In fact, he was trying to ignore how gorgeous she was. Touching her hand had been a mistake. Now he wanted to touch the sides of her neck, to take her face in his hands, and...

  Amare pulled his hand away, noting a small smile on her face and shoulders newly let down from her ears.

  “I don’t do romantic relationships when I travel.” Her tone had turned prim. “It’s much less messy that way.”

  He chuckled, but an old, distant pain flared to life around his heart. Amare pushed this pain down and away more than any other, and he did it automatically now, so he wouldn’t feel it. Wouldn’t react to it. After Kamaria, he had no desire or need to share his heart with anyone. Not ever again. The risk was too great to both of them.

  “We’re a good match, then,” he said finally, and Nadia let out a breath.

  They rolled on for a couple of miles before something else occurred to him. “Where were you staying in Larasan?”

  “An AirBnB at the heart of the city. I was supposed to stay until the end of the week, but now...” She shivered. “I’m not sure any place in that city is safe for me.”

  “Certainly not.” A protective instinct had reared up at her shiver. Samira had told him very briefly about who her friend was—a woman who traveled frequently and alone, and who knew how to handle herself. If she was asking for help, she was serious. But he didn’t want her staying within fifty miles of Haatim. “You’ll stay with me tonight. We can part ways in the morning.”

  “With you?” A lift in her tone made the question almost suggestive.

  “At the palace in Kirisil. I’ll have the staff make up a guest suite for you.”

  He could feel her considering the offer. Amare hoped she wouldn’t insist on staying elsewhere in the city. Men like Haatim could be reckless when they were provoked, and the boundary between their countries wouldn’t pose much of an obstacle if Haatim was determined to reclaim his lost prize. The safest place for her was inside the guarded walls of his own home.

  “As long as it’s no trouble,” she said finally.

  “It would be my pleasure.” An outsized wave of relief moved through him at the prospect of keeping her close tonight. Not so close that he’d be distracted by how beautiful she was or the sweetness of her scent, which reminded him faintly of lavender and sunshine. Amare took out his phone and sent several directives to his staff. Her room would be ready for her by the time they arrived, and he dispatched an aide to her Larasan residence—luckily, she remembered the address.

  They spent the next stretch of the drive making small talk. He learned that Nadia had met Samira at a film festival in Abu Dhabi.

  “When she was taking classes?”

  “Yes, and I was thinking about going into film production.” The lights from an oil refinery came in through the SUV’s tinted windows in a soft haze. It was an island of light in the dark stretch of desert. “We spent the whole festival talking and going to films together. Thank God for that. I don’t know who I would have called. They had me in that room for hours.”

  Amare took a deep breath and let it out. As sheikh, he couldn’t afford to have a quick temper. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall into the traditional male patterns of ruling through intimidation and outbursts. His father hadn’t done that often, but when he had—

  His frustration now had nothing to do with Nadia and everything to do with Haatim. Locking her in a room—for God’s sake. He should be the one to impose sanctions on Haatim, not the other way around. Of course, he would be quick to let go of his anger and slow to retaliate. Amare wouldn’t upset the balance of power in the region over this...yet.

  He turned to ask Nadia another question, only to find that she’d nodded off. Just as well. It was several hours to Kirisil. They’d be on the road until very late.

  Stars still shone, glimmering in the black sky, when the SUV approached his palace. They passed through two sets of security gates before arriving at the circle drive behind the building. The palace in Kirisil was taller than Haatim’s. More graceful. White arches reached toward the sky on the lower level and decorated the parapets.

  “Welcome home.” Amare helped a sleepy Nadia out of the SUV, and servants descended to bring his things. The palace could provide her everything she might need until her own belongings were retrieved.

  Nadia gave a soft laugh and tipped her head back to survey the palace. “Gorgeous architecture.” She pursed her lips.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Whether I could film here for my YouTube channel. Not in the secured area, of course, but somewhere with a backdrop...”

  She would only be here the one night. What was the harm? “Before you leave, our backdrop is yours.”

  The palace staff opened the huge double doors for them, and they went inside. Nadia yawned. Amare dismissed the instinct to take her to his own rooms and keep her awake and talking just to hear the sound of her voice. Instead, he beckoned over one of his staff. A small contingent always waited up for him when he was traveling, even when he arrived home in the small hours of the night. “This is my head housekeeper, Miriam.” Nadia smiled and waved. “She’ll take you to your room. Your things should arrive in the morning. Take all the time you need to rest and make whatever plans you need to. Someone will be available to take you wherever you need to go whenever you’re ready. Sleep well.”

  “Wait.” Nadia turned away from Miriam and put her arms around him. “Thank you. For getting me out of there.” She gave him a brief squeeze, then seemed to remember that he was the sheikh and let go. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” It was strange, how quickly he felt her absence...and an urge to follow her down the hall where Miriam led. Instead, Amare stood for a security briefing then went to his own rooms. They were separated from the guest wing by an expanse of hallway lined with airy alcoves, each one featuring a piece of art—some on loan from the world’s most prestigious museums, some by local artists, and some from the palace’s own collection. He found himself wondering what Nadia thought of them as she passed by.

  He was overtired. That’s all it was, the pull to her. They’d been in a tense situation, he’d had a rush of adrenaline, and then he’d spent the car ride home smelling her lavender shampoo, or soap, or whatever it was.

  Amare thought of it as he fell asleep.

  His alarm went off only a few hours later. He put his feet on the floor without hesitation. A sheikh’s duties were never done. He padded out to his private sitting area, where the morning paper waited for him on his breakfast table by the window. His coffee steamed nearby. Amare’s staff had the timing down to a science. Dawn crested the horizon as he reached for the coffee.

  He’d just taken the first sip when his eyes landed on the headline.

  WEDDING BELLS FOR THE SHEIKH

  The big, bold letters were centered above a photo taken of Amare and Haatim at the beginning of the summit. Amare choked on his coffee, pounded at his chest, and managed to recover. He read the photo’s caption.

  Sheikh Haatim of Larasan congratulates Sheikh Amare of Kirisil on his impending nuptials.

  Curses. He should have anticipated that Haatim would pull something like this. “Miriam?”

  HIs head housekeeper usually hovered nearby in the mornings for just such an occasion. She stepped in from the larger entryway, a throwback to when sheikhs used to entertain the court in their private quarters. Amare was glad they’d given up that custom long before he became the sheikh.

  “Good morning, Sheikh Amare,” Miriam said. She’d been up late last night, too, but there was no sign of it on her face.

  “My guest, Nadia—I need to speak with her.”

  “It’s early yet.” Miriam looked thoughtful. “Would you like me to send someone at eight or nine?”

  “Now, please.”

  Amare didn’t relish the thought of someone else shaking her shoulder and seeing the first sleepy blinks of the morning, but he pushed the image out of his mind and read the rest of the article. Nadia appeared a few minutes later, a robe held around her waist with both arms, her cheeks flushed.

  Unfairly beautiful for someone with bedhead and wearing his sister’s pajamas.

  “What’s wrong?” Nadia looked around for the housekeeper, who had already made herself scarce. “Miriam said you needed to see me.” A huge yawn interrupted her, and she covered it with a delicate hand. “And it’s early, so something must be wrong.”

  “Sit with me.”

  She came to sit on the other side of the table just as Miriam came back in with a second coffee cup. Amare poured for Nadia, then handed over the cream in response to her murmured request. He had news to deliver. He could not get caught up in the sweet, just-woke-up breathiness of her voice.

  “The press is reporting on our engagement.” He turned the paper around so she could read the headline. “Haatim wanted to congratulate us publicly.”

  Nadia’s eyes went wide, the coffee forgotten in front of her. “Is it...a very big deal?”

  No, he wanted to say, if only to chase the nervousness out of her eyes. But Amare wouldn’t lie to her. “To correct Haatim now would mean calling him a liar in front of the world, and a sheikh like Haatim would take it as a great insult.”

  “Meaning...”

  “Worst-case scenario, it could escalate to war.”

  The color fled from Nadia’s cheeks. One mistake. That’s all it had taken to get them to this point. One ill-placed table and one ill-placed vase, and they were on the verge of an international incident.

  Nadia cleared her throat, trying once, then twice to speak. “What are we going to do now?”

  He looked her square in her gorgeous, dark eyes. “Would you be willing to go along with our ruse for a little while longer? Just until I can figure out a way to extricate us both without causing any upset.”

  She leaned back in her seat, the corner of her mouth turned down. “I’m not the best at lying.” Nadia worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “But I’ll do it, with one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “I don’t want to lie to Samira.” Nadia’s expression was so open, so earnest. “We’re friends, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

  Relief. Sweet relief. It would be much easier this way, and the way she cared about her friendship made her seem familiar to him. Close, almost, though they weren’t. He let that relief show on his face in a genuine smile.

  “I agree. I don’t want to lie to my mother, either. I don’t want to get her hopes up.”

  Nadia picked up her coffee and blew on the surface, color coming back into her face. Decision made. They could move forward now. “We’ll need a story for how we met.”

  “When I came to Abu Dhabi to collect my sister from school. We’ve had a pen pal type relationship via email ever since.”

  Her eyes brightened. “And how did you propose?”

  “It was simple. Not the way Faidh told it.” So outrageous.

  “Your friend?”

  “More like a brother, but yes. In reality...” Vivid images flashed through his imagination. “I kept it simple. A private dinner at the palace, and afterward, while we were watching the stars from the balcony...”

  “You got down on one knee. I cried from joy.” Nadia’s tone was so deadpan and serious that he laughed. It felt good to laugh with her. Almost too good. He could play this game with her for hours, and he wanted to.

  Except they didn’t have the time. The rest of the palace would be waking up soon. The two of them couldn’t linger over coffee, planning and imagining. “And I thought you were the most beautiful fiancée ever to walk the earth.” Nadia smiled at that. “That’s enough to go ahead with for now. The palace will be up soon, and the staff shouldn’t see us spending early mornings together like this until our engagement is formally announced.”

  The corner of Nadia’s mouth lifted. “Are you kicking me out?”

  “Yes,” he answered gravely. “Just for now. You might not be my real fiancée, but you are a gorgeous woman in a state of undress. People will talk.”

  “I’m taking this with me.” Nadia stood up and cupped her coffee cup in her hands. “Your proposal was a dream come true, by the way. I couldn’t have imagined a better one.”

  Then she padded out of his room, leaving only a hint of her scent behind.

  3

  She’d played it cool in the crack-of-dawn meeting with Amare, but out in the hallway on the way back to her suite, Nadia’s hands started to shake. What had she been thinking, flirting with him? Trying to hide her nervousness, that’s what. Somehow she had agreed to continue with the pretend engagement. She had looked at that unbelievably handsome man across the table and said Yes, I will lie for you. I will stand close to you and smile for the press, and I will not, not for one second, have any feelings about you.

  Nadia crossed the threshold into her guest suite in a shocked daze. The suite didn’t help bring back a sense of reality. The space had three rooms and was bigger than the two-bedroom apartment she’d shared with her mother in New York City. She abandoned the coffee on the coffee table—appropriate—and wandered back into the bedroom. The covers were still rumpled on the king-size bed. It was, without question, the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in. It had been made up with the softest sheets she’d ever felt. Pillows for days. Nadia had time to go back to sleep, but could she do it?

  No. A shower would be better. Nadia opened the door to her private bathroom, which she’d been too sleepy to really see the night before, and—

  Wow. Wow. This bathroom was what dreams were made on. Miles of glistening marble and tile dotted with gleaming polished fixtures. A soaking tub lay under an oval skylight on one end. The other end boasted a shower with one of those showerheads that mimicked rainfall. Nadia was familiar with those from the travel circles she ran in on Instagram, but she’d never taken one of those luxury trips.

  And now here she was.

  Yes, the shower would be fine. More than fine. It would be great.

  She lingered under the sprayers, using a variety of the products that waited for her in glass bottles. Expensive. The creams and shampoo and conditioner felt expensive between her fingers. Heat from the water complemented their light, delicate scents. After the single best shower of her life, she pulled open a drawer in the giant vanity and found a lineup of brand-new styling tools, along with a series of brushes, combs, and dental care. Nadia blew out her hair, opened another drawer, and—makeup. The palace staff had thought of everything.

  They had even, she discovered, stocked the wardrobe with clothes. Nadia stood at the open front. Six—no, seven outfits, all brand-new, all in her size. Her luggage had been delivered while she was in the bathroom. She had options. A rose-colored tunic and black leggings, along with flats, seemed good for the moment. Comfortable, too. She had just pulled the tunic over her head and was adjusting it when a soft knock sounded at the door.

  Nadia gave the wardrobe mirror a quick glance—all good—then stepped to the door of her suite and opened it.

  Amare stood in the hallway, looking clean and fresh and so sharp in the morning light that he took her breath away. He’d been slightly rumpled before, in dark sweatpants and an equally dark shirt, but now he shone in a crisp white shirt and dress pants that fit him so well her mouth watered.

  “I’ve brought you breakfast,” he announced, a light in his dark eyes, and Nadia’s face heated.

  “Perfect timing.” She stepped back to let him in, and a staff member followed with a wheeled serving cart. The man moved easily to a breakfast nook off to the side of her sitting area and laid out place settings and a series of covered dishes. Amare waited patiently until he was done, then put a hand lightly on the small of her back.

  “Please, sit.”

  Nadia found herself soothed by his confidence. There was no shyness in the way he touched or approached her. No nervousness about the way he pulled out her chair and then took his own seat. He was the sheikh. He was in charge of every room he walked into. With every step away from his room earlier, she’d grown more panicked about the situation they were in. Him? He was perfectly at ease.

  The servant uncovered the serving dishes and she found freshly buttered English muffins, fruit in a chilled bowl, and plump sausages along with a fluffy pillow of scrambled eggs. Another dish contained pita and falafel.

  “A little of everything,” Amare said, holding out the eggs so she could serve herself. “Also, I got you a present.” Amare met her eyes over their plates as they ate a few minutes later. He reached into his pocket and took out a phone—brand-new and shining. It felt featherlight in her hands, so new it was slippery. “Keep it with you at all times.”

  Nadia was almost insulted. Who was Amare, really, to be telling her things like this? But she couldn’t summon the emotion. Amare’s gesture was sweet. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d lost her old phone, and he’d replaced it.

  “Thank you.” She laid the phone carefully next to her place setting. “Now that you’re here, should we talk about the plan for telling your family about—”

  The door to the living room burst open, and a small boy came running through the room. She caught a glimpse of dark hair and still-round cheeks. He had to be no more than five or six, but he was moving too fast to tell. The boy lunged at Amare, hugging him hard, and Nadia’s heart flipped over at the sheer joy on Amare’s face.

  His son. This was his son. She’d known in a vague sense that he had a son, since Samira had mentioned him, but Nadia hadn’t thought about it in any level of detail. But oh, Amare loved his son. It radiated from him. Amare pulled the boy close for one long squeeze, then gestured to Nadia. “Taavi, this is my friend Nadia. Nadia, my son Taavi.”

  “I’m five years old, and it’s nice to meet you.” Amare’s son looked just like him, and his hurried words were replaced by a huge, nervous smile. “Nadia. Nadia,” he whispered, and then he leaned in close to Amare. “Did you bring her here for me?”

  Amare stared at his son for a long moment. “Bring her here for you? What does that mean?”