Kadeen stared out at his hometown.

He sat on the balcony of his hotel room, sipping on a drink from the mini bar, his mind racing. He pulled out his phone and stared at it, considering his options.

When Kadeen had left Al Qazar, it hadn’t exactly been under the best of circumstances. His parents had been constantly on his back about getting married, which was something he in no way was ready to do.

Still, Kadeen had agreed to their terms before fleeing the country for New York, where he had gotten to live out all of his fantasies and enjoy the life he had desired so much more than the one that would be waiting for him upon his return.

He thought about Nicole’s comment, about him having a reputation. Normally something like that wouldn’t bother him, but coming from Nicole’s lips—Nicole’s perfect, kissable lips—he found he didn’t like the assumptions she had clearly come to.

Kadeen tried to tell himself that he was being a fool. Nicole was beautiful, of course, but she was also one of the most talented conservators in her field. She was too modest to admit how good she really was, but Kadeen knew it, and he had been thinking about her nonstop since hiring her that fateful day.

He couldn’t risk ruining their professional relationship for the sake of a few romantic feelings.

Still, what he felt for her was unlike anything he had ever known before. He wanted to know her intimately, of course, but he also loved the way her mind worked, and cared deeply about what she thought of him. That was new.

Normally, Kadeen couldn’t care less what anyone thought. He had never needed to. That was the perk of being the king’s cousin; people could think what they wanted, but in the end he always got his own way.

So what did he want, when it came to Nicole? And what would he do if his parents realized that he was in town? There were implications there that he couldn’t ignore for much longer. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, he could feel the sands of time pouring against him. His days of carefree fun could not last much longer.

Kadeen gazed out at the city, taking another deep drink from his glass.

He would simply have to find a way to stay off his parents’ radar, while also controlling his intense attraction to Nicole. After all, she was a staff member! Nothing good could come from entertaining feelings for her.

Convinced of his own good judgement, Kadeen continued to stare out at the sun rising over the city. Far below the twelfth floor, the streets were just waking up for the day, with carts of food emanating delicious aromas that even reached Kadeen.

Making a decision, the Sheikh set his drink down and grabbed his room key from the table before heading down the elevator and into the street. He found the particular cart he was looking for, and greeted the man warmly as he approached.

Dressed in loose white clothing, the man smiled at Kadeen before asking what he would like from the cart. Kadeen made his order and accepted the pastry from the seller, handing him several bills and telling him to keep the change. The radiant smile he received was enough to brighten his mood, if only a little.

He made his way back up to his hotel room and pulled the pastry out of the brown paper bag, breathing in the sweet aroma. His mother may have never cooked this honey-filled delicacy, he thought, but he had enjoyed it all the same. He thought about introducing Nicole to all the food he relished from his home country, and he realized he was smiling at the thought of it.

There was so much she didn’t know about him. Would it be safer to keep it that way? And how was he going to find a way to keep fighting the attraction he had to her, considering the deadline he had coming up?

Deciding not to think on it after so little sleep, Kadeen finished his pastry before he removed his clothing and fell into the comfortable bed. He tossed and turned a little as images of Nicole sleeping next to him plagued his mind. When he finally did fall asleep, Nicole managed to haunt his dreams in a way that was far too inappropriate for a work colleague.

By the time he awoke, it wasn’t yet noon. Knowing that Nicole would need a few more hours of sleep, Kadeen decided to take a risk. He pulled out his cellphone and made a call.

* * *

Kadeen sat in a trendy café a few blocks away from his hotel. A waiter approached, and Kadeen ordered two coffees, knowing that the person he was here to meet would enjoy the same drink he did. A few minutes later, she strode through the door.

Kadeen’s cousin Meela was tall and stately, like pretty much everyone in their family. She was dressed plainly, though her posture and presence gave her away as much as her face. Her dress was a pastel pink, and it matched the sheer scarf that covered her head. When her dark eyes landed on him, she grinned and rushed over. Kadeen stood, embracing her warmly.

“Kadeen! It’s been so long!” Meela breathed, holding him tightly.

The Sheikh held his cousin close, savoring the sense of family and home that flowed through him. Meela was right. It had been too long.

“I’ve missed you, cousin,” Kadeen said, releasing his grip but holding onto her forearms for a moment longer.

Meela kissed both his cheeks before stepping back, still smiling. “I’ve missed you, too. I was surprised to hear from you, but then to hear that you were only a stone’s throw away! What luck!”

“I am the lucky one, really. Now please sit down, and tell me everything that’s been going on while I’ve been away.”

Meela took the seat across from him, taking a sip of coffee. She grinned. “Ah, you always know what kind I like. If you weren’t such a wayward wanderer, I would call you my favorite cousin.”

“You know I’ll always be your favorite,” Kadeen said with a grin.

Kadeen and Meela had grown up together, and they had had an extra special bond due to the fact that neither of them were destined to play a particularly important role in the ruling of the kingdom. They had often been asked to leave the room while Meela’s brother, the future king, was required to stay and learn the way of things. It had provided them with ample opportunity to get into trouble—which they had, many times.

“Mm,” Meela said, noncommittal. The look in her eyes gave her away, though. They were bright with affection for her long-lost friend.

“You’re looking well,” Kadeen observed, changing the subject.

“Am I?” Meela asked, glancing down. “Well, I suppose I must. I’m a Sheikha Meela of Al Qazar, don’t you know. It’s important for me to look well, lest anyone suspect something to be wrong.”

“And is anything wrong?”

Meela stared at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Of course not. The country’s doing better than ever. You should come home more often, then you could reap the benefits of our success.”

“I do enough reaping in New York.”

“Yes. One hears rumors of what exactly it is you are doing in New York.”

Kadeen winced. “I take it my reputation has gone global, then? Do my parents know?”

“Fortunately, they do not,” Meela said, and Kadeen breathed a sigh of relief. “They do not read the kind of papers that circulate among my circle of friends; really, the only reason I do know is because my girls have been reading up on you with hope in their hearts.”

“What could they possibly hope for when it comes to me?” Kadeen asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. It was delicious—better than anything he had access to in New York. Some things from home were simply better, he mused.

“You must know,” Meela scoffed. “You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in the country!”

“I’m not in the country,” Kadeen replied flatly.

“Not for the moment, but you know your time is coming. You’re twenty-nine, Kadeen. Any choices made for you don’t have to be permanent, if you believe you could find love with another.”

Kadeen had tried not to think about the stipulations set by his parents all those year ago, the promises he had made that he would one day return to fulfill. He gazed at the table for some time before he braved another look at his cousin.

“You didn’t tell them I was here, did you?”

Meela stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she shook her head. “I did not. I wouldn’t betray your wishes like that. I know it’s been a few years since we last spoke, Kadeen, but that hasn’t changed.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their coffee. Kadeen knew he should have expected such a welcome. He was the prodigal son that refused to come home, and his family was anything but happy about it.

Meela sighed. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask why you’re choosing to not see your parents while you’re here, Kadeen. They miss you so much. It’s been so long since they last saw you.”

“That’s not true. We Skype all the time.”

“And in what universe do you equate video chat to a physical, in-person conversation? You mother misses holding you in her arms, and your father misses fishing with you in the lakes. There is much that you used to enjoy that you have left behind for the nightlife of New York City.”

“Again with my reputation! Meela, has it not occurred to you to question what people write about me? Also, did you forget why I went to New York in the first place? I’ve saved amazing works of art and found them proper homes. I’ve touched paintings no one in the world will ever get to touch.”

Meela smirked at her cousin. “Are you really trying to impress me with your connections? You know that I’m a princess, right? That I have access to anything in the world that I could possibly desire?”

“Yeah, yeah. But that’s not my point, Sheikha Meela,” Kadeen said. They always called each other by their titles when one of them was being pompous. It had helped them stay grounded in a life of royalty and wealth, which was not something easily done.

Meela rolled her eyes. “Then what is your point? That you’re not going out to clubs every night? That the pictures of you surrounded by scantily clad women are all Photoshopped? That none of that is real, and you’ve just been quietly dealing art from your little studio?”

Kadeen mumbled an incoherent reply while he stared down at the table again. After a moment, he looked back up. “You know, if I wanted a lecture, I would have just called my mother.”

“But you won’t call your mother, so I have to do it for her. And now that it’s done, let’s talk of more pleasant things.”

“That would be preferable,” he agreed.

They spent the next hour or so in companionable conversation, catching up on all things little and big, and enjoying each other’s company for the first time in a very long while.

After they had finished two cups of coffee each, Meela made to stand.

“I’d better get going,” she said. “I only had to give up a nail appointment for this secret rendezvous, but I do have to meet with some important people soon, and I don’t want to have to lie to them about why I was late.”

Kadeen stood as well, taking his cousin’s hands in his. “It was so good to see you, Meela. And thank you for coming over on such short notice. I know how busy you are.”

Meela’s smile was warm as she stared up at her older cousin. Although he had matured since they last met, he still had the face of the young boy who would always be one of her closest friends.

“It was no trouble at all. I’m grateful you reached out so that I could see your face again. Although, I imagine I’ll be seeing much more of you fairly soon.”

Kadeen smiled, but gave her no answer. He had decided long ago not to make promises he didn’t know how to keep, and he didn’t want to think about the future just yet. He enjoyed living in the present too much.

“Take good care of yourself,” he said.

“And you,” Meela replied, giving him one last affectionate kiss on the cheek before adjusting her headscarf and heading out the door.

Kadeen threw some bills on the table before he made his own exit. As he stepped out of the café, he noticed a man snapping a few pictures of the entrance. When the man saw him, he pocketed his camera and walked away.

Silently hoping that the man was simply a tourist and not a paparazzo, the Sheikh sauntered back towards the hotel, the wave of exhaustion that was jet-lag beginning to wash over him.

Unwilling to fall asleep again just yet, Kadeen decided to wait for the coffee to do its work as he walked down a path that led to the ocean. He stood on the beach, watching as children built sandcastles and families basked in the sunlight, enjoying the cool breeze from the ocean.

Kadeen had many fond memories of his time growing up in Al Qazar, and there were times, such as this one, when he had a hard time remembering just why he had decided to leave. Of course, the answer had been obvious at the time, and it still was, really. He had been given an impossible choice, and he had run from it for as long as he could.

As much as Kadeen tried to think about the painting they had come for, his stubborn mind kept reverting back to Nicole. The moment she had stepped out of the limo at the airport, her hair in disarray, he had realized that she had just pulled herself from bed to get to the plane on time.

She had never looked more beautiful.

Her face had been rosy, her eyes still a little drowsy with sleep. He had instantly imagined her in bed, and had been unable to conjure up another image since. Even now, as he strolled down the beach, a nagging presence in his mind reminded him that Nicole was sleeping in a bed down the hall from his room at that very moment.

There had been times when she had looked at him in such a way, that he had caught her staring, that he thought about just taking her in his arms and kissing her until she succumbed to their baser desires. Kadeen was no stranger to seduction, and he knew how to make a woman want him. He had the power to do so easily, but with Nicole, he didn’t want it to be that way.

And, he reminded himself, there was no point in entertaining such thoughts, anyway.

Rolling up his pant legs, Kadeen kicked off his shoes and waded into the warm, salty water. A beach ball flew towards him, carried on the wind, and he laughed as he caught it and threw it back to the children who were playing with it.

Kadeen’s thoughts finally turned back to the portrait he was seeking. Could it be possible that he was about to get his hands on one of the greatest artworks his country had ever produced? He was closer to it now than anyone had been in a hundred years!

Kadeen closed his eyes, allowing himself to process his feelings: being home, being so close to the lost portrait, finally getting to see his cousin again. Meela, more than anything, had reminded him that he was home once again. She had also been a staunch reminder of just how much he had missed, being away. His parents had only given him general updates during their calls, sprinkled with plenty of guilt trips that Kadeen had learned to brush off. Had he made a mistake by being away for so long?

The combination of sunlight and cool water was relaxing enough to make Kadeen’s eyelids droop. He stepped back onto the shore and over to a metal shower head, where he rinsed and dried his feet before putting his shoes on once more. Walking back to the hotel, he stopped to speak to the concierge.

“Can you make a phone call for me in about thirty minutes?” he asked.

“Of course, sir. Who would you like us to call?”

“Room 304, please. I am the woman’s employer, and I’d like her to come meet me in the lobby for a late lunch. Could you let her know that, please?”

“Of course,” the concierge agreed, making a note. “I’ll call her at the half hour, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The lobby was a cavernous room with a beautiful fountain at its center. The golden dome at the top cast an ethereal glow on everyone who entered the hotel, and Kadeen found a comfortable seat to wait in, pulling out his cellphone.

There were multiple emails from Imogen, of course, and he scanned through them to make sure there was nothing truly important waiting for his attention. A lot of the “major problems” were in fact non-issues, and Kadeen breezed past them without replying. It was clear that Imogen was simply doing her best to cause problems while he was alone with Nicole, and while Kadeen didn’t trouble himself with the whims of jealous women, he found it interesting just how much Imogen resented Nicole.

He wondered if she saw what he wasn’t willing to admit to himself.