Royal Temptation: Protecting the Desert Princess / Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation / The Prince's Second Chance

CHAPTER TWO

‘GREAT!’

Mikael had no choice but to pull to a stop as a policeman put up his hand and halted the morning traffic.

Even though he had more than enough on his mind, with closing arguments starting this morning, he flicked on the news to listen to the traffic report and hopefully find out the reason for the hold-up. He knew that he should have stayed at his city apartment, or even a hotel, instead of driving to his waterfront home last night, but he had just needed to get away from the case.

Mikael’s remote beachside home was his haven, and last night he had needed to escape from the more pungent details of the case he was consumed by and breathe in fresh air and simply switch off.

It would be over soon, Mikael told himself.

‘Pizdet.’ He cursed in Russian when he found out that the reason for the delay was some visiting royal family, grinding everyone else to a halt.

Then he heard a little about himself as the news continued.

Mikael Romanov, SC, was surely going to lose this time…there was no way he could get his client off…

Then the calls in from listeners started and a character assassination ensued. Not of his client but himself.

‘What sort of a person is Romanov?’ an enraged caller asked. ‘How can he possibly sleep at night?’

Mikael yawned with boredom and turned the radio off.

When his phone rang, instead of letting it go to voicemail, as he usually would, Mikael saw that it was Demyan and took the call.

‘Any news?’ Mikael asked, because Demyan’s wife Alina was due to give birth soon.

‘We have a little girl—Annika.’ Demyan said, and Mikael rolled his eyes at the sound of his tough friend sounding so emotional. ‘She’s beautiful. Her hair is curly, like Alina’s…’

Demyan went on to describe interminable details to Mikael.

All babies had blue eyes, Mikael thought.

‘Congratulations,’ Mikael said. ‘Am I to visit while Alina is still in the hospital? What is the protocol?’

Demyan laughed. He took no offence. He knew that Mikael had no concept of family, for Mikael’s upbringing had been even harsher than Demyan’s.

‘You don’t have to come to the hospital,’ Demyan said, ‘but once this case is over it would be good if you could visit us before you disappear onto your yacht. I’m really looking forward to showing Annika off.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Mikael said. ‘It is closing arguments over the next couple of days, and then we await the verdict.’

‘How is the trial going?’ Demyan asked. ‘It is all over the news.’

‘Long,’ came Mikael’s honest answer. ‘It has been a very long couple of months.’

It had been an isolated couple of months too.

He always pretty much locked himself away from the world during a trial and, he admitted to Demyan, he was more than a little jaded from sitting with his client day in, day out.

‘He’s a fortunate man to have such a good solicitor.’

‘Barrister,’ Mikael corrected. ‘One day you will get it right. Anyway, enough about the trial. Go back to your beautiful wife and daughter, I am very pleased to hear the good news.’

Rather you than me, Mikael thought as he ended the call.

When Demyan had told him that he was marrying again Mikael had offered to draw up a watertight pre-nup this time, given how Demyan’s first wife had ripped him off for years.

Demyan had refused.

Fool! Mikael had not just thought it but had said it straight to Demyan’s face, but he had been told that he was far too cynical.

Guilty!

Absolutely Mikael was cynical—he believed nothing anyone told him and had been proved right numerous times.

Mikael trusted and needed no one in his life, for he had never had anyone.

There were a few vague memories of a communal flat when he was growing up, but not one person in particular he’d been able to turn to. Mikael had been his own protector—even when he had found himself on the streets.

Especially then.

When he was a teenager Igor, a government worker, had stepped in and given Mikael an identity, a surname, an assumed date of birth and then a home.

Igor was the reason Mikael was driving to chambers now to prepare for court—he was the reason Mikael believed absolutely in the need for a solid defence. For without one justice could never be truly served.

He did not want to think today of Igor; instead his eyes moved from the procession of royal cars to his dashboard, where the mileage read six hundred and forty-nine. He would be bored with his new toy by the time it read one thousand, but for now the low silver sports car was his new baby.

Finally the procession passed and the traffic inched forward.

Mikael arrived at chambers and spoke to Wendy, his clerk, for a few moments. His world had centred around this trial for a very long while, and all he wanted was the arguments delivered, the jury out, the verdict in and then to get away.

He’d take one of his toys to the water—he didn’t even want crew.

Then Mikael changed his mind.

A couple of crew might be essential.

He had no intention of cooking or cleaning.

Perhaps Mandy could join him for a couple of days too?

Or Pearl?

Mikael soon put all such thoughts out of his mind and sat for a quiet period in his office, preparing himself for the day ahead and getting back to the real love of his life.

The letter of the law.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I WANT TO drive that car!’ Layla’s slender finger pointed to a low silver sports car that gleamed in the morning sun as they passed an intersection.

‘You can’t drive,’ Zahid said, but he did smile—it was nice to see Layla so excited and animated. Her face was up against the blacked-out window as she watched the world go by unseen, fascinated by it all.

‘When can it just be us?’ she asked. ‘I am tired of all the formalities.’

‘Soon,’ Zahid said. ‘Once we are at the hotel things will be more relaxed.’

‘We can go shopping then,’ Trinity added.

‘Just Trinity and I?’ Layla checked with her brother who, after a brief hesitation, nodded. ‘Good.’ Layla smiled. ‘I want a red dress, red shoes, red…’

Her list went on until they were at the hotel.

Soon the Ishla royals and their retinue were taking up the entire top floor. There were guards at the lift and Layla paced her suite nervously, waiting for Trinity to come and take her shopping.

‘Let me do your hair again,’ Jamila offered.

‘My hair is fine,’ Layla said. ‘You can go and rest in your room now.’

‘I will wait for Trinity to get here.’

‘You are dismissed, Jamila.’ Layla said.

All Layla wanted was to be alone with her thoughts and to go over her plans for a minute or two before Trinity arrived.

Reluctantly Jamila went to her adjoining room. Layla looked at the lock on the door that stood between them and wanted to turn it.

She wouldn’t have to turn it, Layla reminded herself.

A few hours from now she would be free!

Layla looked down at the streets below. Soon she would be down there amongst the noise and people.

She could see yellow taxis everywhere.

It was going to work!

‘Enter,’ Layla said when there was a knock at the door.

‘Layla, you have to open it from the inside!’ Trinity called.

‘Oh!’

Fancy that.

Layla was ready to go, but Trinity seemed to have other ideas.

Zahid’s last words to Trinity had been, ‘Watch her.’ She looked at Layla, dressed in a long silver tunic and jewelled slippers. Her black hair had been taken out of the bun and was loose and glossy. Her absolute beauty would turn heads everywhere they went.

‘Would you like…?’ Trinity hesitated—she was still very new to being Zahid’s wife, and sometimes she simply didn’t know how to speak to Layla, who was so different from Trinity’s serious, rather more grounded husband. ‘Would you like to borrow some of my clothes to wear while we go shopping?’ Trinity offered.

‘Borrow?’ Layla screwed up her nose.

‘I’m just concerned that in what you’re wearing you’ll stand out and people might stare.’

‘But I always stand out,’ Layla said, ‘and people always stare. Come on—let us go shopping. I have been looking forward to this for a long time.’

They passed the guards and took the elevator down, and then stepped out onto the hot, busy street. Layla was more than used to heat, and walked quickly ahead.

‘Slow down,’ Trinity said. ‘There’s no rush.’

They wandered into boutique after boutique, but Layla was not really looking at the clothes—instead she was wondering how she could shrug Trinity off, for she was watching Layla like a hawk would watch its prey.

‘I would like to try that,’ Layla said, pointing to an ice cream shop.

‘Sounds good.’

Still Trinity clung to her, and Layla’s impatience was increasing. Yes, the ice cream was refreshing, but would Trinity ever just give her five minutes to be alone?

‘Where to now?’ Trinity asked once they had finished their ice creams.

‘I might go for a little wander,’ Layla said casually.

‘Layla…’ Trinity swallowed. ‘Zahid said that I wasn’t to leave you alone.’

‘I am not a baby,’ Layla said, ‘I am twenty-four…’

But she went to cross the road without so much as looking and Trinity grabbed her back just in time.

‘You have to wait for the lights to change before you cross.’ Trinity pointed to the traffic lights as they turned green and they started to cross. ‘I’m not leaving you alone, Layla. You can take it up with Zahid this evening if you want to, but for now…’

Trinity’s voice trailed off as they walked across the road and Layla looked to where Trinity’s eyes had been drawn.

Perfect!

‘Oh, look,’ Layla said, walking over to the window of the baby boutique that held Trinity in its spell. ‘Oh, Trinity, look at these sweet clothes—there is nothing like this in Ishla…’ From Trinity’s rapt expression, Layla knew her chance to escape was surely about to come. ‘Let’s go in.’

They did just that.

It wasn’t just clothes on display but teeny-tiny shoes and socks, and little cashmere baby blankets too, and of course, the assistant told Trinity, they’d be only too happy to ship to Ishla.

‘Why would you use a ship when we have a plane?’ Layla asked, but Trinity wasn’t listening—instead she was gazing at those little blankets and had the lost look in her eyes that Layla recognised from her cousins who had had babies.

Layla slipped outside unnoticed, pulling an envelope out of her bag as she did so. If Trinity saw her Layla would say she was just stepping out for some air.

On the street there was a yellow cab driving towards her, and Layla put up her hand as the clips she had watched on her computer had shown her she should.

It obeyed!

The driver did not get out and open the door for her, which made Layla cross, and she was glad that the window was wound down as the driver asked her where she wanted to go for it was a very smelly car.

Layla gave him Mikael’s address. ‘I need you to hurry.’

She did need him to hurry, for Trinity was racing out of the boutique.

‘Layla, wait!’ she shouted.

‘I shall be fine, Trinity.’ Layla threw the letter she had written in Arabic out of the window and shouted instructions to Trinity as the taxi pulled away. ‘Get Zahid to read this and do not tell my father.’

She refused to feel guilty for ruining their honeymoon. Okay, maybe she felt a little guilty—but, Layla reminded herself, Zahid had had this sort of freedom for close to two decades when he had lived in England. Trinity had had it all her life.

Layla just wanted a week.

* * *

Mikael’s day had not improved—not that he let anyone know it. He sat with his face impassive as he listened to the closing arguments from the prosecution barrister, who boo-hooed where Mikael had been expecting him to. A couple of members of the jury were even in tears. But then the prosecution hit him with an argument Mikael had not foreseen.

Deliberately Mikael refused to reach for his notes or react.

He just noted it in his head.

Tomorrow his response would be savage.

Tomorrow he would use every letter of the law that he had at his disposal.

‘I’m gone, aren’t I?’ his client said before heading back to the cells.

‘I haven’t closed yet,’ Mikael responded, though he gave no pep talk. He certainly wasn’t here to reassure or make friends with his clients. All he required from himself was to offer the best defence.

It was a long walk back to chambers.

The press were waiting, with their usual questions, and Mikael duly ignored them. His mouth was dry and he wanted the cool darkness of his office, where the heavy drapes would be closed and he could sit in silence and make notes on all that had been said today.

‘Don’t ask!’ Mikael warned his clerk as he stepped in.

Both knew that it was not going well, and that he would be here all night working on the final details before delivering his closing speech tomorrow.

‘I don’t know how to tell you this—’ Wendy started.

Mikael turned and saw that his very efficient clerk for once looked a touch ruffled.

‘There’s a lady here to see you.’

‘I haven’t got time to see anyone now.’

‘Mikael, I’ve tried to get rid of her…’ Wendy let out a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve never met anyone like her before—you simply can’t say no. I even ended up paying for her taxi because she didn’t have any money—the driver was about to call the police!’

‘Wendy?’ Mikael frowned, because he had never seen his clerk like this. Mikael dealt with the lowest of the low, and had only the best of staff around him—staff that were able to deal with the most difficult of people. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, glancing into the small waiting room.

‘She’s waiting in your office.’

‘What?’ She’d got past Wendy? This Mikael had to see. ‘What’s her name?’

‘She won’t tell me,’ Wendy said, ‘and she won’t tell me what she’s here for either. She refuses to discuss it with anyone but you.’

‘Okay.’ Mikael nodded. ‘Don’t worry. I shall sort it out.’

Mikael walked into his office and completely ignored his uninvited guest, who was standing by the window, looking out through a chink in the heavy curtains and watching the world go by.

Yet as much as he ignored her somehow Mikael was reminded of the rare beauty of the first glimpse of a new moon. Perhaps it was the way the light caught her silver robe or because she was so slender, but as he opened the bar fridge it was that image that was on his mind.

‘Mr Romanov!’

Her voice demanded that he acknowledge her.

‘Oh, sorry…’ Mikael’s voice was wry as, his back to her, he added a slice of lime and ice to a glass and then poured sparkling water. ‘Weren’t you getting enough attention?’

‘I expect to be greeted.’

‘Well, had you made an appointment then you would have been.’

He turned and looked at her, a golden ray of sun from the chink in the curtains serving as his spotlight. Her beauty was now possibly the biggest challenge of his day, for Mikael was momentarily sideswiped. Her black eyes were huge in her exquisite face, her hair thick and glossy, and her complexion quite simply flawless. His eyes roamed her face—as far as Mikael could tell she wasn’t even wearing make-up. She was the first woman to actually stun him—so much so that when she held out her hand Mikael handed her his drink.

How did that happen? Mikael wondered as he turned again and made another drink—for himself this time.

‘I am Princess Layla of Ishla,’ Layla said, because, given Mikael’s poor manners, perhaps he was not aware of to whom he was speaking.

‘Really?’ Mikael said.

Layla waited for him to continue.

‘So you’re the reason I was almost late for court this morning.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Your convoy held me up,’ Mikael said. ‘Look, I don’t know what your issue is—in fact I don’t even want to know. I’m in the middle of a very complicated case and I am going on leave soon.’

‘I know all about your case, but I need for you to speak with my brother. I want you tell him that I am taking a week off from royal duty and that he is not to look for me or inform my father.’

‘Can’t you tell him that?’

‘I have written it all in a letter that he must be reading about now. I need you to reiterate the contents to him,’ Layla said. ‘If I speak with him it will get all emotional and I might back down—that is why I want you to do it for me.’

‘You need an embassy.’

‘No,’ Layla shook her head. ‘I do not want to make a big incident—unless I have to, of course.’

He heard the warning note in her voice, saw then the fire in her eyes, and he understood why Wendy had been unable to say no to her. She was pretty unstoppable.

Mikael, though, could not be manipulated. ‘As I just said, I am near the end of a huge case. I’m not taking anything else on.’

‘You will make one phone call for me,’ Layla said. ‘But first you can arrange for some refreshments to be brought in.’ It had been a long afternoon of shopping after all.

Mikael felt the shock from the muscles in his face as they broke into a smile.

Was she for real?

‘You want me to arrange refreshments before I make your phone call?’

‘Just something light.’ Layla nodded. ‘Maybe some fruit, and also something sweet.’

Mikael pulled out a roll of mints. ‘Here’s your refreshments.’

She took one and popped it in her mouth, and he watched her eyes widen in delight as she rolled the mint across her tongue.

‘I like.’

So too, Mikael decided, did he!

CHAPTER FOUR

‘ONE PHONE CALL,’ Mikael said.

But there was no way, Mikael knew, that this was going to go away with one phone call. He had only agreed to it because Layla had eked from him the first smile he had given in weeks.

He opened the curtains and invited her to take a seat.

‘First, though—’ Mikael went on, but Layla interrupted.

‘I give you some details.’

‘No,’ Mikael said. ‘First we need to discuss my retainer.’

‘Retainer?’

‘I’m very expensive,’ Mikael said.

‘Oh, you want payment up-front?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I have this.’

Mikael was a master at keeping his face impassive—poker would have been a lucrative hobby if he’d so chosen—but even he was struggling as, from her tunic, Layla took out a stone that looked more like a paperweight and placed it on the desk between them.

‘It is called Opium,’ Layla explained. ‘It is a rare black ruby that was gifted to me by the King of Bishram on my birth, so I would expect it to be worth quite a bit.’

Mikael said nothing at first. He just stared at the stone that was almost as beautiful as its owner and thought of her walking the streets with that in her pocket. After a long stretch of silence he picked it up and decided to put it in his safe for now, then he sat back at his desk and looked at her. ‘What exactly are you hoping to achieve this week?’

‘There are things that I would like to do before I marry.’

‘Such as?’

‘They are not your concern. All I want is a week of freedom from my duties and a week away from my family.’

‘To do what?’ Mikael persisted. ‘If I’m to ring your brother then I need to know what you intend to get up to.’

‘I would like to dance,’ Layla said. ‘It is forbidden in Ishla. And I would like to try an Irish coffee….’

‘There are other drinks.’ Mikael smirked.

‘My brother mentioned Irish coffee once, many years ago. I thought it sounded nice that the cream stays at the top.’

‘What else?’

Layla looked across the table at Mikael. For the first time in her life she felt a little… Layla tried to decide how she felt. Intimidated? She wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but it had never entered her head that Mikael might say no to her request. More than that, though, the effect of his smile had unsettled her stomach in a way she did not understand.

Certainly she wasn’t about to tell him all the adventures she was seeking—though her eyes did fall to his mouth, which she had briefly imagined upon hers, but then she met again the cool of his gaze. ‘I don’t know you well enough to tell you,’ Layla said.

‘How long have you been planning this?’

‘For quite some time,’ Layla admitted.

‘Would your family have guessed that you were going to escape?’

‘No.’ Immediately she shook her head.

‘‘You’re sure of that.’

‘Very sure,’ she said. ‘I learnt a very long time ago that I get in trouble if I tell anyone my thoughts.’

‘You can be honest here,’ Mikael said, and Layla gave a hesitant nod—though her eyes said that she doubted it.

She did offer a little more. ‘I tried to get my brother to take me to a wedding in London a few months ago—I was going to escape there, but he refused to take me with him.’

Sensible man, Mikael thought, feeling a knot of unease forming at the thought of her let loose in London—or even let loose here, for there was an innocence behind her arrogance, an inherent trust in the good of others that could so easily be shattered.

‘How are your family going to react?’

‘That depends,’ Layla responded. ‘I have made it very clear in my letter to my brother that he is not to inform my father that I am missing. If he does my father will have no choice but to create an international incident. That is avoidable, of course—I just need for you to reassure my brother that I will be safe and that I will return to the hotel one week from now.’

‘What about your mother?’

‘From what I have been told about her, she would approve.’