Prince Aamuzhir had left London three days earlier for Miami and his five-hundred-foot yacht. Piper had wanted to go see him alone, but Coop had loudly vetoed the idea, pointing out that she couldn’t get to Aamuzhir without him. She’d attempted to dissuade him, but he wasn’t a man to hide from his enemies, and she couldn’t put her heart into it.

Coop had no trouble wrangling an invitation to the yacht, and exactly one month from the day he’d caught her spying on him at the club, they were back in his old stomping grounds. Everyone from the skycaps to the food truck vendors selling empanadas greeted him as a returning hero. She did her best to stay in the background and was disheartened to realize that some part of her wanted to tell the world he was her lover.

While he worked out in the hotel gym, she took in the ocean view through the massive wall of bedroom windows and changed from her travel clothes into one of the outfits she’d picked up in a rush shopping trip. They were meeting some of his former teammates for dinner, an invitation she’d tried to get out of.

“I’m only pretending to be your girlfriend when we’re on the yacht tomorrow,” she’d reminded him. “Tonight you’ll be with your old teammates. You don’t need a fake girlfriend.”

For some reason, that had irritated him. “You’re a little more than a fake. We’re sleeping together.”

“A technicality.”

“You’re going with me,” he’d retorted.

She came out of the suite’s luxury bathroom as Coop returned from the gym. The guilt that had been dogging her once again nipped at her heels. If she hadn’t talked him into helping Faiza escape, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

He stopped inside the door of the suite and stared at her. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She gazed down at her short hot-pink A-line jersey dress. “What’s wrong with it?” The spaghetti straps that crossed in the back hadn’t come undone, and the stack of silver bangles encircled her wrist in the proper place. She’d put on makeup and traded the sneakers she’d worn on the plane for barely-there sandals. She’d even pieced out her hair with what was left of an old jar of hair gel. So what if she’d bought her dress at H&M instead of one of his ridiculously overpriced boutiques?

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said, circling her. “That’s why the world as I know it has come to an end. You look female.”