Jasmina cast a frantic glance at Jenson, and almost ruined everything by laughing out loud.

No longer cocky and assured, the handsome CEO had blanched, his expression panicked as he stared with wide eyes at the guard.

“What do you mean I have to go too?”

Deniz grunted, which didn’t answer the question one way or the other. He was exceptional at that.

“As the fiancé of the ruling monarch, that puts you in immediate danger as well. It is vital that we get you both to safety. Now!”

He raised his voice, then, his gun protruding heavily from his side as the two guards who had accompanied him waited silently at the door.

Jasmina tossed her napkin onto the table and followed him, turning to look at Jenson. She lifted a dark eyebrow at him.

“Well? Are you planning on dying today? Because I certainly am not,” she said, turning to address Deniz. “You will bring us to the safe house in the city. I’m sure we’ll be plenty protected there.”

“You must dress in disguise. No one can know who you really are. You are putting yourself at great risk by not leaving the city.”

Deniz sounded perfectly believable in his concern, and for a moment Jasmina almost bought into his ploy herself. She made a mental note to get him into theater when all this was said and done.

“Nevertheless, I will not abandon the majority of my people. This is a small country, Deniz. It would not make much difference.”

“Don’t you think you should listen to your head of security?” Jenson asked, waking up from his reverie and falling in step beside her.

“We have a duty to our people, Jenson. If you intend to take this throne, this is the reality. There are threats all the time. People wanting to oust our government so that they can control us. We have a million guns and bombs pointed in our direction at any given time. This isn’t some company you’re running. This is reality.”

They walked on in tense silence as Deniz led them toward a busted up old car idling behind the palace. Before he had a chance, Jasmina opened the door and slid inside, the better to hide her face from invisible foes. Jenson slid in behind her, grasping her hand, hard.

“Don’t be frightened, Jenson. It’s going to be fine.”

“You just told me we have a million guns and bombs pointed at us, and I’ve got a guard shoving me into a car because there’s a threat on my life. I fail to see where the ‘fine’ is in all of this, Jasmina.”

She bit back another smile. It was quite amusing to see tall, proud Jenson Black reduced to a fearful infant with one little threat. The car kicked dirt up behind it as the driver sped away from the palace, turning onto a back road and meandering through the city so as to avoid being followed.

Jasmina leaned forward, speaking with the driver as he picked streets at random to lose any imaginary person who might be trailing them.

“Shouldn’t you be hiding your face? You’re pretty distinctive,” Jenson said, looking around for something she could use.

Jasmina shrugged.

“We’ll get to the safe house soon enough.”

“You seem terribly relaxed for someone who could be murdered at any moment.”

She looked at him then, realizing that his fear was quite real. A pang of pity struck her, and she was surprised by it. She sat back and reached for Jenson’s hand, lacing her fingers with his.

“Jenson, this is what every single day of my life is like. This is what it’s like to be a royal. You wonder why I’m so serious all the time? There will always be people after my power, looking to avenge some wrong they have laid at my feet because I am a public figure. This is just life,” she said, staring at him to gauge his reaction.

His eyes never stopped moving, gazing out the windows as though waiting to see a gun appear in one of them. They finally pulled into a secret garage, the driver parking the dingy little car and turning off the engine.

“Here you are, safe house on the north side.”

“Thank you so much for your courage,” Jasmina said, placing a hand on the driver’s shoulder.

He turned and bowed his head.

“Anything for you, Your Highness. I will leave a jagged trail before I drive back to the palace, so as not to draw any attention. When the threat has passed, I will return for you.”

“Wonderful,” she said, hesitating as she reached for the door handle.

“Did Deniz happen to think of my emergency bag?”

The driver nodded, popping open the trunk.

“He did. You will find it in the back.”

“Fantastic, thanks again!” she said, sliding out of the car and grabbing her bag from the backseat.

She sent a silent thank you to Deniz, who had thought to bring her bag with her work laptop and an emergency cellphone for when she was ready for the deception to end. Perhaps she would make it a day, maybe more. Jenson seemed to be learning quite a bit already. He had stepped out from the car and closed the door behind him, watching forlornly as the driver opened the garage door once more and pulled out, driving into the night.

The two of them stood in silence as the garage door closed, locking them inside.

“Well, that was certainly an adventure. Lucky for us, we didn’t have to drive all the way out into the country. That would have been quite inconvenient.”

“I suppose having one’s life threatened might also be considered inconvenient. How often does this happen, anyway?”

Jasmina shrugged and opened the door to the small townhouse. A security system let out a beep, letting her know to lock it before the night was out. When Jenson stepped inside after her, she pressed the combination to lock them in.

“Oh I don’t know. Depends on a lot of factors: who feels like invading us this year, who feels that their breakup was my fault. It’s always a mystery. You’ve never had your life threatened, I take it?”

“Of course I have. You don’t get to where I’m at and not have people wanting to kill you.”

“So what’s the problem?” Jasmina asked, walking further into the house. It was fairly spacious, though not at all what Jasmina was used to. It reminded her a bit of her housing in college, though of course it was much larger than the average New York apartment. The kitchen was cozy, with white marble countertops. The living room was carpeted, housing several sofas in front of a large bookcase. There was no television in the safe house—the point was to keep noise to a minimum.

“The problem is that I’m not ousted from my home every time the littlest threat comes in. This is not going to fly going forward, Jasmina.”

He was trying to take control of the situation, regain his credibility after his show of weakness. Jasmina simply stared at him, crossing her arms as she stared him down.

“Your intention in this whole situation was to rise high enough to brag to all your friends about how rich and powerful you were. Did you ever stop to think about the price of that position? When you are part of the ruling family, you affect the lives of millions. You think the Pope or the Dalai Lama don’t get evacuated every couple of months?”

“You’re comparing yourself to them?” Jenson asked, his eyes wide.

“I’m a monarch, Jenson. This is my life. If you want power and status, you need to understand the sacrifices that come with it. It’s not all playing golf and making deals at this level. Lives are affected here, and that impacts us directly. It puts us in danger every day.”

Jenson stared at her for a moment, processing that information. He glanced around at their surroundings, contemplating. Jasmina waited for him to come to the conclusion that this would not be the life for him, and then he would set her free, while still giving her what she wanted: jobs and security for her people.

Instead, he headed toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Jenson opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of pasta, checking the expiration date.

“Making dinner. We were rudely interrupted before we had a chance to eat, weren’t we? Do you know how to cook, Sheikha?”

“I…” Jasmina began, unsure of what she was going to say.

He had bounced back so quickly. How had he done that?

“Not to worry. Cooking has always been a hobby of mine. I’m sure I can whip us up something tasty enough until we can get fresh supplies tomorrow.”

“You think we’re allowed to leave?” Jasmina asked, fighting to win back the upper ground.

“Your guard said we had to wear disguises. Why would we need them if we’re tethered to the house? Besides, there’s no point in hiding like this when we don’t know how long we’ll be here. I know I have to eat, don’t you?”

Jasmina frowned, taking a seat at the kitchen counter while she watched Jenson boil some noodles before pouring the water out and fixing them each a bowl.

“I’m afraid there wasn’t much by means of seasoning, but it should be edible. Hungry?”

He held the bowl out to her, and she took it, her eyes wide. All she wanted to do was ask him how he had bounced back so fast, whether or not he was reconsidering his role. She knew that a question like that would give her away within minutes of their arrival, so instead she twirled the pasta around her fork and took a bite.

A succulent flavor filled her senses, and she looked up at Jenson.

“What did you put in this?”

“What? Doesn’t meet your royal standards?”

“I was going to say it’s delicious. Now who can’t take a compliment?”

“Touché. Well, I found some spices in the cabinet that I mixed in with a light sauce. I’m glad that it holds up to your high tastes.”

“You don’t know what my tastes are. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Now that is simply untrue,” he said, leaning in, his elbows on the counter as he looked at her.

She wondered if he would kiss her, then. He’d come so close so many times. The memory of his lips on her ear came rushing back, and she sat back ever so slightly, not wanting to fall under his spell.

“Yes, it is. What could you possibly know that you haven’t read off of a webpage?”

Jenson watched her, his eyes intense. It made Jasmina intensely uncomfortable, but she still refused to break his steady gaze.

“You are a tyrant,” he said finally, and Jasmina stood, her bowl slamming against the counter.

“I beg your pardon?” she demanded, her whole face hot with anger.

Jenson smiled up at her.

“Got you,” he said, taking a bite of pasta as he continued to smile.

“I’m too tired for games,” Jasmina said, leaving her bowl on the counter and walking toward a hallway.

Jenson followed her, his fingers wrapping gently around her wrist, forcing her to stop.

“Hey, I was kidding. The one thing I know about you is that you always put your country first. I for one consider that a pretty admirable trait.”

She turned to look at him, searching for the joke behind his words. When she didn’t find it, her eyes narrowed.

“How do I know when you’re telling the truth?”

“How do I know when you are?” he countered.

“This will never work if we can’t trust one another,” she said.

“That’s true. So when are you going to start?”

“When you start acting trustworthy? So most likely never. Goodnight, Mr. Black.”

“Goodnight, Sheikha. Don’t let the assassins bite.”

Unable to find a proper retort, Jasmina glared at him before closing the door in his face.

As a direct result of her own scheming, she now found herself locked in a house with Jenson Black? What on earth was she going to do?