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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.
