adjusted the dark sunglasses that concealed her bright blue eyes and squinted at the newspaper on display. Although the headline was in Arabic, the print was big and bold. She could tell that something important had happened. Something that could explain the jubilant attitude that shimmered in the marketplace. No doubt Prince Hafiz had made his countrymen proud again.
She wondered what he had done this time as she requested the daily English paper in halting Arabic. Did he add a fortune to the royal coffers? Convince another industry to make the Sultanate of Rudaynah their headquarters? Win an award?
She decided it would be best to wait until she got home before she read the paper. Lacey took another glance at the pictures of Hafiz that covered the stall. His expression was solemn, but it didn’t stop the secret thrill sweeping across her heated skin. It was unnerving that Hafiz could elicit that kind of response through a photograph.
The photo was an official head shot the palace systematically offered to the press, but while the image was familiar, it always grabbed the reader’s notice. No one could look away from Prince Hafiz’s mysterious dark eyes and harsh mouth. He was devastatingly handsome from his luxuriant black hair to his sharp bone structure. Women watched him from afar, too awed of his masculine beauty.
Or perhaps they sensed his raw power beneath his sophisticated manners. Lacey had instantly recognized the sexual hunger lurking below his ruthless restraint. His primitive aura was a silent warning that most women heeded. But for Lacey, it drew her closer.
She had found Hafiz’s relentless self-discipline fascinating. It had also been a challenge. From the moment they had met, she had been tempted to strip him from his exquisitely tailored pinstripe suit and discover his most sensual secrets.
Just the thought of him made her impatient to get back home. She needed to return before Hafiz got there. His workload would crush a lesser man, but he still managed to visit Lacey at nightfall.
The blazing sun began to dip in the desert sky, and she didn’t want to contemplate how Hafiz would respond if she weren’t home.
He never asked what she did during the day, Lacey thought with a frown. At first his lack of interest had bothered her. Did he think time stood still for her until he appeared?
There were moments when she wanted to share her plans and ideas, even discuss her day, but she had always held back. She wasn’t ready to reveal the work she had done. Not yet. Lacey wanted to show Hafiz what she was capable of. How she could contribute. She wanted to show that she was ready to make his sultanate her permanent home.
It hadn’t been easy. There were days, weeks, when she had been homesick. Lonely and bored. She had missed her wide circle of friends and colorful nightlife, and she craved the basic comforts.
It was aggravating that the newspaper hadn’t been delivered today at her penthouse, but that wasn’t surprising. After living in the small Arabian country for almost six months, Lacey still hadn’t gotten used to sporadic service, frequent power outages and laborers arriving at work anywhere from three hours to three days late.
Her connection to the outside world was just as erratic. The communication services were usually down, like today. When they were running, the content was heavily censored.
Definitely not the lifestyle she had enjoyed in St. Louis. Not that she was complaining, Lacey hurriedly assured herself. She was willing to forego many comforts and conveniences for the one thing she couldn’t get back in the States: Hafiz.
Lacey shivered with anticipation and handed the coins to the newspaper boy. She practiced her Arabic and felt a sense of accomplishment when the young man understood her. Lacey shyly tugged at the bright orange scarf wrapped around her head and tucked in a wayward strand of hair.
Maybe she was ready to show Hafiz what she had learned over the past few months. She wasn’t fluent and didn’t know everything about the culture, but she was getting impatient. It was time to meet his family and friends.
Lacey bit her lip as she imagined making that demand. The idea made her uncomfortable. She had been stalling. Not because his family was royal but because she was worried she would push too soon.
Lacey didn’t want to give an ultimatum. The last time she’d taken a stand she had lost everything. She wasn’t ready to lose Hafiz. Unlike her parents, who had no problems walking away from her in pursuit of their dreams, Hafiz hadn’t been able to bear leaving her and had brought her to his home. Well, not his home, but his home country.
As much as she wanted to be part of Hafiz’s life and share her life with him, she needed to be patient. She had to trust that Hafiz knew what he was doing. Lacey sighed deeply. She wasn’t used to allowing another to take charge.
But she was in a country that followed different codes of conduct. She was also in love with a prince, and she didn’t know much about royal life. Her presence in Hafiz’s world required delicacy.
Lacey was amazed that Hafiz could even breathe among all the rules and regulations. But not once did he complain. His strong shoulders never sagged from the burden. The man was driven to attack every challenge and reach a goal he never discussed, but Lacey guessed that world domination was just the beginning. His obligations were never far from his mind. That is, until he was in bed with her. Then the world stopped as they fulfilled every fantasy their bodies craved and every wish their hearts desired.
Pleasure nestled low in her stomach, beneath the stifling black gabardine caftan. Lacey stuffed the English newspaper into her plastic shopping bag that contained the crimson desert flowers. She hoped the article offered good news, although she couldn’t imagine the press saying anything less than flattering.
She hurried off the curb, and the blowing horn of a filthy truck had her jumping back to the sidewalk. Reddish clouds billowed from the dirt road and settled into a fine layer on her soft black boots.
She waved her hand in front of her face, blinking away the grit. Lacey wrinkled her nose at the tart smell of animals, car fumes and rotting sewage. She knew the small country just recently came into wealth, but if this was a decade of progress, she was grateful she hadn’t seen the unenlightened country.
A memory flickered of Hafiz talking about his country when they had first met. He’d spoken with love and pride about the rich heritage and romance of the desert. Hafiz had described the tribal music and the exotic spices lingering in the starry nights. When he’d told the story of how the sultanate had been named after the first sultana, Lacey had thought Rudaynah had to be a romantic paradise.
Never trust a man’s idea of romance, Lacey decided as she determinedly stepped into traffic. The high-pitched ring of bicycle bells shrieked in her ears as she zigzagged her way across the street. She dodged a bored donkey pulling a cart of pungent waste matter. A bus whipped past, her plastic bag swatting against one of the male passengers hanging outside the overcrowded and rusted vehicle.
Lacey hurried to her apartment in earnest. Shadows grew longer and darker as the sun dipped precariously closer to the horizon. She nodded a greeting to the armed guards at the gates of the condominium complex. The men, all in olive green uniforms and sporting bushy mustaches, waved her in without a pause in their conversation.
She scurried across the bare courtyard, pausing only as a big insect with a vicious-sounding buzz flew in front of her. Gritting her teeth as she shuddered with revulsion, Lacey turned the corner to access the private elevator that would lead her straight to the penthouse apartment.
She halted when she saw a man waiting for the elevator. Lacey barely had time to gasp as her mind snatched
