wall of arrogant masculinity. Of power and privilege. There was only one man who enjoyed a life with no limitations or impossibilities.
“Hafiz?” she whispered.
* * *
Prince Hafiz ibn Yusuf Qadi whirled around. “Lacey?” He moved forward and stared at her. He slowly blinked and frowned. His sexy and glamorous mistress was wearing a shapeless caftan and a hideous scarf. There wasn’t a hint of makeup on her pale face, but she was still a stunning beauty.
“What are you doing down here?” Prince Hafiz plucked off her sunglasses. He needed to see her eyes. He could always tell what she was thinking and feeling when he met her bright blue gaze.
After he snatched the glasses, Hafiz pushed down the head scarf and was rewarded with a cascade of copper-red curls. His fingers flexed. He wanted to touch her hair. Fan it out and allow the last rays of the sun to catch the fiery color. Sink his fingers into the soft weight as he kissed her hard.
Instead, he slowly, reluctantly, let his hand fall to his side. He gripped her sunglasses until the tips of his fingers whitened. He could not touch her. Not here, not in public. One graze, one brush of skin, and he wouldn’t stop.
It didn’t help that Lacey wanted to greet him with a kiss. The sight of her closed eyes and parted lips whirled him back to the first time he’d seen her. That fateful night he had entered the luxury hotel near the St. Louis waterfront.
The lobby had bustled with activity and there was a piano bar to the side. The deceptively languorous music had caught his attention, but it was her singing that had made him turn around. Soft and clear like the voice of a well-bred lady, but so rich and velvety that it sparked his wicked imagination.
And when he had seen her, his heart had slammed against his ribs. Lacey was an intriguing mix of contrasts. She had looked like an innocent girl, but her voice held a wealth of experience. Her red hair had flowed past her shoulders like a veil, touching the simple blue evening gown. It should have been a modest dress that covered her from her slender neck to her delicate ankles, yet it had lovingly clung to every curve.
Hafiz had known she was trouble, but that hadn’t stopped him from walking toward the piano as she’d coaxed a longing note from the ivory keys.
She hadn’t seen his approach as she closed her eyes and raised her flushed face to the sky, swept away from the music. And he had allowed her to take him with her.
Hafiz forced himself to the present and away from the untroubled past. His gaze drifted to the voluminous black gown veiling her body from his eyes. For some reason, that irked him. “What are you wearing?”
She opened her eyes and frowned before she placed her hands on her hips. The movement gave him some indication of where the soft swells and curves were underneath her outfit. “I could ask the same about you,” she said as her wide eyes roamed over his appearance. “I have never seen you like this. It’s straight out of Lawrence of Arabia.”
Lacey’s voice was deep and husky as the desire shone in her eyes. When she looked at him like that... His skin flushed and pulled tight. How did this woman make him this hot, this fast, without even touching him?
His body hardened, and he gulped in the hot desert air. He could take Lacey against this hidden corner and capture her cries of ecstasy with his mouth within minutes. All he needed was... Hafiz shook his head slightly. What was he thinking? The last thing he needed was for the sultan to discover he had a mistress living in the shadow of the palace.
“This is a dishdasha,” he explained gruffly as he tried to contain the lust that heated his blood. “I wear it for royal functions. Now explain what you are doing outside alone.”
She held up her plastic bag and lightly jostled the contents. “I went shopping.”
“Shopping,” he repeated dully.
“Yes, I wear this whenever I leave the apartment.” She glided her hand down the black gabardine with the flair of a game show model demonstrating a prize. “I know Rudaynah only asks tourists to dress modestly, but I don’t know if I fall in that category. I’m not quite a tourist, but I’m not quite a resident, am I? I didn’t want to take any chances.”
Hafiz barely heard the question. Whenever she left? She had done this more than once? Routinely? What did she do? Where did she go? And with whom?
It wouldn’t be with a man. He knew he could trust Lacey. She had fallen in love with him that first night and saw no reason to deny it.
But he didn’t like the possibility that she had a life apart from him. He was the center of her world, and he didn’t want that to end. “Whenever you leave?” he asked as his eyebrows dipped into a ferocious frown. “How often do you go out?”
“You don’t need to worry about me.” Lacey’s smile dropped. “Or are you worried that one of your friends or relatives will meet me?”
Hafiz heard the edge in her tone and felt her impatience. He surrendered to the need to touch her and delve his hands into her hair. He needed to feel the connection that sizzled between them.
Hafiz spanned his fingers along the base of her head and tilted her face up. “I thought you spend your days playing your music,” he murmured distractedly.
“And dreaming about you?”
“Of course,” he said with a slanted smile.
Her smooth brow wrinkled as she considered what he said. “I can think of you while I’m shopping. I’m talented that way.”
“No.” His sharp tone stanched any argument. “No more excursions. You don’t know the language or the country.”
“How else am I going to learn if I don’t get out and—”
“You have servants who can shop for you. Yes, yes.” He held his hand up as she tried to interrupt. “You’ve already told me. You’re not comfortable with the idea of someone waiting on you. But they are here to take care of you.”
“You can’t hide me inside all the time,” she insisted as she pressed her hand against his chest. His heart thudded from her touch. “I’m not Rapunzel.”
“I know,” he said resignedly. She often mentioned that European fairy tale. She once told him the basic story line, but someday he needed to read it in case there was more he should know.
Lacey leaned against the wall and sighed. Hafiz flattened his hands next to her head, her sunglasses dangling from his loose grasp. He stared at her mouth, his lips stinging with the need to kiss her.
But this was as close as he would allow himself. If he leaned into her softness, he wouldn’t leave.
The tip of her tongue swept along her bottom lip. “Hafiz, we’re outside,” she reminded him, her voice hitching with scandalized excitement. “You shouldn’t be this close.”
He knew it, but it didn’t stop him. She was his one and only vice, and he was willingly addicted. He had already risked everything to be with her. Each day he made the choice to risk everything for her. But now the choice was taken away from him, and it was all coming to an end.
He bent his head and stopped abruptly. He should pull away.
