Amare stood before she did, offering his mother his arm to help her rise from her seat. The luncheon had moved on to the portion where people would circulate through the large formal dining room and talk to each other with cups of coffee in their hands. A few small groups lingered at the wide table.

  He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek and watched as she crossed to where Nadia stood with the wives. Qadira took a place easily in their circle without so much as a backward glance at Amare.

  But someone was watching him. Amare scanned the room to find who it was.

  Taavi. He sat a little way down the table, the woman next to him engaged in conversation with a man on her other side. His son frowned at him. He hadn’t overheard, had he? Amare always kept his voice low for conversations in public. An old habit from being raised in the royal family.

  Amare sat down next to the boy, who had questions in his face. “Shouldn’t you be talking to people?” Taavi asked. “They all watch you, waiting to see if you’ll come over.”

  “Not this time.” Amare slung an arm over the back of Taavi’s chair. “Have you had enough to eat?”

  “I’m still hungry.”

  The sheikh waved over one of the servers, who bent down and listened intently to Amare’s instructions. He nodded and walked off in long, easy strides. He reappeared a minute later with a plate balanced on his hand. A cookie sat in the middle, fresh and hot.

  Amare took it from the server and slid it in front of Taavi. “How’s this?”

  His son’s grin chased away his frustration, if https://www.wattpad.com/user/BootcampMentorsnot the lingering dread that Nadia would leave, and Amare didn’t want that. Taavi tested the cookie with a finger, broke off a piece, and offered it to Amare. He took it gladly.

  “Do you think Nadia wants some?” Taavi asked.

  “We’ll ask her about cookies later.” Amare settled back. She was everywhere, wasn’t she? In the crowd. In his son’s questions. In his mind. There would be such an emptiness when she was gone.

  “Why not now? It’s not very fun to talk for so long.” Taavi took another bite of cookie, his eyes bright and hopeful. At that moment, Nadia caught Amare’s eye.

  Ah, he couldn’t win. Amare lifted a hand and gave her a subtle wave. Hopefully she could extricate herself from the conversation without making more mistakes. But even if she did—

  Amare focused his attention back on Taavi and waited for Nadia to make her way over. Even if she made mistakes, Amare would miss her. He would miss her more than he wanted to admit to himself. No cookie would fix that.

  10

  Amare couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of Nadia, even if the thought of her leaving had left a sore spot near his heart he couldn’t seem to soothe away. The evening after the luncheon, she breezed back into his room as if he’d never sent her out to change, and she pushed him back on the bed. Nadia stood between his legs and ran her hands down the front of his shirt. “Something bothered you today. You were tense about the luncheon, and I saw your face during it. Was it me?”

  “No.” A white lie. Because it hadn’t really been her, in the end. It had been his own unruly emotions. Emotions they’d agreed not to have. If he could be hurt by her, that meant he was breaking the terms of their agreement, and it had been that hurt that spurred his frustration. “It was me.”

  “No need.” Nadia leaned in and kissed him, and it reminded him of watching the morning breeze tousle her hair. It reminded him of the sunrise warming her skin, and the way she’d tipped her head back to enjoy it just as it was.

  Just as she enjoyed him.

  In the morning he woke up glad to have her in his bed. It felt right to lean down and kiss the back of her neck. Nadia stirred, smiling, and turned over to welcome him.

  He decorated her skin with kisses, each one getting hotter. Each one making him want more of her. She returned those kisses with her own, nipping and biting his skin until his hips moved against her out of his control.

  Nadia made a low mmmm sound in his ear and angled her hips to work him inside. She was so wet. So wanting. Her body was an invitation to let go for a while, to let the world outside fade away, and he did. Nadia took each thrust with a little gasp that drove him wild.

  And yet.

  Her hands on him were so soft. So gentle. The tenderness reached inside him and grabbed at his heart, and he slowed the pace. Concentrated on her expressions. On the light caught in her dark eyes. He worked a hand between their bodies and pulled out slightly, brushing his fingers over her clit. This was his favorite sight in the world. Watching her come beneath him.

  He knew her by now. Knew the small circles she liked. Knew the pressure she preferred. He brought her there with a familiarity that felt hot to the touch. Nadia’s inner muscles fluttered around him as she came.

  Amare liked it so much he made her do it again. She protested a little as she neared her second peak. “Oh, no, Amare. Oh, no. I can’t—”

  But of course she could. Of course she gave it to him, and then she held him close while he chased his own release into the sweetest possible oblivion.

  There was a tenderness to it. That’s what he thought as he lay with his face buried in her neck. Their time together was tender like that more and more often lately. He could not bear to let it go. Not yet, not yet.

  “I love this quiet,” Nadia whispered.

  “I love it too.”

  “But.”

  “But what?” He gathered her closer. Her body felt so good against his. So right.

  “You have a council meeting in thirty minutes.”

  Amare groaned. He didn’t want to spend the morning amongst bickering old men, but it was a hazard of the job. And they’d specifically asked to meet with him a week before their regular monthly meeting.

  Nadia laughed and pressed a kiss to his chest. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  “You’d better,” he warned, and she laughed some more.

  He climbed out of the bed and went through his routine of showering and dressing and preparing for the meeting. He barely registered the motions. The teasing between them sat in his stomach, tugging at old memories. It was the kind of teasing he and Kamaria used to have, back when he thought she might be his wife.

  He’d always enjoyed that banter.

  And it had been taken from him.

  The losses still stung, even after all those years. Thinking about her and about all that pain left a bad taste in his mouth. His mood was like an approaching storm by the time he walked into the meeting.

  Amare sat in his seat at the big round table and put on an expression that wasn’t quite a smile, but not a frown either. He thought of it as focused.

  “Elders,” he said, greeting the other men at the table. “What brings us here today?”

  There was a general shuffling, and several of the council members exchanged looks. They didn’t normally do quite this much throat-clearing and settling, but Amare waited. Patience with the council was a necessary virtue. He’d learned that early.

  The oldest and grumpiest of the men—who had a wife as meek as a mouse—cleared his throat. “Are you certain, Sheikh Amare, about your future bride?”

  Another slightly younger councilman piped up next, without giving Amare a chance to answer. “We’ve been watching her YouTube videos, and we’re not impressed.”

  Amare cocked his head to the side and addressed the council at large. “Forgive my confusion. Her videos are family friendly. My son watches them, for goodness’ sake. What’s wrong with her videos?”

  The eldest spoke again. “Your queen should be rooted to the region. Nadia floats too freely to ever settle down completely. We are only concerned for your well-being, Sheikh.”

  He heard the warning for what it was. Amare’s duties to Kirisil included securing an appropriate bride, and they’d brought him here to disapprove of his choice.

  “Are you worried that my judgment is affected in some way?” He delivered the question point-blank, which sent a ripple around the table.

  “We believe in you utterly,” the younger one said, too loud, too fast. The rest of them followed, repeating each other like a flock of birds.

  Amare didn’t buy it for a moment. His father had raised him to know the difference between real respect and lip service.

  “I will consider what you’ve said. The meeting is dismissed.”

  A moment of shock came after his pronouncement. It was customary for Amare to give them a few minutes during each meeting to bring up new concerns, or to deepen the discussion. He wasn’t in the mood today. One by one, the council members rose from their seats and left the room. Amare stayed in his seat, nodding to each one as they left.

  As they filed out, he couldn’t help but wonder if the plan had been a huge mistake. Lying to the press and his people couldn’t be good for anyone. Amare's throat tightened with hatred for how off-kilter he felt, and he felt that way because of the lie.

  Especially because it seemed less and less like a lie every time he touched Nadia. No, they weren't engaged. But the affection growing between them was real. No matter what they'd agreed.

  Nadia ate breakfast with Taavi after Amare left for his meeting. Basturma, a spiced sausage, and eggs. English muffins and grapes. It was the kitchen’s idea of an American breakfast, and Taavi found it hilarious. Nadia felt light and free and good after the morning she’d spent in bed with Amare. Yes, they’d had a bit of tension at the luncheon, but that was to be expected. They were actors in a high-stakes performance.

  And it was only acting, no matter how real it was beginning to feel.

  After breakfast, Taavi walked with Nadia to the stables to pet the horses.

  “Do you think we could go for a ride?” The little boy looked up at her, eyes hopeful.

  “Maybe someday,” she offered. “Not now.”

  Nadia could ride, but not so well that she thought they should go out alone. She liked to learn through failure, but she wasn’t about to put Amare’s son at risk. When Taavi was tired of the stables, they went inside for a snack. Taavi picked at his food, his expression tending toward a pout. He didn’t want to do anything. Didn’t want to draw or read or walk. All her suggestions were met with more and more resistance.

  “How about a nap?”

  “No,” Taavi said, but he didn’t fight when she walked him back to his room. She caught him yawning three separate times on the way.

  The nanny met them at the door. “I could tuck him in, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, that’s all right.” Nadia beamed at her, and she smiled back. Taavi headed straight through the room to his bed, kicked off his indoor shoes, and climbed in. She pulled the covers up to his shoulders and rubbed at his arm. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

  “Goodnight.” He yawned again, and she went for the door. “I love you, Nadia.”

  “I love you, too,” she said automatically, elation battling with uneasiness in her belly. She did adore Taavi. How could she not? But this could be going too far. All of them could be getting too attached.

  In the hall outside Taavi’s room she ran into Amare. Her heart sank at the sight of him. Seeing Amare would normally be a highlight of her day, but his expression was dark and unsettled, at odds with the crisp perfection of his elegantly tailored suit.

  “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged. No. He wasn’t. Amare stepped forward and took her in his arms. He kissed her, deep and slow and verging on inappropriate for the palace halls.

  “I need a distraction,” he murmured into her mouth.

  The comment bruised. She knew it was what they’d agreed to—just sex, no strings. And obviously Amare didn’t want to discuss what was on his mind. What he wanted was to go back to his room, but the air seemed too thin, her feelings too fragile. Surprisingly fragile. Wrongly fragile. They had said they wouldn’t get into complicated emotions, and here she was, having them. Not only about him, but about the prospect of a family with him. Of being in Taavi’s life.

  “Let’s go to the bazaar,” she suggested, softening it with a kiss. “I haven’t seen it the entire time I’ve been in Kirisil, which is such a shame.”

  Amare’s dark eyes searched hers. He was an utterly gorgeous man. The trimmed beard he wore highlighted the cut of his jaw, and those eyes made her cheeks hot and her heartbeat quick. They were gold-flecked, dark and sexy. She could see the confusion there. See him trying to figure out why she wanted to go to a market rather than back to bed, but Nadia couldn’t bring herself to speak the words out loud.

  He leaned down and kissed her again, teasing at her lips with his tongue until she let him in. Nadia relaxed into the kiss. She understood this language between them. Understood the push and pull of sex and desire. What didn’t fit was the sensation weighting down her heart. It pulled her toward Amare, more and more every day. She thought about him every minute. Waited for him to come “home” from work and eat dinner with her. To sit in his living room with her. To take her to bed.

  It was starting to feel terrifyingly like love.

  And what she felt for Taavi was definitely love. It was.

  Which meant it would hurt to leave them both. They hadn’t signed up for that kind of pain.

  Amare seemed to sense her turmoil and kissed her harder. This was his way. He would kiss it out of her; he would drown her in sensation; he would make it impossible to think of anything but him. Nadia pushed her worries out of her mind and let herself fall. But was she falling into the kiss or had she already fallen hopelessly in love with him, even while she’d insisted it could never happen?

  He pulled back from the kiss and sighed. “The market, then?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’d love to see the market. Will you take me, or do you have a meeting?”

  Amare turned her, fitting her easily into the space at his side. Nadia curled a hand around his arm, and the two of them headed toward the back of the palace. Amare would call for a car. They’d be on their way with the security team in a few minutes.

  “No meetings,” he said, doing an admirable job of hiding his disappointment. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  11

  Amare’s mood didn’t improve once they left the palace. If anything, it got worse. His stoic expression deepened into a frown. Even passing by the crowds in the market didn’t shake him out of it. Oh, he remained polite—he remained the sheikh that people expected him to be. But from Nadia’s vantage point, she could see how all Amare’s usual crowd-pleasing habits had been dulled by whatever was bothering him.

  Maybe it would have been better to stay in the palace after all.

  Too late. They were already at the market, among the tinkling chimes and the scents of spices and food. Nadia browsed a stall selling caftans and another selling jewelry. She bought a bracelet with a small red gem that glinted in the light. People ebbed and flowed around him, giving the security team space but greeting Amare with a respectful familiarity.

  As they walked between the stalls, Amare stepped closer, the way he did when they were in public and he wanted to talk to her. Nadia had learned this habit early on. The Sheikh of Kirisil didn’t shout across open spaces or raise his voice unless it was necessary.

  “These are my people. I want to put laws in place that make their lives better. Push them into the modern era.”

  Nadia didn’t love the sound of that. “Oh?”

  “Yes. Kirisil needs laws that will guarantee funding for projects that will benefit the populace. For instance, guiding money toward bolstering the electrical infrastructure so the merchants here would be supported.”

  “Are they not supported now?”

  “Better electricity would mean better refrigeration, which would mean fewer spoiled meats being sold to the public. The buyers would be safer, and the merchants would have more stable businesses. The market needs to be Westernized if it’s going to survive into the future.”

  Nadia scanned the goods in the tents on either side of them and tried not to let her confusion—and, if she was honest, her irritation—show. Amare had completely shut down after his meeting with the council. He’d become a version of himself she didn’t know. He was distant. Droning on about the market like she was a business partner. Nadia didn’t want to be his business partner—especially not if he was going to be this moody and guarded.

  She’d tried to ask Amare what was wrong in the car. He’d insisted that she “drop it.”

  Well, she couldn’t just sit here and listen to him go on about the modern market scene. Amare wanted to create a new market from the ashes of the old Kirisil. But the old Kirisil didn’t need to be burned away.

  “Markets aren’t in much danger of going away. I’ve been to so many of them over the years.” Many had been similar to this one. Many had been filled with people who knew each other, who greeted each other like they were family. “Even the small ones have a unique culture to them. Everyone knows which tents have the best bargains, and which merchants have something exciting to buy. The prettiest scarf I own came from a market in Dubai. I couldn’t wait to visit another one at my next stop.”

  “And where was that supposed to be?” Amare stopped at a stall that sold leather goods and greeted the merchant there. He didn’t buy anything.

  “Kathmandu. I’ve always wanted to see Nepal.”

  A new focus came into Amare’s eyes. Like she’d said something he’d been hoping for. “Ah, yes. For your book. How is it coming, by the way?” His gaze was intense on hers now, and Nadia’s face flushed. As far as topics of conversation went, this was a tame one. But the answer seemed to matter more to Amare than she could explain. “Was there any information you needed from me?”

  They took a right into a narrower walkway in the market. Tents pressed in on either side, and with Amare behind her, Nadia could picture how it would be to explore as Amare and Nadia rather than the Sheikh and his fiancée. They would never have that kind of anonymous travel. Nadia didn’t need that from him, though.