Gambling With the Crown (5 page)

She took them both and read them over. They were both very plain documents, as he had only had them drawn up because she’d insisted, and did not consist of pages and pages of legalese.

She picked up the pen lying near her right hand and quickly signed first one and then the other. Kadir did the same and one of the lawyers took the documents and slid them into a briefcase. The other lawyer handed the next set of documents to Kadir and he set them on the table between him and Emily.

“This is the marriage contract. We have only to sign it, and we are legally wed under the laws of Kyr.”

She let out a small sigh and he slanted a look her way. She was chewing the end of the pen and she slipped it out of her mouth almost guiltily.

“It seems so sterile,” she said. “Almost unreal.”

“I assure you it is very real. The moment we both sign and Daoud here affixes the seal, we are married.”

“It’s not very romantic, is it?”

He frowned at her. “I was not aware you wanted romantic.”

Her head snapped up, her green gaze colliding with his. “Oh, no, of course not. That’s not what I mean. I just think of the couples who get married this way and how disappointing it must be.”

“Most of them hold a ceremony after, if they are doing it for romantic reasons. When you are raised this way, it is not a disappointment. You’re thinking of American girls and their white weddings, with all the flowers and pomp.” He frowned. “Which seem to go disastrously wrong fairly often, if the television is to be believed.”

Her lips fell open as she stared at him, and he found himself wanting to slide his fingers across them, to see if they were as soft as they looked. But then she laughed. And she kept laughing, until a tear slid from one eye and she clutched her stomach.

Kadir couldn’t help but laugh with her, though he wasn’t quite sure why. She wasn’t taking this seriously, and he should be stern with her.

But he couldn’t be. He liked the sound of her laugh. He didn’t know that he’d ever heard it before. It was light and soft and yet so very, very infectious at the same time. Even the lawyers were laughing, though not as much. And none of them, save Emily, knew what they were laughing at.

“Emily,” he finally said, trying to be stern. She looked at him and then dissolved into another fit of giggles. Her mascara was ruined, but he didn’t think she’d like him to point that out.

Instead, he jerked his chin at the man nearest the box of tissues. A second later, he thrust the box at Emily. She took several.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, gulping between giggles. “Really. I’ll be fine in a minute. Honestly.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what is so funny. Do you care to share it with us?”

She sucked in several deep breaths and wiped her eyes with the tissues. Finally, she seemed to have it under control. “I’m so sorry. But, well, it’s you.” She clutched her arm around her belly, as if willing herself not to laugh again. But the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile she couldn’t quite control. A smile that quavered at the corners.

Kadir thought that he ought to be insulted, but he was having a hard time figuring out precisely why. Not to mention seeing her this way—lit up from the inside instead of calm and controlled and professional—was somehow addictive in a way he hadn’t expected.

“And what have I done to amuse you so much,
habibti?
”

She sucked in another breath, let out a giggle, swallowed hard. “You.
Bridezillas.
” She waved the tissue back and forth, as if fanning herself. It was a very inadequate fan. “I never knew that a prince such as you would—” She took a deep breath, let it out again. Closed her eyes. He could tell she was biting her lip. When she spoke again, her voice shook. With laughter, he realized. “Watch a show about insane brides wreaking havoc on their grooms and everyone connected with their wedding. It’s just so, so...”

“Amusing?”

She closed her eyes. “Oh, God, yes.” She waved a hand at him without looking at him. “Because you’re so, well, you. And I just can’t picture you with the remote and a bag of potato chips, settling in for the latest episode.”

“Emily.”

She cracked open one eye. “Yes?”

“I think you are blowing this out of proportion. I may have seen something while in a hotel room once. I also read the newspapers. The American fascination with the perfect wedding has not escaped my notice. And what I am saying is that couples in my country don’t feel that same need. They have ceremonies. They throw parties—or their families throw them—but this is how it begins. At a table, with marriage documents.”

She focused on the papers. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to insult anyone. It’s just not what I expected I would do someday.”

“I am not insulted. Daoud is not insulted. Philippe is French—and he is most certainly not insulted.”

Her eyes were warmer than he’d ever seen them. So green, like fresh fields in summer. She made him think of sunshine and long afternoons with a book and a bottle of wine—things he’d not done in a very long time. Since he’d started Hassan Construction, he’d had no time for anything but work and the kind of erotic play that happened with the opposite sex.

He did not mind that so much, usually.

“Good.” She put her hand on the marriage documents and took a deep breath. “Do I sign first, or do you?”

“The bride signs first.” The words were tight in his throat for some reason.

Emily picked up her pen and wrote her name quickly. Then she sighed and pushed the papers toward him. Kadir signed and handed everything to Daoud, who affixed the official seal of Kyr. Then both lawyers stood and bowed to Kadir and Emily both before taking their leave.

Soon, the room was empty but for the two of them.

Kadir had stood to see the lawyers out, but Emily was still sitting in her chair and looking somewhat shell-shocked. He sat down beside her, took her hand in his. She gasped softly and stared down at their clasped hands. A current of warmth slid through him.

“They bowed to me,” she said. “I didn’t expect that.”

“You are a princess of Kyr now. Emily al-Hassan, Her Royal Highness and Beloved of the Eagle of Kyr.”

She blinked. “Eagle?”

He rubbed his thumb inside her palm. Her skin was soft, warm. And he enjoyed the slight tremors vibrating through her. As a man, he knew it was not a fear response. It was a response to him, to his skin against hers.

It was a response he understood. A response he could work with. If necessary, he would seduce her into perfect compliance with his plan. A real performance instead of a fake one. A part of him rather liked that idea.

“I am the Eagle of Kyr.” He shrugged. “My brother is the Lion of Kyr, and my father is the Great Protector. This is tradition. Perhaps you find it silly, like the wedding documents.”

For the first time, he was aware of how foreign this must all seem to her. How very strange. He could tell her that her culture was just as strange to him sometimes, but he didn’t think that would help matters at all.

She looked stricken, and he wanted to kick himself. “I don’t think that at all. I really don’t.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know. This is all a bit overwhelming, I imagine. Yesterday you were my PA. Today you are my wife.”

Her head dropped, her gaze falling to her lap. “It is somewhat stunning, I have to admit.”

He tipped her chin up with a finger, forced her to look at him. She seemed younger than her twenty-five years at that moment. A bit lost, maybe. He didn’t like the guilt that pierced him at that look on her face.

“It will be fine, Emily. We’ll get through these next few days and then everything will go back to normal.”

“Yes, of course we will. I won’t disappoint you, Your Highness. You can count on me.”

“I know that. And it’s Kadir, Emily. It’s important you call me by my name from now on.”

She pulled in a breath. “Kadir.”

He smiled to reassure her. “That was not so difficult, was it?”

“It will take some getting used to.”

He let his fingers glide down the column of her neck, more out of curiosity than anything. Her eyes widened—and then she pushed her chair back, out of his reach.

“We’re alone.” She sounded almost scandalized.

There was a stirring deep inside him, a primal urge to capture and claim. He would not act upon it, however. It was simply a reaction to her moving away. Her flight response triggered his male desire to pursue.

“I am well aware of this, Emily.”

“Our agreement was no touching in private.”

Anger flared inside him. “And yet there is the danger you will call me something other than Kadir, or that you will flinch when I dare to caress your cheek. If you do this in Kyr, we will fail.”

“I won’t, Your—Kadir.” He didn’t miss the way she ground her jaw at her near miss. Determination shone from her pretty eyes as she lifted her chin and met his gaze almost defiantly. “You can count on me. Like always.”

He stood and ranged toward her, watched the glide of her throat as she swallowed. But she didn’t move again, didn’t try to escape, and he felt a hot burst of admiration for her. There was his fearless PA. That was the woman he could count on, with his very life if necessary.

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze when he stopped in front of her. Close enough to feel her heat, to smell her perfume. Closer than he would have done had she still been merely his PA.

She did not flinch as he let his gaze wander over her face, did not speak as she waited. Finally, he met her eyes again. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and contemplative.

“I hope so,
habibti.
For both our sakes.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“A
RE
YOU
READY
for this?”

Emily swung her head toward Kadir. They were in the back of a limousine that had taken them from the airport in Milan to the fashion district in the city’s center. She was still reeling over the short plane ride when, for the first time ever, she’d been the object of countless bows and
Your Highness
es. It was a far cry from how she usually traveled with Kadir. Then, she would sit in her own section of the plane and work on whatever needed working on. Sometimes, if he needed her for something, she joined him.

This time, she’d sat down right next to him and been served by the same people she used to joke with on their usual flights. Everyone had looked at her as though she’d forgotten to put on clothes or something. It had been far more uncomfortable than she’d expected it to be and she was still processing it.

“I doubt it,” she said. She’d argued at first, when Kadir had told her they were stopping over in Milan in order to buy her a wardrobe, but she’d lost. Spectacularly.

She could still see his handsome face creased in a frown as he’d told her that her clothing was simply not suitable for a princess. Her shoes, he’d informed her, were the ugliest things he’d ever seen.

She’d been angry more than anything, but also a little embarrassed. So she’d informed him that walking around behind him on job sites and in the various offices he traveled to was not conducive to wearing six-inch heels.

“Yes, but my wife will wear them,” he’d told her imperiously.

And now they were here, in Milan, for a shopping trip that she dreaded. It wasn’t that she didn’t like pretty clothes. She did. But she’d put away that side of herself a long time ago. And she’d never been tempted to bring it out again. She’d seen the damage that kind of life did.

She’d been a magpie like her mother, seeking beautiful things, beautiful experiences. She’d never realized how selfish she’d become until her father got sick and she’d wanted to run away, too. It had horrified her so much that she’d vowed to change her ways.

Her mother had run away, but Emily had not. She would not. She’d put away the glitz and glam and gotten serious. And now here she was, working for Kadir and dressing like a professional. She was happier. Calmer. Settled.

Safe.

Kadir was frowning at her. “It’s important that you look the part, Emily.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d told her this. “I know.”

“I need you to be more like Lenore.”

A hot wave of anger flooded her. She would never look like Lenore Bradford in a million years. “Perhaps you should have asked Lenore then,” she snapped.

His eyes widened only marginally. And then they narrowed again while her heart beat hotly. Well, dammit, she was tired of hearing about Lenore and how gorgeous she was and how Emily needed to be more like her.

“I did not ask Lenore.” His voice was icy. “I asked you. And you agreed, I might add. So stop pouting and start doing your part.”

“I’m not pouting, Kadir.” At least it was getting easier to say his name, probably because she was so furious with him half the time. “I know what you want and I’ll do my best to make it happen. Though I still don’t understand
why
you don’t just tell your father you don’t want to be king. Surely he would understand that. It’s not like you’re his only choice.”

His teeth ground together. His gray eyes flashed hot and sharp, but she wasn’t intimidated. Not this time. What was he going to do? Fire her for good?

Maybe later, but not before he got what he wanted. She suppressed a shiver and refused to look away from that mesmerizing stare.

“It does not work that way.”

“Why not? Is there a law against saying you don’t want to be king?”

“Emily.” His voice was a growl. “This is not something I wish to talk about. Leave it.”

She folded her arms over her chest and turned to look at the window. “Fine. But stop harassing me. I’m sure Lenore would have been perfect for what you want, but then you’d be stuck with a woman who wanted you as a husband for real. And no matter what agreement she signed, she’d probably try to talk you out of it. Or screw you out of it, I imagine.”

He muttered something in Arabic that she thought might be a curse.

“What?” she demanded. “Am I wrong?”

There was a wild, hot current swimming in her veins. A feeling that made her bold, made her fling herself against the forbidden gates of Kadir’s life in utter fury. She realized with a start that it must be four long years of pent-up frustration with this man finally gaining a voice. Four years in which she’d done her job, kept her mouth shut and watched him be a complete ass to the women who rotated through his life.

Well, he’d freed her now, and she wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.

Which, a small part of her tried to say, was career suicide. How would they ever go back to the way things were before? They’d been married for less than six hours, and already she was forgetting how to behave like his PA.

“You are not wrong.”

The air between them grew thick, so thick she wanted to roll down the window and gulp in the Milanese air. But she was frozen in place while he speared her with those intense eyes. The Eagle of Kyr.
My God.

Something was happening, something she couldn’t quite figure out. But then he took a deep breath and shifted in his seat, his hot gaze facing front again, his jaw set in a hard line.

“Your opinion of me is showing,
habibti.
Make sure it doesn’t happen in public.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m simply pointing out the truth.”

His eyes were bright as he swung around to look at her. “That I am shallow? That I date women for, what was it, their bra sizes?”

“I didn’t say that.” She closed her eyes briefly. “This time, I mean. I was only pointing out what you already know to be true. Lenore would have been a perfectly unsuitable wife, but she wouldn’t have given up the position so easily. Not when it made her a princess and gave her something she could lord over everyone else in her life.”

“But what you really want to know is what I saw in her in the first place. What I saw in any of them.” His voice was low and intense.

“That is none of my business.” She knew she sounded prim, and her cheeks flamed. Because he was right, she did want to know. The women he dated were beautiful, but most of them were schemers and, well, groupies of one sort or another. None of them had wanted to see beneath his masks. They’d wanted the prince, the billionaire, the sheikh. They had not wanted the man. Didn’t that bother him? At least a little?

“Mostly, it was sex.” He went on as if she’d not spoken. “Sometimes, it was companionship. I am not a robot, Emily. I like the warmth of another person next to me. I get lonely, like anyone.”

Her heart was beating hard now, throbbing in her throat. She’d never thought of him as lonely. Never. He always had people around him. He had friends in every city they visited, and he had women he took to his bed. How could he be lonely?

But she knew how. She knew because she’d been lonely, too. The loneliest she’d ever felt was in a crowded room. Emptiness was not filled by crowds of people. She was pretty sure it wasn’t filled by sex either, though it had been a long time since she’d experimented with that.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was paper-thin. How had this conversation taken a turn like this? It had started out being one thing and ended up as something else entirely. Something that made her heart ache and tears press hard against the backs of her eyes.

How did he do this to her? How did he take her from murderously angry to aching in the space of only a few moments?

“And what about you, Emily? Do you get lonely? You cannot have much of a personal life working for me.”

Her blood felt thick in her veins. Like syrup on a winter’s day. Except she was hot with embarrassment as well. Why had she not seen this coming? Had she really thought she could snap and push him and come away unscathed?

“My life is fine.”

He leaned back in the seat then, draped an arm on the armrest between them. His fingers dangled off the end, tapped some imaginary beat in the air. A slow, lazy beat. When she lifted her eyes to his, he was watching her with a hooded expression. Then he picked up that hand and slid his index finger across his lower lip, as if he was thinking.

Didn’t matter why, since the effect of the gesture was currently what had her beginning to panic. Something bloomed deep inside her, in her core. Some hot, dark feeling that wanted very much to be allowed to blossom into a fuller, darker emotion.

Emily bit the inside of her lip. After all these years, after how ruthless she’d been with herself, her mother was beginning to creep out. That carnal, needy woman who wanted fun and adventure and licentious couplings with incredibly hot men.

She put her hands in her lap and clasped them together. She’d worked too hard. Too long. She was nothing like her mother. Sensuality might lurk within her, but she would not give in to that side of her nature ever again. It was under her control. Kadir al-Hassan was
not
going to reduce her to the kind of woman who would do absolutely anything for one night in his bed. Not ever.

“Is it?” he finally asked.

“Of course. I’m perfectly happy.” And yet she did miss human connection sometimes. Not that she would admit that to him. She would not give him fuel for the fire he was building.

His expression grew sultry. “All those nights when I sent you away, when another woman joined me in my bed—did you think of me, Emily?”

She gasped. “Of course not—”

“Did you want to be the one beneath me?”

“No!”

He leaned toward her then, his eyes intense. “Did you lie in your lonely bed, touching yourself, pretending it was me?”

She couldn’t speak as pain bloomed deep in her soul. Not because she’d done what he said—but a dark part of her had wanted to. And he knew it. Somehow, he knew it. The pain spread through her in waves, knotted her belly, clenched her throat tight. She was choking, choking on rage and hate and—and longing, damn him.

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes then. She turned her head and dashed them away. She’d known he was ruthless in business. She’d known he always won. She hadn’t known he was cruel. She hadn’t known the depths to which he could make her sink in despair, or the fathoms-deep hatred she could feel for him.

She wanted to speak, wanted to metaphorically slap him down. Wanted to deflate his ego—and, yes, his penis—all in one well-timed verbal blow. She wanted to decimate him.

And she couldn’t find the words. Nothing would dredge itself up from the recesses of her brain. Nothing happened. Nothing except a long, taut silence that seemed to stretch forever but was in reality only a few moments.

The car came to a stop. Emily didn’t care if they’d reached their destination or if they were only stopped at a traffic light. She yanked the handle and the door swung open, spilling in light and hot air and the sounds of Milan.

Kadir reached for her, but she slipped his grip and stumbled onto the street. Then she ran. She could hear Kadir shout at her, but she kept going, losing herself in the crowd, running blindly as the tears she’d been holding in finally spilled over and rushed down her cheeks.