Married for Amari's Heir

by Maisey Yates

  “Yes, well I am sorry about the money. Less so about your heart.”

  “I’m not sorry about either one. Seeing as it brought us together.”

  “What are we going to do when our child asks how we met?”

  He laughed, and for the first time in a long time, there was humor in the sound. “We tell him the truth I suppose. That I met a beautiful thief and whisked her away to my private island where we fell in love. He will not believe us, naturally. Which is why, in this case, I believe the truth will serve us well.”

  “When you put it like that it all sounds very romantic.”

  “Is it not? I was under the impression it was.” He opened his hand and looked down at the ring box in his palm. “At least, it will be if the rest of this goes well.” He sank down to his knee in front of her, and he found it was the most natural thing in the world. “Will you give me your hand?”

  “Of course,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

  He took her left hand in his, and this time, he placed the ring on her finger. “Charity, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Finally, she had said yes to him.

  Finally, she had chosen him.

  He stood and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, fiercely. “I love you,” he said. “And I will be a terrible husband. At least at first. Because I am changing, but you know it has been slow. I will make mistakes. It’s going to take me some time to understand all of these new feelings. But I want to. Because you are more important than protecting myself. And you are certainly more important than my pride. Than anything in my collection. I broke a vase.”

  Her dark eyes went wide. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. I broke two of them.”

  “Rocco, why would you do that?”

  “Because I was angry. And because they didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was you. And you are not a thing. I cannot collect you. I cannot own you. And the truth of the matter is I don’t want to. Because I like it when you fight me, I like it when you disagree with me. I like your mind as well as your body. I don’t want to subject you—I want you to stand equal with me. I don’t want to change your life more than you’ve changed mine.”

  “Before I met you I didn’t feel like I knew myself. I felt like each and every thing I did was just another role I was playing. I felt so thin...so insubstantial. But you looked at me and you told me I was priceless. You told me I mattered. When everyone else made me feel like I made their life less...you made me feel like that couldn’t be true. Not if I was worth so much in your eyes. And I know who I am now. And I know what I want. More than that...I know what I deserve.”

  “And what is that, cara mia?”

  “To be loved. And to have you. I want you.”

  “Anything else?” he asked, kissing her again.

  She waved her hand. “Oh, there’s a whole list of things. But we can sort that out later.”

  “Can we?”

  She fluttered her lashes at him. “I want a pony.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll discuss it,” he said.

  “Why don’t we discuss it after we go upstairs for a while? I have a feeling you’ll be in a better mood by then.”

  “I have been in a better mood since the moment you walked into my life.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, not every moment of it.”

  She smiled. “Good. I would hate to become predictable.”

  “Now that is one thing I think we will never have to worry about.”

  “Yeah, a reformed con woman married to an Italian billionaire. One thing is certain—our lives will never be boring.”

  EPILOGUE

  CHARITY WAS RIGHT about that. She was right about a great many things over the next fifteen years, but the fact that their lives wouldn’t be boring was chief among them. It was impossible to be bored with four children.

  Even more impossible now that they were all either teenagers, or edging into their teenage years. No one could say that their household was lacking in drama.

  In fact, there was a healthy amount of drama happening about ten feet down the coast from where she and Rocco were currently standing.

  Lilia, their oldest, was currently being tormented by Marco, the youngest, and a piece of seaweed, while the middle two, Analise and Lucia, looked on in a state of amusement.

  Charity glanced over at her husband, who appeared as amused as the children. “You should stop him,” she said.

  “Probably,” Rocco said, turning and smiling at her.

  That smile never failed to make her knees weak. Still. After all this time.

  “You aren’t going to.”

  “I didn’t have siblings, but I like to think that if I did I would have done things very similar to the way Marco does them. He’s a smart boy. The only boy, so he must make the most of that.”

  “He’s a handful.”

  “I think he gets it from you, actually.”

  Charity laughed. “You think I’m a handful?”

  Rocco leaned in and kissed her neck, and a shiver went through her body. “You do fit my hands perfectly.”

  It was funny now to think back on how they had met. To think about finding out she was pregnant with Lilia. How terrified she had been. How angry she had been when Rocco had insisted he be a part of the child’s life.

  If she had only had a window into how things would be in the future, she never would have hesitated.

  She could remember clearly that moment when she had told Rocco about the baby, and when she had left his office. How, even in her misery, she had thought that at least she had the possibility of a new start.

  She had been right about that at least. She just hadn’t been right about the details.

  She could never have fathomed this much happiness. Could never have imagined that her life would be so full of love.

  She had gone twenty-two years feeling as if no one loved her. And in the fifteen years since she had met Rocco she had never gone a day without feeling loved. Without knowing she was loved. She never felt as if she was standing on the outside. She was wrapped in it.

  “You know, I’m very glad I stole your money,” she said.

  He tilted his head to the side. “What brought that on?”

  “I was just thinking about how we met. How you changed my life.”

  “Well, I’m very glad I caught you.”

  “I’m glad you caught me, too.”

  “More than that, I’m glad you decided to stay caught.”

  “Me, too.”

  “You know, as much as I don’t like to think about what an ass I was back when we first met, I was thinking the other day about what I said to you in the hotel that first day.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes,” he said, his tone grave. “I told you that you got the better end of the deal. Seeing as I had spent a million dollars on sex.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, how could I forget?”

  “You can’t. I was horrible. But, I was thinking now, knowing what I do, I should have given you everything then and there.”

  “Because having a wife and children has proven to be so expensive?” she asked, smiling broadly.

  “No, because you are priceless. I know that now with a depth of certainty that surpasses all else. Years of watching you, growing with you, loving you, have only strengthened my love. And I would give everything, then and now, to have you in my life forever.” He cupped her cheek, bending down and kissing her on the lips. “All I have is worth nothing if I don’t have you.”

  She looked up at her husband, warmth, love, flooding through her. “You have me. Forever.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE
SHEIKH’S WEDDING CONTRACT by Andie Brock.

  Cathy Williams brings you an explosive and emotional story of one night with some very lasting consequences in…

  Bound by the Billionaire’s Baby

  July 2015

  Candid, innocent artist Susie Sadler is nothing like the women Sergio Burzi normally dates. The urge to sweep her into his gilded realm—if only for the night—is overwhelming. But there are repercussions to taking what you want…

  One Night with Consequences

  When one night…leads to pregnancy!

  More stories in the One Night with Consequences series can be found at www.Harlequin.com

  Come to a small town in Oregon with USA TODAY bestselling author

  MAISEY YATES

  for her sexy, heartfelt new Copper Ridge series!

  Available now!

  Available now!

  Coming July 28, 2015!

  Can these cowboys find the love they didn’t know they needed?

  Pick up your copies today!

  www.HQNBooks.com

  http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

  The Sheikh's Wedding Contract

  by Andie Brock

  CHAPTER ONE

  NADIA JUST HOPED she wasn’t too late. As she neared the palace gates she could see groups of young women were already leaving, their diaphanous costumes fluttering as they hurried away, like colourful butterflies.

  Inside the domed entrance to the palace she found herself being jostled by the departing throng of the harem, for that was what they were. The most beautiful women in the kingdom, bedecked and bejewelled, to be presented before the newly crowned Sheikh Zayed Al Afzal for his amusement and pleasure. Except that it seemed none of them had been deemed suitable. Had the sheikh dismissed them all, finding none of them good enough for his high and mighty standards? Certainly by the forbidding look on the guards’ faces, the way they were herding the woman from the palace, it would appear that something had gone very wrong.

  Well, she would just have to try harder. Ducking down, Nadia snatched up a fistful of the gauzy material of her skirt and, making herself as small as possible, started to dodge between the legs of the departing guests. She made it to the doorway and luck was with her as the eyes of the towering bodyguard were momentarily distracted by the exposed curves of a departing guest.

  This was her chance. She started to run madly, breathlessly, along the wide hallway, her sandals squeaking on the marble floor, the bracelets on her arms and ankles and the heavily jewelled belt around her hips all jangling in a cacophony of giveaway noise.

  There was an open door in front of her and blindly she ran towards it, with no plan in her head other than that she must not be stopped. She had to get in to see Sheikh Zayed Al Afzal.

  Skidding to a halt, she found herself in the middle of an enormous glittering stateroom. And there, seated on a gilded throne on a raised dais at the far end of the room, was Sheikh Zayed.

  They stared at one another. With her breath heaving, Nadia felt the hated bra top cutting into her and accentuating the swell of her breasts, her stomach muscles contracting beneath the jewelled belly button, her whole body exposed in a hideous betrayal of everything she believed in.

  And she had certainly got his attention. She could feel the sheikh’s eyes raking over her semi-naked body, her skin prickling with heat and self-consciousness in the wake of his sweeping gaze.

  She knew this was her moment, her one chance, and she had to make it pay. But still she faltered. For this Sheikh Zayed was not what she had been expecting at all. He was tall and strikingly handsome, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He wore a dark Western suit with elegant ease, and as Nadia raised her eyes she took in the broad expanse of his chest, the white shirt, the tie roughly pulled to one side. His hands, she noticed, were gripping the lions’ heads on the arms of the throne, at odds with his relaxed posture.

  Make eye contact, that was what she had to do now. Taking in a short, brave breath, she tipped back her head and braced herself to meet his gaze full on. She could do this. But what she saw was so much worse than she’d thought. For what halted the breath in her throat, sent her determination skittering sideways, was not the cruel eyes of the heartless killer she was expecting but something far more dangerous. They were beautiful eyes, a deep, dark chocolate brown, steady, assured and all seeing. The sort of eyes that could melt you. The sort of eyes that could snare you.

  Suddenly she registered the laboured breath of a bodyguard behind her, but it was too late, his vice-like grip digging into the flesh of her forearm before she had any chance to dodge out of his way.

  ‘My apologies, sire, this one slipped past us.’

  This one? How dare he speak about her like that? Furiously trying to shake off his grasp, Nadia felt it tighten still farther. ‘I’ll thank you to take your brutish hands off me!’

  The guard hesitated for a second, Nadia still squirming in his grasp.

  ‘You heard what the lady said.’ Rising to his feet, Zayed positioned himself on the edge of the dais. ‘Let her go.’ The words echoed around the vast chamber of the room.

  ‘Sire.’ The hand was released and the guard took a small step back and bowed his head.

  ‘And for future reference, I expect my orders to be carried out in a civilised manner. Let it be known that I will not tolerate brutality in any form.’

  ‘Your Royal Highness.’

  Nadia turned to give the admonished guard a haughty stare, pointedly rubbing at the red marks he had made on her arm. The wretched bangles jangled.

  ‘So, young lady.’ As he swiftly turned his attention to her Nadia felt the spotlight of Zayed’s glare. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Nadia.’ She delivered it clearly enough but said out loud it made her feel all the more exposed.

  ‘Well, Nadia, I’m afraid I have to inform you that you have had a wasted journey.’ He stood tall and proud, with his legs apart and his arms crossed over his chest, very much the master of control. ‘You see, I am not in the habit of choosing my companions in the way that has been arranged tonight. I must apologise for inconveniencing you.’

  Somehow it sounded more like a reprimand than an apology.

  ‘But, Your Royal Highness...’ With her heart thudding in her chest she raised her eyes to meet his, opening them as wide as she could before lowering them again and batting her dark lashes in what she hoped was a seductive gesture. ‘Since I am here, may I not be allowed to perform for you?’ Without waiting for an answer she slowly, hesitantly, began to make her hips sway, undulating them in the way she had seen the dancers perform in her own palace, for the entertainment of her father and brother.

  She had studied them as closely as she could from her hiding place in the shadowed recesses of the palace ballroom, committing the movements to memory before hurrying back to her bedroom to practise what she had seen. Trying not to look her reflection in the eye, she had disrobed to her underclothes and gyrated earnestly before the mirror. Now she just needed to try to remember what she had learned.

  She raised her arms above her head, twisting her hands around each other in the seductive, trance-like way she had seen performed, her hips moving more provocatively now as the moves came back to her, the jewelled beads jingle-jangling as she shimmied her behind first one way, then the other, her feet lightly moving beneath her.

  ‘Young lady.’ Zayed had descended the few steps from the dais and was striding across the brightly coloured mosaic floor towards her. Nadia’s dancing became more and more daring as she took her humiliation and turned it into raw sensuality, undulating her stomach and gyrating her hips with an excruciating lack of abandon.

  He was right in front of her now. So tall, so close, his dark shape towering over her as he looked down
at her overheated, increasingly desperate dancing.

  Still Nadia didn’t stop, her eyes now level with his broad chest, her arms spiralling wildly in front of his face.

  ‘I obviously haven’t made myself clear.’ Suddenly his strong hands had caught hers in midair and he lowered them slowly down to her sides, his eyes not leaving her flushed face. All movement ceased, apart from the shudder of shame that ran through Nadia. Raising his hands to her shoulders, he turned her, gently but firmly, in the opposite direction. ‘The door is that way.’

  * * *

  Zayed watched as the beguiling young temptress scurried down the corridor, flanked by the guard, who was now thankfully keeping his hands to himself. She seemed keen to get away, her hurried strides rippling the long black curls down her back and making that particularly pert derrière sway alluringly beneath the tantalisingly flimsy costume. But the rest of her posture was stiff and aloof. Which seemed odd, when you considered her wanton performance just a few minutes before. The display she had just treated him to.

  And a very nice display it had been, too, he had to say. There was no doubt that this Nadia was a beauty, the way she exhibited her pale-skinned flesh turning him on far more than he would admit to himself. If circumstances were different, if he were to come across her in a bar, for example, it would give him the greatest of pleasure to get to know her, in every sense of the word. But not here, not like that. He might have the reputation for being a womaniser, but seducing a beautiful woman was one thing. Having the poor creatures herded before him like a cattle market, quite another. Not that Nadia looked as if she would be easily herded anywhere. How she had ended up here was a mystery.

  Scowling, Zayed turned away, and, shrugging off his jacket, he threw it over his shoulder. Standing in the middle of the opulent stateroom, he looked around him. What the hell had happened to his life? A couple of months ago he had been expanding his business empire, travelling the world, loving the thrill of facilitating multibillion-dollar company takeovers and the wealth and trappings that went with being hugely successful at his job.