Gambling With the Crown (9 page)

His father spat—and then he began to cough. Kadir stepped forward, alarmed, but the nurse who sat nearby was there instead, offering King Zaid a glass of water and straightening his pillows.

“Leave me,” his father said when he could speak again. Kadir had stalked out, furious with the stubbornness of his father and brother both. And perhaps even with himself. He should just go to the council and announce he was not going to accept the throne even if the king chose him, but he wanted very much for his father to make a different choice. A conscious choice.

Kadir wanted the king to pick Rashid, which would be the best choice for Kyr, and then he might feel as if he’d finally done something right by his brother. As if he’d righted the wrongs of their childhood in the palace. Perhaps the things he’d done were not so extreme when viewed through the lens of boyhood—but they felt like crimes against his own flesh. In seeking his father’s approval, he’d actively encouraged the king’s barely suppressed frustration with Rashid.

And Rashid had been too proud to fight back, which only exacerbated the situation.

After the meeting with his father, Kadir had returned to his room and found Emily fretting over the sleeping arrangements. She’d seemed so ordinary and normal that it had been everything he could do not to drag her into his arms and just hold her close. But she would not have understood, so he had not done it.

The night air whipped up from the sea, ruffling his hair, but it was not quite cool enough to dampen his heightened senses. He remembered their arrival on Kyrian soil. He could still feel Emily in his arms, still taste that kiss as they’d stood in the doorway to the plane. He wanted her with a sharpness that was uncharacteristic of him, and he didn’t know why.

Kadir swore softly. He should not be thinking about this. How was he going to lie in a bed with her and not touch her? He was growing hard just thinking about it. He told himself it was the stress of the current situation making him want her. Rewind the clock a day, and she would still be his PA, dressed in her stark suits and ugly shoes, and he would be none the wiser about what kind of woman lay beneath the professional polish.

He stood for a long time in the night air, until he was chilled and tired, and then he turned and went inside. The lights were dim and the room quiet. He shed the
dishdasha
he wore and padded over to the bed in his underwear. Emily lay on her side, as far from his side of the bed as possible. She was a small lump under the covers. Her hair, he was shocked to realize, was braided. He’d pictured it free, streaming over the sheets, but she’d very sensibly confined it.

Of course she had.

She had also lined the center of the bed with pillows. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. In the end, he flipped the sheets back and slid into the bed. And then he lay with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while his body continued to burn with inappropriate thoughts of her.

He did not know how long he’d lain there when she turned over.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was rough with sleep.

“Define
okay.
”

“You’ve had a shock tonight. You must be feeling so many things.”

“I am.” Because what else could he say?

She sighed. “I know something about how it feels to get devastating news, and I know it can be hard to make sense of it.”

“Do you?” He did not think she could possibly understand how he felt right now. Angry, frustrated, guilty, resigned.

“My father had a heart transplant five years ago. We weren’t sure he would make it.”

Kadir turned toward her. Out of everything he’d imagined her saying, this had not even made the top ten. How had she worked for him all this time and he’d never known this most important of things? She had never once mentioned it.

In fact, she never talked about anything personal. He realized, lying there in bed with her, a pile of pillows between them, that everything he knew about her was from observation and reading her personnel file. She was the person who was the closest to him on a day-to-day basis, who knew all his business secrets, and he didn’t know her at all. It was a stunning realization.

“You never told me this before.”

He could feel her shrug more than see it. “It was personal. And we don’t exactly do personal chitchat, do we?”

“It would seem not. And yet I wish I had known.”

“It’s not a secret or anything, but it’s not the kind of thing you just up and say either. There never was an appropriate moment to mention it before.”

“And is he well now?”

“Well enough, yes. But I really wasn’t trying to make this about me.” She sighed. “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. I just wanted you to know I understand how difficult this must be for you. I’ve done a poor job of that so far.”

It was difficult, but not for the reasons she might imagine. Of course a part of him was upset that his father was dying. But their relationship had fractured so long ago that his father almost felt like a distant relative to him. He cared, but it wasn’t going to devastate him when the inevitable happened.

No, the most difficult part for him now was in making sure he righted the wrongs he’d done to Rashid. Which his father seemed determined not to allow. He could walk away, certainly. But he wanted his father to choose Rashid because it was right.

How could he explain any of that to her? She’d asked him earlier if he wanted to talk. But what would he say? How could he begin to talk about such deeply personal things with anyone?

“You are close to your father?” he asked.

She hesitated for a moment, as if trying to figure out what he wanted from her. Or maybe she was just confused by the randomness of the question. “Yes.”

Kadir let out a breath and rolled back until he was looking up at the ceiling again. There was something about lying in the dark with another person that made him want to confess his secrets. Not all of them, of course.

“I am not close to mine.” It was a relief to say it, and yet he also felt as if he was admitting what a terrible son he was. She didn’t say anything and he felt a coolness sweep over him. Followed by a needle of pain in his chest. This was why he did not engage in personal confessions with anyone. “You are shocked.”

“No,” she said in a rush. “Just sad for you.”

Now he was the one who was shocked. He couldn’t recall any of the women of his acquaintance feeling emotional
for
him. Over him, yes. But this was a novelty and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I have made my peace with this long ago. Not all relationships are perfect.”

“No. In fact, I’d say none are. But some are better than others.”

He wondered at the note of sadness in her voice. He didn’t think it was all for him. Still, he felt the need to lighten things up between them. Before he began spilling things he was not willing to share with anyone. Things that would reveal how damaged he truly was. “This is true. Take us, for example.”

“Us?” She sounded surprised and he almost laughed.

“Yes, us. As my assistant, you are the perfect combination of competent and familiar.”

She huffed. “But as your wife, I suck.”

“I would not have put it quite that way. But no, you have not been very good at it thus far. Which I fail to understand. You are so good at being my assistant that I would have thought pretending to be my wife would come easy. Because you already know me.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” she grumbled. “I know you too well.”

“And what does this mean?”

He heard the covers rustling and then she was sitting up, facing him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

She made a noise that might have been disbelief. Or frustration. “I’ve witnessed far too many mornings after with you. I’ve escorted women to the door while you turn over and go back to sleep. And let’s not forget Lenore and the scene with her—when was that? Just two days ago! It’s hard to pretend to be the woman besotted with you when I know how that works out for so many of them. You humiliate them, Kadir. And then you forget them as soon as they’re gone!”

Her words surprised him. No, he felt nothing for any of them. But he had not set out to hurt anyone. “You think I humiliate them?”

“Maybe you don’t mean to,” she said, her voice softer now. “But I think so.”

He thought he should be offended, but mostly he was just weary. “And I think they know what they’re getting with me. I make no secrets about what I want, Emily. I don’t pretend to feelings I do not have.”

“Then I think they don’t hear that part. Or they hope they’ll be the one to change your mind. Because they certainly seem shocked when it’s over.”

“And how is this my fault?”

She picked up one of the pillows and hugged it to her. “I don’t know. I just feel badly for them.
Most
of them,” she amended. He thought she might have punched the pillow. “Dammit, Kadir, I hate when you make sense. It’s because I’m tired. Tomorrow, I’ll think up the perfect answer to your question.”

“Perhaps you will. But I doubt it. I’m not cruel, Emily. I never make promises. Any woman who gets involved with me knows that a long-term relationship is not on the menu.”

He always made that clear, and yet he knew they didn’t always believe it.

She lay down again and he heard her yawn. “I’m sure you’re right. Poor things.”

He wanted to keep talking, but he didn’t know what else to say. Soon, her breathing deepened and he knew she was asleep. He was alone, as always, with his thoughts.

Or maybe he was just alone.

CHAPTER NINE

E
MILY
SLEPT
LIKE
the dead. And then she awoke as sunlight filtered through the shutters and crept across the bed to caress her face. She was warm and content. And for a moment at least, uncertain where she was. It wasn’t unusual to wake up disoriented when working for Prince Kadir al-Hassan. You could be in Paris today, Hong Kong tomorrow and Sydney the next day.

But she knew she wasn’t in any of those places. And she knew something was different about this trip. It hit her simultaneously that two things were unusual. First, she was no longer Kadir’s PA and she didn’t have to leap out of bed and tend to his breakfast before waking him.

Second, there was a warm body pressing into hers and an arm slung over her waist. That was not at all correct. She hadn’t been in the same bed with another human being in a very long time—unless she’d gotten drunk last night and picked up a stranger. She turned her head slowly, her heart beginning to pump harder. Because she knew the truth before her gaze landed on the face of the man whose body was curled around hers.

Kadir.

Emily’s heart rocketed. She barely managed not to squeal. Her fingers wrapped around his hand and she started to lift it so she could slide out from under his grip. But his eyes snapped open and she found herself staring into his clear gray gaze.

He moved slightly and she felt the hard press of his erection against her bottom. Emily gasped as blood flooded her cheeks. It was followed by an answering wetness in her feminine core that both shocked and dismayed her.

“Salaam, habibti.”

“You crossed the line,” she accused. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

One of his eyebrows arched. “Did I?” He lifted his head to peek over her body. And then he lay on the pillow again. “I believe you need to look to your left.”

Emily did so—and felt the burn of embarrassment grow even hotter than it already was. The pillow line was still there and she was facing it. Kadir had not crossed her barrier; she had.

“I must have been cold,” she sniffed. “You turned the air-conditioning up so high.”

“Because you told me to, if you will recall.”

She tried to move away, but his arm tightened slightly. “Kadir—”

“You have to admit it feels nice to wake beside someone. Comforting.” He put his nose against her neck and breathed.

Her pulse beat hard and fast. Emily closed her eyes and swallowed. “That’s beside the point.”

“So you admit it feels nice?” His voice was a soft rumble in her ear. And her body was snapping with sparks that scared her.

“I didn’t say that.” Not precisely, anyway. She moved against him, trying to pull away—and nearly groaned as his erection pressed into her again. What would it be like to just turn around in his arms and...?

No!
She couldn’t think like that. She could not, for one moment, allow that kind of breach in her personal code to happen. She tugged again...

And this time he let her go. She slipped across the sheets until she was back on her side of the pillows. Her heart thrummed as she sat up and tried to fake nonchalance.

“You do realize that’s an effect of morning, yes?”

She turned to look down at him. He lay against the white sheets, his body dark and perfect. The covers were pushed down to his waist and his chest was gloriously bare. All those rock-hard muscles. And that damn arrow of hair dipping beneath his belly button.

She knew what lay down there and she experienced a pang of longing as she thought of him sliding the covers down the rest of the way, of her pressing her mouth to his abdomen and tugging off his briefs...

“What?” she asked after a long second in which she couldn’t remember what he’d said.

“The erection. An effect of morning. And your shapely bottom wedged against me, I imagine.”

Emily closed her eyes for a second and tried to get her racing heart under control. “You say the most outrageous things.”

“Do I?” He wasn’t smiling but she got the impression he was grinning at her anyway. “And here I thought I was being honest.”

Emily pushed her braid back over her shoulder. “All right, you were being honest. And I’m sorry I crossed the pillows. I can only imagine I got cold. And I’m not used to sleeping with anyone else, so...”

She realized what she was saying—babbling, really—and ran out of words. Kadir’s gaze gleamed.

“This is a shame, Emily. A woman as lovely as you shouldn’t spend her nights alone.”

“You are
such
a player.”

He looked at her quizzically. “A player?”

His English was so good that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t always conversant with all the idioms. “It means you’re good at getting women to slip into bed with you. And that it happens often. Flattery is no doubt one of the tools in your arsenal.”

“Ah. But you are already in bed with me. Why would I need to flatter you?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Kadir. You know what I mean.” Emily folded her arms over her chest, suddenly aware of her nipples pressing against the thin cotton of the tank top she’d worn to bed.

Kadir whipped the sheets back then and stood. Emily’s mouth went utterly dry. He was tall, golden and perfectly formed. He was wearing the barest of black briefs—and they were stretched out in the front by an impressive erection. Oh, it was so unfair that he was so beautiful. And that she wanted him.

Emily licked her lips automatically and Kadir’s gaze sharpened. She dropped her eyes and pretended to be unaffected. But her pulse was hammering so hard in her throat she was certain he must know.

Dammit. She’d been so careful—so
careful
—to keep Kadir compartmentalized in her head in the category of
boss: off-limits
that to suddenly realize he was no longer there was a shock. He’d moved into another compartment and she couldn’t seem to move him back. This one was labeled
sexy male: need immediately.

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Okay, this was a setback. But she could deal with it. She
would
deal with it. There was no other choice.

“I do know what you mean, Emily. But I like teasing you.” She glanced at him and saw he’d tilted his head to watch her. “Your skin is the most interesting shade of pink right now.”

Emily wanted to drag the covers over her head. “It’s the sunlight coming into the room. And all this gold on the ceiling.”

It was a lousy excuse, but hey, she wasn’t going to admit she was thinking about him naked—about her wrapped around him naked—was she? Nooooo, not happening.

“Of course it is,” Kadir said. He laughed softly as he went into the bathroom. Naturally, he did not close the door and she could hear the water falling against the tiles as he started the shower. She imagined Kadir sliding those briefs down his thighs and stepping under the spray.

Her sex throbbed with heat and need and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. It was only the second day of their sham marriage.

And already her purpose grew muddled and her will teetered on shaky ground.

* * *

Emily showered and dressed in the least sexy dress she could find in her wardrobe—which, she had to admit, didn’t mean much. This dress had a square neck that didn’t show any cleavage and a swirly skirt that flared out thanks to a tulle underskirt. But it was still formfitting through the bosom and it hugged her curves like Kadir had this morning. Emily forced that thought from her mind as she stood in front of the mirror and surveyed the outfit.

The dress was chic and lovely, a vibrant turquoise, and she paired it with the lowest heels she could find in the closet. They were perhaps four inches high and nude. Not much lower, but somewhat easier to walk in than yesterday’s snakeskin platforms.

“Not quite as sexy as I’d hoped, but still very unsuitable.”

Emily spun to find Kadir in the door to the dressing room. He was dressed in traditional robes—a
dishdasha
—and the dark
kaffiyeh
of Kyr. Golden ropes—the
igal
—held the headdress in place. He looked every inch a sheikh, and so very unlike the boss she was accustomed to. There was something almost primitive about him now, though she chided herself for thinking so. Clothing did not change a man. This was his culture, not a costume donned for effect.

And yet it was having an effect on her.

She smoothed her fingers over the silk of her dress. “I like this dress.”

“As do I. You look lovely, though you will certainly elicit disapproval from the old guard for being so vibrantly female.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You said
some
people would not approve of me. I hope you aren’t setting me up for a huge breach of decorum so that every single person in Kyr will despise me.”

He frowned. “I would do no such thing, Emily. You are still my wife. Your unsuitability rests primarily on your not being Kyrian. But yes, there will be those who are shocked by your clothing, your passion for me and your bright inner fire. They are the ones who will not approve.” He came toward her then, and she realized he was holding a velvet box in his hand. “You are missing some things,” he told her as he opened the box and set it on the table beside her.

Emily gasped at the sparkling diamonds nestled against the black velvet. Her gaze lifted to Kadir’s. “I can’t wear those.”

He frowned. “Of course you can. You will wear them.” He took the diamond-and-platinum necklace and fitted it around her throat. She turned so he could clasp it, her heart beating wildly in her chest as his fingers skimmed the bare skin of her neck. The necklace fit close to her throat but it was only when she turned around that she realized it was a collar. And it glittered as though someone had turned on Christmas lights.

“This is too much, Kadir.”

“Not for my wife it isn’t.” He ruthlessly went about clasping on a matching bracelet. And then he handed her a pair of diamond drop earrings that she fitted into her ears with shaking hands.

“Won’t I look a bit gaudy for daytime?”

His eyes roved over her. “Not at all. You will look amazingly beautiful.”

She glanced down at the bracelet—a sizable platinum-and-diamond concoction that caught the light and sparkled as crazily as the necklace—and realized what was missing. A wedding ring. Unless, maybe, they didn’t wear them in Kyr?

As if he knew what she was thinking, Kadir produced another box from somewhere. A smaller box. This one he opened away from her. And then he set it aside and lifted her left hand. When he slid the giant diamond on her finger, she actually felt light-headed.

“This is insane. Someone will bash me over the head and take this stuff. And then you’ll be right back where you started.”

He laughed softly. “You are a princess of Kyr, Emily. No one is going to bash you over the head.”

She shivered as she stared at the ring. It was lovely, but a bit more ostentatious than she was accustomed to. The thought hit her that it was something her mother would have loved. And that was not a pleasant thought.

“I don’t like this, Kadir. It feels...wrong somehow.”

He took her by the shoulders and held her firmly. His eyes bored into hers. He was so very handsome, so commanding, and she felt herself melting beneath those eyes. “It’s just a few days,
habibti.
You can do it. You may even have fun.”

His head descended and she closed her eyes. When his mouth brushed over hers, she nearly swayed into him. Instead, she put her hand against his chest, though she wasn’t sure whether it was to stop him—or to stop herself from leaning in closer.

The kiss was brief, an intense meeting of tongues that both shocked and aroused her, and then he pulled away and she found herself looking up into glittering eyes that had darkened several degrees. “For luck,” he said.

Emily blinked. “We are alone,” she answered almost breathlessly.

“I am aware of this.”

“You kissed me. That’s not part of the agreement.”

He lifted an eyebrow imperiously and she realized that while he might not technically be her boss any longer, he was still a sheikh. And a prince. How many people argued with a prince?

His fingers ghosted over her cheek before dropping away. “You still don’t quite understand. We are in Kyr,
habibti.
And you are my lawful wife. My property to do with as I wish.”

Emily trembled deep inside. Because, for a moment, she wondered what it would be like for him to do whatever he wished. But she couldn’t let him think she was growing soft. She drew herself up.

“I very much doubt an unsuitable wife is your property. If she were, she might be more suitable, yes?” Feeling a moment of inspiration, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers along his hard jaw. His eyes darkened and her breath caught in her lungs. “I own
you,
Kadir. This is why you brought me here. I own you, and your father will not approve.”

He didn’t say anything and her heart pounded while she waited for him to react. She couldn’t tell what thoughts were crossing that brilliant mind of his. But then he laughed and relief washed through her.

“Touché, Emily.” He took her hand and drew her to his side. “I believe you are ready now.”

He led her out of the room and down a long hallway where servants scurried to and fro. He didn’t walk too fast, for which she was thankful since he’d stripped her of her sensible shoes, and she found herself peering into ornate room after ornate room as they strode by.

The royal palace of Kyr was filled with priceless objects—marble and gold statues, intricately carved furniture, paintings, tapestries, and the most colorful rugs she’d ever seen. Some of them were huge and must have taken many years to weave. She knew enough about Oriental carpets to know they were not made on machines. Hundreds of women would have labored for many hours a day on the works of art gracing the palace floors.

Outside the soaring windows, the sky was a blazing, clear blue. The horizon shimmered with heat and the brown mountains in the distance appeared to wobble at their bases. Emily could see tall palm trees and a camel train plodding along. It was starkly different from anywhere else she’d been with Kadir thus far.