Perplexed, Khayri leaned back into the sofa, lowering the laptop lid.

All this was doing his head in.

Going into the desert will clear it and focus on Cobra's newest adventure, though he had to smile. Hussy. He wasn't sure how his adviser and best friend, who always had his back, allowed him to use his first name.

One of the most common names in their part of the world, just like Ian Flemming, who chose James Bond, a common name, yet in the end had made it the most world-famous name of all time.

007 was just a number, Bond was not.

Cobra was just an agent. So far, Hussein Abdul was just a name and hoped it stayed that way. He had movie offers he had declined. No one could deduce Sam Walker's true identity.

A ruler of his own country, small, insufficient, yet still a country.

His name was well known, and many asked for his advice because of his background and education. He did that until he assumed this role after his parents' death unless involving ruling heads like the last week.

Away from home, his most trusted people protected his interests.

The income that came from his books was for his personal use, like buying the apartment. Also, from the money he had been investing in his family's wealth, they didn't use public funding.

The discovery of oil propelled them into the ranks of major players, even for a small country. The major problem he didn't want to face, he needed a bride and, most importantly, an heir for his country and people's future. He was the last of the line.

Cousins breathing down his neck, ready to take over, all married, with plenty of children, to keep their line going. As much as he loved his parents, he did. His father should have taken another wife to secure their future, instead of only one child.

So deep was his love for his mother. He refused to remarry when she couldn't have other children after his birth. Never looked at another woman the same way, his heart dedicated to one, and his only child.

A part of him understood why, yet also knew his duty to his people.

He was the only one left in the royal bloodline.

If anything happened to him, he swallowed hard and dreaded the outcome.

He wouldn't make the same mistake, yet was reluctant to make that step, placing a hand on his laptop. One more book.

Then he would search for his bride, and secure his future, even if it didn't involve love. He would choose logic over love, prioritising what was best for his people and country.

He had seen how devastating that can be.

A mistake he wouldn't make, again.

For now, he was going to lose himself in the desert and Hussein's latest adventure. A freedom he could never have. Yet his mind wasn't into it, pushing past the thickness of a sandstorm, blinding him, unable to see what he needed to move on with the story.

Placing down the laptop onto a table beside the sofa, he rose and stretched, following Hussein's departing form and hunted him down in his room, where he was on the phone that he held against his chest at the sight of him.

"How about dinner tonight? Restaurant, the works, before I leave tomorrow?"

"That sounds good. Just let me know what time and where I will join you. There is something that needs my attention."

"As you wish," he walked on, having a feeling he was missing something important, yet would never question Hussein. He will tell him in his own time. They had grown up together as children, and even went to school together, where they both had a proper English education.

Also, Hussein had his back, as he had his.

They had always been together, never parted.

He shook off the feeling.

****

It had bothered him all day since the phone call to Nikki. She hadn't been bothered at all. All a buzz and happy, eager. He had never heard such a tone in her voice, usually docile and soft. 

Not bubbly.

She used to get excitable as a child so full of vim. Those big round eyes of wonder having a carefree childhood with his family, thankfully, had no traumas of losing her family when a baby. 

No memories.

Such an innocent even to this day, who needed to be protected from herself. As her guardian, it was his duty that his parents had handed down to him and did everything in his power to do so.

Travelling by herself to the Middle East hadn't been in his plans for her at all. He had no choice in the matter, having her own money that had given her the freedom to do so. All because of the bloody Walker and his damn books Nikki loved.

The only reason she had headed out there.

Her nose was never out of the books. At first, a blessing, keeping her at home, under his watchful eye, not understanding how it had ended up with her there, snatching a burner phone as it rang.

"What happened? She was supposed to turn around and head back home."

He listened, jaw clenching, hearing about others coming to her rescue.

They hadn't hung around, and couldn't afford to be caught, and weren't paid to do so. "What do you mean she tried to take you out?" What the hell? Where did she learn such things? Those damn books!

No, he just wanted her back home, here, safe, and out of harm's way. Claiming his phone, and brought up a schedule. "She'll be headed for a water taxi tomorrow. I will let you know if it changes. Up the anti." Thankfully, he had found her list and taken photos.

Guilt niggled him. His parents' horror would be immense.

It wasn't his fault. He had planned none of this. She had done this by not listening to him, even fighting him over such things. He knew what was best for her. After all, they had given her to him.

Fate had dealt this hand. He had too much to lose, raking a hand through thick black hair, hating what he had to do. Once home, he would give her the best of everything to show her what she had been missing. There was no need to travel when she had the world at her feet, right here and with him.

It's time to up the game.

There's more to Nikki than met the eye.

****

After a good night's sleep, feeling safer in the new room, Nikki woke up refreshed and rearing to go, tossing back the light sheet and leapt out of bed, stretching. It felt so good to be alive, looking out the window greeted by blue skies, dotted with white fluffy clouds, and sunshine, and the sight of the Khalifa resting her chin on her hand, elbow on the windowsill.

To think, to stay in such a place, yet was happy with her lot, spun around and charged across without a thought at a knock on the door. Upon opening, she found a staff member holding a tray. 'Room service' she's greeted with.

She blinked at him. "Sorry, I didn't order anything."

"Ah, yes, this is a complementary Continental breakfast. All your breakfasts will be. Just let reception know what you want before 10 pm, or you can have a buffet in the restaurant."

"Oh," she mouthed, stepping aside, mind-boggling, as he placed the tray on the provided table. "Thank you, you are most kind," she closed the door after his departure, leaning against the back of the door, staring at the tray.

How had that happened? She didn't want this because of what had happened. However, today she would let it go since she hadn't thought about breakfast and her stomach rumbled, edging across, removed the large silver lid, filled to the brim with such delights of French pastries, lots of condiments for every taste, fresh fruit and yoghurt, and a steaming cappuccino.

Setting down, she devoured it in no time, enjoying the views, and thinking about the day ahead. Everything was planned before she left, every detail of what to catch, where to go, leaving nothing to chance, yet would take the time, to soak it all in.

What a way to start her new day, contented, belly full, she went to shower and change, making a mental note not to answer the door in her nighty. After all, the hotel provided a large white bathrobe and slippers. 

Next time. 

Changed into a white dress with a matching material belt and pocket in front that fell just above her ankles, wearing flat shoes.

Her plan today was a water taxi and spend her day in the old souks. Before that, she'll ask to see the manager about her sudden complimentary breakfast.

One every day.

What did she know? 

Yet didn't want anyone out of pocket. She had money for the first time in her life. Her guardian looked after such things and made sure she lacked for nothing, apart from the freedom to do it herself.

Yet it would be nice to buy something for herself. 

It's more than following Hussein's footsteps. She could see, breathe, touch, hear, and taste as she explored the place. She couldn't wait to see the markets, wanting to spend most of the day there, explore the treasures on offer and bring them back with her. 

Not to find hidden secrets or tunnels to escape those trying to kill you.

She's leaving that up to Hussein Abdul.

Losing herself in the land's magic was up to her, couldn't wait to be assaulted by the senses going by the detailed description in the book of the open market of spices. Ones she had hunted down to smell as she read. Some she couldn't find.

Cook hadn't been happy about the spices spread out across the kitchen bench, and shooed her out, mumbling under her breath as she went back to packing away the spices as she had them in the first place.

After reading Walker's first book, Nikki fell in love with the Middle East, past and present, and also devoured Arabian Nights. The magic of it. She wasn't blind to the facts of the culture, then and now, it's about losing herself in the place.

Not looking for love or magic.

She just wanted to experience it herself.

After meeting the manager, who was friendly and assured her as he answered all her questions it seemed she had a separate sponsor who had set up an account to pay for her meals while staying here. An open account so that when needed, she could order anything in the hotel and room service.

Even though Vincent wasn't happy about what she was doing, he was still looking after her. That gave her more revenue to spend if she had breakfast and dinner here, which would be perfect.

Once done, she went to reception to order a cooked breakfast for the following morning, after today's adventure, heading out with a spring in her step, Hussy, and Cobra on her back, notebook in her hand, for the day that fitted into the pocket of her dress.

Her important papers were locked away in the manager's office, taking no chances at the request of her sponsor. How like Vincent, even if going against his wishes, to wait until he was free to take her, himself. 

He's never free, and she wanted to do this by herself, spreading her wings and having the money to do so, without telling him until everything was booked.

She had a passport because of his travels, just in case.

She went nowhere.

It was here waiting for her that she took in her hands and ran as fast as she could. She loved Vincent and his family, but she needed to find herself and she was finally.

Into Hussein Abdul's world.

Not hers. 

Nikki understood that, but he made her believe, and breathe and since she had been here, everyone had been so helpful. And she hadn't looked back, seated in the back of the taxi, feeling safe and headed towards Dubai Creek. 

Hussy, as usual on her lap as she looked out the window, taking in the sights.

The buildings were art itself. Igniting her imagination.

She couldn't wait to hit the waterways taxi, let off and paid with her card, shifting Hussy onto her back she headed for the water's edge. The taxis waiting as it had been written, activity all around, breathing in the sights and sounds.

All shapes and sizes of boats, bobbing up and down in the creek's dark water that runs from the Persian Gulf. Walker's words came alive as excitement skated through her. There were many taxis on the water, but she had to find the right one. It had to have a cabin, bigger than the average ones, that was open for all to see, sitting in the middle, people's backs to each other.

Then she spotted it, charging across, grinning, where she was greeted, hand taken to be helped onto the boat that rocked under her feet. Pleased she had worn flat shoes that were netted so her feet could breathe, even if wearing ankle socks.

Handed over the money, phone in hand, she recorded about the boat ride, commenting on what she was seeing. A couple of people were already seated, as she headed for a seat with her back to the cabin where the taxi pilot was located. She settled in with Hussy on her lap, straps around her arm, speaking into her phone as she recorded her surroundings.

****

This is what Khayri needed to get back to ground roots.

No one would ever expect him to travel by water taxi, looking like a local, helped, not dressed as a tourist. It might be low in the water, lapping against the side of the boat, he found it soothing, feeling the heat of the sun beating down. 

Its warmth seeped into his body.

The last couple of days of tension ebbed out of him, relaxing, choosing a spot askew from sight.

His private little corner, so far removed from his spacious yacht yet also the humbleness of all this, reminded him of the bigger picture of things. He was just a clog in a larger wheel of humankind.

Even if born into royalty, he didn't sit on a throne looking down upon everyone else. 

He mingled with his people, talking to those from all walks of life.

He had to understand his people and their situation, so he could work out what was best to benefit all. Who was suffering and needed a helping hand, which he was fighting to achieve, even when others had tried to block his plans.

There had been rumours of unrest in the higher ranks that needed to be weeded out.

They were either with him or pushed out.

The lapping of water, seagulls squawking, and the tang of salt in the air that hit the senses bathed over him.

Back to basics and they hadn't moved as yet.

Only to jerk, head tilting as a soft silvery voice floated through the air. 

That sounded familiar.

Surely not? He had escaped the afternoon tea when he had spotted Hussein's unexpected, unexplained guest, only to be bombarded at the pool, where he had hidden himself away, scolding himself.

Hiding from a slip of a girl in a woman's body was ridiculous.

There was such an innocence about her he had to stay away from her, yet could hear her chatting about her surroundings, in such vivid details, then going into the chase across the water at top speed with a stolen water taxi.

Closing his eyes, running a hand over his face where the sunglasses allowed, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was talking about Hussein Abdul's last book, frowning, crossing his arms.

What had Hussein said? A fan. Not Walker, rubbing his forehead, wishing now he had paid more attention as he prattled on. A Hussein Abdul fan would explain why she knew so much about the chase and the taxi.

This taxi is different from the normal ones, and pricer.

Most took the others.

He should be safe here, peering sideways behind his dark sunglasses, and she hadn't come into his view, relaxing, and seated.

If she stayed where she was, it should be fine.

Only to straighten, as he heard male voices speaking in Arabic.

Something about their tone and words disturbed him.

"Are you sure she's the one?"

"Yes, the bag."

The bag? What bag? Her camel backpack. A dead giveaway.

Damn. That didn't sound good, and her idle chatter had stopped.

"May we?" one asked in English.

"Oh, of course," with that cheery, silvery voice of hers. Did she have no sense at all? "I'll just scoot across for you."

"There was no need," the other had said in a slimy smooth voice.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

In his mind view, he could see what they were up to, trapping her between them, so she couldn't move and the taxi started moving, with very few passengers. Strange, unless they were on a schedule.

Yet still didn't sit well on him. What if someone paid the driver to leave?

Khayri jerked to his feet and turned around the corner and just as he thought, Nikki was stuck between two hefty Arabs trapped like a startled rabbit in headlights going by her expression.

"There you are, habibti." Relief washed across her face, leaping to her feet, hanging on the camel for dear life. The two men eyed him. He lowered his sunglasses, his eyes hard and deadly, holding out his hand towards the pesky Australian that she grabbed and threw herself forward into his hard physique, rocking him to the core.

Her trembling form against him, and the heat of awareness that had taken him off guard, then anger coiled into his belly that they had caused her so much distress, weighing down his belly.

He guided her around to his solitary spot, telling her to sit, and then he went back to the two men, who were talking, both eyes lifting in uncertainty.

"Come near my lady again, then there will be serious repercussions," he warned with a deadly smile. "She is under protecting the house of Isam." Recognition flashed through their eyes and pretended innocence, hands up in surrender, saying they were only taking a seat.

A pack of lies that he didn't call out on. There was no point.

Pushing up his sunglasses, he went back to join Nikki seated in the corner, clutching her bag, eyes far too wide for her small pretty features, surrounded by thick chestnut hair that the sunlight hinted the red undertones.

He settled at her side, and she scooted closer, touching his side, electrifying him. "What's going on Nikki?"

She gulped, eyes darting, lowering her head. "Just going to the Old Souk and thought I would travel by boat." Her earlier happiness was gone, and they had stolen that from her. Damn them.

Not quite what he meant, but also told him she hadn't a clue what was going on. Now why would those men be interested in Nikki and her camel? Also aware of what was happening around them, he heard whispering voices yet couldn't quite make out what was being said.

Removing his phone, texts Hussein. This needed to be stopped.

No matter what, she wasn't hurting anyone, even if their paths kept crossing. She had a right to walk around by herself without being harassed, yet this was different. He could feel it in his bones. 

Had someone targeted her? Which was dangerous for her.

If so, by whom? Traffickers?

Doubtful, thinking about the airport.

What was so important about her bag? Eyeing off the camel that seemed to grin at him, not getting the joke. Not sure what he had done to deserve this.

First, he had to stop them on the boat because he felt they weren't finished, and because she was alone and could be tracked once they reached their destination—a situation he wouldn't permit.

What had her parents been thinking allowing such an innocent to travel here all by herself unchaperoned? There's no way he was letting her walk anywhere at the moment without him. Not on his watch.

There went his peaceful day of reconnecting.

First things first. He needed to make her feel safe, asking questions about her trip. At first, she was hesitant, then relaxed more, and even offered his first name that caressed her tongue which sounded unfamiliar with her Australian accent.

The way it rolled off her tongue did strange things to his equilibrium that he pushed aside, pointing out famous sites instead, which she was keenly interested in, looking down at the notepad in her hand.

One that she shoved into the pocket in her dress and removed a phone, taking photos and bombarding him with questions with such wonder in large, curious, soft topaz eyes.

She was wearing modest clothes, with a scarf around her neck, and hair pulled back in a low ponytail held together by a large clip. Her fair skin needed protection from the sun.

"Perhaps you should wear your scarf," he suggested when she took a breather.

She blinked at him. "It's suggested better not to, unless in a holy building."

"True, but you are out in the weather, exposed. May I?"

She nodded while he retrieved the scarf, carefully positioned it over her hair, pulled it forward to shield her face from the sun, and finally draped it across her shoulder also covering the exposed neckline of the dress. 

Women rarely went out by themselves. If not with the menfolk, they were out in a large group of women, never alone.

She thanked him with a dazzling smile touching the scarf, then went back to taking photos, looking over the boat since they were low in the water that he eased her back, not wanting her to fall in, away from the edge, closer to him.

****

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Vincent Borroni couldn't believe what he was hearing. Under the protection of some damn Arab household. How the hell did that happen? Who the hell was Islam? Something he had to find out. 

Find out who was interfering with his plans, and make sure they stopped.

"You have her on a tracker, follow from a distance. I need to know who she found to help her." Damn it, he should've seen this happening. She was very good at drawing people to her, kicking in their protective instincts.

He had seen that over the years, and had been perfect as his hostess, yet had done things behind his back like buying a lottery ticket. What else had she kept from him? For now, she only saw him as her guardian, unknowingly he had been training and preparing her to run the family business with him at her side, where he was head.

"No one messes with that household," came back from the man, who wasn't supposed to run at the first sight of trouble. His fingers bit harder around the phone.

"Just don't be obvious about it until she is alone, and make an impression this time."

"An impression?"

"Rough her up but nothing too serious, only to scare her, nothing too rough," he growled. "You do not touch her in any other way. Just a scare tactic. Get it done!" he swiped the phone off and placed it on the desk.

If it had gone to plan at the airport, she would have turned around and headed back on the first flight. What had she been thinking? The Middle East, leaning back into his seat, another plan forming.

Something that could be in his favour.

Also, it made him look like a hero.

And the rest would be history.

Although it would take some time to organise.

Hopefully, she would head home on her own.

If not, that was her problem, not his, reaching for his phone, he made a call.

One who didn't care who they went up against.

Nikki Langley would be his!

He hadn't put so much effort into her to lose out.