Jasmina set an alarm for early the next morning, waking in the dark. Turning on a light, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she opened her emergency bag and pulled out her laptop, logging into her secure server. She spent the twilight hours going over documents her council had sent over, emailing out her feedback and detailing what she believed to be the best course of action. By the time she looked up from her screen, the sun was rising, cresting the horizon in a cascade of pinks and oranges.

She stood, stretching her lower back as she padded toward the window. She gazed out at the city, feeling a combination of melancholy and a deep love for her home. As the sun rose into the blue sky, she knew it would be a glorious day.

Unfortunately, she had to spend that day with Jenson Black.

With a sigh, she prepared herself for a long day of bantering with her fiancé, her hand resting on the doorknob as she hesitated, giving herself one last moment of peace. When she opened the door, she was met with the smell of roasting coffee beans. The delectable scent led straight to the kitchen, where Jenson stood with his back to her…shirtless.

Jasmina cleared her throat and Jenson turned, flashing her a chiseled chest that she tried very hard not to look at, keeping her eyes firmly on his face. He grinned, looking sexy as all get-out.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice a little scratchy with first use.

There was a shadow of a beard along his jawline, giving him the appearance of a pirate, and Jasmina had to work to get her thoughts back to where they ought to be.

“You’re up early,” she observed, taking a seat at the kitchen counter.

Jenson nodded, pouring a cup of hot coffee and setting it in front of her.

“One does not become one of the most successful men on the planet by sleeping in. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black is fine,” she said, palming her cup and blowing gently on the steam.

She took a tentative sip, the strong brew caressing her tongue as she swallowed, instantly feeling a little more awake.

“That’s for the best; we don’t have anything perishable here, and I couldn’t locate any sugar either.”

“We’ll need to go out and gather supplies this morning. I imagine there isn’t much food around. This safe house is rarely used.”

She glanced around the kitchen, noticing that Jenson had cleaned up the pasta from the night before, presumably after she had gone to bed. How often had the man ever had to clean up his own mess?

“Are we allowed to go out?” he asked, taking a sip from his own cup.

“Of course. That’s what disguises are for.”

“And I assume you have a whole makeup studio in here, complete with wigs.”

Jasmina rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can easily hide ourselves with hats and some different clothing. The people of El Jayiah have never seen me out of royal dress before, and every time they’ve seen you it’s been in a suit. I’m sure we’ve stocked this place with clothing that is inconspicuous.”

“Not to a murderer, I’d imagine.”

“A murderer who has no idea where to look for us or where we are? You’re terribly paranoid, Jenson.”

“Forgive me for wanting to live. I tend to value my life. It’s pretty great, where it is.”

“Indeed. But we don’t have a choice. We either go out in disguise or we starve, and then you’re dead anyway.”

Jenson mumbled something under his breath, and Jasmina smiled, knowing she had won. They drank their coffee in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

Jasmina wondered if she would really be able to pull this stunt off. Would he be smart enough to discover what a deception this all was? Perhaps she should be more afraid, but she didn’t want to be. Let him be the cowardly one. She was happy just the way she was.

She finished her coffee and hopped off the chair.

“I’m famished. We must get something to eat.”

“I didn’t bring any money with me,” Jenson said quietly.

Jasmina shrugged.

“Never mind that. There was plenty packed into my emergency bag. All cash, of course. If we need more, I can find a way to get it.”

“What else was in that bag, anyway?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“I thought husbands and wives told each other everything.”

“Husbands that blackmail their wives into marrying them have no grounds to ask for anything.”

“You walked into this deal with your eyes open, Jasmina. I didn’t force you into anything.”

His voice was more defensive than she had ever heard it before. Had she finally struck a nerve with him?

“That remains to be seen. We will still never be able to change the fact that you turned this marriage into a business deal for your own personal gain. Why should I owe you anything, much less the truth?”

“Because you’re getting something out of the deal, too. You’re getting security for your country. I think that a marriage to me is a rather small price to pay for such a vast amount of money spent on your people.”

“And what about giving up any shot at love? I wouldn’t call that a small price, Mr. Black.”

“And now we’re back to Mr. Black. Tell me, what will you call me during our little outing today?”

“Jeff,” she said, without hesitation.

“That was fast. What’s Jeff got to do with it?”

“He’s a student I despised in my political science classes. It suits you.”

“In that case, you can be Cassandra.”

She couldn’t resist asking.

“Who is Cassandra?”

“My mother,” he said, taking her empty cup and turning away from her to place it in the sink.

Jasmina stared at his muscular back, wondering why he would give her such a name. He’d never mentioned his parents before. Would she ever meet them?

“We haven’t yet worked out a guest list for the wedding. Will your parents be coming?”

Jenson shrugged.

“I don’t think now is the time to figure that out, do you?”

“What, when we have no technology and all the time in the world to wait until we can get back to our regular lives? You’re right—terrible timing.”

“Just show me where you think these disguises are, Cassie, and then let’s get some food. I get grumpy when I’m hungry.”

“And yet you’re such a pleasant person the rest of the time,” Jasmina quipped. “Very well, let’s see what we can find.”

They made their way to Jenson’s bedroom, opening a closet and some drawers until they found a pair of sneakers, jeans, and a T-shirt, along with a baseball cap. Jasmina advised him to keep his beard stubble, and he reminded her that he didn’t have a razor to shave with anyway, so it didn’t matter. She left the room so he could change, acutely aware of his bare chest and desperate to put some space between her and his smooth, chiseled skin.

In all her life, she had never seen a man’s bare torso like that. Of course she had seen her fair share of half-naked men—she’d gone swimming in her life—but none compared to what Jenson had going on. It was disconcerting. Her fingers itched to caress his skin, and she clenched her hands into fists to release the urge.

It wasn’t effective enough.

In her own closet, she found a long skirt, a white blouse and headscarf, making quick work of changing before slipping on a comfortable pair of walking shoes. Once she was finished, she stepped out to find Jenson fully dressed and waiting for her.

“Nice,” he said, admiring her openly.

She felt herself blush, and she strolled past him, back in the direction of the living room.

“See? We’ll be well hidden.”

“If you say so. You have quite the distinctive face, Jasmina. I doubt that you’ll be able to get around without being noticed.”

She looked back at him, thinking. Then, getting an idea, she darted back into her room and lifted her thick-rimmed glasses from the desk, sliding them on. When she walked back out, Jenson laughed.

“Jasmina, is that you? I thought it was just some mild-mannered reporter,” Jenson joked.

“Say what you will, but you’d be surprised how easily glasses can hide someone’s face. Paired with the headscarf, and my new accent, we’ll be unrecognizable.”

“What new accent?” he asked.

“This one,” she said in a perfect American lilt. “You forget that I spent four years in New York. I learned a thing or two in my time there.”

“That’s pretty impressive. Perhaps I should be British, then?”

He said the last part in a twisted, terrible accent, and Jasmina laughed.

“I think you should stick to American. You’re going to give us away for sure if you keep that up.”

“I think it was pretty good,” he said, still in his terrible accent.

“Whatever,” she said, in a perfect valley girl style.

Jenson laughed.

“All right, you definitely pass for American better than I do British. What say we go out as tourists from New York? We can really fool them then.”

“I think that’s a great idea. You ready to head out?”

“Let’s brave the outside world,” he said.

Jasmina noticed that he had visibly relaxed since the night before, and wondered what had happened. Had he simply processed their situation and moved on from the fear? Had her attitude affected his in any way?

Not wanting to ask and give herself away, she instead led the way to the front door, unlocking the deadbolt and three chains holding it shut.

“Talk about security,” Jenson said, and Jasmina nodded.

“They don’t call it a safe house for no reason.”

“You know, when we’re married we could enjoy some great private time here,” he said, his tone suggestive.

“When we’re married I imagine we’ll be sleeping on different sides of the palace for the rest of our lives.”

“I think you’ll soon change your mind about that,” he said.

“I think you’re a fool.”

Jason laughed.

“So, for the purposes of this outing, we’re American tourists traveling together as a couple, right?”

“Right,” Jasmina said, and moved to step out the door.

Before she could, he tugged her back and twirled her around, and she found herself suddenly pressed against him, their faces an inch apart.

“Then let’s make it believable, shall we?”

He lowered his head, then, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, and lord help her, Jasmina began to kiss him back!