“All good?” she asked just as a flight attendant boarded the plane with a bright smile and immediately got busy in a little area tucked off to the side.

  “Yes. Just some business details.” Amad crossed his fingers, tapping his thumb against his knuckle. “Are you sure you’re okay with the extended trip abroad?”

  When Amad had suggested she accompany him on his next visit home, she’d agreed in a heartbeat. Meeting the family seemed right, now that they had a new family member on the way. After all, it wasn’t like she had much in Vegas. Her friends, sure, but beyond them? An emotionally distant mother who’d always encouraged her to be a gold digger. Wasn’t too hard to walk away from that.

  Even though her mother’s “advice” was never far from Vanessa’s mind. It was precisely what had made Vanessa stick with the lease on her apartment. She didn’t want to be left high and dry when this thing came crashing down. Whether it was in weeks or months or years, it couldn’t last. They’d realize eventually that they’d been rash or dumb or idealistic, and probably Amad would be the one to bow out and move on to greener pastures. She could see it all already, like a movie she hated watching but had been playing nonstop since childhood.

  Despite her conditioning to distrust all men and see them as mere sources of money, she wanted to believe that there was something special beneath all this. She wanted to prove to herself that it wasn’t, and never had been, about the money with Amad. Hell, she hadn’t even realized he had so much money. Which meant the pressure was on now to distance herself from the wealth.

  “I’m fine with it, as long as you are.” She nibbled on her lip, casting a nervous glance his way. “I don’t want you to get back to your homeland and think, ‘What the hell have I done?’ I mean, I’m just some poor American girl. I have nothing to offer.”

  Amad sent her a flat look that said, Oh, please. “Babe, you have more to offer in your pinky finger than some of the members of my own family.”

  “I doubt that,” she replied.

  “You are the light of every room you walk into,” Amad said, counting off fingers. “Your smile deserves to be on billboards. You constantly enjoy life, even when you’re sad. You love a good challenge. And that ass…” He bit his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes. “Did I mention that ass?”

  She laughed, swatting at his arm. The stewardess emerged from the kitchenette holding a tray with a glass of orange juice. She approached Vanessa, offering the glass. On a small plate next to the juice were two fat pills.

  “Uh,” Vanessa said, “what’s going on here? Are these sleeping pills for the ride?”

  Amad snatched the juice and pills, thanking the stewardess. “Of course not. Just prenatal pills with some fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

  Vanessa rolled her lips inward. Somehow, tears were begging to escape again. “Are you serious?”

  “No, I’m not. They’re horse pills, and you won’t wake up for a week,” Amad cracked.

  “I had a sneaking suspicion you’d prefer me asleep for the whole trip,” she teased before popping the pills into her mouth and washed them down.

  “Oh, God. Never.” Amad scooped her hand up in his and brought it to his lips. “You are perfect and stunning and vivacious. Can’t a man take care of his wife?”

  She fought a grin as she sipped at the juice. It really was fresh squeezed. “It’ll take some getting used to. All of it will.” She paused, wondering how much she should reveal. But her past had been weighing heavily on her since their wedding night. “I just want to make sure we do this better than what I had growing up. The marriage…parenting. Everything. My mom wasn’t…great. I never knew my father. Never even had a father figure. I just want our baby to have stability. To have a good life.”

  “And I promise you, no matter what, our baby will have the best life imaginable.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He already has the two best parents possible. And that’s a pretty good start.”

  The two of them lapsed into cuddling and chatting as the plane took off and found its cruising altitude high above the clouds. Hours melted away between light naps, fresh snacks, and lots of conversation. Once they were about an hour outside of Amatbah, Vanessa wanted the official rundown.

  “So you’re sure everyone is okay with the fact that I’m from the other side of the world? From Vegas, no less?”

  “My brothers are modern, I promise. There will be no issue. In fact, my elder brother just married a Westerner like yourself. So you’ll be in good company.”

  Vanessa lifted a brow. “Another English-speaking American?”

  “Exactly. She’s half-Amatbahn but grew up in the States. Her name is Calla. I think you two will get along well, actually. She’s a fashion designer, and I’ve had it in the back of my head that you might be able to do some modeling for her.”

  Vanessa tried to squash the pangs of excitement. She didn’t want to get too invested in planning and the future. It was a tactical defense. “So who is the king of your country?”

  “My brother, Fatim.”

  “And what about your parents?”

  “They’re no longer with us. My mother passed ages ago, and my father joined her about seven years back. Fatim has been ruling Amatbah ever since.”

  “Wow.” Vanessa clucked her tongue. To say that she had been grossly underinformed about Amad’s personal history was an understatement. Would that have changed her decision to marry him?

  “You look pensive.” Amad took her hand in his again. “I promise, everything will be fine. My tribe is welcoming and fair.”

  “Your tribe.” She repeated it slowly. “You always say that…”

  “We are a tribal nation.” He ran his thumb along the knobs of her knuckles. “We’ve been settled in Amatbah for generations and still maintain the tribal structure to this day.”

  She shook her head, pressing her palm to her forehead. “And all this time I thought you were just talking about your friends.” She sighed tersely. “I had no idea there was an actual…tribe.”

  “A tribe you’re about to meet.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “They’re going to love you. I promise.”

  It was hard not to get excited about the visit, or to get lost in the promise and enthusiasm swirling in his umber gaze. This was, by far, the biggest leap they’d ever taken together. But if anything, the two of them were known for their impulsive enjoyment of life. In the past three months, they’d been skydiving, climbed a mountain on a whim, and spent a night in a tent just because it seemed like a good idea.

  This was in their nature. They were good at things like this.

  Vanessa wanted to see it through. She just couldn’t tell if the nervous prickles in her gut were a good or a bad sign.

  She so badly wanted to believe that this fast marriage and pending baby of theirs would turn out like the storybooks promised it would. With a happily-ever-after and rainbows and garden gnomes shitting presents.

  She just knew better than that. No matter how much she wanted to believe, no matter how much Amad’s gaze promised her the world and beyond…

  She knew better.

  5

  Amad took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Ahhh…home. The scent of burning wood wafted on the early breeze, and chatter in his native language snagged at his attention in a way that English never did when he strutted through public places in America.

  Palace employees waved as he passed. His first order of business this morning was a tribal meeting, and then he had the whole day to help Vanessa explore her new home. Their arrival the night before had been whirlwind and overwhelming, especially for Vanessa. The long trip combined with a surprise appearance of pregnancy-related nausea meant she’d opted for an early bedtime. Amad didn’t mind—they had plenty of time to meet everyone, and he liked doting on her.

  It was strange. Before meeting Vanessa, Amad had been the type of guy to have a girl in every port, so to speak. It was just his style. He liked having fun; he liked keeping things light.

  With Vanessa, the goal of their marriage would be to keep things light. Their sex had always flowed white hot and passionate, and beyond sex she was always a compliant, happy-go-lucky companion in Vegas. Out here, he expected the same. Except now, he’d shower her with presents and show her just how good life could be.

  Amad whistled as he breezed through the palace hallways. As always, he was one of the only ones in Western clothes. He considered himself the American branch of the family, since he spent so much time over there. Living in the US had been necessary for business, but now he’d come to prefer it. Besides, it wasn’t in his nature to stay in one place all year long.

  He just wondered if Vanessa would end up liking it here. Truthfully, he had business that could keep him for a month or longer. He would never force Vanessa to stay that long, but he could see her settling in, making a place for herself. After all, Calla lived here full time now. They could hang out and get their nails done, lounge by the pool all day. Maybe Vanessa would make two Americans in residence at the palace.

  Amad strode into the gardens, enjoying the scent of lilac and jasmine in the breeze. He was heading for the royal tents, where he’d be meeting with the resident tribal leaders about the state of the tribal businesses abroad. But when he entered the tents, he stopped short.

  Calla sat in the head chair, surrounded by women. Off to the side, Fatim scrolled through his phone. He wasn’t even at the table. His brother—the king. Amad stuffed his hands into his pockets, approaching the single empty chair at the table slowly. This wasn’t just odd. This was wrong.

  “Good morning,” he said stiffly, easing into his chair. Fatim glanced up, a smile breaking through his serious features.

  “Brother! And you’re on time, no less.”

  “I am.” He laughed as Calla wrapped up her conversation with the woman beside her. She sent him a bright smile.

  “There you are, Amad. You didn’t bring Vanessa with you?”

  The question stupefied him. Of course he wouldn’t bring Vanessa to this, a work function—a meeting that was normally held with men only. Amad couldn’t help but think that his father would never have allowed this. Sure, it wasn’t his father’s tribe anymore. No, Fatim had done a great job of taking things in a new and modern direction. But disrupting the natural order of things just seemed…excessive.

  “She’s not feeling well,” Amad said simply, buttoning and unbuttoning his sports coat. “Besides, she doesn’t have a stake in the business. Seemed like it might be inappropriate to invite her.”

  “She doesn’t have a stake yet, right?” Calla asked, winking his way.

  Amad sent his brother an uneasy look. “Sure, we could make it a full family affair, I suppose. Though the direction is rather…new.”

  Understanding creased Fatim’s face, but he said nothing.

  “Well, you told me she’s always on top of fashion trends in the US,” Calla went on. “That could be seriously helpful as we think about expanding our line for that market.”

  “Sure. Sure.” Amad cleared his throat again, looking around at the unfamiliar faces around him. He recognized a few women from years past. Tribal wives, if his memory served correctly. He glanced at Fatim. “Are we waiting on anybody else for this meeting?”

  Fatim shook his head, pocketing his phone. He still sat off to the side, as if he was a spectator instead of the king. “Nope. We’re ready.”

  Amad fiddled with his watch as silence overtook the table. “Are you going to join us?”

  “I’m here,” Fatim said, gesturing in front of him. “I’m just not leading the meeting.”

  Amad laughed. This was ludicrous now. Things had changed far more than he was prepared to handle this morning, but this wasn’t the place to make a scene. “Great. So, let’s get started.”

  Calla launched the meeting with a quick snapshot of recent developments in the fashion line and the vision she had for the future expansion. The main issue was the funding, which Amad promised the ladies he had covered. He remained purposefully vague about it, because the truth was that he had liquidated the tribe’s tech holdings in order to free up the capital needed to support the new fashion line.

  Amad didn’t feel like he needed to give an in-depth breakdown anyway. He was the finance guy, so it was his discretion. It was a big leap, but one he believed in fully.

  After all, the deal would work out. It had to. Everything was riding on it, and he’d do everything to make sure that this fashion line became a new, strong facet of his tribe’s economy. Calla’s line promised to bring countless jobs and a new source of pride to Amatbah. It was—and would be—huge.

  He was sure of it.

  Amad, Calla, and her advisors had an intense and productive meeting, with lots of pointed questions and smart answers. Even though things had strayed far from tradition, Amad could accept it. For now.

  Once everyone was clearing the tent, Amad strode over to Fatim.

  “Where are the tribal leaders?” he asked into his ear.

  Fatim shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

  Amad smirked. “They’re supposed to be here. Did you allow them to miss this meeting on purpose?”

  Fatim sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry, brother. I forgot you haven’t been here in quite a while.”

  “Yeah. Seems more like decades than months,” Amad said.

  “The tribal leaders aren’t required to be at every meeting. We have a new way of dispersing information,” Fatim said as they began a slow walk back toward the palace. The scent of cumin reached Amad’s nose—the kitchen staff must have been preparing lunch already. “Furthermore, those are the most important people you need to meet with in matters of the clothing line. Calla is completely in control of this project.”

  “We’re in control of this project,” Amad corrected.

  Fatim paused, his jaw working back and forth. “You heard me right.”

  Amad studied his brother’s face for a moment, trying to find the part of him that had withered and died since getting married. This couldn’t—wouldn’t—happen to him. He’d make sure of it. Men and women had their roles. They had their space. And the meeting space was the man’s space.

  “How has the rest of the tribe taken this change?”

  Fatim shrugged, and they resumed strolling through the gardens. The mid-morning sun was getting stronger now, warming the soft gray button-down shirt covering Amad’s back.

  “There was some pushback, obviously,” Fatim said in a conspiratorially low voice. “But part of my vision as king is to move the tribe in a more modern direction. To be more progressive. And that involves women having representation, especially regarding their work.”

  “Women already were represented,” Amad countered. “They played a critical, invaluable role behind the scenes. We couldn’t function without them. But on the level of business negotiations—”

  “I hear you. But this is just how it is, brother,” Fatim said, his tone leaving no more room for discussion. He clapped him on the back. “You have an American wife now. You’ll see how it is.”

  Amad snorted and shook his head, but he didn’t argue further.

  Fatim was wrong about that part. Amad knew how his marriage would be—the way that made sense. The traditional way.

  Surely, Vanessa would think the same.

  6

  As Vanessa woke up that morning, the first thing she spotted was Amad’s grinning face and the dimple in his left cheek.

  “Morning, babe.” He ran his knuckles over her hairline. “Did you sleep well?”

  She yawned, stretching out into the big, comfy bed. It was larger than a king, which was ironic since Amad was only a prince. “Amazingly well.” She paused, feeling a strange turn in her stomach. “But I think the nausea is back.”

  Amad stroked her arm, which sent goose bumps prickling over her skin. She snuggled closer to him where he sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I’ve got breakfast on the way, if you can handle it. If not, it’s no big deal.”

  “I’ll try,” she said, offering a smile. “This pregnancy nausea is no joke. I got lucky it didn’t start until now.”

  “When you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to take you on a tour of the palace. Calla wants to meet you and show you around too.”

  “I would love that.”

  A soft knock interrupted their conversation, and a palace employee entered a moment later with a large tray. She spread out the goods—a plate of scrambled eggs, tea, a glass of orange juice, and whole wheat toast—before taking her leave.

  Vanessa sat up and eyed the spread. Based on the tightening of her stomach, only the orange juice seemed feasible. She pointed at it, and Amad brought the glass over from the table. She took a tentative sip, grimaced, and set the glass down.

  “I think I’m good on breakfast for now,” she said, curling back into the bed.

  Amad pressed a kiss to her forehead and then eased into one of the overstuffed arm chairs near the large windows overlooking the sprawling eastern lawn of the property. “I’ll check my email until you’re ready.”

  Vanessa sighed, snuggling into the pillows and sheets, watching Amad as he brought out his phone. A happy grin crossed her face as she watched him frown at his phone, running an index finger back and forth over his bottom lip. After several minutes, she giggled.

  “What’s so funny over there?” Amad asked without looking her way.

  “Just admiring your serious face,” she said, pushing to sitting. Nausea wracked her, but she could power through. She paused at the edge of the bed. “It’s giving me the strength to get up.”

  “You’re doing wonderfully.”

  Vanessa sighed, shuffling over to her luggage which still lay cracked open on the floor. She pawed through the contents before deciding on a simple sundress. After using the restroom and very carefully brushing her teeth so as to not vomit, she was ready.