“I don’t understand,” Eloise said. “Don’t we have to go get the other car?”

They were in a different car, now—a convertible, speeding toward the coast. Masoud had shown Eloise the room in the palace where his uncle took meetings with heads of state, a cavernous room that looked like it had been built for another era, with stunning stained-glass mosaics, arches and columns, and an elaborate tile ceiling almost too intricate for Eloise to comprehend. The colors had been some of the brightest she’d ever witnessed in any building. They were bold and dizzying, and she’d been in awe of the beauty of the place.

Unfortunately, Masoud had explained, they wouldn’t be able to see any more of the palace without invitation from his uncle. Eloise didn’t mind; even seeing that much of it had been a rare privilege, and she felt impossibly lucky.

She felt, in fact, like a princess.

They had gone out to a garage that felt more like a stable—it was a detached building with rows of cars housed in different berths—and Masoud had taken a ring of keys from a lockbox on the wall and asked Eloise to pick a car. With some confusion, she’d chosen the mustard-colored convertible in which they now sat, although she had declined Masoud’s offer to let her drive.

Eloise was a nervous driver at the best of times, never mind on foreign roads, in the company of royalty. At best, she would be humiliated—at worst, she’d have an international fiasco on her hands.

So now, Masoud drove down the highway as Eloise reclined slightly, causing the wind to blow her hair back from her face instead of whipping it into her eyes. He kept glancing over at her and smiling slightly. No doubt he found her amusing, Eloise thought, but she didn’t mind.

“One of my drivers will pick up the other car,” he said casually.

“One of your drivers?”

“Well, they’re really the family drivers, not mine.”

“But how many do you have?”

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

“How can you not be sure?”

“Well, they aren’t my staff, they’re my uncle’s. I just communicate with the manager, and he assigns tasks to one of the staff drivers.”

“So, you’ll call him and let him know we ditched a car down by the temple?”

“I already have.”

“When did you do that?” Eloise was stunned. He hadn’t been out of her sight.

“I sent a message while you were looking at the tile work in the state room.”

That was fair. She had been awfully distracted in there. “If you have drivers,” she said, “Why were you driving yourself in the first place?”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a driver who brought us to your office this morning. I made arrangements with the limousine company. Why didn’t you have someone driving you to work? Why don’t you have someone driving us right now?”

“Because I like to drive.” Masoud smiled, an expression of peace spreading over his face.

She could see that being behind the wheel brought him joy and calm. Eloise had known people like that in her life, of course. Her father was the same way. He had enjoyed the long road trips necessary to transport her to and from college each year, so much so that he’d refused to let her take a shift.

But Masoud had offered her the privilege. It seemed significant suddenly, as if he’d given her the opportunity to do something very special. It felt like part of the princess treatment he was giving her. Usually, she was willing to bet, he did not offer to let other people drive. Not if he enjoyed it so much himself.

“So, where are we going?” she asked.

He glanced over at her. “You want to spoil the surprise?”

“I didn’t know it was a surprise.”

She should have, though. Everything today had been a surprise. Probably, though, nothing would be able to top the shock of emerging from an underground tunnel to find herself in the Al-Zhera palace.

“How about just a hint?”

“A hint.” Masoud thought for a minute. “Okay. Your hint is: Butter.”

“Butter?”

What could that mean? Masoud was smirking as if he knew she would never figure it out, and she had to concede that he was right. She would simply have to wait and see.

* * *

Half an hour later, Eloise was opening crabs with her fingers, prying out the meat, and dipping it in a hot, delicious butter sauce.

“I can’t believe this is your favorite restaurant,” she said, sucking the butter from her fingers. Eating crab was a messy adventure. She had done it before, but never like this, in a restaurant right by the water where the crabs came to her still fully shelled and removing every bit of the meat was part of the experience. Always before, her crabs had been partially opened by the restaurant and she’d been able to delicately remove the meat with a little fork.

This was messy, and she’d been hesitant to dig in at first with someone as important as Masoud watching. But he hadn’t hesitated. Now, he had butter and seasoning all over his hands, just as she did.

“Why can’t you believe that?” Masoud asked, reaching for another crab from the bucket at the center of the table. “It’s delicious. Wait until you try the lobster.”

“We’re having lobster?”

“Of course we are. I always have the full seafood sampler. The catch is great on this part of the coast.”

Eloise stopped trying so hard to extract the meat from the claw of her crab. If more food was coming, she would have to save some room.

“It’s good,” she said. “Better than anything I get back home.”

“Do you live near the water?”

“Not very, no. I’d have to take time off from work if I wanted to visit the coast, and I don’t often do that.”

“How long have you been with MAFA Financial?”

“It was my first job out of college,” she said.

“And do you like it?”

“I like the job security,” she said. It was a practiced answer. Her parents had asked her many times if she enjoyed her job, and she wanted to be able to answer in the affirmative without lying. “I like the pay. I’m lucky to earn what I do at my age. And I like the challenge of it. There’s something special about working in a field you never planned to. You learn skills you never knew you could master.”

“Well, that does sound good,” Masoud said.

“It is.”

“And working for Mr. Gainsborough?”

She played dumb. “What about it?”

“You can’t tell me you find him pleasant.”

“Well.” She glanced out the window. It was large, panoramic, affording her a wide view of the coast. Boats cut through the water, probably catching the very seafood that would be served at this restaurant just hours from now. “Lots of people don’t like their bosses very much.”

“I suppose that’s true. But tell me, does he respect you?”

For some reason, she felt comfortable enough to answer the question honestly.

“Not really. But he’s never harassed me or anything, so that’s something.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“No, really,” she insisted. “He’s known for being a flirt, but he’s never made a pass at me.”

“What a hero.” The sarcasm was thick.

“I know. It’s really the bare minimum.”

“Why do you continue to work for him? You’re smart. I know it was you who put together that presentation. And now you’re telling me that wasn’t even your field of study.”

She felt warm with the praise.

“Nobody else would pay me as much as MAFA does right now. At my age, and with a degree in a creative field, there’s very little I could do to earn this kind of money.”

“Money isn’t everything.”

Eloise laughed out loud. “Easy for a sheikh to say!”

He laughed, too. “Okay. You have a point. But why is money so important? Why not take a job that pays a little less, but that you enjoy more, and work your way up?”

She sighed. “The truth is, my parents are having a tough time. I have to help out. So, I need the money right now.”

“I see,” he said quietly.

“I send them money every month. With my help, they’re able to live in a decent apartment and I don’t have to worry about them. It’s worth it, knowing they’ll be all right.”

“Taking care of family is very important,” Masoud agreed.

“I think so.”

“What would you have done, if you could have done anything you wanted? If this situation with your parents hadn’t arisen?”

“I would have wanted to write,” she said immediately. Although it was a fantasy she hadn’t thought much about since college, the idea had never left her.

“What kind of writing? Novels?”

“Anything, really. I love the feeling of creating. Having an idea in my head and then bringing it to full realization on the page. Making something out of nothing. It’s almost magical when it’s going well.”

He was gazing at her. “It sounds like you were good at it.”

“I was.” She spoke without thinking, then regretted it. She hoped she didn’t sound like she was bragging.

“Do you ever get to feel that way working for MAFA?”

“Sometimes. It isn’t quite the same. But sometimes I have to put together a presentation, and I’m able to craft a really great sentence, or sometimes I arrange a visual aid in a way I’m particularly proud of.”

“Hmm.”

“I know. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but the bottom line is that I have to help my parents,” she said. “I know they’d do anything for me. They have done so much for me. And now, it’s my turn to be there for them.”

“That’s admirable,” Masoud said.

“Thank you. And maybe…I don’t know if you can really understand, in your position, what it’s like to worry about money, and what it’s like when you find the solution that means you don’t have to worry anymore…”

“I don’t know,” Masoud said, softly, his eyes locked on hers. “I may understand more than you think.”

The server brought them bowls of water and towels with which to clean their hands and then served the lobster. It sat in the tail, pre-cut into manageable bites, and was served with a sauce that was so delicious Eloise could hardly do more than smile at Masoud as she chowed down.

They ate scallops next, and then a flounder fillet seasoned with spices Eloise couldn’t identify. Masoud named them, but she hadn’t heard of half of them and knew she’d never be able to replicate the dish. They drank cola out of plastic cups. Masoud had tied the plastic bib the restaurant had offered around his neck and looked somewhat adorably ludicrous.

She couldn’t believe this was the place a sheikh of Al-Zhera loved to eat, that this was where he had chosen to take her. It was just the sort of place she would have chosen herself: rife with local flavor. They were able to eat surrounded by people, and she knew she was sampling the sorts of things Al-Zherans ate every day. It was a truly authentic experience.

She’d have expected a man of Masoud’s position to favor expensive restaurants where they would be treated like royalty, where they would be served on ornate dishes and wouldn’t have to wear bibs to avoid butter splatters on their clothes. Thus far, he had surprised her at every turn, and not once had she been disappointed.

She was increasingly glad she had blown off Patrick to take advantage of this day out with Masoud. And although she knew she was not literally living the lifestyle of a princess at the seafood restaurant, there was something decadent about the experience. It was as if she and Masoud were flouting the rules in a way only royalty could.

When they were finished eating and the server delivered the check, Masoud shook his head as Eloise reached for her purse.

“Don’t be silly. This is my treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“It was my idea to bring you here. You’re my guest,” he said. “Besides, this is a business dinner.”

“How is this a business dinner? Talking about my career choices hardly counts as Khan Capital business.”

“It does if I want to do business with you.”

“I thought you’d decided against working with MAFA.”

Masoud shrugged. “He could still agree to the morality clause.”

“I have to warn you that I think that’s very unlikely.”

“Probably. But, in the meantime, learning as much as I can about MAFA and its inner workings is a wise investment. Certainly worth the price of dinner.”

He winked, and she understood that that wasn’t really the reason he’d brought her here, he was simply using it to justify buying her dinner. She decided to let him and nodded her assent.

As Masoud paid the bill, Eloise excused herself to the restroom to ensure that she didn’t have anything on her face. She examined herself in the mirror and was pleased to see that everything was in order—no butter on her chin or herbs between her teeth—then she took a deep breath. She was slightly dizzy, as if she had been drinking wine instead of cola, and she put some cold water on her face to try to mitigate it and bring herself back down to earth.

How is this my life?

It was surreal. She had never been out of the United States before. Except for business and college, she’d hardly strayed more than a day’s drive from her hometown. And now, here she was, half a world away, dining among people whose lives were utterly different from her own, who belonged to a culture she was only just beginning to understand.

Not only that, she was here as the guest of a sheikh, a member of the royal family, who had taken it upon himself to treat her like a princess. And despite his protestations about this being a business meal, Eloise knew he was spending time with her just because he wanted to.

He liked her. He enjoyed her company.

Eloise had never exactly been a social butterfly. She’d always had close friends, but she’d never had the experience of someone meeting her and deciding on the spot that they liked her, since she was a bit of an introvert.

This was new. Certainly it had never happened with a man she found as attractive as she did Masoud. It had been years since Eloise had had time to indulge an attraction to any man. These days, the men in her life were friends, and while she loved them, she was never distracted or weak-kneed at their very presence.

What was she doing?

You have a crush, she told herself firmly. You’re overreacting. Everyone gets crushes. It doesn’t mean anything. And it definitely doesn’t mean anything when the object of your crush is Al-Zheran royalty, for God’s sake. Was there ever a less likely match in the history of the human race?

The pep talk calmed her, somewhat. There was no point in getting distracted by these feelings, because they couldn’t go anywhere. And Eloise was an expert at turning her focus away from dreams that had no future.

She took a breath, centering herself, and walked back out into the restaurant.

Masoud was waiting by the table. He smiled when he saw her.

“Ready for our next stop?”

Eloise steeled herself against the tingle that tried to run down her spine.

“Ready.”