Six weeks went by in a blur.

Patrick kept Eloise constantly busy. When she wasn’t running around town having his suits tailored and pressed or taking minutes in meetings, she was glued to her computer, trying to dig up whatever she could on Masoud.

There wasn’t much. For a public figure, the Sheikh was surprisingly absent from the press. Most of the coverage of him she could find featured him at parties and state functions. The pictures were the most revealing, she realized, after a couple of weeks of research. No one had ever put anything scandalous Masoud had done in print. But maybe if she studied the pictures she was finding hard enough, she would see a clue.

Eloise tried hard to ignore her feelings about what she was doing. When she thought about it too long, she started to feel sick about it. After everything Masoud had done for her, was this really how she was going to repay him? By uncovering dirt on him to save her own job? It was so cowardly. She felt ashamed.

But, she reminded herself, Masoud was wealthy. Masoud was titled. Masoud had family who would protect his interests, no matter what happened. Meanwhile, her parents had nothing. She was the only thing standing between them and eviction. She had no choice.

Time wound down, and finally, it was the eve of their return to Al-Zhera. Patrick showed up at work with a rack full of garish ties and ordered Eloise to have them dry-cleaned. She struggled not to laugh as she gathered them up. Most of them featured some form of the Stars and Stripes.

We get it, Patrick, you’re American, she thought. Why don’t you just hang a bald eagle around your neck?

“When you get back,” Patrick said, not looking up from the papers he was shuffling on his desk, “we’ll go over what you’ve found.”

Eloise gulped. “Sure.”

In no hurry to get back to the office, she decided to visit her favorite gelato shop while she waited for the dry cleaning to be done. Anything to put off the impending discussion about Masoud. But when she arrived, she found she didn’t want gelato. All her usual favorite flavors seemed repulsive, and she actually had to walk away from the counter and sit down across the shop where she couldn’t see or smell them.

What have I eaten lately? Eloise asked herself.

In the past, her stress had been known to manifest itself in a loss of appetite, and she knew she needed to make sure she was getting enough to eat during tough times. But she’d had an entire box of macaroni and cheese last night, she remembered, so there was probably nothing to worry about. Maybe there was another smell in here, some kind of cleaning agent or something that was turning her off the gelato.

She killed the hour walking around instead, and then went back to pick up Patrick’s ties. When she returned with them, he gestured that she should toss them on the chair in the corner of his office. Eloise was irritated. Why had she bothered getting them dry cleaned if he was just going to throw them around? But, she decided, it wasn’t her problem. She dropped the ties and headed back to her desk.

“Eloise,” Patrick called.

She turned back.

He pointed to the chair opposite his own. “Sit.”

Oh, great. Eloise perched on the edge of the chair, feeling anxious.

Patrick finished typing something and leaned over the desk conspiratorially.

“So. What have you found?”

“Found?” Eloise played dumb, stalling for time.

“On Khan. Has he got a mistress?”

Eloise shook her head. “Not that I can tell. He isn’t married.”

“But what about a secret affair?”

Only with me.

“I found a few pictures of him at formal balls and things,” she said. “He’s always with a different woman.”

“A playboy, eh?” Patrick sounded pleased.

“Well, I don’t know. The way they’re posed always seems very…respectful. Maybe official is a better word. I get the feeling he’s escorting important people to these things, not actually having a romantic evening.”

Patrick frowned. “Right. Well. What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“You must have found something. What about arrest records?”

“I…I didn’t look for arrest records.”

“Well, that was an oversight.”

“Patrick. Come on. He’s a sheikh. I’m sure he hasn’t been arrested.”

“Is he smoking in any of these pictures you found?”

“What?” Eloise was flabbergasted. “Smoking isn’t even mentioned in the code of conduct.”

“But if we find a picture of him doing it, we can cast doubt on what he’s smoking. We could say it’s something illegal.”

“Do you even know what it is and isn’t legal to smoke in Al-Zhera?”

Patrick slammed his hand down on the desk, making her jump.

“That’s your job, Eloise! You’re supposed to be researching these things! I can’t do everything here!”

“I…I know,” she stammered.

“This is ridiculous. You’ve had weeks to get this done, and you’ve got nothing for me? We’re supposed to fly out there tomorrow! What am I going to say to this guy? Our entire strategy is built on catching him in hypocrisy. What have you been doing for the past six weeks, online shopping?”

Eloise felt close to tears. It was humiliating. She wasn’t one to cry at work, and Patrick had never gotten her this upset before. Besides, he was wrong. She knew that. His plan was stupid and wrong-headed, and it certainly couldn’t be considered her fault if Masoud’s behavior was beyond reproach. What was she supposed to do about it?

“I’m sorry,” she said, and hated herself for doing so.

I should be standing up to him.

Patrick waved a hand at her dismissively. “Whatever. We have a few hours. Pull a story together.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I really don’t think there’s anything here.”

“Make something up, then. Find something we can throw at him that he won’t be able to disprove.”

Eloise stared. “You want me to lie?”

“You wouldn’t have to do that if you’d found anything real,” Patrick said, “so don’t start with me. Get out there and get to work. Clock’s ticking.”

Stunned, Eloise got to her feet. How had this gotten so out of control? She had been relieved not to find anything to use against Masoud, but having to accuse him of something he hadn’t done would be far worse. It would be such a betrayal. After he’d gone out of his way to show her a wonderful time on her last visit to Al-Zhera, what would he think when she walked into the room and called him an immoral hypocrite?

She was the immoral hypocrite.

Feeling suddenly dizzy, she braced herself with a hand on her desk. She expected the feeling to pass, but instead, it intensified. The walls swam around her, and her stomach lurched. Groping, half blind, she found her way to the restroom and hunched over the toilet bowl, heaving, until her vision eventually cleared.

What was that?

Had she just been that sickened by what Patrick was asking her to do? Had it triggered some kind of anxiety attack? She did feel stressed and upset. But those feelings hadn’t faded when the dizziness had. Was that how it worked?

She’d felt like this yesterday, Eloise suddenly remembered. That had been after a meeting with Patrick, too. It hadn’t sent her running for the bathroom, but she’d had to put her head down on her desk for several minutes. In fact, the last couple of weeks had been peppered with moments like this. She was overworked. Overstressed. She was spreading herself too thin, and it was causing fatigue. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to make herself really sick.

Eloise got to her feet slowly and splashed some water on her face at the sink. Had she eaten anything today? She couldn’t remember. The macaroni had been last night, and the gelato…

She was seeing spots again. She clutched at the edge of the sink and leaned forward, struggling to regulate her breathing.

What’s happening?

The whole room seemed to spin around her once, slowly, and as she started to feel herself falling, darkness swallowed her vision.