“It’s not. In the end, all this will be worth it. You deserve the title, and when this is over, you’ll have it. I’m not half the politician you are. You’ll do more for Nouzar than I ever could. I love our country too much to stay on the throne and deprive our people of your leadership.”

  Meher shook her head, but then she uncovered her plate, too. For the rest of lunch, they talked about matters of the kingdom. The budget proposals Meher had on her desk. Faidh’s meeting with the council. By the end, they’d steered into the general business of running Nouzar. Faidh got through this part of the conversation on autopilot. All he could think about was dinner with Mina.

  Back in his office, he did the only task he wanted to think about at the moment: drafting the pardon for Mina’s father. A phone call to Elyas for his witnessing, and ten minutes later, it was done. All that remained was to fill in the effective date, which he’d do the moment the fake engagement ended, right before he stepped down from his position. As Elyas left with a grimace and a shake of his head—as skeptical of the plan as Meher—Faidh slid the document into the top drawer of his desk, ready and waiting.

  He frittered the rest of the afternoon away, then left early to get ready for dinner.

  Faidh paced his private dining room for fifteen minutes before a staff member brought Mina to his door right on time. He held his hand out to her, grinning broadly. She wore a simple dress in a deep pink that made her cheeks look rosier and brought out her dark eyes.

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  She returned his grin with a nervous one of her own, coming to take his hand as her guide left again. “Hi,” she said, blushing furiously. “That was a little much.”

  “Was it? We’re engaged, after all. Come sit with me and pretend we’re madly in love.”

  She took her seat across the table from him. Faidh’s heart beat faster at the look she was giving him. Wide-eyed, as if he were the most interesting person in the world. It was very nearly too much.

  “How were the pastries today?” he asked. The staff would be coming in and out, pouring water, switching out salad for soup and soup for the entrée, so he tried to think about what an engaged couple might discuss at the end of a long day.

  “I perfected my technique for making kataifi, the shredded pastry we use for some desserts. I’m getting pretty good at it. How—” Mina bit her lip. “How were things in your office?”

  “Very good,” he lied. He did not particularly enjoy his daily responsibilities as sheikh, but he’d do his best as long as he held the position. The phone calls today had hardly made an impression, however. “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

  “Dinner rolls,” she said dryly, and he laughed. It felt good to laugh with her. Better to see her crack a genuine smile. But it was still so awkward between them. The air seemed filled with too much fact—that he was the sheikh, and she was an apprentice in the kitchen, and they were only pretending. “What will you be doing? Still running the country, I imagine, Sheikh Faidh?”

  “I’ve told you a hundred times,” he joked. “You must call me Faidh. That, or you must call me darling.”

  Mina sputtered her water. “Darling? You want to be called darling?”

  “If it suits.” He bit back a racier joke that wouldn’t be at all appropriate to make to his not-fiancée, no matter how much he wanted to sit closer to her.

  She gave a little laugh, and once again they were out of their depth.

  Faidh looked her in the eye. “Let’s do this.” Mina perked up at his conspiratorial tone. “Let me plan something fun for a first date so we can get to know each other. It will make this easier.”

  “I agree,” she said, and she blushed again while she said it. “It will make it much easier.”

  4

  The next day, when she was finished in the pastry kitchen, Mina went to meet him in the main entry hall of the palace. It was a soaring space with marble floors and intricate patterns inlaid in gold on the ceiling. She had to remind herself not to gawk. It didn’t matter how many times she visited. This part of the palace was built to impress, and it impressed Mina.

  She didn’t have to pretend to be nervous as Faidh stepped into view near the doors. Her fingers twitched at the sight of his silky, dark curls. She wished she could keep her own hair half so neat. With his sharp jawline and dancing olive eyes, he was more than handsome in the afternoon glow coming through the palace doors. He was stunning. No wonder her hands trembled a bit. No wonder her stomach fluttered.

  “Good afternoon,” he said as he drew near. Faidh was dressed more causally than Mina had ever seen—dark jeans and a fitted T-shirt. His casual clothes still probably cost more than all her clothes combined. Faidh pulled her into a hug, and she tried not to tense up in his arms. He had a lean, muscular body, and it felt so good against hers. She’d have to be dead not to enjoy it.

  “Hi,” she said, willing herself to pull away. But in the end, it was Faidh who dropped his arms first. When he did, there was a heat in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. The corner of her mouth curved up in a smile. That was a nice reaction to get, even if they were only fake engaged. “Where are we going for our date?”

  It really was like a first date, she realized. They were going in order to get to know each other. So they could pretend more effectively. But her heart didn’t seem to know the difference. It banged around as if all the playacting was real. As if his gaze was locked on hers because he needed to look at her, not because he wanted to make things look good for the outside world.

  Faidh cleared his throat, shaking his head a little, and composed himself. It was fascinating to watch him get his expression in check. To disguise the heat in his eyes. It was there, but he hid it behind a mask of politeness. The mask of a sheikh. “I want to try something I’m interested in bringing to Nouzar. Part of my project to bring more sporting and racing opportunities to the area.”

  She had no idea what that meant, but Mina followed as Faidh led the way to an elevator. It would probably take them to the garage where he kept his cars. The doors slid closed, and Faidh pressed one of the buttons.

  The elevator went up and let them out at rooftop level. “What are we doing—oh!”

  A helicopter waited on a helipad, the pilot standing below. Faidh grinned at her. “Have you ever been in a helicopter before?”

  “No.” She put a hand to her chest, then dropped it back to her side. “Is it safe?”

  Faidh nodded. “Oh, yes. I only hire the best pilots, and the route has been cleared by security.”

  “The route to where?”

  The sheikh helped her up into the helicopter and climbed in after her. His hands moved quickly over the straps, clicking her in, and then he took the seat next to her as the pilot boarded and settled in behind the controls. A few seconds later, a second pilot followed. Faidh put a headset over her head, then put on his own matching one before he leaned in and lowered his voice.

  “Dubai,” he said. The helicopter’s rotors had started to turn, and she swallowed a nervous laugh.

  “Dubai?”

  “We can have as many dates as we want in the palace. I thought we should go somewhere more interesting for our first one.”

  In less than an hour, they had landed on the helipad of a building in Dubai. Mina took deep breaths and pretended to be absolutely calm. Hopefully, putting on the act of being completely at ease would make her seem appropriately excited. Oh god, this was nerve-racking. Where was he even going to take her?

  Faidh helped her down from the helicopter and led her through a door and into an elegant elevator lobby. Moments later and many floors lower, the elevator let them out into what looked like an access hallway. Nothing fancy here. One of Faidh’s bodyguards went through the door ahead of them, then waved them through.

  “Ready?” Faidh asked, grinning.

  “More than ready,” Mina answered, and they walked through the door together.

  She couldn’t keep herself from gasping as the room came into view. Room—it was more than a room.

  “Welcome to Ski Dubai,” Faidh told her, swinging his arm out to encompass the scene. It was an artificial indoor mountain. People on skis and snowboards carved paths through the snow. A chairlift went up one side of the mountain, and Mina laughed. Oh, it was wonderful. Wonderful and utterly ridiculous.

  “Do you bring all of your dates on scouting trips for potential businesses?” She posed the question as she and Faidh got suited up in the ski shop. He’d bought them everything brand new and winked at her when she fretted about only using the skis and clothing once.

  Faidh zipped up his jacket and shrugged. He looked unfairly handsome in an all-black ski outfit with red stripes down the arms. Mina’s matched his, with the colors reversed: red with black stripes. “It beats dinner and a movie, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Mina said. “It does.” She caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror at the back of the shop, and her heart thumped. Faidh was mouthwatering. And the red brought out the color in her cheeks. And her eyes…

  Not so bad, either.

  Before they went up the chairlift, Faidh took her across a stretch of snow to a habitat that rose out of the ground. Mina suppressed a squeal.

  “Are those penguins?”

  “You can meet them if you want.”

  She did want. Mina climbed up on the fake ice floe with the penguins, and the staff there fell over themselves to help her, to tell her everything she wanted to know. But…why was she in here by herself? Mina glanced behind her to see Faidh hanging back, and she hurried over and took his hand.

  “Come on,” she insisted. “They’ll take our picture.”

  Faidh hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

  “It’ll be fun,” she said, ignoring the beat of awkwardness, ignoring the sense that it was wrong to press a sheikh on something like petting a penguin. But Faidh cracked a smile and followed her back to the chubby, regal king penguin she’d been cuddling. Faidh’s movements were slightly stiff, but she felt him relaxing a bit, giving in as they stood there together.

  A man approached. “A photo, Sheikh Faidh?”

  “Of course,” Faidh said, but Mina saw him glance around before the photo was taken. His smile then was less grin, more sheikh—almost as formal as the penguin.

  Afterward, as they washed their hands, Mina turned to him. “Why were you so stiff around the penguins? Was something wrong?”

  Faidh shrugged. “You never know with penguins.”

  She scoffed. “Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me go up there myself.”

  “Is that so?”

  They walked over to the chairlift. She still couldn’t believe they were about to take an indoor chairlift up to the top of an indoor mountain. “Yes,” she said. “You would have protected me if penguins were really dangerous. You’re the sheikh of Nouzar.”

  He gave her a look that said for now.

  As the chairlift swept them into the air, a woman two chairs ahead of them turned around. The camera of her phone gleamed above the railing. Mina’s cheeks went hot. She was photographing them, and she wasn’t the only one. She inched closer to Faidh, who put his arm around her, resting his hand casually on her shoulder. “They’re taking pictures,” she whispered.

  Faidh looked down at her, the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Sheikhs are documented by the public when they’re out and about. That’s why security exists.” He winked at her. “Don’t worry, Mina Parks, I’ll protect you from the people, too.”

  With his arm around her like this, with his posture relaxed, she…trusted him. To keep her father’s name out of the media. To keep her secret and use her mother’s maiden name. To know how to navigate all of this. It was odd and probably foolish, but she couldn’t help it. As they stood at the top of the hill, he widened his eyes. “I didn’t ask—have you ever gone skiing before?”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “How do you think I got over here to you?”

  “Through subterfuge and determination,” he said seriously, his green eyes glinting, and then he pushed off and went down the hill. Mina followed. There wasn’t much skiing in Pasadena, but her parents had tried to take them to a variety of vacation spots where they could stay out of the public eye. They’d gone skiing at a budget resort in Colorado one winter, and Mina had loved it. That was the last time, but it felt easy with Faidh. When they reached the bottom, he wore a genuine grin.

  “You didn’t tell me you were in the Olympics,” he said, and she couldn’t help but laugh at that, too.

  “You didn’t tell me you were afraid of penguins,” she replied, and drew such a warm laugh from him that Mina wanted to do it again. She wanted to know what other things sounded like in his voice.

  “You grew up in California,” he said on the next run. “Where did you ski? I thought it was warm there.”

  “Colorado, one winter with my parents. They were very strict.” With good reason, she was beginning to see. Taking the job in Nouzar had been such a battle between them. This trip to Dubai had shown her how easy it was to find herself in the spotlight. “So we went to out-of-the-way places that we could afford, and one time we went skiing. I liked it.”

  “Is it better indoors or outdoors?”

  “Outdoors,” she said. “Haven’t you ever tried it?”

  “Once or twice,” Faidh said with a chuckle. Of course he had. He was rolling in riches.

  They spent several hours skiing, pausing for snacks and warm drinks once or twice, and then Faidh told her it was time for the last run. Getting a hotel for the night would be seen as highly improper, even though they were “engaged,” so they would take the helicopter back to Nouzar.

  Mina stood at the top of the slope, where big fans blew a cold breeze and fresh snow over the hill, and she breathed in deep before pushing off to go down. Left. Right. Left. She was almost halfway down when her ski caught in a groove and the snow rose up to meet her. Mina’s skis detached, but losing them didn’t slow her down at all. She rolled all the way to the bottom of the run, and seconds later, Faidh’s skis slid up next to her.

  He crouched down, easing her up, concern darkening his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Mina couldn’t catch her breath. Not from crying—from laughing. “I—” Truly. Not a single full breath. Her laughter had her in its grip. “I’m fine,” she wheezed.

  The sheikh shook his head, then pulled her to her feet. “You’re a wild thing, aren’t you?” He sounded mildly reproachful, as if the sheikh’s fake fiancée shouldn’t have spills on the ski hill, but his face lit up with a grin.

  Her laugh melted into an answering smile, and as he worked to steady her, a rush of adrenaline pulled her closer. Mina leaned in, unthinking, her heart racing, and kissed him.

  Faidh kissed her back.

  All the awkwardness from dinner the night before and from earlier in the day dissolved in the heat of his kiss. Faidh made a soft sound, controlled, as if he’d been holding back from doing it all this time. His lips were soft but strong and oh, he was a good kisser, coaxing her lips open, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue…

  It wasn’t until she’d had a chance to taste him, to really feel him, that Faidh pulled back. His eyes lingered on hers, dropping down to her lips for a heartbeat and then tracing over her throat.

  Oh, wow. It would look real. It would look so real to anyone who was watching.

  The kiss felt real.

  Faidh took her hand and pulled it through his arm so he could lead her off the mountain. Behind them, a staff member hurried to retrieve her skis and followed at a respectful distance. On the way, Faidh reached into his pocket for his phone.

  “Ah,” he said. “The palace press secretary has issued the statement about our engagement. Want to read it?”

  Mina did. His phone felt oversized in her hand, expensive and heavy, but it made the release easy to read. It was straightforward and contained some information about Mina Parks, the pastry chef apprentice turned love interest of the sheikh. It kept every one of Faidh’s promises. It kept her real name out of the news and focused only on their relationship and the present. Not a word about the past.

  5

  Facts were facts: Faidh had thought of Mina as a kind of adversary, a person he’d spar with over their arrangement. To his surprise—and his delight—they did not spar, except in a light, kidding way. For the first week of their fake engagement, they made a point of spending time together after she was done in the kitchens. They visited the old bazaar at the center of the city so the press could print photos of Faidh giving her a taste of basbousa, a sweet cake, while Mina laughed. They took strolls around the public gardens, pausing to gaze at the fountain. From that outing, the press printed a photo of Mina leaning her head against Faidh’s shoulder with a soft smile on her face.

  She wasn’t an adversary at all. More of a partner. And she was gorgeous to look at in front of all his favorite places in the city.

  On the seventh day, Faidh invited Mina to his private dining room for breakfast. She was a couple of minutes late and came in with a sheepish smile.

  “I overslept,” she said, her cheeks pink. It was a delicious color on her skin. “All the baking. All the dates. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I’m complaining,” he pretended to grouse. “You’ve denied me two minutes of your company.”

  Mina stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed. He was grinning like a fool, he knew. Grinning in a very un-sheikh-like way. But she made him feel lighthearted in a way that was more genuine than it had been in a long, long time.

  “There’s a price for sticking your tongue out at me,” he intoned, getting up from his seat. He went to her, tipped her face up to his, and kissed her in full view of the waiter who was coming in to fill their coffee mugs. Mina laughed into the kiss. Faidh wanted more of that sensation, but he’d kissed her twice the day before—once in full view of the staff, so gossip would spread to the council about how happy they were, and once just because he felt like it. All their kisses had been public so far. That way, he could pretend it was just to add realism to the engagement.