"I miss the ocean," I say nostalgically.

"It can't be a perfect summer without some salty water, right?" Malik places his mobile on the table and gives me his full attention.

"Exactly." Smiling, I glance up at him. "I mean, Montana is really nice, but I still miss L.A. I want to get tanned at the beach, hearing the sound of the waves, swimming . . . I miss that."

A long silence takes a reign, Malik's now-calm eyes pitching me some kind of avuncular concern. And suddenly his mouth widens into a grin.

"How about we go to Miami?" he asks lively, his gaze expectant.

"Miami?" I almost choke on my drink.

"Yes . . . Miami." He bobs his head, jubilantly. I blink twice at him. "Don't you want the perfect summer with the beach, Professor? Then say yes."

It's so hard to fathom when he's serious and when he isn't. Does he mean it or he's just pulling my leg? I pout at the thought.

"You're kidding, right?" My voice is grouchy.

"Come on, just say yes already," Malik exhorts. God, he's not kidding! "I'm being serious, Professor. Do you want to go to Miami or not?"

"Of course I do." I leave it to him. "So, why aren't you staying in the palace? Aren't princes supposed to be in the kingdom?" I alter the course of our conversation.

Malik scowls. He takes out a cigarette from his jacket and slowly lights it up with the golden lighter that could've paid for my monthly bills.

Did I touch the sore spot? And . . . he smokes? I'm a bit surprised.

He takes a puff of cigarette, his gaze indescribable, and then says, "Because I like being free, just as I am." He halts to blow some smoke to the side. I remain attentive as he adds, "My brother is the crown prince, and so only he is obligated to stay in the palace."

I clasp my lips together like a toddler in front of a story book. "And when did you leave the palace?"

He frowns a bit in recollection, his look subdued for the reasons only he knows. "When I was fifteen, I guess." He glances at me softly.

"Wow, that long? But why? I think you were too young. I mean, if you're willing to talk, that is." I don't want to pressure him.

Malik leans back in his seat and blows the smoke again. I try to chill despite my feud with cigars and the smell. "I had an accident at the time," he replies coolly, full of hidden emotions.

My heart tightens. Does he have a painful story? I wonder.

"I had to move to Houston for rehab." Malik proceeds calmly, revisiting his memories, it seems.

"I'm very sorry."

I suddenly regret asking about his private affliction. More than anyone else, I understand how tough it can get when talking of some deadly memories that you'd rather forget.

"I used to do illegal motorbike racing back then. Of course behind my father's back," Malik says.

My eyes widen, but I'm not surprised at all that he was once a troublemaker.

"So, one day I pulled a dangerous stunt and ended up with a few broken ribs and leg." He laughs briefly.

"That's terrible!" I say in horror, imagining the scene.

"It was." He smiles as though it's water under a bridge.

Maybe it is.

"So, did you get banished or something? I mean, after getting better of course," I ask curiously.

Malik bursts out laughing, and I join him this time.

"Oh, Professor! What a humor! No, I wasn't banished." Malik looks amused, relaxed even.

"Really?" I utter.

"Well, in a way I was, because they wanted me to stay away for a while since I've been nothing but a disgrace to the family." He doesn't look bothered saying this. "Using my rehabilitation as an excuse, I decided to spare them the headache. Trust me, it was the best thing that could ever happen to me, because I felt free."

I can imagine.

Malik continues telling me about his arrival to Houston, Texas, where he stayed for a year in the rehabilitation clinic, before moving to Edinburgh, UK, for his studies, and later to London, where he met Liam.

He talks of their endeavors together, and that they didn't like one another at first. Wow! They were like cat and mouse, according to Malik himself, and I muse at the image it brings. Damn, I can't even imagine.

We use a rental car to drive back to the ranch, since Cyrus left earlier with the copper. I had so much fun, and my mood is so lifted in comparison to how gloomy I was this morning. When we arrive home, I'm deadly exhausted; my head on Malik's shoulder, which startles me like hell.

"Sorry, I don't always fall asleep recklessly," I utter apologetically while pulling my head away.

How clumsy!

"I'm not complaining, Professor, am I?" Malik reassures tenderly with a friendly smile. I blush from embarrassment. "Did you have fun, though?" His worries replace his playfulness.

"Yes, so much fun," I reply while stretching my tired body, a tired yawn coming along. "Thank you." I smile at him.

"It was nothing. I think I also needed to recharge after all." He opens his side door and I laugh gently as I make my exit.

It's around eight in the evening as we enter the house. It's good to be back, and all I can think of is the shower and bed. However, heavens seem to have other plans for me. The first person we encounter once we walk in is none other than Liam Darcy.

Just great!

He looks so mad that even Malik seems wary. What's his problem now? Has he been waiting for us? Because that's exactly how it seems.

"Relax, Brother." Malik grins, neglectful of Liam's demeanor. "I promised to return her early, and here we are."

"You promised?" I snap, suddenly enraged at their grand arrangement.

Malik's face drops remorsefully. "Professor, the thing is—"

"You call this early? You weren't even picking your call." Liam eyes his shiny watch and I can't help but wonder about this sudden attitude of his.

"Well, with a good company who cares about the phone, Bro? I probably left it on silent mode," Malik replies, and I'm in awe at his unweaving composure.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I don't know what kind of arrangement you two had, but if I may, let me remind you that I'm not a child. I can take care of myself, and I definitely don't need a curfew like a little teenager," I snap pointedly at Liam. He glowers at me and I couldn't care less. "Besides, I was in very safe hands, so I don't see where this fuss is coming from." I turn to Malik for reference.

"Of course, Professor," Malik agrees, and I swear I could laugh at the face he pulls.

In all honesty, it's true. I had a great time and a very pleasant day for a change. Coming back here, I expected nothing less, as long as Liam wouldn't have showed up.

But no, the cowboy is everywhere.

"Very well, in that case I'd like to retire to my room and get some rest," I tell Liam, who wants to open his mouth but decides not to.

He has no idea how striving I am to avoid any problem as far as our secret involvement is concerned. I take a deep breath, my feet heading for the stairs.

But Liam doesn't let me go that easily. "What about dinner?" he asks.

I halt by the staircase, gripping the handrails. "I had dinner already," I answer gruffly, whirling my gaze back at him.

"You did?" His voice is curt, displeased.

"Yeah. Would you like a receipt?" I sarcastically remark.

Liam's jaw constricts.

"Actually, I wouldn't call that dinner, Professor," Malik says cautiously, stifling a laugh. "It was just a snack and—"

"And I had enough for three," I interject.

"Well, if you put it that way, Professor." Malik laughs delightedly, successfully reading the signs. "I like your appetite, by the way."

"Oh, shut up," I hiss, and he laughs even more.

I roll my eyes.

Liam strides toward me. I gulp at the look of menace he has on his face, his jaw tight as though I've offended him gravely. Now what? I wait until he's closer to me.

"This can't go on," he whispers, looking as serious as hell. "Get some rest."

"Goodnight," I breathe and walk away, and I think I need to breathe.

Damn him! I won't break!

Frankly I don't enjoy lashing at Liam. I'm only trying to distance myself from him, even if it means acting all cold and immature. It's the only thing I can think of, and I hope it works. I've already crossed the line, and perhaps it's a little too late, but I can still give it a try.

And why is he so possessive, dammit! I grunt.

The mattress feels cold as I roll to the side of the bed, exhausted. It's been quite a fair day, I must confess, but I'm suddenly feeling all sad and empty. I'm almost on the verge to cry, but I don't want to think I'm already that miserable.

I've never felt this kind of emotion before. Is it love? I shudder with fear; not the fear of finally being in love, but rather of the person I'm supposedly falling hard for. It's like a forbidden kind of love, and it kills me softly just thinking of what to expect along the way.

Unable to sleep, as usual, I decide to get up and dig in my suitcase for the diary. Writing has somehow proved to be a better therapy than brooding around, in my case. I sit comfortably in my bed and begin a new entry with a sniff. I believe I'm capable of filling this diary if I pour out all of my emotions lately.

Dear God,

I'm not sure which one I am; a bad person or a horrible friend. But there's one thing I know for sure, that I never intend to hurt anyone. Lately I've been feeling like I'm losing my mind. Around Liam I see nothing, I hear nothing, it's as if the world comes to a halt. I know it's crazy of me to think this way, but I think I'm falling in love with him! I can't stop thinking of him; his kisses, caresses, the way he challenges me both physically and emotionally, he unleashes the part of me I didn't know existed, and I dare say that he does make me feel alive. However, I can't ignore Sam's feelings . . .

But my tears are persistent just like my foolish heart, so I let them fall freely. I think I get it why people say you should cry when you feel like it; apparently I do feel better as time goes by. I even get the strength to bathe and change into my pajamas.

A little bit later the door swings open, and my heart freaks. I watch it tentatively.

Sam pops in without a simple knock. Maybe I should learn to lock it for starters, I sigh heavily. For a moment I thought it was Liam. How stupid! My friend walks over holding something like a parcel, all smiling.

"Delivery for Ms. Kira Jones," Sam says with a dramatic exaggeration, her fair skin radiant from the good mood she's in.

"Delivery?" I ask, my brows clinched together.

"Yes, ma'am, here." She hands me a little shopping bag and I stare at it suspiciously. "Come on, Kiki, it's not a bomb!"

"What is it?" I delicately hold it.

Sam sighs heavily. "Alright, it's from Malik. Now open it," she tells me while slumping on the bed as she always does.

Curious, I open the bag.

What I find is a cutely wrapped box: pink paper, white ribbon. Smiling, I quickly peel it off, and what's inside is a beautiful snow globe.

"It's beautiful," I mumble.

"What? What did he give you?" Sam practically snatches it from my hands.

"Sam!" I shout and we start wrestling in a childish manner.

"Okay, you don't have to bite me," she retorts. "What are you guys? Seven-years-old kids?"

I know she finds it immature but unfortunately I couldn't care less.

"I love it." I smile.

"Whatever." She gives it back while laying herself in bed. "You should really date him, because you're so much alike."

No, sweetie, I'm crazy for the forbidden.

"I'll think about it," I say absentmindedly, my eyes on the gift. "Well, I love it, and it's all that matters. Plus, I know you're jealous." I take a close look at its sparkling water, adorned by a little statue of liberty in the middle.

"Me . . . jealous of your snow globe?" Sam makes an accused face.

"Totally. Should I give it to you?" I tease.

"Give it," she utters quickly.

"Dream on." We both laugh.

A small handwritten note reads:

Could've bought you anything with a diamond, but I heard a souvenir has to carry the spirit of the place, so I hope you like it!

Malik.

I smile delightfully when I finish reading it. Only Malik could mention diamonds on the note.

"Ah, you're so infatuated," Sam mutters, eyeing me like I'm a lost cause.

She has no idea what she's saying, so I don't bother with anything. If only she knew who infuriates me, she'd probably throw this snow globe on my face.