Gambling With the Crown Page 5

  Papers that would change her life, albeit for a short time. She really, really hoped that Kadir knew what he was doing. It was a crazy plan, but she’d agreed to it. Too late to back out now.

  She took one last look in the mirror, smoothed her ponytail and went to meet her fate.

  *

  Kadir waited impatiently for Emily to arrive. He paced back and forth in the living room of his suite while the lawyers arranged the documents on a nearby table. The sun had glided above the horizon an hour ago now, and the Paris sky was clear and blue, with wisps of feathery clouds sailing across it.

  A perfect day to get married.

  He tried not to shudder at the notion. Marriage was not something he’d ever intended to enter into lightly, yet here he was. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in marriage, or didn’t believe in falling in love—it’s just that he’d never actually seen it work in his own life. His father had many wives and he didn’t seem emotionally attached to any of them.

  Kadir’s mother had been the favorite wife before she died, but she had been desperately unhappy. Something Kadir hadn’t realized until he’d gotten older.

  The door to his suite opened and Emily sailed inside, looking as cool and businesslike as ever. For some reason, that irritated him. Her hair was scraped back from her face, as always, and she wore a navy-blue suit with a coral shirt—the only bright spot of color on her—and those same damn ugly shoes as always. Low heel, boxy toe, matte black.

  He’d never cared one way or the other before, but now he found that he despised those shoes. Utterly. She needed new ones, and soon.

  “Are you coming to take notes or to get married?”

  Her green gaze snapped to him and he had the sudden thought that she wasn’t quite as cool as she’d like to appear. That knowledge made him relax, though only marginally.

  She ran a hand over her jacket, as if smoothing an imaginary wrinkle. One thing he knew about Emily Bryant was that she didn’t dare to allow wrinkles. She was always crisp and organized, and she looked just as if she was marching in for a day’s work rather than about to sign the documents that would make her his wife.

  He was almost insulted she’d not made more effort. But then he chided himself. What did he care? This was about presenting his father with an unsuitable bride and declaring himself unfit for the throne, not about her current clothing or enthusiasm. So long as she appeared enthused in Kyr, he could care less what she did here.

  Or so he told himself.

  “I’m not carrying a notebook.” Her words were pointed. And completely unnecessary since he could quite clearly see she was not holding her characteristic pad and pen.

  He swept a hand toward the table where the lawyers sat. “Then if you will come this way, Miss Bryant, we shall take care of business.”

  She nodded once, firmly, but he didn’t miss the way she bit her lip or the tremor in her fingers as she tugged her jacket hem. His buttoned-up PA wasn’t as calm as she pretended to be.

  Good, because he wasn’t very calm either. His entire future depended on this performance. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should have gone after Lenore, made up with her and asked her to do it instead. She would have agreed for the notoriety, and she would have horrified his father into naming Rashid his successor within hours of her arrival in Kyr.

  And then Kadir would have divorced her. In spite of Emily’s remark last night about what happened if she didn’t want to divorce him, that truly wasn’t possible in Kyr. All he had to do was have the decree drawn up, sign it, and it was done. He had no fear that any woman could trap him permanently.

  Emily took a seat at the table and Kadir sat beside her. He was far more aware of her than he wanted to be, but that was because she fairly vibrated with energy. One foot bounced against the other as she sat with her ankles crossed, tapping it impatiently.

  Or nervously.

  He had a sudden urge to reach over and pull the elastic from her hair, to see it fall down over her shoulders in a silky cloud of rich chocolate. He blinked and stiffened. Really, that was not in the least bit like him. He liked a certain type of woman, and Emily Bryant was not it. She wasn’t beautiful. She didn’t have blade-thin cheekbones or the kind of face a camera loved. She was ordinary.

  And yet his blood hummed at her nearness. He told himself it was everything to do with his plan and nothing to do with her. Once this was done, his father would choose the correct son for the throne. That was certainly enough to make his blood buzz with excitement.

  He should feel guilty for dragging Emily into this, knowing what it would be like for her in Kyr, but he was desperate. And he would compensate her handsomely for the trouble.

  Kadir reached for the documents and slid them toward her. “It is all fairly straightforward. Here is the paper you required, which spells out the task you are performing and your payment.” He lifted a paper. “And here is the prenuptial agreement. It states that you will get nothing of my estate or business beyond what we’ve agreed to in the contract.”

  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

  “ARE 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 Highnesses. 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 ugli
est 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.”