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But Jenna had been best friends since university to a lady who lived like a normal person, who married and became a princess and then, finally a queen.
This article was no worse than most and better than some. Yes, they implied Dima and the princess had some kind of family merger deal, like the contract Nataliya had signed so many years ago. They had even dug up old dirt on Prince Konstantin, during the years when he’d had a lot of one-night stands. Comparisons were implied. Dirt was slung, but really?
It wasn’t the end of the world.
Not for her. Not for Dima.
By tacit agreement, they did not discuss the article while they visited the Grand Mosque. Neither did they dwell on it while driving through the city.
The special dinner he’d had planned later was at the end of a pretty long drive into the desert. A large Turkish rug had been laid out for a picnic on the sand.
Flaming torches positioned around it cast a soft golden glow over the piled pillows and delicious-smelling dishes arranged in the center on a low table. The stars and moon glowed in the night sky like they never did in the city.
“This is amazing, Dima. Thank you for setting this up.”
“You said you wanted to come into the desert. I was going to take you on a Bedouin experience, but realized I wanted privacy more.”
“I love it.” She kicked off her sandals and found a seat among the plump cushions.
After removing his own shoes, Dima joined her.
“I know the security people and whoever set this up are around, but it feels so private out here.”
“After securing the perimeter, they have all gone to the other side of that dune.” Dima sounded very satisfied by that and proud of himself. “If we are loud, our sounds will carry, but other than that, we are effectively alone.”
“You think we are going to do something that could make us loud?” she teased, but the reminder that sex was his primary reason for being with her reared its ugly head again.
He gave her a look. “That was the plan, before I found you packing.”
“I wasn’t packing.”
“I thought you were.”
Jenna laid her hand over his. “Don’t you know? I’m too stubborn and vocal to just take off without shouting it out first?”
“Shouting?”
“If I’m angry enough to leave you, there will be shouting.”
“You read the article.”
“I did.”
“You do not seem angry.”
“Well, I know the truth.”
“You do?”
She nearly rolled her eyes but realized this was too serious to downplay in any way. “Yes, I do. If you want me to trust you, Dima, you have to trust me as well.”
“I do trust you.”
“Then trust me when I say that no tabloid article is going to make me question the truth that I know.”
“What truth is that?” he asked, sounding cautious.
She’d get there, but they were doing some talking first.
