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Gambling with the Crown
Lynn Raye Harris


This sheikh plays to win!The crown of Kyr holds no appeal for pleasure-seeking Sheikh Kadir al-Hassan – his memories of the kingdom are as dark as a desert’s night. But neither will he shirk his duty… Instead, Kadir returns home with a bride so unsuitable no one will want him to be king!Long-suffering assistant Emily Bryant is the most important person in Kadir’s high-octane life, and the most invisible – until she’s promoted to royal bride!Sealing their marriage bargain with a scorching kiss leaves Kadir craving more… Now he must decide what’s really at stake in his royal game – his desert duty, or Emily!Discover more atwww.millsandboon.co.uk/lynnrayeharris









“I need you to marry me.”


Emily was looking at Kadir as if he’d grown two extra heads. He didn’t blame her, really. What he was proposing was perfectly outrageous. But after that phone call with Rashid he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wasn’t going to be forced to take his brother’s birthright.

And for that Kadir needed a very unsuitable bride. A woman who would hopefully persuade his father into believing his judgment was so poor he would not, under any circumstances, give the kingdom of Kyr into his keeping.

“I … I …” Emily raised a hand to push a stray lock of hair from her face and he was once more confronted with a fact he had somehow managed to ignore for the past four years.

Emily Bryant was not quite the unattractive automaton he’d believed her to be. Her brown hair was long, thick, and shiny—and very tumbled. He’d never seen it down before.

And now her mouth had somehow become enticing with all that hair to frame her face.

“I don’t know what to say.”

The words tumbled out of her in a breathless rush. Her green eyes, usually the color of polished jade, had darkened in what he supposed was confusion.

“Say yes.”




HEIRS TO THE THRONE OF KYR


Two brothers, one crown, and a royal duty that cannot be denied …

The desert kingdom of Kyr needs a new ruler.

Prince Kadir al-Hassan, the Eagle of Kyr: the world’s most notorious playboy.

Prince Rashid al-Hassan, the Lion of Kyr: as dark-hearted as the desert itself.

These sheikh princes share the same blood, but they couldn’t be more different. So now there’s only one question on everyone’s lips …

Who will be crowned the new desert king?

Don’t miss this thrilling new duet from Lynn Raye Harris—where duty and desire collide against a sizzling desert landscape!


Gambling

with the Crown

Lynn Raye Harris






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


USA TODAY bestselling author LYNN RAYE HARRIS burst onto the scene when she won a writing contest held by Mills & Boon


. The prize was an editor for a year—but only six months later Lynn sold her first novel. A former finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award, Lynn lives in Alabama with her handsome husband and two crazy cats. Her stories have been called ‘exceptional and emotional’, ‘intense’, and ‘sizzling’. You can visit her at www.lynnrayeharris.com (http://www.lynnrayeharris.com)

Recent titles by the same author:

A GAME WITH ONE WINNER (Scandal in the Spotlight) REVELATIONS OF THE NIGHT BEFORE UNNOTICED AND UNTOUCHED MARRIAGE BEHIND THE FAÇADE

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my editor, Flo Nicoll, who always pushes me—very politely—to do my best.

I complained and moaned and dragged my feet on this one, but you were right.


Contents

PROLOGUE (#u5791fc4e-be33-598e-a28d-af424e2a14f2)

CHAPTER ONE (#u9bd92c80-bac3-5e5b-ac7b-4f9c4a076b38)

CHAPTER TWO (#u539d7451-3e06-54d0-bfcf-3f21e142bb8e)

CHAPTER THREE (#u91b05465-5741-5230-b081-312b5b8c1446)

CHAPTER FOUR (#uf8ece2ef-6206-5f15-94f2-e4625fd396ef)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE

THE KING OF Kyr was dying. He sat in his chair on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket—though the desert sun had not yet sunk behind the horizon and brought cooler temperatures with it—and contemplated his life.

He’d had a long reign, a good reign, but it was time to name his successor and make sure Kyr continued to thrive when he was gone. He could no longer put off calling his wayward sons home and determining which of them would be the next king.

He pushed to a standing position, unwilling to give up even a tiny bit of independence while he still had strength in his body. The cancer would win, but not today. He moved slowly but surely, making his way toward the desk in his study while a hovering servant shadowed his every move. Waiting to pick him up should he collapse.

Well, he was not collapsing. Not yet.

He had one last task to finish. And it began with two phone calls.


CHAPTER ONE

EMILY BRYANT STRAIGHTENED the severe black skirt she wore, patted the French twist she’d wedged her hair into and steadied the coffee in her hand as she faced the double doors that led to the bedroom of His Most Exalted Highness, Prince Kadir bin Zaid al-Hassan.

Outside, the sky was that special blend of salmon and purple that indicated dawn’s approach. Despite the early hour, Paris was awake and rumbling on the city streets below. Soon, Kadir would be awake, too.

Just as soon as Emily knocked on the carved wooden door. She frowned and dragged in a fortifying breath. The man was impossible—and probably not alone. If this morning was anything like other mornings, she’d be stepping over lacy underwear, rumpled stockings and a couture dress lying in a heap on the floor. On one memorable occasion, a bra had dangled from the priceless Venetian glass chandelier. What city was that in?

Ah, yes, Milan.

Emily firmed her lips in what she knew was a distasteful frown—she couldn’t abide messes, especially from people who should know better—and lifted her hand. Then she rapped three times.

“Prince Kadir? It’s time to get up.”

No matter the hour he came in the night before, Kadir always wanted to be awakened before the sun rose in the sky. Sometimes he went back to sleep, but not before peppering her with orders and instructions about the day. And not before he drank the coffee she always brought.

More often than not, he got up. Emily had learned to relax her expression into an impassive and unimpressed mask of cool professionalism when the covers whipped back to reveal sleek tanned skin and acres of lean muscle. She’d also learned to turn her head discreetly to the side on the rare occasions when he’d failed to add clothing to his lower half before he leaped up and shrugged into his robe.

If he were any other man—if this were any other job—she’d probably be horrified. But this was Prince Kadir, and she knew what the job entailed. He’d warned her as much when he’d hired her. When he’d expressed that a man might be better suited for the job of his personal assistant, she’d assured him she was up for the task.

Therefore, she endured his quirks and his single-mindedness. If he weren’t brilliant, if he didn’t pay her extremely well—extremely—she might not have stayed as long as she had. Not to mention that getting this job straight out of college had been a coup. She still believed that if Kadir hadn’t been so desperate to find someone who could put up with his shenanigans, he would never have agreed to interview her, no matter how impeccable her references.

“Come.” His voice was dark and raspy with sleep on the other side of the door.

Emily opened it up and walked across the darkened room in her sensible heels. There was a time when she’d loved platforms and flash as much as the next girl, but these shoes were a whole lot more comfortable. She opened the thick damask curtains to let in the light and took his coffee over and set it on the antique bedside table.

A quick perusal of the room indicated he was alone. She breathed a sigh of relief. She did not like the woman he’d been dating recently. Lenore Bradford, fashion’s latest runway darling, was not nice in general and evil to Emily in particular.

It was as if the woman was jealous, which was insane, since Kadir had never once looked at Emily as anything more than the person who ran his life and kept his calendar up-to-date. But that did not stop Lenore from shooting Emily angry looks or demanding outrageous things from her.

Like the morning Lenore had wanted chocolate croissants from a boulangerie halfway across Paris. Croissants she knew damn well she would barely sniff before turning to the egg-white omelet instead. Emily had fumed the whole way. Fortunately, she’d not had to do that again, because Kadir had been rather angry when he found out.

Yet another thing Lenore blamed her for. But Kadir wasn’t a stupid man and he could read the address on the bag, which apparently Lenore did not try to hide when she tossed them aside as predicted.

Kadir sat up against the headboard and picked up the coffee. His dark hair was tousled and he needed to shave, but he was still one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. Not that she was attracted to him. Of course not. He was an arrogant, entitled, brilliant jackass and she did not like men like that.

Heck, she probably wouldn’t like him at all if he didn’t pay her so much.

Except, dammit, that wasn’t quite true. He drove her crazy with his cool confidence and certainty he was always right, but he remembered her birthday and the anniversary of the date she’d started working for him. She liked to think that meant he cared about people in his own fashion, though it was probably just that mind of his, which never forgot a fact.

But she chose to believe the former; therefore, she couldn’t dislike him.

Much.

Emily flipped open the notebook she’d tucked under one arm and steadfastly ignored the sheet as it slipped down and revealed a hard, muscled chest and that damn arrow of dark hair that marched down the center of his abdomen and disappeared beneath the fabric.

“You have a seven-thirty meeting with the chairman of RAC Steel, and a phone call after that with Andrakos Shipping. There is also the real estate agent to meet with on the specs for the property and a site inspection this afternoon.”

Kadir sipped the coffee and peered up at her from beneath those impossibly long lashes of his. His eyes were a clear, dark gray that snapped with intelligence.

Really, did a man so beautiful also have to be so smart?

“You are a model of efficiency as always, Miss Bryant. Shukran jazeelan.”

She glanced at her watch and tried to ignore the flush of pleasure rolling over her. “Breakfast is on the way up, Your Highness. And I have told the driver to be here at seven sharp.”

Kadir’s gaze slid over her. He was assessing her, the way he assessed everyone, but she always felt that strange little prickle that started at the back of her neck and continued down her spine like electricity dripping through a conduit.

She didn’t like it. She licked her suddenly dry lips and closed the notebook. Kadir’s eyes narrowed.

“If that is all, Your Highness?”

“It is.”

She turned to go when a racket sounded outside the doors to the bedroom. She wasn’t particularly alarmed, as Kadir traveled nowhere without armed guards, but it was unusual in the extreme. She started toward the door when Lenore Bradford burst in.

Emily drew up short. When she realized she clutched the notebook to her chest, she lowered it. Her heart thudded alarmingly. Behind Lenore, a man in a dark suit stood there like a mountain. An angry mountain, she realized.

He would have let Lenore into the suite, because she’d been here before, but he would have expected her to wait while he announced her.

Clearly, she had not done so.

“Lenore.” Kadir’s voice would have sounded lazy to anyone listening. But to someone who knew him, who’d worked beside him for four years, the note of danger was distinct.

Oh, Lenore. You’ve done it now.

Emily closed her eyes briefly and waited for the coming storm. Behind her, the blankets stirred and she knew that Kadir had risen and put on his robe. He must have flicked a hand in dismissal because the guard melted away.

“You walked out on me last night,” Lenore shrilled. “It was my party, and you walked out.”

“Perhaps I would not have done so had you not invited six reporters and a camera crew. I am not bait for your ambition, Lenore.”

Lenore’s pretty hands fluttered and her eyes widened. She was blonde, tall and thin, perfectly coiffed from head to foot, even at this early hour. A real looker, as Emily’s dad would have said. But she wasn’t very bright where Kadir was concerned. He was not the sort of man to be handled or manipulated.

Emily started for the door again, intent on getting out of the room before the fight blew into the stratosphere. Not that Kadir would tolerate much of that, but Emily didn’t need to be here for it. It was personal, and while she might like to snatch Lenore bald-headed for being such a bitch, it was none of her concern.

“Stay where you are, Miss Bryant.” Kadir’s voice was commanding, as always, and Emily froze. “Lenore was just leaving.”

The other woman’s skin flushed pink. “I won’t leave without discussing this, Kadir. If we are to have a relationship, we have to talk about these things. Perhaps I was wrong, but—”

“It is Prince Kadir or Your Highness,” he said coolly. “And there is no relationship. There will be no relationship. Now, get out.”

Every word was measured and mild, as if he could hardly be bothered to get angry. Emily almost felt a pinprick of sympathy for the other woman. Almost, but not quite.

Kadir moved past Emily until he was between her and the door. Facing Lenore. He was clad in a navy silk robe and his hair was still tousled, but he looked every inch a prince. It was hard not to admire him in these moments. Her heart swelled with a strange kind of pride that confused her.

Lenore had gone purple. “That’s it? You are not even going to talk about it with me?” Kadir didn’t answer as he stood there with his arms folded and gave her his best imperious stare. Emily couldn’t see his face, but she knew the look. And she could see its effect on Lenore’s expression.

Lenore suddenly pointed a manicured finger at Emily. “You think I don’t know what’s going on here? You think I don’t know about your assistant—” she somehow made the word sound dirty, as if she’d said whore instead “—about how she’s tried to come between us from the beginning? She wants you for herself!”

Emily opened her mouth to utter a protest, but Kadir was there first. “I don’t particularly care what Miss Bryant thinks of you. It is what I think that matters. And I am finished.”

He strode to her side, took her by the elbow and marched her toward the front door of his suite while she screamed at him. Then she was thrust through the door, and it closed again with a thud. Kadir turned, his face black with fury. Emily dropped her gaze and studied her shoes while her heart thrummed hard.

She had never witnessed the breakup scene before, but she knew it had played out again and again over the past four years she’d worked for him. She could almost feel sorry for the women who committed the mistake of thinking there was a future with him. He was rich, titled, wealthy and successful in his own right. Every woman he dated wanted to tame him. None of them had managed it yet.

“I am sorry you had to hear that.”

Emily’s head snapped up to meet his hot gaze. He’d moved closer to her and her pulse skidded with unwelcome heat. “I don’t want you for myself,” she blurted. Her cheeks blazed.

Great.

Kadir quirked an eyebrow. “Really? I am told I am quite delightful. How stunning to encounter a woman who does not want me.”

For a moment she didn’t know what to say. And then she realized he was teasing her. Emily dropped her gaze again. She needed this job and she wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize it. He might be humored this time, but she could not let it pass. “Forgive my outburst, Your Highness.”

“There is nothing to forgive. Lenore was incredibly rude to you.”

“It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

He laughed. “Oh, I think it will.”

Emily could only stare at him, her pulse a drumbeat in her throat, her fingers. And then she realized he meant the scene with Lenore.

“Don’t look so worried, Miss Bryant,” he continued, his voice smooth as silk, hard as steel. “Lenore will not be back. But there will no doubt be others.”

Emily wanted to roll her eyes. She resisted the urge. Kadir’s eyebrow quirked again.

“You wish to say something?”

“Your breakfast will be here any moment.”

“That is not it.” His voice was a knowing murmur as his gaze dropped to her lips, back up again. Shockingly, she felt as if he’d touched her. As if he’d taken one of his golden fingers and slid it across the pad of her lips. He grinned, and her insides turned to liquid. She was not happy about it either. “Come, Emily. We’ve known each other for nearly four years now. You know more about my life than anyone besides me.”

He’d called her Emily a handful of times. It always rattled her the way his accent slid over the syllables of her name. Like a caress. Like the touch of a lover.

As if she would know what that was like these days. It had been so long since she’d last had sex she couldn’t even remember when it was. She traveled too much, moving with Kadir as he trotted the globe and built his skyscrapers. It left little time for a personal life.

Except for when they were in Chicago. Then she took time to go see her dad, to make sure he had everything he needed. Dating was hardly a blip on her radar compared to that.

“You pay me to keep your life in order, not to advise you on it.”

“And yet you wanted to say something. I could see it in your expression. The way your lips pursed ever so slightly. The downward tilt of your eyebrows, the flare of your nostrils. The green fire in your eyes. I would like to know what it was.”

“I prefer to keep my job.” Her voice contained an edge of tartness that she couldn’t quite control. The green fire in her eyes?

“And you shall. I give you leave to say what you wish. I’d rather not have you pop from holding it in, Miss Bryant.”

Emily sighed. He wasn’t going to give up until she’d spoken. If she knew anything about this man, she knew that. She’d watched him in negotiations, watched the way he closed in on his prey like a hawk, circling ever closer, until the moment he snatched them up and got precisely what he wanted, whether it was a bargain on steel, a commitment to sell only to him, incentives on a piece of land or a premium from someone who desperately wanted his company to build their new skyscraper.

“I was going to say that it was ridiculous to expect more of the same. That perhaps if you conducted your, er, affairs a little differently, they might not get to this stage.”

He looked amused. Heat flared in her belly.

“And how should I conduct my affairs? I would imagine that swearing off women for good would do it. But so far as I like women—and I certainly do—there will always be some who think I am going to make them my princess. They never take it kindly when they find out it is not going to happen.”

“Then perhaps you should choose women based on their intellect and not their bra size.”

He burst out laughing and a prickle of something ran up her spine. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even embarrassment. Perhaps it was relief. Relief that she’d said the words after all.

“I will take your charming suggestion under advisement, I assure you.”

“You did ask.”

“Indeed I did.” He raised his arms, stretching like a supple, sleek cat. The robe fell open to reveal the tight muscles of his abdomen—along with that damn arrow of hair again. Thankfully, he was wearing a pair of black silk boxers that were perfectly decent. Emily averted her gaze as her heart rate picked up once more. Fresh fire licked across her skin, shortened her breath.

She forced it down again, buried it beneath the mountain of decorum and duty she always lived by. She was not the sort of person to be ruled by urges. She was not the sort of person to have urges—not anymore. She’d worked very hard to make sure of that.

So what on earth was the matter with her today? He was devilishly attractive, but that was nothing new. She’d thought herself inoculated a long time ago. Apparently, he could still rev up her pulse under the right circumstances.

Perhaps she should make an appointment with her doctor. Her hormones were surely out of whack or something. It was the only explanation.

Kadir moved with liquid grace, sauntering back into his bedroom while Emily stood and gulped in air. He didn’t close the door and she soon heard the sound of the shower. She imagined him dropping the robe, sliding the silk boxers down his lean, hard thighs—

Emily gripped her notebook hard enough to make her fingers ache. Then she smoothed her hair, straightened her clothing even though it was perfectly straight already, and went to check on Kadir’s breakfast.

* * *

The day had been long and productive. Kadir sat in the limo as it moved through the brightly lit streets of Paris and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, easing the kinks of sitting at a desk for the past few hours. He’d been going over the projections for his newest project. This office building in Paris’s business district was simply the latest in a series of buildings he’d constructed over the past couple of years.

But he loved the process, loved watching the steel skeleton rise high above the city and take on a life of its own. This building wasn’t as tall as some he’d built, but it was modern and sleek and efficient. The company that had hired him would be very pleased when he was finished. He prided himself upon it.

Beside him, his assistant typed away on her laptop. He slanted a glance toward her. Miss Emily Bryant was quite possibly the best assistant he’d ever had. She was eager to work, professional, and she’d taken over his life with the kind of efficiency he valued.

Nothing escaped her notice. Nothing remained undone. In spite of this morning’s episode, a thousand Lenores could not ruffle her calm for long.

He’d come to look forward to her marching into his room, in whatever city they might be staying in, and standing over him in her crisp black-and-white—or sometimes navy-blue or gray—business suits and ugly shoes as she told him about his day.

Emily was blessedly uncomplicated. The only female in his life who was. Thank goodness he wasn’t attracted to her, or he would no doubt ruin what was the longest relationship with a woman—unrelated to him—that he’d ever had.

He thought of her this morning, telling him to choose women based on intellect rather than bra size, and wanted to laugh again. She’d shocked and amused him at the same time. He’d asked her opinion, but that was not the answer he’d expected. Emily was always so circumspect that it hadn’t crossed his mind she had anything remotely sarcastic to say.

He’d loved it because it was so unexpected from his proper assistant. That was something he almost never got in his relationships with anyone: honesty. No one wanted to disagree with a prince.

His mobile phone began to buzz. He took it from his pocket and handed it to Emily. He was too tired to deal with anyone just now. She answered with that voice of hers that sounded so young and fresh, as though she was still sixteen instead of twenty-five. Kadir closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. Tonight, he would sleep the sleep of the dead. No parties, no manipulative fashion models, no distractions.

“Your Highness.” Emily sounded a touch breathless. Her pale green eyes were wide as she held out the phone. “It’s your father.”


CHAPTER TWO

KADIR GRIPPED THE balcony’s iron railing with both hands as he stared at Paris spread out below. The Eiffel Tower glowed ocher against the skyline as cars slid through the streets. He could hear laughter coming from somewhere in the hotel where he’d booked an entire floor, and a soft breeze slid across his skin, cooling him.

His father was dying. The phone call tonight played again and again in his head, filling him with so many emotions that he could hardly sort them all. He remembered a lion of a man when he was a child, a man who had both frightened and awed him. He remembered wanting to be important to that man, wanting his attention and doing nearly anything to get it.

If his father had had a favorite son, he was it. Not that that was saying much, since he’d often felt his father’s belt against his skin. But Rashid had felt it more. And Kadir had been so convinced as a child that if his father was angry with Rashid, then he might be pleased with Kadir—not to mention, if his father’s attention were on Rashid, Kadir would escape the harsh punishments his father meted out. So he’d encouraged his father to be angry with Rashid in any way he could.

Kadir raked a hand through his hair and thought about ordering a glass of some type of strong liquor. But he did not drink when he was alone, so that was out of the question. It was a matter of self-discipline and he would not violate his own rule.

He picked up his phone from where he’d set it on the table and willed it to ring. He knew Rashid would call him. Because Rashid would know that Kadir had been told the news first.

When he and Rashid had been children, he’d taken shameless advantage of his father’s apparently strong dislike of Rashid. When Kadir let the horses out of the stables, his father blamed Rashid. When he released his father’s prized hawk, Rashid got blamed. When he accidentally poisoned his father’s favorite hound—who thankfully recovered—their father had blamed Rashid for that as well.

Rashid always took the punishment stoically and without complaint. He never cried during the beatings, but he would return to their shared quarters red faced and angry. Kadir shuddered with the memories of what he’d caused Rashid to endure.

It was a wonder Rashid did not hate him. He always felt such a dark and abiding shame in his brother’s presence, though Rashid did not ever speak about anything that had happened in their father’s palace. It was as if, for Rashid, it did not exist.

Kadir wished it were the same for him.

He stood there for another hour in the dark, waiting and brooding. And then his phone rang and an odd combination of regret and relief surged inside him.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said by way of greeting.

There was a long pause on the other end. “It is good to talk to you, too, brother.”

“Rashid.” He sighed. He could never say everything he wished to say to his brother. His throat closed up whenever he thought about it.

I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble. I’m sorry for everything. And then, Why don’t you hate me?

Instead, he said the one thing he could say. “You know I don’t want the throne. I’ve never wanted it.”

In Kyr, the throne usually passed to the eldest—but it didn’t have to. The king could choose his successor from among his sons, and that was precisely what their father was proposing to do. Kadir couldn’t begin to express how much this angered him.

Or worried him. He was not, in his opinion, suited to be a king. Because he did not want it. For one thing, to be king would mean being trapped for the rest of his life. For another, it would feel like the ultimate dirty trick to be played against Rashid.

“You are as qualified as I,” Rashid said with that icy-cool voice of his, his emotions wrapped tight as always. To talk to Rashid was to think you were talking to an iceberg. It was only when you saw him that you realized he blazed like the desert.

“Yes, but I have a business to run. Being king means living in Kyr year-round. I am not willing.”

That was the reason he could voice. The other reasons went deeper.

“And what makes you think I am?” There was a flash of heat that time. “I left Kyr years ago. And I, too, have a business.”

“Oil is your business. It is also the business of Kyr.”

Rashid made a noise. “He only wants the appearance of fairness, Kadir. We already know his choice.”

Kadir’s throat was tight. He feared the same. And yet he could not accept the throne without a fight for what he knew was right.

“He’s dying. Do you really plan not to go, not to see him one last time?”

If anger had substance, then Kadir could feel the weight of his brother’s anger across the distance separating them. “So he can express his disappointment in me yet again? So he can hold out the promise of Kyr and then have the satisfaction of giving it to you while I can do nothing?”

Kadir felt his brother’s words like a blow. He’d done nothing to deserve Kyr and everything to drive a wedge between his father and his brother while protecting his own skin, though he had not really known the gravity of his actions at the time. Still, being a child did not excuse him.

“You don’t know this is his plan.”

Rashid blew out a breath and Kadir could almost hear the derision. “It has been this way since we were children. He hasn’t changed. You are the one he prefers.”

As if being the preferred one had made life as one of King Zaid’s sons any easier. Their father did not possess a warm bone in his body.

“I am not the best man to be king. You are.” He could say that without regret or shame. His particular gift was in building structures, in turning steel and glass into something beautiful and functional. He loved the challenge of it, of figuring out the math and science to support what he wanted to do.

He enjoyed his life, enjoyed being always on the move, always in demand. If he were the king of Kyr, he would not be able to do this any longer.

Oh, he could build skyscrapers in Kyr—but Kyr was not the world. And a king had many other things to tend to. He loved his country. But he felt its responsibility like a yoke, not a gift.

Rashid, however, wanted to rule. Had wanted to do so since they were boys. He’d always thought he would be the one to inherit the throne by virtue of his position as eldest—everyone had—until their father announced one day that he had not yet chosen a successor. And would not until the time came.

If King Zaid had died without choosing, the governing council would have made the choice. There had been no danger of Kyr being leaderless.

But it had always been a carrot to dangle over Rashid’s head, to make him jump to the tune King Zaid wanted.

Rashid had not jumped. He’d walked out. To Kadir’s knowledge, his father and Rashid had not spoken in at least ten years. Kadir maintained a distantly cordial relationship with his father, but it was not always easy to do.

“Be the better man, Rashid. Go and see a dying old man one last time. Give him what he wants and Kyr will be yours.”

Rashid didn’t speak for a long moment. “I will go, Kadir. But for you. Not for him. And when it turns out as I said, when you are crowned king of Kyr, do not blame me for your fate. It is not I who will have caused it.”

* * *

Emily nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a knock on her door. She’d fallen asleep on the couch of her small suite. A sheaf of papers fell to the floor as she bolted to a sitting position, her heart hammering with adrenaline.

She grabbed her phone where it lay on the coffee table. It was a few minutes after midnight. The knock sounded again and she scrambled upright, looked askance at the papers—there was no time to straighten them—and then whipped the long tangle of her hair out of her face and shoved it over her shoulders.

She’d changed into her usual sleep set—a tank top and pajama pants—which wasn’t in the least presentable. But the knock was insistent and she moved toward the door once her brain kicked into gear. Something must have happened to Kadir or no one would be outside her door at this hour. If Kadir wanted her, he would call.

She whipped the door back, unconcerned about criminals—since Kadir’s security had locked down the entire floor they were on—though she was careful to keep the bulk of her body behind the door.

Kadir stood on the other side, looking handsome and moody, and a wash of heat and confusion flooded her at once. Her stomach knotted even as her brain tried to work out a logical reason for his appearance at her door.

“Your Highness? Is there a problem?”

“There is indeed. I need to talk to you.”

“I—I will come to your suite. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and—”

“No. There is no time for that.” His hand was on her door, his big masculine body poised to enter her room. She’d worked for him for four years. She knew he was strong and big and not in the least bit soft, but she’d never quite felt the intensity of his body until this moment.

A rush of flame slid through her at the thought of facing her boss in her pajamas, but she pulled the door back and let him in. She’d seen him in less, after all. To him, meetings in various stages of undress were completely acceptable.

He came inside, all darkness and intensity and coiled strength as he paced across her floor. She could only watch as he moved like a trapped panther in her small space, her heart thrumming at his nearness and beauty.

Emily tried to smooth her hair. And then she crossed her arms when she realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that she was in any danger of wowing Kadir al-Hassan with her B cups, but she’d be more comfortable if she was wearing one of her suits. Fully bra-ed and covered from neck to knee.

He stopped pacing and turned to face her. If she hadn’t been watching him, she wouldn’t have believed the look of surprise that crossed his face. Her cheeks flamed even more and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

“Did you need me to draft a letter for you? Make a call to the States? It’s still early there, and—”

“No.”

Emily shifted from foot to foot. The papers scattered across the floor irritated her sense of order. And Kadir, a prince, standing before her in trousers and a custom-fit shirt while she was a disheveled mess in her pajamas, did not bear thinking about.

His pewter gaze slipped over her and his expression grew tight. “I have disturbed you.”

“I fell asleep on the couch.” God, could she be any more inane?

He moved closer to her, and she felt his presence like a wave. A giant, engulfing wave of heat and sharp masculinity. This was not her urbane, sophisticated boss standing before her. This man was a prince of the desert, a man who stood on the edge of a precipice between civilization and the wild, untamed dunes.

She gave herself a mental shake. She knew better than that. He might be an Arab male, but that didn’t make him uncivilized. That was as ridiculous as saying all Americans wore cowboy hats and said yee-haw.

Kadir was a man. Just a man.

Her pulse raced even while she had the oddest sensation of her blood beating heavily in her veins. And her brain whispered back to her that Kadir al-Hassan was not just a man by anyone’s definition.

“You are...rumpled, Miss Bryant.” He said it almost wonderingly, and a flash of irritation rolled through her.

“Well, I was asleep. And you usually phone if you want something.”

He shoved a hand through his hair then, and she saw that he was not quite himself. Not the cool thinker she was accustomed to dealing with.

“We are going to Kyr.”

She felt the force of those words deep in her gut. In four years, he had never once gone to Kyr. If she hadn’t looked it up on a map, she’d have almost thought it didn’t exist. But it was there, a slice of sand on the Persian Gulf. It was oil rich, as were so many of the countries in that region, and ruled by a king. By Kadir’s father.

She had never spoken to the king until today. Until he’d phoned his son while they’d been riding across Paris and Kadir had handed her his phone, as he so often did when he didn’t want to deal with anyone. She could still hear that raspy voice, the note of command as he’d told her he wished to speak to his son. He had been imperious and polite all at once, though she had not fooled herself that politeness would win out should she attempt to take a message.

Kyr. My God.

It was perhaps the most foreign of any location he had ever taken her to, with the exception of Singapore and Hong Kong.

“When?”

Kadir blinked, and she wished she had her notebook. She felt professional with her notebook and pen. She also had a tablet computer, of course, but she liked the feel of the pen scratching over the paper as she made quick notes—and then she transferred them later so that she could access everything on the tablet. His calendar was there, too, but not until she’d jotted it out on paper first.

“In the morning.”

Emily bit her lip. Kadir didn’t take his eyes off her and she started to worry that he’d had a shock of some sort. He was not behaving like himself, that was certain.

“I will be sure to have everything ready. What time would you like me to request wheels up?”

“I have done this already.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around her room as if he’d never seen it before. Which, she supposed, he hadn’t. “Do you perhaps have a bottle of wine? Some scotch?”

“I—um, there might be wine. Just a moment.”

She went to the small refrigerator tucked beneath the cabinets on one side of the room and pulled out a bottle of white she’d been nursing. Then she took down a glass and poured some in it. But when she turned, he was behind her. He’d moved so silently she’d not heard a thing.

Or perhaps it was the way her blood beat in her ears that prevented her from hearing something so basic as a person walking across the floor. He loomed over her, so tall and vital and surprising. It jarred her to realize that without her heels, she really was much shorter than he.

She thrust the glass at him without a word.

“Please have a drink with me.”

Emily turned and poured wine into another glass, thankful to have something to do that did not involve looking at Kadir. But when she pivoted again, he was still there. Still in her space, still big and dark and intense.

She thought he might move, might go over and sit on her couch, but he didn’t. He simply stood there, staring at the liquid in his glass. And then he raised his gaze to hers, and she felt the blow of those eyes like a twist in her heart.

She recognized pain when she saw it. His seemed to swallow him whole, turning those clear gray eyes to the darkest slate. She had an urge to lift her palm to his cheek, to tell him it would be okay.

But that was a line she could not cross. He was her boss, though she was having a very hard time remembering it just now.

“What is the matter, Your Highness?” The words were tight in her throat, but she forced them out anyway.

His brow furrowed. And then he lifted the glass and took a deep swallow of the golden liquid. Once more, his eyes were on hers. As if she were an anchor. As if it were her alone keeping him tethered to the earth, keeping the pain from engulfing him.

“My father is dying.” The words were simple, stark, and her heart squeezed into a tight ball in her chest. She knew the pain of those words, knew how they opened chasms in your soul. How they could change you.

But she also knew the bittersweet joy of finding out there was a way to save the person you loved. The worry over if there would be enough money to pay for the procedure—not that this last was a worry a king would have.

She reached for him automatically, gripped his forearm. She had never dared to touch him before, not deliberately. Not like this. The jolt of sensation buzzing through her should not have been so unexpected. But it was. Like touching a live wire and then being unable to let go.

She had to push past it, had to speak. Had to get beyond the awkwardness and confusion when he needed so much more from her than this giddy schoolgirl behavior.

“Is there nothing they can do?” Her voice came out a whisper, but he heard it. He’d been staring at her hand, at her pale fingers clasped over his golden skin, and he raised his gaze again.

Once more, the blow of those eyes threatened to steal her breath away. Her sense. For a moment, she wished she were someone else. Someone beautiful and dynamic. Someone who could interest a man like this.

But no, that was silly. She wasn’t a sensual creature. She was sensible. There was no room in her life for the kind of heat and exhilaration that went along with a man like Kadir. She’d seen how women burned for him, and how they burned out too soon. That kind of heat wasn’t worth the price.

She’d almost been that sort of woman once, but she’d learned that it was far better to be sensible and staid. And if she ever doubted it, she had only to think of her mother’s tragic example of what could happen to a woman who followed her hedonistic tendencies too far.

“No, it’s too late now. They’ve done everything.”

He sounded almost detached and cool, but she knew it must affect him deeply. She squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He put his hand over hers and lightning sizzled into her deepest core. In four years’ time, their hands had brushed on occasion. It would have been impossible if they hadn’t.

But this. This was too much, like walking out into full sunlight after having spent a year in a cave. The feelings swirling through her were too hot, too bright.

Too confusing.

Kadir was an attractive man, but she was not attracted to him. She liked lean blond men who weren’t quite so tall. Quiet men. Men who didn’t make her feel jumpy and achy just by touching her.

She had to force herself to meet his eyes, because to continue to stare at his hand over hers would certainly be odd. The pain was still there, but there was something else, too. Something that flared bright for a moment and was extinguished.

She’d always known that Kadir was a complicated man. But this felt as if someone had lifted the curtain to show her the gears and pulleys that ran the show.

She’d seen beneath the veneer. Beneath the walls. But only for a moment.

A moment she was not likely to forget any time soon.

“I am angry, Emily.”

“I believe that is normal.” She remembered being angry herself when they’d first learned that her father needed a new heart if he were going to survive. It had seemed impossible at the time—and she’d been so furious with fate—but then a heart had become available and he’d gotten his second chance.

But every moment had been agonizing. The feelings, the fear. Not everyone in her family had handled it well. Her father had survived—but the family had not.

Kadir’s gaze was searching. She had to remind herself, strongly, that he was still her boss, that this breach of their usual formal relationship was a temporary thing. If she handled this wrongly, if she did what she wanted to do—which was put her arms around him and pull his head down to her shoulder while she stroked the thick softness of his hair—she would be crossing a line that could never be redrawn.

“I need something from you, Emily.”

His voice was soft and mesmerizing and her stomach tied itself into a knot as she imagined what he might ask for. But then she told herself he was simply hurting and this change in their usual relationship was a temporary by-product of that. He needed someone to talk to and there was no reason why she couldn’t be that someone.

“Anything I can do, Your Highness.”

One corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a smile. She’d never spent a lot of time gazing at him—she was far too busy taking care of business—but she could certainly see why the women he dated seemed to melt so quickly beneath the power of his raw male beauty. His mouth begged a woman to press her own there. His hair needed a woman’s fingers in it. His shoulders needed someone’s arms around them. His waist needed to be surrounded by a woman’s legs—

Oh, my. Emily clamped down hard on her wayward thoughts and tried to look like her usual professional self.

Which would be far easier to accomplish if she were not standing here in her pajamas with her hair a dark tangle down her back.

He put a hand on her shoulder, his fingers touching bare flesh. She couldn’t quite contain the gasp that escaped her as an arrow of flame shot through her belly, down into her deepest core. Oh, she was so going to the doctor the instant they returned to Chicago. There had to be a pill that would fix her raging hormones. She was entirely too young for this kind of wild fluctuation.

Kadir’s brows drew down, his gaze searching hers. His eyes were dark, glittering slate, and she had to force herself not to shrink from the fire in them.

“First, you are going to need to call me Kadir.”

Her stomach flipped. “I—I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You’re my boss, and I prefer to keep that straight in my head. First names invite familiarity, and—”

His finger over her mouth silenced her. And burned into her. Confusion set up a drumbeat in her brain, her blood. She had no idea what was going on here, or where it would lead if she let it.

“Emily.”

He said her name simply, but it had the effect of sending a wave of calm over her. She drew in a breath and waited. Whatever he was going to say, she could handle it.

His next words shattered that illusion. “I need you to marry me.”


CHAPTER THREE

SHE WAS LOOKING at him as though he’d grown two extra heads. He didn’t blame her, really. What he was proposing was perfectly outrageous. But after that phone call with Rashid, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wasn’t going to be forced to take his brother’s birthright.

He wasn’t the next king of Kyr. Rashid was. And he wasn’t going to allow his father to use him as a bludgeon in his personal war with Rashid. Not any longer. When he was ten, he hadn’t understood. He understood now.

He was returning to Kyr because his father was dying and he believed it was important to be there. But Kadir wasn’t going to make it easy for the old man to do what Rashid believed he was going to do.

And for that, Kadir needed a very unsuitable bride. A woman who would horrify his father enough that he would believe Kadir’s judgment so poor he would not, under any circumstances, give the kingdom of Kyr into his keeping.

An American woman with no connections or pedigree would fit the bill nicely. If he could persuade her to act a little more like Lenore—spoiled, entitled and manipulative—it would work even better, though it was not strictly necessary. Her origins would be enough for his father and the staunchly traditional governing council.

King Zaid would turn to Rashid, regardless of their differences, and choose the son who was the only sensible choice. He would not risk his kingdom with a son who was blinded by the charms of a most unsuitable woman.

Kadir knew it was an insane plan, born of desperation, but he was determined to carry it out. Nothing else would work. His father might be petty, but he was much too proud to allow Kyr to pass into the hands of a son who showed such a decided lack of judgment.

“I...I...” Emily raised a hand to push a stray lock of hair from her face and he was once more confronted with a fact he had somehow managed to ignore for the past four years.

Emily Bryant was not quite the unattractive automaton he’d believed her to be. Her brown hair was long, thick and shiny—and very tumbled. He’d never seen it down before. She either wore it scraped up on her head or pulled back in a severe ponytail.

And now her mouth had somehow become enticing, with all that hair to frame her face.

He’d known she was not shapeless. Indeed, her suits were well-fitted and crisp, if stark in color—it was only her shoes that were ugly. Sensible shoes, he believed they were called.

She was almost boyish, with narrow shoulders and hips. But she had a waist, and her small breasts were shapelier than he’d realized beneath her suit jackets. That surprised him in ways he hadn’t expected. He knew it now because he’d had a devil of a time keeping his gaze from straying to where they jutted against the thin fabric of her top.

Still, she was Emily, his PA. Not some woman he could take to his bed and discard. He needed her in his life, and at this moment he very much needed her to agree to his plan.

“I don’t know what to say.” The words tumbled out of her in a breathless rush. Her green eyes, usually the color of polished jade, had darkened in what he supposed was confusion. Or horror. There was always that possibility, he decided.

“Say yes.”

She did the one thing he did not expect. She took a step backward, out of his space, and wrapped her arms around her body. The wineglass was still clutched in one hand and tilted precariously to the side.

Her chin dropped and he got the distinct impression she was meditating. When she looked at him again, her gaze was clear.

“Why are you asking me this? Do you need to be married for a business deal? Is there some piece of property you cannot do without and a wife would ease the way with the owner?”

He could only stare at her. She was so close to the truth it astounded him. And yet not quite.

“I need to take a wife home to Kyr.”

Her brows drew down. “I don’t understand.”

He blew out a breath. “It is very complicated. But suffice it to say that a wife is necessary. Think of this as a promotion.”

She blinked. And then she laughed. He was almost insulted.

“This is the strangest promotion I have ever heard of.” She drew in air, straightened her spine. “And it’s impossible, Your Highness. I cannot do what you ask.”

He felt the sting of her rejection as if it were a blow. It stunned him, if he was truthful with himself. Women did not typically refuse him.

“And why is that? This is a job, Emily. The same as always.”

“You will forgive me, Your Highness—”

“Kadir.” He spoke sharply, but he could not seem to help it. For once, he wanted her to call him by his name. For once, he needed to know that he was more to her than a paycheck. It was beyond insane, and yet he’d not felt quite right since he’d spoken with his father earlier.

It was as if everything he’d known had flipped upside down. As if his life had started out one way this morning—a lifetime ago now—and ended up in a completely different place. He was at the bottom of a pit, trying to find a handhold to pull himself back up again before the walls caved in and crushed him.

She swallowed. He didn’t think she would say it, but then she did. “Kadir.” Her voice was so small, so quiet, as if she feared that saying his name would call down a bolt of lightning.

“Was that so difficult then?”

Her eyes glinted in the dimly lit room. “No.”

“Good.” He retreated a few steps, gave her space. He sank onto her couch, ignoring the scattered papers. “Do I pay you well, Emily?”

She moved to one of the chairs set around a small table several feet away and sank down on it as if she feared she would break it. “Yes.”

“Then you can hardly object if I give you an extra year’s salary once you complete the task. All you need do is pretend to be my wife.”

Her eyes were wide. “Pretend? We wouldn’t actually be married?”

“We would, but it won’t be a real marriage. I don’t want you to think I expect anything other than the pretense of devotion.” Because they would need to appear ridiculously besotted with each other for this to work.

She looked doubtful. “Won’t someone figure it out?”

“How? We will act our parts.”

She shook her head. “No one will believe it. Just yesterday, you were with Lenore Bradford. You were probably photographed with her. And now you are marrying me—when, tonight? After you were with Lenore at her party last night?”

He felt the noose tightening around his neck. “I did not say it was a perfect plan. But we will sell it, Emily.” He twisted the stem of the wineglass in his fingers. “Besides, Kyr isn’t precisely connected to the outside world. Not in the way you would think. It is modern, certainly. But gossip and tabloids are hardly my father’s daily reading material. If I arrive with a wife, a wife who I am clearly crazy about, that will suffice for him.”

He could see her throat work. “You want to deceive your family?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. She would never understand. And yet he had to make her do so if this were to work. It went against his nature to explain himself, but he had to acknowledge that she could just as easily turn him down if he did not. “It’s about the throne, Emily. I don’t want it.”

She blinked. “Why not?”

A riot of emotion twisted through him. He wanted to lash out. To tell her it was none of her business. And yet, if he was asking her to do this thing, it surely was her business. He could tell her the truth without delving into his personal reasons. His guilt. That was private.

“Because a king cannot travel the world and erect buildings. My business will be finished. And you will be out of a job.”

He didn’t like pointing it out so cruelly, but what choice did he have? Because that was, ultimately, what was at stake for her. If he became king, he couldn’t keep her in Kyr. He’d have an entire legion of assistants and she would not be needed. Even if he wanted her there.

There was a hierarchy in serving the royal family in Kyr, and Emily Bryant did not fit into it.

She put her forehead in her palm and slanted her gaze toward him. It was an unconsciously attractive look. A twinge of heat flared to life in his belly. He tamped it down ruthlessly. His life was upside-down, he reminded himself. He was not attracted to his very ordinary assistant. If he had been, he would never have hired her. Besides, if he hadn’t found her sexually appealing in four years thus far, he wasn’t going to start today.

In spite of the awareness that slid through him when she’d put her hand on his arm. In spite of the urge he’d had to bend his head and fit his mouth to hers, just to see if the sparks would continue or if it was simply the incongruity of her touching him so deliberately.

An anomaly. Stress.

“I don’t like the idea of deceiving your family. Besides, I’m a terrible actress. No one would ever believe I was your wife.”

Kadir allowed himself a smile. It was the kind of smile he knew usually had an effect on the women he turned it upon. “I have no doubt they will believe it. You’ve never yet failed at a task I’ve set for you. And you won’t fail at this one.” He leaned forward then, elbows on knees, and delivered what he hoped would be the coup de grâce. “You are the only person I can trust, Emily. The only one who will not fail me. I need you.”

* * *

Emily’s insides were spinning and churning as though she’d taken a ride on a merry-go-round. It didn’t help that Kadir looked at her so seriously. Or that he was specifically asking for her help. How could she refuse him?

And how could she go through with it? No one would ever believe that she—plain, ordinary Emily—was Kadir’s chosen bride. The whole world would see through the deception.

And she’d be mortified when they did. People would laugh and point fingers. She would be noticed, and not in a good way.

It was impossible.

Yet, he looked at her with those gorgeous dark eyes and serious expression and she wanted to do whatever he asked. She closed her eyes, swallowed. It was more than that, though.

One year’s salary.

With that kind of money, she could finish paying her father’s hospital bills and start to put money in the bank for his long-term care. He still lived in the house she’d grown up in, but it was an older house that always needed repairs of one type or another. He tried to do things himself, but it was too much for one frail man.

Anger scoured through her then. Her mother should have been there with him. Would have been there with him if she weren’t selfish and self-serving. If her focus on herself hadn’t led her down a self-destructive path and ended in a twist of steel on a dark highway.

When Emily’s father had needed his wife the most, when he’d gotten too sick to work and couldn’t keep buying her clothes and vacations and cars, she’d said she was too young to be someone’s caretaker. And then she’d run off with another man.

Emily experienced the same cold wash of helpless fury and despair she always did when she thought of her mother. Emily had been heading down the same path, in some ways. She’d loved flashy clothes, loved dressing up and being the center of attention. She’d spent hours at the salon, hours shopping with her girlfriends and hours discussing men. She’d had boyfriends, more than one at a time, because they lavished her with attention and gifts. And that had made her feel special.

But everything changed when her mother deserted them. Emily had realized what a self-destructive road she was traveling when there was no one left to take care of her father except for her. And now Kadir was handing her an opportunity to finally pay off her father’s bills, maybe move him to a retirement community in Florida. He’d always wanted to go to where it was warm. Maybe live in a golfing community and play a few rounds.

If she could do that, it would mean the world to him. And to her, because then she wouldn’t worry so much about him living in the windy, bitterly cold Chicago winters.

“How would this work?” Her voice sounded rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in ages and her vocal cords didn’t want to let the words go.

Kadir sighed and bowed his head for a brief moment. She wanted to tell him that she had not yet agreed, so he shouldn’t get all relieved and everything—but they both knew she was going to. It was simply too good an opportunity to pass up.

No matter how it terrified her.

“My attorneys will draw up the paperwork. We will sign it. That is all that is required in Kyr—a legal marriage document, with both signatures affixed. We can have a ceremony in Kyr, if you like, but the documents will suffice.”

She couldn’t imagine standing at an altar—or wherever one did these things in Kyr—and pledging everlasting love to this man. To her boss.

No matter how fake it would be.

“I don’t need a ceremony.”

He tipped his head, as if he’d known she would say that. “Then there will not be one.”

She clasped her hands in her lap, twisted them together. It was incongruous to be discussing marriage with her boss while in her pajamas in Paris, but that’s precisely what she was doing. How surreal.

“Will there be other paperwork? A prenuptial agreement? A contract detailing the terms of our arrangement?”

“Do you require either of those things?”

She could only blink at him. “It seems prudent, don’t you think? What if I decide I like being a princess so much that I refuse to divorce you and then ask for half your assets when you insist? Or what if you become unhappy with my performance and decide not to pay me?”

He laughed and she let the sound drip down her spine, warming her though she did not want it to.

“You are delightful, Emily. If I don’t tell you that enough, I am remiss.” He got to his feet then and she stood, too, more out of habit than anything. “I will have those documents done as well, if it makes you feel better.”

She sucked in a fortifying breath. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

“But you will.”

Heat rolled through her. She would, but she didn’t like how easily he could read her. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe he just expected her to obey. Because she always had before.

“How can you be so certain? This is far different than ordering me to make phone calls or type up a new proposal.”

He came closer to her and she forced herself to remain where she was. She would not duck away like a frightened kitten. Then he put his warm hands on her shoulders and she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning again.

“I need you, Emily. More than I’ve ever needed you before. And I think you will say yes because you’ve worked for me for four years now and you are good at what you do. You won’t want to walk away when I need you. It’s a challenge, and you like challenges.”

She could only stare up at him, her insides clenching and rolling as his touch made things jump inside her. Things that hadn’t jumped in a good long while.

“I—I have conditions,” she managed.

His brows drew down, but he didn’t look angry. “Conditions?”

She swallowed. It’s for the money. For my dad. “For this to work, you can’t order me to do things. The moment we sign the documents, I am no longer your employee.”

His gaze slipped to her mouth, and she thought her knees might refuse to hold her a moment longer. But then he looked at her again, an expression of curiosity and bemusement on his handsome face. “Do you want to be more, Emily? Oddly, I find I might enjoy such a notion—”

“No.” She cut him off, and immediately wanted to gasp. She had never done such a thing before. He was gazing at her steadily so she hurried on. “Partners. We will be business partners.”

It was the only way she could do this. If she continued to think of herself as his employee, she would never manage the deception. Because she knew what happened when bosses and employees crossed the line. And she was too professional to do so, even if it was only an arrangement. For her own peace of mind, she had to separate those parts of her life.

“Fine.” He didn’t seem angry in the least.

Her heart throbbed painfully at what she was about to say. “Then I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

Kadir seemed to relax slightly, as if he’d believed for a moment she might actually refuse him. His hands slid almost sensuously down her arms, left a trail of flame in their wake. Her skin prickled and tingled. She wanted to shrug away, to get out of his grasp—and she wanted to move closer at the same time.

“There are only two things left to do in order to seal this deal.” His voice was like silk and she shivered in response.

His hands dropped away then, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, he reached up to cup her neck. Then he drew her forward as her heart hammered. Her feet moved as if he was the one in control of them rather than her.

“Wh-what?” She cursed herself for sounding nervous—but he was touching her, and apparently that made her light-headed.

“First I have to fire you,” he murmured, his gaze focusing on her mouth as she came in contact with the broad wall of his chest. Her hands went up automatically, rested on the soft cotton of his shirt. He was hard and warm beneath the fabric. She knew he went to the gym, and she knew what his body looked like beneath the cotton. Firm, tanned, beautiful.

No, she told herself. You don’t care. You haven’t cared in four years.

She had to focus, had to concentrate on what he was saying rather than on what he was doing. She could not lose her perspective here. “What’s the other thing?”

His eyes glittered and one corner of his mouth lifted in what could only be termed a self-satisfied smile. “I have to kiss you, Emily.”


CHAPTER FOUR

SHOCK RIPPLED THROUGH her like a wave. It was quickly followed by a pang of heat and longing that nearly took her breath away. Kadir pulled her more firmly against his body, and then his head dipped toward hers. She closed her eyes automatically, her heart hammering so hard she was going to be dizzy.

Kadir was going to kiss her. Her boss for the past four years, the man she’d served across continents and time zones without one single moment of inappropriateness, was about to kiss her.

Just like he’d kissed Lenore Bradford yesterday and a million other women before her. Emily had watched the revolving door of his life for far too long. She’d seen the women come and go. She’d walked many of them to the door herself as they clutched their handbags. Half the time with their wadded-up panty hose trailing from their purses as they took the walk of shame.

She’d witnessed it and, if she was honest with herself, she’d been utterly judgmental. What kind of idiot woman got herself involved with a playboy sheikh? Oh, she knew what they all thought. What they hoped. That they were the one. The one he would marry and make into his princess.

Sure, some of them just wanted sex, the same as he did. And that was fine. She didn’t pity those women, the ones who knew what they wanted and what they were getting.

The majority, however, were the other kind. The dreamers and schemers and hopefuls.

And she was not about to become one of them.

Emily shoved against his chest. His grip immediately eased and she stepped backward, out of his grasp. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a marathon. She wrapped her arms around herself, embarrassed at the effect he was having, and moved farther away.

Her wineglass was waiting on the table, so she picked it up and took a gulp. Then she faced him again. He looked oddly on edge, like a tiger waiting to pounce.

“No kissing,” she said hoarsely.

“I’m afraid that is a condition I cannot accept.” He sounded so cool, so calm, as if touching her hadn’t meant a thing to him. Which, of course, it hadn’t. His pulse wasn’t racing like hers. His breath wasn’t a struggle. She was simply another female to him.

“You have to.”

He shook his head, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Impossible, Emily. I can hardly be besotted with a wife I never kiss, now can I? Besides, you have already agreed. You cannot change the terms of the agreement afterward. That is bad business.”

She clutched the wineglass like a lifeline. She knew he was right, but dammit, why hadn’t she thought of it before? Why hadn’t she made it a condition?

Because it’s stupid, that’s why. Because he’s paying you to be his wife, and husbands kiss their wives.

“Fine, you can kiss me. But only in public. Only when it’s necessary for the illusion. No touching in private. No kissing either.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Are you that afraid of me, Emily? Worried about what kissing me will do to you?”

Heat flared beneath her skin. “With all due respect, Your Highness, you really need to get over yourself. It’s not professional, is all I mean. I’m your partner, not your lover.”

“So no mixing business and pleasure, I take it?” He sounded amused, and it irritated her. Was there really nothing she could say that bothered this man? That got to him the way he was getting to her?

Maybe she should have been more blunt with him much sooner. But she’d always tried to be cool and professional and detached. She hadn’t wanted camaraderie with him. She’d wanted nothing but her job and her paycheck and the satisfaction of performing her duties better than anyone he’d ever employed before.

She’d wanted to be indispensable to him—and she’d wanted to be the one he trusted with his business life. She hadn’t wanted to kiss him or touch him or, heaven forbid, lie naked in a bed with him.

To do that would be like picking up a treasure map, pointing right to the place that said “Here Be Dragons,” and saying, “This is where I want to go.”

No, not going there. Not ever.

“Precisely.” She tried to sound like her usual cool self, but there was a hint of hot color in her voice. She could hear it vibrating. She didn’t like it.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. It was such a casual move, and yet he looked no less intense—or delicious—than a moment ago.

Stop.

“All right, we’ll do it your way. For now. No touching unless necessary for public consumption. Which, by the way, includes my staff and anyone in the palace in Kyr. I expect this to work, Emily.”

The tightness in her chest seemed to ease a bit now that she knew he wasn’t going to try and tug her into his arms again. “I know that. And I will do my best.”

“You better do more than that.” He moved toward her with an easy grace that made her think of leopards slinking across the savannah. He stopped before her, hands still in pockets, intense gray eyes roving over her face. “Because if you don’t, Miss Bryant, everything is going to change. And then you will be out of a job for real.”

* * *

When dawn came, Emily didn’t know what to do with herself. She started to get up and get dressed as usual, prepared to go to Kadir’s suite and wake him as always—but then she remembered that he’d fired her. That she was no longer his employee.

Temporarily, of course. But as much as she wanted to adhere to her usual routines because they gave her comfort, she had to play a different role in his life right now. She’d spent the last several years learning to be sensible and efficient and now she was at loose ends. It was strange.

So, instead, she lay in bed and tried to go back to sleep. It didn’t work, in spite of the way she’d tossed and turned last night. She hadn’t slept because she’d been remembering Kadir standing in her room, looking so lost and alone and handsome, and asking her to marry him. And then he’d taken her in his arms and tried to kiss her.

Her heart did a little skip-and-slip thing every time she thought of that moment when she’d closed her eyes and felt him dipping down to press his mouth against hers.

But she’d panicked and pushed him away and now she couldn’t stop wondering what she’d missed. If she’d made a mistake.

No. She had not made a mistake. Kissing him would have been a mistake. Allowing him to sweep her off her feet the way he’d done to countless women over the past four years would have been a mistake.

Asserting herself, asserting her independence and setting up parameters was not a mistake. It was good business. Kadir would respect her for it. And in the end, if this worked the way he hoped and he did not inherit the throne of Kyr, she would slide back into her role as his PA. So long as this arrangement stayed strictly business between them—including any touching or kissing that was required for the role—there would be no awkwardness later on.




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