Jenson stared down at the bustling metropolis. It was ten o’clock at night, and yet the city was still bursting with activity, the neighborhoods still very much awake, winding roads peppered with party lights and people.

“Is this supposed to…” he began, but Jasmina shushed him.

“Just experience it, please.”

He rolled his eyes and gazed back down where she was looking. The scent of spiced meat and fresh pastry wafted up the hill, tickling their noses. Street music drifted on the breeze, the sound of laughter and chatter making its way to the quiet landscape above it all. Finally, Jenson turned to face Jasmina.

“Is there a festival going on or something?”

Jasmina shook her head.

“These are the sounds of our people. Every Sunday we come together and celebrate life, a new week, a new chance to experience the world again. We wrap up the week with communal meals and dancing and music. My people may not have much in the way of money, but they know how to have a good time.”

“That old chestnut, huh?” he said, crossing his arms.

Jasmina narrowed her eyes at him. She knew he had something inside him that was more than the bottom line. On a whim, she grabbed his hand again, this time dragging him back down the hill.

“You know, you’re quite strong for a Sheikha,” he said, doing his best not to trip as they fled back down the hillside.

“How many sheikhas have you wrestled?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I suppose you would be the first,” he admitted.

“Well take it from me: we’re made of stronger stuff than you would think.”

“How would you know what I think?”

It was a challenge, and instead of answering, Jasmina simply continued their path down the hillside until they reached the streets again. She led them in the direction of the most boisterous music and chatter, and before she knew it they were surrounded by people.

Long tables had been set out in the middle of the street, laden with food and drinks. A woman approached Jasmina, laughing.

“But you have no drink in your hand! What tragedy is this?” she asked, her cheeks rosy.

Jasmina grinned.

“We just arrived. Sorry we’re late!”

The woman waved a dismissive hand.

“No matter, but you must catch up my young friends. The night is still young!”

She reached for two glasses and handed them to Jasmina and Jenson, filling each with a red punch.

“Cheers!” she said, clinking her glass against theirs.

Jasmina took a sip of the sweet drink.

“Oh, this is dangerous,” she said with a wicked grin.

Jenson tried his own drink and smiled back at her.

“I should say so. That doesn’t taste like alcohol at all.”

“It’s a punch made from a rum particular to this region. I have been laid low by it many a time. Best not to drink more than one or two.”

“I bet I could drink you under the table any day of the week.”

“Always so competitive, Mr. Black,” she said, still grinning. “But I will not compete with you this time—I’ve been in my position long enough to know to keep a clear head.”

“All the more reason to keep drinking with me. When was the last time you let loose, really enjoyed yourself?”

Her smile faltered at his question, and Jenson nudged the bottom of her glass so she would take another drink.

“Relax, my darling fiancée. Live your life for once!”

“I have lived an extraordinary life, I’ll have you know!”

Jenson’s eyes were gleaming in the muted fairy lights that were strung around them. Beyond the tables a whole block was reserved for dancing. He glanced back at Jasmina with a challenge in his eyes.

“Prove it. Go dance like no one’s watching.”

Jasmina glanced over in the direction he was looking at, and turned back to face him with another sly grin.

“Only if you dance with me. You’ll notice no one is dancing alone.”

“That’s what makes it all the more daring. You’d stand out in the crowd.”

“Weren’t you the one fretting over the safety of our identities just an hour ago?”

“Yes, but I don’t dance.”

“You mean you’re too chicken to dance,” she countered.

“I am not afraid of anything.”

“Is that so? And yet Jenson Black, the man who succeeds at everything, cannot shuffle his feet before him. I have found your weakness, Mr. CEO. You are a pile of money, and nothing else. I suppose it’s only right that a dollar bill cannot dance.”

His eyes narrowed, and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

“You think I’m only where I’m at because I was born rich?”

“I think you’re making up excuses because you don’t want to look like a fool.”

“That sounds terribly rational of me.”

“And yet no less cowardly.”

“All right, Your High— Ahem, Cassie. Time to show you a little American spice.”

He reached for her hand, then, clasping his fingers with hers as he led her to the block party, where a fast-paced song was being played by several musicians on a nearby sidewalk. Jenson twirled Jasmina, pulling her close to him and setting a beat for her to follow, twirling her around and around as she laughed.

“Jenson, you’re making me dizzy!”

“Nonsense! That’s just the liquor talking!”

Nevertheless, he stopped twirling her, instead keeping up the pace until the song came to an end.

“We’ve had a request for something a little slower, so let’s take it down a notch folks, just for a little bit!” one of the musicians called out.

Jasmina swallowed as a slow tune began to play. She wondered if she should walk away before getting too close to Jenson, but when she looked up at him, he stayed right in place.

“There’s more of me to prove, evidently. Are you scared?”

Jasmina bristled at the challenge, instead lacing her fingers with his, repressing a shiver when his palm rested comfortably against her lower back as he pulled her into a close embrace, mimicking the other dancers around them.

“I’ve wanted to hold you like this since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Was that before or after you insulted me at every possible opportunity?”

“Long before. I think it might have been when I saw your picture, actually.”

They danced slowly, their bodies melding deliciously as Jasmina tried to think about anything but how nice it felt to be pressed up against Jenson Black. She chastised herself for letting her guard down, for drinking too much and letting her emotions get the better of her as a result.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, releasing her into a gentle twirl before pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

Jasmina braved a look into his eyes, and she wished she hadn’t. In the golden light of the bulbs, with his chin stubble and tousled hair, he was the handsomest man in the entire world.

“I was thinking about what’s going on at the palace in my absence,” she lied.

Jenson gently pulled her closer, so that his lips touched her ear.

“Liar,” he whispered.

“You call me that more often than is proper, sir,” she said, bristling.

Perhaps if she allowed herself to get mad, she could save herself from his charms, which were getting more intoxicating by the minute. The slow song ended, and the band struck up a tango. To her surprise, Jenson stepped back, right into an aggressive tango pose.

“Only because you lie to me quite regularly. Stop lying, and I’ll stop calling you out.”

“And you are the paragon of truth, I take it?” Jasmina said, slapping her palm against his as the dance continued.

They circled one another, adversaries, potential lovers, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a chainsaw. She wrapped her leg around his and turned, walking away before he pulled her back, their push and pull effectively mimicking their entire relationship up to that moment.

“My honesty isn’t on trial here. I’ve never pretended to be on the higher moral ground.”

“You most certainly have not. In fact, you’ve been the biggest jerk I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

She whipped past him, glancing away for a moment. She realized absently that they were now being watched by everyone on the block, the street empty save for them and their tango. Before she could think on it, Jenson pulled her back in, and she wrapped her hands tightly around his shoulders.

“But perhaps not the biggest jerk you’ve ever laid hands on?” he asked. “Maybe I’m more than you think of me, Jasmina. Maybe I’m more than I think of myself.”

“Are you?” she asked.

He turned and they faced one another, his forehead pressed against hers as they paced the ground.

“I don’t know. Maybe you can help me find out. After all, you may be a liar, but you’re the most honest person I’ve ever met.”

It was a compliment, and Jasmina felt it. She wondered then if she would be able to crack through to Jenson, get to experience him as the vulnerable man who just wanted to be loved. She knew that man was inside somewhere, but did she have the strength to fight his own barriers to get there?

He dipped her, then, and the crowd around them went wild, the cheers echoing across the city. Jasmina glanced up with a bewildered smile, but when she looked back into Jenson’s eyes, there was nothing there but a smoldering heat.

Looking nowhere but her lips, he dipped his head and claimed them one again. Her heart fluttering, Jasmina got caught up in the moment, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she kissed him back, passionately.

“To true love!” someone called.

“To true love!” the crowd echoed, and more drinks were poured as Jenson finally stood upright, pulling her up with him.

His hands cradled her face as he continued to kiss her, and Jasmina ignored the small pang at the toast made in their honor. She didn’t want to think about the conflicting emotions roiling inside of her. She just wanted Jenson to kiss her and never stop.

After infinity and no time at all, a young man clapped Jenson on the back.

“My God, man, come up for air! The night is still young!”

He pulled back, his expression clouded as he stared in wonderment at Jasmina. There was a question in his eyes, and the ball was fully in her court. It was her decision to make, and she was ready to make it.

“Let’s go home,” she breathed.

Jenson nodded, his eyes a deep emerald, filled with that hunger she had seen in him so many times before. Now she shared his hunger, and she needed him. More than she could ever remember needing anyone in her life.

They walked quickly back to the safe house, Jenson tugging her into an alley every hundred feet or so, pressing her against a brick wall here, a cement one there, tugging at her lips with his own as their passions rose exponentially.

When they reached the front door, Jasmina fumbled with the key, her hands shaking with unbridled passion. Jenson gently brushed her fingers aside.

“Allow me,” he said, twisting the key in the lock and pressing the door open.

Before she could say another word, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her across the threshold as though it were their wedding night. Before he could set her down, Jasmina’s eyes zeroed in on the door.

“Jenson, the locks,” she said, nodding at the door.

He set her down, turning to quickly bolt all of the many locks. Finally, as the last bolt locked, he turned to face her, and Jasmina’s body turned to fire. Stepping forward, he lifted her once again into his arms, kissing her with wild abandon as he guided her toward his room.

Closing the door behind them, he made passionate love to her, locked away from the rest of the world.