Gabe rolled over onto his back and breathed hard. Sweat covered his toned and muscled body as he looked up at the ceiling. The woman next to him rolled over and slipped her arm over his chest.

“Grazie, bella,” Gabe whispered against the top of her head before angling himself out of bed. The tasty morsel next to him in the bed was from the Italian delegation. He didn’t really speak Italian but knew enough to get by. There was no need for interpreters when the woman he was dancing with slid her hand between his legs and began to stroke.

“Torna a letto,” she purred as she patted the bed next to her.

Gabe stepped into the pants of his black tuxedo as the woman stretched, her small perky breasts begging to be kissed again. But Gabe knew he was being watched and didn’t have the time to climb back into bed with her as she’d asked.

Gabe stepped up to the mirror and began to work on his bow tie. “Scusa, bella. Il dovere chiama.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying when he told her that duty calls.

His uncle Dirar, also known as the King of Rahmi, was downstairs for the ball benefiting the Rahmi International Nanotechnology Lab. Gabe’s older-by-a-minute twin brother, Zain, who was the official spare heir to the Rahmi crown, and their friend, Dr. Piper Davies, had recently established the lab. It was bad enough his parents were on him to marry like his brother already had, but now the king was on him about it too. Just before the party began, Gabe had gotten a lecture on his duty to the crown. And by duty, the king meant stop appearing in the gossip columns, stop sleeping with whomever he wanted, and settle down with a respectable wife and pop out kids . . . immediately.

His brother, Zain, and his wife, Mila, were included in this lecture. They had been married over a year but had not yet had a child, meaning there was no established lineage to the crown. Sure, there was their cousin Jamal, who was first in line, but he’d been married longer than Zain and had yet to get his arranged wife pregnant. So far, there was no next generation of Ali Rahmans and the king, along with Gabe’s parents, Mo and Dani, were not happy about it. It was ironic since his mother had long griped about the unfairness of all the pressure to marry and have children. Sure, they excluded Gabe’s younger sister, Ariana, from matchmaking, but apparently Gabe was fair game and it grated on him.

Gabe sent a wink to the woman zipping up her dress and headed back to the ballroom. The excitement from a liaison such as this was no longer there, and he’d deny the feeling until his dying breath, but Gabe was beginning to want more than just a fling. Zain and Mila were an unbreakable unit. They were madly in love, had eyes only for each other, and always supported one another. Not only did he see it in their relationship, but in the relationship of his friends who had gradually been getting married over the past years. Gabe was beginning to want what they had. He was getting tired of the red carpet events. He was getting tired of the jet setting. And he was getting tired of feeling alone when people constantly surrounded him.

Gabe came to a stop just inside the door to the ballroom and watched as the couples danced. His parents glided by, completely lost in each other. Even Jamal and his wife looked happily at each other before they disappeared into the crowd. Gabe certainly didn’t regret his past, but he was thirty-one years old, and he wanted something more. He wanted to make a difference.

“Nephew,” the smooth voice of his uncle said from beside him. “I thought you had left.”

“Uncle Dirar, I would never leave an event as important as this before it was time. I hope I am doing all I can to raise money for scientific research.”

Dirar looked him over as if he were about to call him out for sneaking away with the Italian but then just nodded. “Good. I have something important for you to do. It’s time you focused on your family.”

“I’m not getting married,” Gabe said with steel behind his voice.

“We will leave that argument for another time. Our cousin, Queen Suri, has approached me with a problem.” The king looked across the room to where their stately cousin stood. She glittered in a silver dress. The emeralds on her crown stood out against her silver hair. Suri was the Queen of Surman, a small country across the sea from Rahmi. Gabe’s great-uncle had married the former queen, and Suri was his daughter.

“I can’t imagine anything Suri can’t fix,” Gabe said with the full respect Suri deserved. Zain, along with the others of their immediate family, had once thought Suri was as vengeful to them as her father had been toward Gabe’s grandfather. However, over the past year, they had grown close to their cousin on that side of the family and now shared mutual love and respect.

Dirar nodded again. “I am afraid the coast is in upheaval. After your brother took down Tahjad’s warlord, Tahjad had free elections. President Idris Koury has also approached me with this problem.”

“But I thought Suri had supported Idris in the elections,” Gabe said, scanning the room for the tall, dark-skinned Koury.

“She did. The problem isn’t between them. It’s between their shared neighbor to the west, Bermalia,” King Dirar explained as classical music filled the room. “King Draven has just ascended to the throne. He’s twenty-two and so full of himself that he might just start a war he has no way of winning. He wants to prove to his people he’s a badass or something. Is that how you say it in America?”

“Yes, that’s it.” Gabe smiled. His uncle was spending more time in America with his brother, Mo, and was trying to pick up the language. “What is he up in arms about?”

“He thinks Suri and Idris disrespected him by kicking some of his soldiers off their lands.” Gabe covered his laugh with a cough when Dirar rolled his eyes. “They were looking for oil and wandered onto Surman and Tahjad lands, even though there are notices posted all around the borders. He claimed his soldiers didn’t see them and then publicly questioned the placement of the border.”

Gabe shook his head. “So what? Why do Suri and Idris care about this young pup?”

“Draven needs to learn his place. He needs boundaries, but he also needs support or Surman and Tahjad will be flooded by Bermalians when their economy tanks.” Dirar turned to look at Gabe. “That’s where you come in. For once, your reputation is helpful. You’re something of an idol for Draven. Suri and Idris want your help to rein him in. They want you to negotiate a peace treaty between the three countries. If not, there will be war—a war that Rahmi is obligated to join as a blood ally of Surman’s.”

Gabe let out a slow breath. Rahmi trained its soldiers well. One of Gabe’s best friends, Nash Dagher, was a part-time teacher at the military academy when he wasn’t helping head up security for the royal family. If war broke out, Nash and the rest of the soldiers would be deployed. Gabe scanned the crowd and saw Nash and his new wife, Sophie, who had just enjoyed their honeymoon a couple of weeks before. Suddenly, he felt the pressure Zain complained about. It settled on Gabe’s chest, pressing him into the floor. If he failed at this task, his people—his friends—would all be at risk.

“Will Draven sit down with us?” Gabe asked.

“He’ll sit down with you. If you don’t negotiate this deal, there is no deal. Are you ready to step up, nephew?”

“I won’t let you down,” Gabe swore.

“It’s not me you’ll be letting down. It’ll be your country. One of them at least.” Since Gabe’s mother was an American citizen, all his siblings had dual citizenship—something his uncle continually grumbled about. “I’ll send over all of our files tomorrow. I’ll set the meeting for two weeks from now in Keeneston. It could potentially last a week.”

Gabe watched as Dirar walked over to Suri. She looked over to Gabe, and with a small smile, acknowledged his lead in these talks. Idris looked a little more skeptical, but Gabe was used to that. Just because he’d gotten the reputation of a playboy didn’t mean he hadn’t been paying attention to everything his father had been teaching him and his brother. Speaking of which: “Hey, Zain.”

“Did you decide to head up the peace talks?”

Gabe’s lips thinned at the tone in Zain’s voice. “Don’t sound so surprised, brother.”

Zain shook his head. They were identical, except Zain was a half inch taller and Gabe’s dark blue eyes were a shade darker. “No, I’m glad you agreed. Draven had no interest in letting me negotiate the treaty. If you didn’t do it, we’d be preparing for war. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just let me borrow Veronica,” Gabe said of Zain’s extraordinary assistant. She knew every custom, every person worth knowing, both in high and low places, and was freakishly good at being prepared for all situations.

“She’s already gathering information for you. I don’t mean to put any pressure on you, but Uncle sure handed you a tricky one for your first major deal. Draven is known to be temperamental. And Suri, well, you know how stubborn she can get.”

“I’ll handle it,” Gabe said with more confidence than he felt. But that was one of the lessons his father had drilled into both of them—you never show fear in negotiations. The person willing to walk away held more power than anyone else at the table.

“I know you will. You were always the smarter one. If you run into a snag or need anything else, please let me know. Watch your back. Apparently Draven isn’t above assassinations.”

Zain slapped Gabe on the back before he left to find his wife. Gabe took a glass of champagne and downed it. He needed to think, and he couldn’t do that when he was on display.

---

Three blocks from the penthouse apartment in downtown Lexington that Gabe had bought when Mila and Zain had gotten married was a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar. This part of Lexington had not been redeveloped. It was the blue-collar part of town, and Gabe loved it. No one paid him any attention. In fact, no one probably knew who he was. And that’s why he came here to relax and think. Eventually he’d go back to Keeneston. But for just a while, he wanted to be on his own without people surrounding him who had known him his entire life.

He opened the heavy wood door to Billy’s Bar. It was a place where the windows were covered with iron bars, and live bluegrass music made it impossible to talk to each other on the weekends. Luckily for Gabe, it was one of those nights.

Gabe drew a little more attention than normal since he walked into Billy’s wearing a tuxedo, but the great thing about the place was that people didn’t care. He got a couple of looks, but then they went back to their beers. Gabe tugged his bow tie free and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt as he found a seat at a small table in the corner.

“What can I get you?” the harried waitress asked, never looking up from her notepad.

“Rock Hill Farm bourbon. And make it a double.”

She nodded her head, and her curls from her dark auburn hair fell forward. She shoved them back behind her ear and looked up from her notepad. Her hair grazed the top of her shoulders, but it was her eyes that always got Gabe. When she looked up, he was met with bright green eyes the same color as Suri’s emeralds. “Straight up or on the rocks?” she asked.

Gabe had seen her plenty of times before, but those eyes drew him in every time she looked at him. She kept her head down and worked hard. And she didn’t even blink at the fact he was sitting in a dark bar wearing a tux.

“Straight up,” she said, remembering his previous orders.

“You got it.”

Gabe watched as she hurried away. She looked like most of the college students who braved the bar. She wore flat sandals tied at her ankles, skinny black jeans, and a loose-fitting, emerald-green tank top that matched her eyes. Unlike the women Gabe had just left, she wore jewelry worth no more than ten dollars, and she didn’t try to draw attention to herself.

Gabe watched as his waitress slapped his order on the bar and headed for another table. She may have looked like a college student, but her composure and the wariness in her eyes told him she was older, mid-twenties probably. And she was nothing like the women he usually picked up, which was exactly why he didn’t hit on her that night or hadn’t hit on her in the past. He only wanted partners who played the same game he did, and this woman wasn’t it. So no matter how drawn Gabe was to her, he’d leave her alone.

Gabe pulled out his phone and looked up King Draven instead of focusing on the waitress. An arrogant kid stared back at him, and Gabe would bet the waitress had more experience with life than Draven did. Draven’s official picture was plastered everywhere. Social media, on their money, his own website, the country’s tourism webpage, and then on billboards all through Bermalia. He was always in full military uniform with so many medals the coat sagged under their weight—medals he never earned and most likely didn’t even know what they meant.

“He looks like a prick.”

Gabe looked up as the waitress set down his drink. He smiled up at her and nodded. “I believe you’re right.”

“I didn’t take you for a military man.”

Gabe shook his head. “I’m not. This is just . . . homework.”

“Don’t remind me. I’ll be up for hours finishing mine after I get off tonight. Let me know if you need anything else.”

And then she was hurrying through the crowd, placing drinks on tables as if she hadn’t just talked to a prince. Gabe smiled. It felt good to be just a guy in a bar. Picking up his drink, he sipped the bourbon as he read about Draven and Bermalia.