The sun shining through Eloise’s hotel window woke her up.

For several minutes, she didn’t move, just basked, still drowsy, in the comfort of the hotel room sheets. Beside her, Masoud was still sleeping, his leg draped over hers. She smiled into her pillow. Could a night like last night have been real? And what might today hold?

Then she remembered—Patrick. She was due to meet him downstairs at nine-thirty. And it was currently…she leaned over to see the clock. Nine seventeen!

Almost as if she’d been doused in an ice bath, Eloise was suddenly fully awake. She hadn’t spoken to Patrick since yesterday’s meeting. Had he noticed her absence? Last night, in the heat of passion, it hadn’t occurred to her, but now, she grabbed her phone and checked for missed calls and emails.

Nothing. Well, that’s a relief.

She dropped the phone and snuggled back down into bed. Beside her, Masoud stirred. She didn’t want to wake him—she had a feeling the night would start to evaporate as soon as they left this bed, and she wanted to hold on as long as she could. She was going to have to get up soon, she knew that. She would have to set a speed record of showering and packing.

Just one more minute.

He blinked, his gaze finding hers. “Hi.”

“You’re awake.”

“Mmm.” He stretched a little. “That was an amazing night.”

“It really was.”

His hand slid around her and up her back to pull her close. “Why don’t we postpone breakfast and stay a little longer?”

“God, I’d love that…” She was starting to melt into him. “I can’t.”

“No?”

“I’m flying home today.”

She felt the weight of it. She wouldn’t ever see him again. They probably wouldn’t even talk. It wasn’t like you could become friends on social media with royalty. He would move on, and so would she.

And really, wasn’t that what was best? They both had their own lives to live. He would end up with a girl from some other family of royals, no doubt, and Eloise would go home and keep working for MAFA and…well. Maybe she’d meet somebody, too.

Masoud took her hand and kissed it. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“So do I.” She took a breath, steadying her resolve. “I had a wonderful time, Masoud. This has been amazing.”

“I’m delighted to have spent time with you, Eloise.”

“I have to ask a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I need this to stay a secret,” she said. “My employers can’t know. Getting involved with a potential partner like this is a serious breach of etiquette, and it could cost me my job. And you know I need my income, for my parents.”

“You don’t think they’d understand?” Masoud asked.

“It wouldn’t matter if they understood. It’s actually in my contract. No liaisons with clients.”

“So, MAFA Financial has its own morality clause.”

Eloise laughed. “It’s not really about morality; it’s more that Patrick doesn’t want to lose clients because of the drama that comes with an affair gone bad.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” Masoud said. “I won’t tell him anything. I think it’s nice to have it just between you and me.” He smiled and tapped a finger against her bare hip.

Eloise thought it was nice, too. It was like the last twenty-four hours existed in an alternate reality, one where she was a princess and she and Masoud were in love. By the light of day, it was obvious that none of that was true. But it was a good memory to have, to return to from time to time, and it made her happy to know that Masoud would be half a world away, remembering the same things.

She stood and pulled on a bathrobe that she’d tossed over a chair her first night there. “Do you think you can get out of here without being seen?”

“I can take the fire escape,” he said. “It connects to the room where the ice machine is.”

“Perfect.”

There was something so romantic about that, she thought. Sheikh Masoud Khan was going to crawl out the window and sneak down the fire escape like a common thief. For her. Because of her.

He came over and pulled her into an embrace. “I want to thank you for a lovely night, Eloise Lang,” he said softly. “One of the best of my life.”

“Mine, too.” She allowed herself to rest against his shoulder for a minute, then pulled back. “I need to clean up and pack.”

“Then I’ll let you go.” He squeezed her hands.

“Masoud?”

“Yes?”

“It was one of the best days of my life, too,” she said. “I felt like I’d stepped into a fairy tale.”

“That was my intention.”

He pulled her close and they kissed one last time, deeply. Eloise put everything she had into it, taking every ounce of passion from the moment and storing it up like an animal facing a long winter, giving all she could of herself to Masoud. She knew this was the last moment she would have with him.

And then, it ended. They stepped apart, met each other’s eyes, and smiled a little, suddenly embarrassed. Eloise felt as if she was waking up from a long dream. The person she’d been for the last twenty-four hours wasn’t her.

They didn’t speak again. Masoud smiled, lifted a hand in farewell, and left, shutting the door behind him. Eloise took a hasty shower and stuffed all her clothes haphazardly into her suitcase. She didn’t even have time to dry her hair, just yanked it into a messy braid that would keep it under control for the long flight home. She dressed in yoga pants and a soft blouse and headed down to the lobby.

She was almost fifteen minutes late, and was slightly worried about how to explain herself to Patrick, but when she arrived in the lobby, he wasn’t even there. She perched on a bench that faced the elevators somewhat anxiously. He couldn’t have left without her, right? Even Patrick wouldn’t go that far. But then, where was he? She was on the verge of getting up to ask the receptionist if her boss had already checked out when the elevator door slid open and he finally appeared.

Eloise was shocked. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. It was understood that they would dress down for the flight home, of course, for the sake of comfort and the fact that there was no one to impress upon landing. But she had never seen him like this. Instead of his usual suit, he wore faded, ill-fitting jeans and a rumpled polo shirt. His hair was uncombed, and he had bags under his eyes.

He spotted her and crossed the lobby. “I see you decided to come back.”

So he had noticed she was gone.

“Where’ve you been all night, anyway?” he asked, seeming very put-out. “I could have used a hand, you know. That’s what you’re here for.”

“I wanted to see the city,” Eloise said. It was a half-truth, anyway. “It was our last night, and I hadn’t seen anything yet.”

“And what about me?”

“You left me at the Khan Capital office,” Eloise said, surprised at her own daring. “I didn’t think you’d have done that if you needed me for something.”

Patrick sulked.

“Are you drunk?” she asked.

“No. Maybe.”

“What did you drink, the entire minibar?”

Since when did she have the audacity to speak to her boss like this? Eloise was surprised at herself. She could still feel Masoud beside her, looking down on Patrick, wondering these things. How long was that feeling—this new boldness—going to last?

“Just get the bags, will you?” Patrick snapped, and went to return his keys to the front desk.

Eloise got the bags and ferried them out the front door. A limousine was waiting, its driver standing outside and leaning on the passenger door. He stood up straight when he saw her.

“MAFA Financial?”

“That’s us.” Eloise gave him a smile.

“I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”

“I’m sorry. Bit of a slow start this morning.”

The driver helped her put the luggage in the trunk and held the door for her as she slid into the backseat. A moment later, Patrick was sitting alongside her.

“Airport, right?” the driver asked.

“That’s right,” Patrick said.

Eloise settled back in her seat and watched the desert rush by.

This is always here, she thought. Even when I’m home and the climate is totally different, this desert is here. Even when I’m home and all alone, Masoud is here.

It was a good thought.

Patrick cleared his throat. “So, did you see anything interesting last night?”

“What?” She turned to him.

“If you were going to blow off work all night, I hope you at least saw something good.” He paused. “Did you?”

“I did,” she said cautiously, her mind racing. What could she tell him? Certainly not that she’d attended a ball at City Hall or danced in the palace. “I went to see the old town,” she said, finally.

“Isn’t it kind of a ghetto?”

“It’s just old-fashioned. Anyway, it was fine. I had a tour guide.”

Patrick scoffed. “You hired someone to show you around? Just get a map next time. What a waste of money.”

She didn’t disabuse him. “Anyway, after that, I went shopping.”

“What did you buy?”

“Oh, everything was really expensive,” she said. “I was in a really nice part of town by then, and the stores were so upscale. I tried on some clothes, but I couldn’t afford them.”

Of course, last night’s dress was in her luggage, the only item she’d stowed carefully instead of shoving wherever it would fit. But Patrick didn’t need to know that.

“I guess that’s where you bought the earrings?”

The earrings.

Eloise’s hand flew to her ear. She’d forgotten she was wearing them! They were so beautiful…would Patrick be able to tell how valuable they were by looking?

But of course he couldn’t. Patrick was exactly the kind of man who could tell how wealthy another man was by the shine of the shoes or the cut of his shirt, yet couldn’t tell you the first thing about women’s jewelry or clothing. No doubt he assumed the jewels in her earrings were fake.

“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s where they came from.”

“Very pretty,” Patrick said neutrally.

He reached over to the limousine minibar, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a shot, which he quickly downed. Eloise started to say something, but held off. It wasn’t her business to tell him what to do. Besides, maybe the drink would put him to sleep on the plane, and then at least she’d be in for a more pleasant flight than the last one had been.

* * *

As it turned out, Patrick fell asleep before they’d even left the tarmac. His head slumped to the side and he snored so loudly she could hear it over the engines of the jet.

Eloise lasted a little bit longer. She had quite a bit on her mind.

What would happen to the deal now? She knew Patrick had made just about the worst possible impression he could have made by mocking the morality clause and storming out of the office. But she also knew Masoud. He was a forgiving man. He had been willing to overlook all Patrick’s past indiscretions if Patrick had pledged to make a change. Eloise believed he would still do that, regardless of how he’d been treated in that meeting. That meant the deal was still on the table.

And Patrick wanted that deal. She knew how much he wanted it. But she knew she couldn’t ask him about it, at least not right now. It was clear he’d come straight home from the meeting yesterday and started drinking himself stupid, and he still hadn’t stopped. She would have to hope he’d come to his senses.

Was it possible? He would have to sign the morality clause; she knew that. Masoud had been firm on it. Could Patrick Gainsborough, the aging playboy of the finance industry, really sign such a clause and give up his philandering ways?

She shook her head, suddenly disgusted with her boss. What a choice to have to make. The man was married, for God’s sake.

As the plane took off, Eloise sat back in her seat and pondered. Was there anything she could do to make this deal happen? Knowing Masoud as well as she did seemed like it could be advantageous, but she didn’t want to use the night they’d shared to manipulate him.

It had to be held separately from the business concerns, she told herself firmly. She would have to let Sheikh Masoud Khan, CEO of Khan Capital, be a different person to her than the Masoud who had escorted her around his city, who had danced with her and spoiled her and made love to her.

But she wanted the deal to happen just as much as Patrick did. It might mean a raise for her, particularly if she played a hand in bringing it to fruition. So, she decided that she would do whatever she could in the days that followed to get Patrick to sign the clause and make the deal a reality.

With that settled, Eloise felt at ease. She looked out the window and watched Al-Zhera receding below her. It would always be a land of fantasy to her, she knew. Someday, she would tell her children about that adventure, about the handsome man who had taken her by the hand and whisked her out of the real world and into a dream for one magical night.

“He was a prince”, she would tell them, “and when he looked into my eyes, I became a princess.”

“Champagne?” a flight attendant asked her.

Eloise accepted the glass. She had expected Patrick to put her back in coach now that he didn’t need her help on anything, but to her surprise, she was still in first class. She sipped her champagne and closed her eyes, feeling the tendrils of the fantasy still winding their way around her. Here she was, traveling first class and sipping champagne like a princess. She hadn’t turned back into a pumpkin completely. Not yet.

What was Masoud doing right now? Was he thinking of her?

As magical as she knew the night had been for both of them, Eloise understood that she was the one who had stepped out of her own reality. Masoud had not. Yes, he’d spent the evening with a girl he’d liked—it was certainly clear that the feelings between them had been real, even if they were temporary—but the upcoming weeks of Masoud’s life were bound to be much the same as that night had been.

He would attend more balls. He would no doubt meet more girls, and they were sure to be much more glamorous than she was. In all likelihood, it would only be weeks, if not days, before he forgot about her altogether.

Eloise closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. She hadn’t slept much the night before. She hadn’t wanted to sleep. At the time, it had felt as if she could stay up forever. The sky had already been starting to lighten by the time she and Masoud had cuddled up for the night. Now, though, the lack of sleep was catching up with her. Combined with the champagne and the fact that she’d never fully adjusted to her jet lag, it left her feeling dizzy and tired.

She wished Patrick wasn’t next to her. His breathing was loud and obnoxious and it was intruding on her fantasies. Also, she could smell yesterday’s rum on his breath.

If I had some mints, she thought, I’d just pour them all in there and hope for the best.

Leaning away from him, she rested her head on the wall by the window and tried to get comfortable. She imagined the plane belonged to her, that she was a princess flying somewhere on a diplomatic mission. When she arrived, she would be greeted by admirers. She would be dressed in clothes that were made specifically for her and tailored to make her look beautiful. Her photo would be taken by the press. And she would be embraced by a tall, dark man with a broad smile and deep, soulful eyes.

Eloise let herself drift off as the fantasy took hold and carried her into a dream. She was dressed in the most beautiful gown in the world. She was in Masoud’s arms, being led around the dance floor, their eyes locked together, his arms holding her close. They were in the garden, kissing under the moon, the air and his hands grazing her bare back. They were in a bed together. His bed, not a hotel. It was big and soft and they could stay as long as they liked.

Anyone watching Eloise right then would have noticed a smile creep over her face. They might have wondered what she was dreaming about. But, in a million years, with all the guesses in the world, no one could have imagined the fantastical thoughts that raced through her head as she slept. The world that had taken shape in Eloise’s memory and fantasies was hers alone.