Faidh pulled back, staying close to breathe her in, and then he pulled away and went back to his seat. Yes, it was a far cry from their original conversation about PDA, but Mina tasted so sweet. Why deny himself if she liked it as much as he did? He was playing with fire, and he knew it. But Faidh couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

  And she did like it. Her cheeks had flushed a deeper pink, and she shook her head a little as he sat back down in front of his plate. Yogurt. Granola. A light breakfast, because today was important.

  Mina sipped her water. “Are you ready for your big day?”

  His stomach clenched, the nervousness that had dogged him all night flooding back. Today was the first professional exhibition race at his Formula One track. He had been working on it for months. If anything went wrong, his dream of a Grand Prix race in Nouzar could disappear. Faidh hadn’t planned to tell Mina about it at all, but over the last week, he’d found himself telling her more and more. And she’d listened, her interest genuine. He may not love her and didn’t plan on falling in love with her, but he liked her. His attraction felt warm. Expansive. Her eyes had gone wide a few days before when he’d told her about the exhibition.

  “I’m ready,” he told her. “Do you still want to go?”

  “Of course,” she said instantly. Mina had offered as soon as she heard about the exhibition, and now he was glad she’d agreed. Faidh wanted her to see what he’d been building.

  It just needed to go well.

  Especially if she was there.

  And she would be there. She wasn’t backing out.

  Something in him relaxed, and Faidh took another bite of yogurt. He truly did want her there. He wanted the understanding to deepen between them. Wanted to feel her eyes on him when he was near the racetrack. It would be like when he saw her in the pastry kitchen—he’d known instantly she belonged there. Mina was more at home there than he was in the rest of the palace. Today she’d know he was meant to be near the racetrack, managing the races and drivers. That’s where he thrived.

  Mina steered the conversation to her upcoming plans with Alma and kept up a light, sweet conversation all the way to the raceway. It was humming with activity when they arrived in the motorcade of black SUVs. She took his hand easily as she climbed down from the car and didn’t let go.

  “Now you’ll get your official tour,” he said, smiling for the cameras. There were always cameras, everywhere, but now he welcomed them instead of just noting them.

  Cameras would help their case. They would help all this seem real. They would give cover to the way his heart picked up its pace whenever Mina was in the room.

  Her eyes brightened at all the racing teams with their F1 cars, doing checks in preparation for the day. Enthusiasm filled the air under the sunny sky. Everyone moved with purpose, filling every space with conversation, and they focused that attention on Faidh. Man after man came up to greet him, to shake his hand. “Thank you for being here,” he told each one. “I’m so pleased to have you here.”

  Mina’s eyes followed him every moment, a smile on her face. That grin got wider when he laughed with one of the drivers and let the enthusiasm well up in him. He showed her the track and the stadium seats and the box with the royal seal. He wouldn’t sit there often. That would be for special occasions, but it existed as a sign of his endorsement and his support. Finally, he led her down below the stadium seats.

  “What’s this?” Mina asked. “An office?”

  The office itself shone new behind glass, all polished lines and dark furniture and gleaming wood. Faidh had worked personally with the architect. “This would be mine.” He lifted his arms, gesturing to the rest of the space. “It would be my place if I could make this a full-time occupation and not just a hobby for a sheikh.”

  Mina looked into his eyes, searching there, and then she walked in a slow circle around the space. Faidh found himself holding his breath. What was she going to say? Nothing seemed more important than her opinion, which was ridiculous. Mina was his fake fiancée and nothing else.

  But then she paused in front of him and nodded. “I can see you here. It fits you. And what you’ve created here in the desert—” Her eyebrows went up, her eyes lighting. “It’s amazing. The whole place looks like it rose out of the sand already complete, like a…like a palace just for you. I can tell how much you love it.”

  He hadn’t felt this brand of nerves ever in his life. Not once. Sheer relief, mixed with a sweet anticipation, mixed with garden variety nervousness. Faidh opened his mouth to tell her.

  And had a better idea. Faidh pulled Mina into his arms and kissed her. Deeply. Not the way he’d kissed her before. This time, no one was there to see as he tasted her, as he coaxed her lips open with his tongue and licked. She stiffened for a moment, and a pang of worry went through his chest. Had he overstepped? But then she let out a contented sigh and melted into him.

  Mina had worn a sundress with a boat neck top, loose and comfortable but classy and perfectly appropriate for the racetrack, and her curves underneath it made his mouth water. His palms ached with the suppressed urge to touch her—now, now, now. He would touch her now. He skimmed his fingertips over the hollow of her neck. Traced her neckline. Brushed over her shoulder and ran his hand down her arm, then snugged it against her hip. She made a little noise of invitation and pressed into his hand.

  He skimmed his palm lower. Found the hemline of her dress. Slipped his hand underneath.

  He found soft panties at her waistline, and Mina gasped as he pulled the band away from her skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmured into her mouth. “I would like, very much, to touch you.”

  “You’re already touching me,” she breathed. “Touch me more.”

  Faidh groaned. They didn’t have time to draw the curtains and spend the rest of the day in here, but he did have time to make her come.

  That was all he wanted.

  Not all he wanted—all he wanted for now. All he needed. Her pink, flushed face. He kissed her again, and Mina took in a little breath as his fingertips met the hot core of her. She was wet, soft as a flower petal, and Mina spread her legs for him in a way that was so tentative and so needy it almost undid him right there.

  Faidh pushed two fingers into her, and every muscle responded, clenching around him. He’d never been so hard in his life. They did not have time for him to take her. No, no, no. That would cross a line, and he wanted it too much, and it was more than they could do. So he focused on brushing his thumb over her clit as he kissed her. Kissed her and kissed her, rubbing slow circles, and Mina shuddered and bucked.

  She had wanted this, too.

  It didn’t take long before she was coming on his fingers, her thighs trembling, and Faidh kissed her all the way through it.

  Mina spun away from him when she had finished, breathing quickly, hands pressed to her chest. Faidh stepped behind her and readjusted the hem of her dress. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

  “Faidh—”

  He turned her so he could see her face. Mina was smiling, her face a deep pink. He shook his head a little. They could talk about it later, but for now…

  Faidh wanted to bask. “It’s time to race. Come see.”

  Mina stayed with him alongside the track as the cars roared past them under the sun. Faidh was on cloud nine, his vision sharp, in charge of everything. Seeing everything.

  So he saw the moment when one of the cars caught a section of the track that Faidh had been responsible for approving and went into a wild roll ending in a fire.

  He ran with the rescue crew and helped pull the driver out.

  The man coughed, leaning on Faidh’s arm. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m fine.” The medical crew confirmed there were no injuries, but Faidh’s heart had sunk to the ground. That was the end of racing for the day, and back at the bays, he watched the biggest day of the year dismantle itself.

  “I can kiss a Grand Prix race goodbye,” he said to no one in particular. To his team. But Mina was there, too.

  “I don’t think so.” Her voice grounded him. Picked him back up. “This was an exhibition, and you were looking for flaws in the track anyway. You have time to make it right.”

  Faidh wondered for a heartbeat how he had ever lived without her voice in his life. Mina fit there so naturally. So easily. Perhaps she was a bit too blunt with the sheikh of Nouzar, but he didn’t want to stay the sheikh forever anyway.

  He wanted to call her naive. What she’d said was too simple. Too pat. But he took one look at her dark eyes, her sincere smile, and Faidh found himself at a loss for argument.

  Instead, he took her in his arms, in front of all the drivers and the crews, and kissed her.

  6

  The kiss was still on Mina’s mind a few days later, when she went to the market with Alma.

  Mina loved these outings with Alma, because she could watch the way the pastry chef looked at the ingredients and made her decisions. Alma saw things that Mina didn’t notice or had some way to consider the ingredients that she’d never thought of. It was going to make her a great pastry chef one day.

  If only she could get Faidh out of her head for long enough to pay attention.

  His lips had felt so right against hers. So good. So masculine. He’d been in total control of the kiss, and the way his arms had felt around her, strong and possessive—

  Mina brushed her own fingertips over her lips and tried to snap herself out of it. The big, open space with all its aisles and vendors had everything they could need for the palace kitchens. Voices soared across the walkway as people haggled over breads, meats, spices, and other staples. Toward one end of the market were fully baked goods, and in another corner was a refrigerated section where they could buy fresh fish. Alma walked slightly ahead of her, and Mina took a few quick steps to catch up.

  “We’ll need more of these herbs for the week ahead,” Alma said. “I prefer them fresh. Always look for fresh herbs. Some cooks say the dried ones are as good, but you’ll notice it in the final flavor of anything you bake or cook. How long can you chill a dough before you bake it?”

  “Four days,” Mina said, and she instantly knew the answer was wrong. “Three days. It’s three days. Seventy-two hours.”

  Alma shot her a look. “And the ratio of ingredients for pie dough?”

  “Three, two, one. Flour, water, fat.”

  The silence coming from the other woman was an instant response.

  “Flour, fat, water,” Mina said softly. Guilt crept in. Embarrassment, too. She’d been so taken with Faidh and that kiss and the feelings it gave her that it was hard to think of anything else. And her lack of attention was noticeable.

  Alma clicked her tongue. “You’re distracted. And the spices yesterday…”

  “I have no excuse for that.” Alma was right. The spices were one of the most basic skills. She was meant to toast some cinnamon for a cake and had gotten caught up in texting Faidh. The cinnamon had burned so badly that they had to empty the kitchens until the smell went away. “I’m sorry. The sheikh—”

  “I don’t want an apology, Mina.” Alma stepped off to the side in front of a spice vendor. “You make the sheikh happy, and I want you to be happy. But I’ve been thinking of bringing in another apprentice. You are rarely in the kitchens now that you’re engaged, and my arthritis is growing worse. I want to teach my skills to someone who wants to learn them.” Alma met her eyes, concern written in her expression. “I’m not sure you’re at that place in your life anymore.”

  Mina’s skin went hot, then cold. Alma wasn’t being unkind. She didn’t have a cruel bone in her body, despite her exacting standards for her pastries. But Mina’s heart broke, nonetheless. She’d come to Nouzar to learn from Alma, and now she might lose her place because of her agreement with Faidh. Because she had tried to get her father a pardon. “I—”

  Alma put a hand on Mina’s shoulder. “I haven’t reached a decision just yet, but I may not have a choice if you can’t show more dedication.”

  “I will.” Mina gripped her shopping basket tightly. “I will buckle down. You’ll see, Alma. I don’t want to lose my place with you.”

  The older woman gave her a shallow nod and a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Now. Spices,” Alma said, and Mina followed her with adrenaline pumping through her veins. Watching her every move. No more mistakes. She couldn’t lose this. After all, what was she supposed to do after things ended with Faidh if she had nothing to show for her apprenticeship?

  Mina threw herself into her work in the kitchen that afternoon, making sure to avoid going to Faidh’s office—or anywhere else she might run into him. He was just too irresistible, with his olive eyes and the mischievous grin that made her think of illicit kisses and the way he laughed when she said something that tickled him. She volunteered for extra tasks in the kitchen and stepped up to be in charge of the nightly dessert, even on the night she was expected in the dining room for a family dinner.

  She only realized she missed it when she glanced at the clock and found dinnertime well past.

  “Oh, crap,” she murmured, brushing the back of her arm to her cheek. She’d been working on a design for a cake, so focused on it that the time had slipped away.

  “Mina.”

  Faidh appeared in the doorway, his eyes stormy.

  “Hi.” Her stomach clenched. “I’m so sorry I missed dinner. I—”

  “What have you been doing?” He stood at the edge of the table, his arms crossed. “Planning?”

  “A design,” she said, and it sounded off; it sounded like a bad excuse. Her work with Alma was important, yes, but so was her agreement with Faidh. “I lost track of time. I didn’t—I didn’t want to get behind. I’m sorry, Faidh.”

  The apology sounded flat to her, not worthy, but Faidh’s face softened a bit. He took a deep breath. “I’m breaking you out. You’ve been in the kitchens all day. It’s time to go.”

  “I can’t,” she said, pulling the design closer. “I’m not finished.”

  Faidh laughed. “You can do anything if I tell you to do it. I’m still the sheikh.”

  “You can do anything. And I could afford to lose my job if I were actually your fiancée, but I’m not, and anyway, I don’t want to lose my job. We can spend time together later. Right now, I need to focus.”

  He made a noise of affront in the back of his throat, and—oh, she shouldn’t have said that. Faidh would probably leave, and it might be strained between them. Mina didn’t want things to be awkward. She wanted more of that kiss.

  But Faidh only pulled up one of the kitchen stools to the other side of the table and took a seat. Her cheeks went hot at his presence. The way his eyes swept over her drawing.

  “You’re staying?”

  He put a finger to his lips. “You’re focusing. Remember?”

  Faidh watched her draw in silence for a little while, leaning forward to read the notes she made about flavors. Desiccated coconut, Mina wrote. It was good for crunchy coatings.

  “What about almonds or pistachios instead?” Faidh said softly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. “They go with a fig filling better.”

  Mina blinked. She hadn’t considered almonds, and she hadn’t considered pistachios, and she might not have if Faidh hadn’t pointed it out. And she did like the idea of almonds with the fig filling better than coconut. She caught Faidh’s grin out of the corner of her eye as she scratched out the coconut and wrote down almonds on the design.

  They sat in a comfortable quiet broken only by the scratch of her pencil for quite some time.

  “What are these notations for?” Faidh skimmed a finger across the paper.

  “How much frosting I’ll need. Easiest to do it based on a calculation, or I’ll end up with too much or too little.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and it sounded to Mina like he was actually considering it. Actually thinking about what she’d said.

  “Do you prefer a three-tiered design like this one, or is this because someone in the palace requested it?”

  “I like three tiers,” Mina said. “I’ve done a few two-tiered cakes, but I find having three tiers looks more balanced for a cake this size.”

  Her cheeks heated again. No one, outside of her teachers and customers, had ever taken notice of her work like this. Faidh couldn’t keep his eyes off the sketches she made. The decorations came to life on the paper under her hand with careful notes for how she’d accomplish each piece. Mina tried to be meticulous in her work. And now it was twice as important.

  “Mina? I was going to finish up for the night, and—oh!” Alma stopped just inside the doorway. “Sheikh Faidh—good evening, good evening.”

  Faidh waved off the greeting, a smile on his face that Mina recognized as the one he wore when he wanted to put people at ease. He used it often in public, when people nervously approached him. “Hello, Alma.” He tapped a finger against Mina’s drawing. “You have quite a student here.”

  He got up from his seat, came around the prep table, and dropped a kiss to the top of Mina’s head. If she’d thought her cheeks were red before, now they were on fire. Faidh’s big palms came down and rubbed at her shoulders, a quick, casual touch that she wanted to go on and on. “I’ll give your kitchen back to you, Alma. Good evening, Mina.”

  The wink he tossed her on his way out made Mina want to cover her face and breathe deeply until she could be certain of herself. This was a crush, right? A crush. It was only because they spent so much time together, and because they had to pretend to be in love. Anyone would feel that way about Faidh. He was handsome and powerful, and he made her want to go on adventures.

  But she straightened up instead as Alma came to stand next to her. Mina held her breath as her mentor looked over the drawing she’d been working so hard on. She could practically feel the assessment hanging in the air between them. If Mina hadn’t done a good job on this sketch, it was one more strike against her. She suppressed the urge to tell Alma that the engagement was pretend. If she was going to stay here, she didn’t want it to be because Alma felt sorry for her, or felt she had to help Mina once the engagement was over. Her merit as a pastry chef should be the only consideration.