Thabiso stood there, hands throbbing, ego badly bruised. His ruse had failed in every way. He’d wanted to learn more about Naledi, and he’d wanted to learn one thing specifically: that his life had been better off without her. That her leaving hadn’t mattered. But as he watched her walk away, he didn’t feel relief, or like his curiosity had been sated.

He’d need a new strategy.

Chapter 7

If you will not take my advice as your assistant, then please take it as a woman. This is a bad idea. Very bad.”

Likotsi shifted and the overstuffed couch she was perched on squeaked in protest beneath her tailored pants.

“Why is this couch wrapped in plastic?” she asked, nose wrinkling as she poked at the uncomfortable clear covering. “There is absolutely no reason to preserve this floral print monstrosity. And this wallpaper!”

Fading evening rays of sunlight from the window in the small kitchen highlighted the overstuffed couch and its outdated print, the mix of plastic flowers and real plants that occupied shelves and corners. The place was nothing like the penthouse suite in the hotel they’d reserved for the trip. That room commanded a view overlooking the city. This apartment looked out onto cracked sidewalks and a combination beauty salon and barber shop across the street.

“The place has a vintage look I thought would appeal to you,” Thabiso said from the bedroom down the hall. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t already staged a photo shoot for InstaPhoto.”

Likotsi carefully crossed her leg over her knee, so as not to wrinkle her pants. “I was waiting for you to play photographer, Your Highness. My arms are long, but a selfie would not capture the majesty of this unorthodox rental you’ve chosen.”

Thabiso smiled as he hung his clothing in the closet Naledi’s neighbor, Mrs. Garcia, had cleared out for him. Likotsi had insisted she unpack for him, but Thabiso was trying the method acting approach: a common man would hang up his own clothing, no?

Mrs. Garcia had been reluctant to accept the all-expense paid trip to visit her family in Puerto Rico, and to rent him her place while she was gone, but once Thabiso learned her hometown had been severely damaged in recent storms, he’d offered a substantial donation to a local rebuilding fund. Thesolo already had people on the ground helping with the rebuilding efforts, so a bit more money for a good cause wouldn’t hurt. She’d accepted, her people would benefit, and he’d gotten what he wanted. All good, right?

He did feel a pang of conscience. There was something at least a little untoward about bribing the old woman who lived across the hall from the woman you were trying to get to know better . . .

“. . . stalking,” Likotsi said. The couch squeaked in agreement. “Like, just a hairbreadth away from it really. This behavior is unbecoming, and to a woman of Naledi’s cultural background, you could be seen as a threat.”

“I am no threat,” Thabiso said. “I just need a way to continue observing her without her knowledge or revealing that I lied about my identity when we first met.”

The only response was the mmchew of Likotsi sucking her teeth. He should have chided her for forgetting her place, but he was in Jamal mode, so he let it slide.

“I certainly wouldn’t like it if a strange man pursued me in such a way,” she said tersely.

“I’m not a strange man,” he bit out as he hung up the linen shirt. He was Naledi’s betrothed. But still . . . Likotsi’s words had some truth to them. He wouldn’t like a strange man pursuing Likotsi, who didn’t desire the attentions of any man.

Wait . . .

He strode into the living room. “Do you think perhaps Naledi has the same predilections as you?”

“Predilections?” She tilted her head to regard him like he was a jumping spider she was tracking before she stomped on it. “How should I know if she enjoys her popcorn with salt instead of sugar?”

Thabiso’s face scrunched into an expression of contrition. “My apologies. I meant, in your research, was there any evidence that she might be attracted to women? Well, exclusively women?”

He’d felt sparks of heat from Ledi several times during his ill-fated attempt at serving. That is, before he’d put off sparks of his own and nearly set her workplace on fire. But perhaps he’d read too much into her reaction to him?

Likotsi burst into laughter, her hands slapping her knees as she doubled over from it. “Your Highness. While I admit that you are a fine specimen of a man, being a lesbian is not the only possible reason a woman wouldn’t respond to your attentions.”

That bit stung. Mostly because it was the truth—for a normal man. For all of his life, people liking him or desiring him had been a predetermined thing, inextricably tied to his royal status. He’d thought himself so clever when he’d decided to go along with Naledi’s misunderstanding and pretend to be Jamal, but maybe being a prince was the only thing about him that would interest a woman.

“I am determined to get to know her, Likotsi. That is my right.”

He just needed a second chance; he couldn’t let things end as they had. Just thinking of his petulant behavior brought heat to his face.

Another mmchew. “Seriously, sire. I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have loaned you that book everyone was passing around the palace. I know you have never had to work for female attention, so let me be clear. In reality, women don’t like when strangers show up at their jobs and track their every move under the auspices of ‘getting to know them.’ Please keep in mind that just because you have the money to do things doesn’t mean they should be done.”