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“Find out everything you can about her.”
“I’ll see what I can do. You could always ask Idella—or check out her club. Since the woman works for her, she might be there.”
“I will. Thanks, Jameel.”
“Good luck, brother,” Jameel said absently, his quick mind clearly preoccupied by the next distraction already.
Junayd lowered his phone and stared out over the city. The irony of the situation made him laugh. The world was sometimes a very, very small place.
* * *
Two days later, his teeth hurt from grinding them in frustration. He tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. Jameel said there was nothing—absolutely nothing—on Midnight Rain. The woman had no social media presences, no social security information, no parking tickets because she didn’t own a car, the list went on, every single documentnon-existent.
Don’t even know how she was able to get into the country. No passport and never went through customs. Know she was in Simdan, but otherwise, she's a ghost. Even my friend couldn’t find anything! Who the hell is she? Are you sure she's even real?
Jameel’s text was not helping him feel better. Junayd's private security team had been watching the club since he learned of Idella's connection to her, but it had been days with no sighting of a masked woman. He even had men on the inside searching for her.
Ashar paused, setting down the report of staff recruits and equipment purchases for a state-of-the-art children’s hospital under construction. “Is there a problem, Your Highness?” he asked.
Junayd shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Ashar. I’m a little distracted at the moment. Please cancel my appointments for this evening. I have other plans.”
Ashar nodded. “Would you like me to contact someone to join you? Ms. Collingsworth has been rather persistent in trying to reach you.”
A shudder ran through Junayd and he shook his head. “No. Half an evening with the woman was half an evening too long.”
Ashar, ever the professional, showed no reaction to his reply. Junayd stared through the car window at the pedestrians going about their daily lives. He couldn’t help but wonder where Midnight was right now. Was she thinking of him as much as he was thinking about her? He slipped his hand into his pocket and touched the note she had left in the dumbwaiter and the scarf he had pulled from her face before she kissed him.
It is not goodbye.
He would find her. Somehow, some way, he would find her, and when he did, he would not let her slip through his fingers again. The memory of her hands in his hair, her lips against his, the sensation of her blazing hot skin... their chemistry was too intense to ignore.
He blinked as his phone chimed with Tarek’s ringtone. Reaching for it, he connected and lifted the phone to his ear.
“I was about to call you,” he greeted.
Tarek’s chuckled reply held no surprise. “Are you still in New York?”
“You know I am,” Junayd dryly replied.
“Would you like to meet Idella and me tonight for dinner at her club?" Tarek asked, ignoring the jab.
“Of course," he responded. "I have something important to ask you. What time?”
“Eight o’clock. Come to the side entrance.”
“I’ll see you then,” Junayd said before disconnecting the call.
As he rubbed his finger over the screen, his expression slowly transformed into satisfaction. He’d had very little interaction with his future sister-in-law, but he knew there was something special beyond her incredible singing skills, something hidden.
He didn't question her love for his brother, but her interaction with the Coldhouse brothers, Bronislav, and Kaffir in Simdan was perplexing. What did an international singing sensation have to do with these international terrorists—and what was her connection to Midnight?
The answers to these questions would not change Tarek's affections, he knew. Idella was his brother’sAlmukhtar. Junayd was now learning firsthand how quickly and permanently that bond could form. His obsession with finding Midnight was something that he was having a hard time understanding, but it was as if he had found the other half to his soul. For the first time in his life, he felt whole. He had found his Chosen.
“Sire, would you like me to continue going over this afternoon’s agenda?” Ashar asked.
“Yes, go ahead,” he murmured, trying to focus on work instead of his mysterious missing woman.
* * *
