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I turn back to him; Ash is to the side but definitely between us. "Rashid, was it?" I ask, even though I know. He nods. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course."

"Then you know the premiere of my most recent film was shut down because of a shooting and bomb threat?"

"Yes."

"So if you think I don't know about safety protocols, I think you are the one confused here."

"I apologize—" Before he can finish the sentence, a door on the other side of the dining room opens. Ash turns and steps closer to me, facing the movement, blocking me from it. He's close, only inches away, and his scent pulls me back to being carried through that theater. To being helpless. Held.

"Rashid." I recognize the prince's deep voice. "I don't think we need to worry about Ms. Daniels assassinating me."

I take in a steadying breath. Ash doesn't move. He's still blocking me from that side of the room, from the prince, from any dangers the restaurant might hold.

"Of course not, Your Highness. It is protocol."

"Let's ignore it for this evening."

"As you wish."

Ash steps aside, revealing the prince standing next to Rashid. He smiles at me and butterflies take flight in my stomach. Omar is wearing a dark blue tailored suit. The top button of his white dress shirt is undone; a thin gold chain sparkles against his burnished copper skin, dipping into the hollow of his throat.

A vivid memory of licking that part of him floods my mind and it takes all the skills I've gained to keep a blush from stealing over my skin.

"You look stunning." Omar steps forward and leans in for a kiss on my cheek. His skin is smooth, his scent familiar; warm, and woody, slightly sweet, earthy, with a hint of citrus.

He steps back, keeping his hand at my waist, his face still close. The space between us is intimate and simmering with promised pleasure.

Ash and Rashid stand to the side, spectators to our sport. Omar turns to them. "You can wait outside; I think we can dine without chaperones." His tone is teasing, but the command is clear. Ash looks to me and I nod.

"We promise not to kill each other," I say. "Right?"

Omar smiles down at me. "Agreed."

Neither Ash nor Rashid look amused but they leave, pulling the doors closed behind them. "Alone at last," Omar says. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Yes, please."

"Champagne? Or something else?"

"I'll have what you're having."

We cross to the table, and he pulls out one of the gray velvet dining chairs for me. I take a seat and he helps push the chair in. All very proper except I can feel his eyes on my cleavage. I glance up at him, and his gaze finds mine.I saw you looking.

Good.

He steps away, leaving a chill at my back, then takes his seat across from me. Reaching over to where an iced bucket of champagne waits next to his seat, he pours a glass for each of us, then raises his. "To not allowing schedules to stand in our way."

"And not killing each other." He smiles and our glasses clink. "So," I start. "Do you come here often?"

Omar laughs. "Yes, it's owned by a friend. I thought it best to dine alone."

"Yes," I agree, sipping my drink. "We don't want to start rumors. Though the paparazzi did follow me here. I imagine they will ferret out our clandestine meeting."

"But at least they won't have photographic proof." I nod, sip more champagne. "I understand you're traveling the continent for a few more weeks. Where do you plan to go?"

"You make it sound so leisurely. I'm on a press tour—it's grueling answering the same questions over and over again and being charming every time."