Gambling With the Crown

by Lynn Raye Harris

  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.

  CHAP
TER SIX

  KADIR CURSED HIMSELF as he ran down the crowded street after her. What the hell had he been thinking? Why had he been so needlessly vicious? Emily was his assistant, the closest thing he had to a friend in some respects, and she was doing him a favor.

  And he had ripped into her as though she was just another gold-digging social climber. Worse, as though he hated her. He’d shredded her as if it was nothing, and that shamed him. What kind of man was he? What kind of man attacked those weaker than himself?

  He couldn’t say why he’d done it, except that he’d been irritated when she’d asked him so plainly why he didn’t just tell his father what he wanted. As if it was that easy. He wasn’t accustomed to explaining himself to anyone, and here she was, making what she thought was a simple suggestion when it was far more difficult than anything she could imagine.

  And then she’d thrown Lenore in his face. All right, so he’d mentioned Lenore first—but then she’d kept on going, her contempt so evident. He’d simply had too much. He’d told her something personal, admitted his loneliness to her—and then he’d felt the need to lash out, to make her pay in kind.

  He should have stopped much sooner than he did. He should have stopped when she’d gotten the point. But of course he hadn’t. Driven by his need to win, to crush, to control, he’d kept going until he’d hurt her.

  And now he was chasing her down the street, angry with himself, and wondering how in the hell such a simple idea had gotten so complicated. She was supposed to be his wife, the woman he couldn’t live without, the woman he would not give up for a throne. It was supposed to be simple.

  But it wasn’t.

  He thought he might have lost her, but then he saw her as the crowd parted in front of him. She was walking now, her body hunched over as she hugged herself. Her ponytail bounced as she hurried along. She was moving fast, but he was faster. He closed the distance between them until he was right behind her.

  She kept walking—and then she seemed to stiffen, as if she sensed a change in the air, before she halted abruptly. He took a step back as she swung around to face him. Her brows were drawn down in a furious expression. Her mascara had run again, and tears streaked her cheeks.

  Something twisted inside him.

  “Forgive me,” he said simply. It was odd to be apologizing, and yet here he was, doing just that. It wasn’t something he did often and the words were rusty.

  She drew in a deep breath and straightened even more. Then she moved into his space. Poked him in the chest. It was not what he expected and he stepped back in surprise.

  She closed the distance, poked him again. “Listen to me, you Neanderthal, and listen good. I do not want you. I have never wanted you. You’re a handsome man, and you damn well know it. And you’re used to being irresistible to women. Well, not to me.” She sucked in a breath, her voice quavering as she continued. “I will not be talked to like I’m some kind of whore you pay to grace your bed. I’m your business partner, you hear me? Nothing more, nothing less. You might frighten a CEO into doing things your way, but you would never cross a personal line to do it.”

  He felt as if she’d slapped him across the face. Several times. Which, no doubt, he deserved.

  “No, I would not. You are correct.”

  Her face scrunched up even more. She was, for some reason, attractive as hell when she was angry. He’d never seen Miss Emily Bryant in a fit of temper before. Well, not before today. And not like this.

  He was oddly stimulated by her anger. He could feel the air crackle between them and he wondered how it had never happened before. How he’d never felt that subtle shift of electricity, that hum and buzz of ozone. Had she really kept all this under wraps for four years? Or had he never paid attention before?

  “I want the money, Kadir. Nothing more. I agreed because of that. Not because of you.”

  It was always the money, with any woman in his life. That was a language he understood. Still, he felt a prick of anger in his gut. “The money. Of course.”

  She stood there, trembling—and then her hands dropped to her sides and her expression, while still angry, softened into something a notch below cyclone level.

  “You really are too full of yourself,” she said. “Not every woman wants a ride on your magic mattress.”

  He felt his eyebrows climb his forehead. “Magic mattress?”

  She shrugged. A soft flush stained her cheeks. “Whatever you call your love nest, Kadir. Not every woman on this planet wants a turn. It would be healthier for you if you’d stop thinking so.”

  He suddenly wanted to laugh. And tug her into his arms so he could feel that bright fire radiating from her as it sizzled into his pores. It was a shock to realize that he wanted her. That he actually wanted to see what her mouth felt like beneath his. To peel away her staid suit and bare her lithe body for his eyes only. He wanted to run his fingers over her skin, wanted to see if she was as soft as he thought. As responsive.

  He stood there in the hot sunshine and stared down at his former PA, now his wife, and felt the shift of his axis.

  In the space of a few hours, he’d become utterly intrigued. For four years, he’d never noticed her as a woman—well, not often, anyway—but now he couldn’t seem to shove her back into the box she belonged in. It didn’t matter that she was wearing her conservative suit and ugly shoes, that her hair was pulled back or that tiny black rivulets stained her cheeks.

  There was a commotion in the crowd and Kadir turned. His bodyguards were making their way toward him. Irritation flashed into him, not because they were doing their jobs, but because they were drawing attention to him and Emily.

  People stopped to look—and then someone whipped out a cell phone and began to snap photos.

  “We need to go,” he told Emily. “We are being noticed.”

  She started to turn, but he grabbed her hand and tugged her into the curve of his body. She didn’t pull away when he put his arm around her and started down the sidewalk in the direction they had come. She was so small in his grip, so warm. It was a shock to feel so much of her against him. Heat surged into him.

  And confusion.

  He hurried her toward a shop as his bodyguards took care of crowd control. Another moment and they were inside the couture house he’d been bringing her to in the first place.

  “Your Highness,” a man said as he came forward. “We are so glad you have come to us. Everything is ready.”

  “She must be glamorous and insanely beautiful,” Kadir said, dragging his attention back to the matter at hand. He could not afford to feel softness for her right now. “Make her clothing tasteful but sexy.”

  Emily gasped. “I will not—”

  “It is not up for discussion, Emily. You have agreed to it.”

  Her jaw worked and her eyes flashed cold fury. “You have no idea how much I’m beginning to regret that.”

  He only stared at her. “Too late, habibti. You are mine now.”

  He whirled and stalked out of the shop before she could say another word. And before he could drag her into his arms and silence her rebellious mouth with his own.

  *

  Emily could have chewed nails and spit fire. She was horribly, incredibly angry. With Kadir. With herself. But she had agreed to this insane scheme and now she had no choice but to endure the transformation currently taking place.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, at her sleek hair, cut and styled and looking like mahogany silk. Her eyes were rimmed in dark eyeliner and there was a smudge of shadow in the crease. Her lashes had been curled and lengthened with mascara, her lips were a sultry red pout, and her dress was the most gorgeous shade of purple jersey that clung to all her curves. On her feet were tall snakeskin Louboutins with the signature red heel.

  She’d endured endless fittings, the mechanical snick-snick-snick of sewing machines as seamstresses worked frantically to tailor the clothing and the ministrations of a makeup artist and hairstylist until finally Guido stood back and pr
onounced her fit for public viewing.

  “His Most Exalted Highness is waiting in the outer room,” Guido said.

  “Wonderful.” Emily gritted her teeth. She was going to have to practice being happy with her arrogant boss-turned-temporary-husband. No better time than the present.

  Just thinking of Kadir caused her insides to clench. He made her so angry. He also made her itch to slide her palms over his chest while arching her body into his. That was a new development and one she did not appreciate whatsoever.

  “You are a perfect princess, Your Highness,” Guido said, smiling and bowing as she picked up the buttery-soft leather handbag he’d selected to go with her outfit. Emily wanted to tell him not to bow, but she stopped herself. This was a performance, and she most definitely was a princess. For now.

  She glanced at herself again and swallowed. Her mother stared back at her from beneath the sultry makeup and curve-hugging clothing and Emily wanted to scream. She’d worked too hard to bury that sensual creature that lurked inside her and now it was staring back at her, mocking her.

  Just because I look like you, she wanted to say, doesn’t mean I am you.

  Guido escorted Emily to the outer room, where Kadir was waiting. He looked up when she entered. His eyes seemed to widen and she told herself not to be pleased at that. The flare of feminine vanity she felt was not welcome. Oh, how she used to preen when a man looked at her with appreciation. She would not do so now.

  Kadir’s gaze skimmed over her slowly. And then his mouth curved in a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “You look amazing, Emily.”

  Heat seared into her. “Thank you.” Because what else did you say to something like that?

  She felt self-conscious more than anything, because now everyone was looking at her in ways they never had before. She’d found it easier to blend into the background, to be unobtrusive. Her job required that of her.

  Guido snapped his fingers and a pair of smartly dressed saleswomen appeared with boxes and bags.

  “These will see her through the first couple of days,” he told Kadir. “The rest will be delivered to Kyr immediately upon completion.”