Well, I’m trying,” the Sheikh replied, suddenly humble, a flush of red in his cheeks. “But that is a subject for another time. Right now, I have one more room to show you.”

  We stopped in front of a set of double doors that, while made from the same dark carved wood as the rest of the interior, looked significantly newer. Zane gripped both golden doorknobs and turned back to smile at me.

  The wry smile that appeared on Zane’s face—gorgeous as it was—suddenly brought back all the fear and anxiety I had been feeling during the landing at the airport. Was this the moment when the Sheikh, with all his pleasantness and drop-dead-handsome looks, would reveal that he was just another sleazeball with money to throw around? Something was behind that door, and it was just as likely a bedroom as anything. Anxiety bubbled in my gut, and the rehearsed speech I’d been mulling over came tumbling out like a word salad.

  “Zane, I appreciate your proposal, but this isn’t the type of…thing I am.” I shook my head. “Girl I am. Thing I do. This isn’t the type of thing I do.”

  But the Sheikh only smiled, bemused. He twisted the doorknobs and dramatically swung both doors open at the same time, revealing a beautiful and modern private cinema, tucked away in the west wing of the palace. My jaw dropped open just a little.

  NINE

  The Sheikh didn’t make further mention of my embarrassing mistake, for which I was grateful. “You may have already guessed this from your surprise welcome at the airport, Julianne, but you are a well-loved artist in my country. Your fans here have a deep appreciation for your work.” He put one hand to rest on his strong chest. “I would consider myself your biggest fan, of course.”

  I grinned, my stress fading away. “Oh, would you?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I hear that all the time, you know.”

  “I’m sure you do, but how often do you hear it from men who whisk you away on a private jet in order to spend time with you?”

  “Touché,” I said with a laugh. “I guess that alone makes you qualified to be my biggest fan.”

  Zane laughed. He led me into the cinema, which boasted a dozen rows of huge, comfortable leather recliners, digital and traditional projectors, surround sound, and even a tiny concessions window done up in old Hollywood style with a smiling staff member waiting to serve us a selection of treats.

  “This place is absolutely charming,” I gasped, running my hand over the leather seats.

  “It’s my pride and joy,” he said, and then quickly added. “Well, that, and my country, of course.”

  “I suppose it’s fair to say this is a new addition to the family palace?”

  He laughed. “Yes, yes. This wasn’t installed by my great-great-grandfather. It was an ascension gift to myself.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Zane gestured to the chairs. “Will you sit and watch a movie with me?”

  I paused, surprised. For some reason, this was the last thing I expected to be offered when I arrived here, and yet what a pleasant surprise it was. To sit down and just enjoy a movie with a handsome man, instead of stressing about the industry all day?

  I smiled. “Count me in.”

  We gathered up a selection of popcorn and candy and took seats in side-by-side recliners. The movie started and I immediately recognized it as one of my own—my most recent, in fact. It was a psychological thriller about a detective who uncovers the patterns of a serial killer, and while the plot featured plenty of well-used tropes, I had still loved working on it.

  “I know some actresses don’t ever watch the final product of their films,” began Zane as he settled in next to me. “Is that true for you?”

  I shook my head and gave him a sheepish look. “Call it ego, I guess, but I always want to see how everything turned out. It’s easier to learn from my mistakes and grow that way.”

  He nodded knowingly. “Sure, just like good soccer teams do—re-watch the footage after a match to spot their mistakes.”

  “Exactly. But I also get why some actors don’t want to do it.” I stared up at the big screen and let out a sigh. “Sometimes, you didn’t like the movie in the first place and have no desire to relive it. It’s just a resume bullet you want to move on from. Sometimes you don’t want to watch because it’s not a pleasant experience to know millions of people just watched you screw up at your job.”

  Zane stared at me quietly for a moment, blinking a few times. “Beautifully put, Julianne. I understand exactly how you feel.”

  The realization made me nod. “I guess you probably do, don’t you? I forget that royalty and politicians also live in a fishbowl.”

  We smiled at each other until the movie demanded our attention with its violent opening scene.

  “Was it hard to work on a movie like this?” asked Zane.

  “Not really. I had a lot of fun with this one. It’s full of clichés and the plot’s not very clever; it’s definitely not my best. But sometimes, the predictable A-list movies get boring,” I admitted.

  His expression said he didn’t like hearing me talk like that. “Come now, all of your work is wonderful.”

  “I think that’s just because you’re biased in favor of me,” I teased.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Not all movies have to be ground-breaking. This one sure isn’t. But it had a lot of raw emotion, and the dialogue was such perfectly-written noir. I couldn’t pass it up.”

  “It’s certainly one of my favorites,” he agreed. “You’re right about the strength of the emotions. It pulls you in and holds you tight.”

  I smiled at him. “Thanks, that’s nice to hear.”

  The plot began to rev up and we fell into silence, focusing on the film. For the first few minutes, it was hard maintaining my concentration. I was still a little shell-shocked at the reveal of the movie theater. I thought for sure Zane had been about to introduce me to his bedroom and I’d be turning around for another twelve-hour flight back home—probably stuffed in the coach section of some normal airline this time. I’d been so sure that he had malicious intentions; I wasn’t sure what to do with the revelation that I had been wrong.

  The Sheikh, it turned out, was just a nice, lonely guy at the top of the world who wanted to watch movies with someone. He’d been a perfect gentleman every second of the day so far, and my instincts told me it would stay that way. Some men turned, sure; some were masters of the art of two-faced deception and could play the gentleman for weeks, even, before the cracks started to show, like Jack had. I had a clear head this time, however, and was determined never to be fooled by a man like that again. My gut was sure that Zane wasn’t one of those guys; he was genuinely sweet.

  I relaxed and sank into the comfy black leather of the chair to watch myself chase down a serial killer while I sat next to a sheikh. It was during moments like this that I wondered how I ever wound up with this crazy life.

  After the end of the movie, we both felt that same force boiling up in our blood, and all we wanted to do was watch more movies. Our conversation during the last one had been peppered with wonderful discussion about the craft. The Sheikh surprised me with his extensive knowledge of the industry, and spoke like a true filmmaker. Plus, he was all too happy to hear my stories from the production, including how our relatively green wunderkind director got frustrated when one of the infant actors couldn’t make it, and wanted to replace the scene with a baby doll, until I had a laughing fit when I saw how lifeless the doll looked in the scenes.

  “You saved the movie,” he told me as we stood up to stretch our muscles. “It would have ruined the entire tension of the climax if all the audience could focus on was a stiff plastic baby in your arms.”