Royal Temptation: Protecting the Desert Princess / Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation / The Prince's Second Chance
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‘Why do I need to be toned down?’
‘Because you don’t want your brother to find you… And anyway,’ he told her, ‘today it’s my turn to shine.’
‘Oh, Mikael…’ Layla smiled. ‘I cannot wait.’
A selection of outfits was brought to the suite for Layla to try, and Mikael ordered coffee too.
‘I’m hungry,’ Layla moaned, coming out of the bedroom in a navy shift dress and screwing up her nose.
Mikael was putting his shirt back on—it was still warm from her.
‘We’ll have breakfast out,’ Mikael said, because he liked to eat at his favourite café during a trial and he was not changing his routine for Layla. ‘That looks nice.’
‘You wear it, then,’ she said. ‘It makes me feel miserable.’
She selected another outfit and headed back to the bedroom. The pale grey linen suit looked very drab to Layla, but when she put it on the skirt was nice and short, and with a silver cami and the jacket’s sleeves rolled up she liked it.
‘I’m ready,’ she said, stepping out of the bedroom and putting on her silver jewelled slippers. ‘And I’m very, very hungry, Mikael.’
There was no chance of outshining Layla, Mikael thought, because she looked stunning. ‘Don’t you want to do your make-up?’ he asked—because wasn’t that what every woman did?
She wasn’t every woman, though…
Layla shook her head. ‘I will only wear make-up for my future husband. Come on, Mikael, I need to eat soon or I will faint.’
‘I won’t be picking you up if you do,’ he said.
Mikael’s choice of café was a trendy converted warehouse that was frequented by his peers, who would all leave him alone, knowing that he wouldn’t want small talk this morning or best wishes for the day.
‘This is near the hotel where my brother and Trinity are,’ Layla commented.
‘Now do you see why I wanted you in different clothes?’ Mikael said, and she nodded. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added, ‘even if we see them, you’re having your week.’
Heads turned as they walked in. Not because Mikael was with a woman, more because Mikael was with a woman this close to the end of a trial—and what a woman she was!
Waving and smiling to anyone who caught her eye, Layla was surprised when they didn’t wave back.
‘Are you nervous about today?’ Layla asked, but then the waiter handed her a menu. She looked at it for a moment and then handed it back to him. ‘I can’t read or write English,’ she said, and beamed.
Mikael watched as Joel just about fell to the floor as she aimed her smile at him.
‘I’ll order,’ Mikael said, because Joel would clearly be only too happy to go through the entire menu for her. ‘Just fruit and pastries,’ Mikael said, ‘and two coffees—and two on sub. Actually, just a regular cappuccino for my guest,’ he said, because he always had an extra shot, and a high-on-caffeine Layla he wasn’t sure he could handle.
‘You drink a lot of coffee,’ she commented.
‘Because I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,’ he said, and then realised what she meant. He had ordered four coffees. ‘Two are on sub…’
Mikael let out a breath as she frowned. Just one easy conversation where he didn’t have to explain everything would be welcome, but that wasn’t going to happen this century.
‘If someone needs a coffee and they don’t have any money then they can ask if there are any on sub.’
She still looked bemused.
‘Do you have homeless people in Ishla?’
‘I believe so, but my father refuses to discuss those sort of issues with me.’
Those sort of issues.
Mikael was less than impressed when she wrinkled up her nose.
‘They’re people, Layla,’ Mikael said. He didn’t order those coffees without reason. How much easier would his life have been had he been able to get a warm drink or a sandwich just by asking. For a long while Mikael had scrimped or scavenged for every morsel. He remembered that every time he ordered food, and he did not take kindly to some pampered princess screwing up her nose.
‘Of course they are people,’ Layla said, ‘but it is an issue, no?’ She shrugged her shoulders, but not in a dismissive way. ‘I am not to worry about such things, apparently.’
She looked over to him and Mikael realised that again he had misread her when she spoke on.
‘But I do.’
The coffee was lovely, Layla declared, thanking Joel profusely for the shake of chocolate on the top of her frothy milk. ‘What an amazing combination,’ Layla said, as if Joel himself had invented cappuccino.
‘You didn’t answer me before,’ Layla said once Joel had gone. ‘Are you nervous about today?’
‘I’m never nervous,’ Mikael said.
‘Never?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m prepared for today.’
‘Good! So I will start my magical week listening to you in court. I’m looking forward to it so much.’
She wasn’t being sarcastic, but Mikael took a second to realise it.
‘Layla—’ he started, because what had seemed the most sensible idea when he had fallen asleep in the small hours felt more than a touch uncomfortable now. ‘Some of the things that I say today…some of the things you might hear..’
‘It’s fine!’ she dismissed.
‘It’s really not fine…’ He breathed out, for today he was going to discredit the deceased. Today was not a day during which Mikael would be endearing himself to anyone. But immediately Layla waved his concerns away.
‘I’ve been following the trial. I know what he did.’
‘What he’s accused of doing,’ Mikael corrected, but she just shrugged.
‘He should be fed to the dogs!’ she said, and then looked straight at him. ‘And in my country that isn’t just a saying.’
The whole café seemed to fall silent as the impossible happened.
Mikael Romanov laughed.
At seven a.m. near the end of a trial.
‘So,’ Mikael said as their breakfast was served, ‘apart from dancing and getting drunk, what else is on your bucket list?’ He chose to explain that before she asked him to. ‘Your to-do list.’
‘Oh…’ Layla smiled. ‘This.’
‘What?’
‘This is on my list—I wanted to share a meal in a restaurant with a sexy man. But in my plan it was in the evening and we were holding hands.’
‘This is a café,’ Mikael said, ‘and I don’t hold hands. What else?’
‘I’m not telling you,’ Layla said, popping blueberries in her mouth.
‘Go on,’ he pushed, ‘tell me.’
‘If you take me dancing tonight I will tell you some more.’
‘I’m not dancing till the jury is in,’ Mikael said, ‘and if today goes well then you’ll be long gone by then.’
‘Then you won’t ever find out.’ Layla shrugged.
‘How about dinner tonight?’ he offered.
‘Somewhere romantic?’ Layla checked.
‘I don’t do romance.’
‘Oh. Well.’ She shrugged again. ‘Your loss. I might have to find another person to fulfil my wishes.’
* * *
When they arrived at chambers a rather bemused Wendy took Layla over to the court while Mikael showered and changed into a fresh suit, and then he sat for a long quiet hour going through everything in his mind, over and over. He scratched out phrases, honed in on words, re-examined every angle, just to plant that seed of beyond reasonable doubt.
As court resumed Mikael glanced up at the public gallery just once to check that she was there.
She was smiling down at him.
In black robes and a wig Mikael looked even more incredible than he had when he had been on her computer.
His voice, when finally he commenced his closing argument, had the goosebumps rising on Layla’s arms, for it was rich and deep and reached every corner of the courtroom. It was her privilege to sit, absolutely mesmerised, as Mikael set to work.
On many occasions throughout the long day Mikael rather wished that Layla had left, for what he had to say was not pretty.
There was a furious audible gasp from the gallery as he reminded the jury of a witness’s testimony—an ex-boyfriend of the deceased had stated that she preferred her sex rough.
God, no wonder he was loathed by so many, Mikael thought as the lights in court seemed to flicker as social media lit up, demanding that Romanov’s guts should be hated.
Still he did not look up to the public gallery.
‘My client has never denied that intercourse took place before the deceased fell in the stairwell,’ Mikael said. ‘Nor has he denied that the sex was violent. But that was by mutual consent.’
Still he did not look up—even when the judge called for someone to be removed from the public gallery for shouting obscenities at Mikael.
He pointed to the gallery once, though, as order was restored. ‘Up there is emotion,’ he reminded the jurors. ‘Down here we examine facts.’
The court broke for lunch and Layla hoped he would come and find her, so that she could tell him how well he was doing, but he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Where’s Mikael?’ Layla asked Wendy, who was walking towards her.
‘He just texted me and asked if I would take you to lunch.’
‘Oh.’
‘What would you like to eat?’ Wendy asked as they stood in a café, and Layla frowned. It was so much easier with Mikael.
‘What that man is eating,’ Layla said.
‘A burger?’
Layla nodded.
‘With the lot?’ Wendy checked.
Layla had no idea what she meant, but nodded.
Despite the company, it was possibly the best meal of Layla’s life—and then it was back to court to watch Mikael at his savage best.
‘My client has freely admitted that he was angry she had stayed out so late, and that she was drunk when she got home and an argument ensued. Arguments happen—so does make-up sex.’
The lights flickered again.
Hour by hour he shredded the prosecution’s arguments, twisted words, questioned statements of so-called fact, reminded the jury of the amount of alcohol and drugs involved, inching them towards his conclusion.
‘Did she ask the paramedics to get him away from her?’ Mikael demanded. ‘Did she plead with the treating doctors and nurses to keep this monster away? No, she did not. In fact, as we heard from the senior nurse who took her to the operating theatre where she subsequently died, she asked to see her boyfriend.’
Mikael watched as a couple of jurors frowned.
‘Does that sound like a woman in abject terror? Does that sound like a woman who had been raped and beaten in a stairwell to you?’
Mikael was the second most hated man in Australia today.
His client was the first.
But for Igor he delivered the best defence he knew how.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MIKAEL WAS UNSURE of his reception when he knocked on Layla’s hotel room door a few hours after Wendy would have delivered her back there.
‘You were fantastic!’ Layla opened the door, her smile beaming. She was back in her red dress and sparkly shoes. ‘Oh, my, Mikael—you almost had me!’
‘Almost?’ he checked.
‘That bastard is as guilty as hell but, wow, you were amazing!’
‘You’re the strangest woman I have ever met.’
‘I was hoping to see you close up in your robes and wig. Why didn’t you meet me for lunch?’
‘Layla…’ He was about to point out that it was only by some miracle that he’d even remembered she had no money and would have no idea what to do for lunch and so had contacted Wendy, but he left it.
He was relieved by her reception.
Pleased, even.
Layla had been right. He did not care what others thought of him—not a single bit.
He had today.
It was a relief not to have to justify himself.
‘How was lunch?’ Mikael asked instead.
‘I had a burger with the lot and it was fantastic. Wendy isn’t much fun, though, is she?’
‘Wendy is an incredibly busy woman and it was nice of her to give up her lunch for you.’
‘Give up her lunch?’ Layla frowned. ‘But she ate more than I did.’
She looked at Mikael; he was so very handsome. and she liked it when he smiled—which he was now. Layla knew it was rare, and that he was not a very happy person, and she loved the light it brought to his eyes.
‘So what now?’ she asked.
‘We wait for the verdict.’
‘I mean what happens now?’
‘Do you want to go out for dinner?’
‘Pardon?’ Layla smiled.
‘Would you like to go out somewhere nice for dinner.’
‘Somewhere romantic,’ Layla corrected. ‘Yes, please, Mikael.’
He took her to a waterside restaurant. Yes, the view was to die for, and usually he would have asked for a table outside, but tonight their only view would be of each other, and he asked for their most intimate table.
‘This is lovely,’ Layla said as she slipped in to her side of a velvet booth. ‘Oh, our knees are touching!’
‘Better?’ Mikael asked, moving his.
‘No,’ she said, because she’d liked the feel of his knees near hers. When he moved them back she smiled. ‘That’s better.’
‘Do you want wine?’
‘I want champagne,’ Layla said. ‘The best one.’
‘Of course you do.’
‘Do you have any cigarettes?’
‘I don’t smoke,’ Mikael said, reading the menu, ‘and neither do you.’
‘I’d like to try a joint.’
‘Layla!’
‘Zahid nearly got expelled from school when one was found in his locker, and since then I have wanted to try. Just one time.’
‘It’s illegal.’
‘I know a very good defence lawyer!’ Layla said, and her knees nudged his.
‘You do!’
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ Layla asked as the champagne was poured. Mikael declined; he only drank water when he was in the midst of a trial.
‘I have girlfriends.’
‘Anyone serious?’
‘If there was then she wouldn’t be very pleased right now.’
‘It’s just a romantic dinner,’ Layla said, and closed her eyes in bliss as she tasted her first champagne.
‘If you wanted romance then you chose the wrong man.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not interested in romance,’ he said, and then changed the subject. ‘So, apart from drunken debauchery, what else is on your list?’
‘I just want to kiss, to flirt, to be sent flowers—and then I will return and marry and be content that I had one magical week.’
He stared at her. It didn’t seem an awful lot to ask, and he loathed the lengths she had had to go to and the very real trouble she might find herself in.
Serious trouble.
‘I would like to spend a day in bed.’
‘Layla,’ he said. ‘You can’t go around saying that.’
‘I’m only saying it to you…’ She frowned at his concern. ‘Always I have duties, and if I don’t have duties then I am to join my father for breakfast or have my hair braided. I just want one day where there is nothing planned.’
He rolled his eyes as he realised her statement had been completely innocent. ‘I apologise,’ Mikael said. ‘I thought when you said a day in bed…’
She thought that completely hilarious. ‘I wasn’t talking about sex! Don’t worry, Mikael, I’m not going to do anything reckless—I know I have to return to Ishla intact…’
‘Are we really having this conversation?’
‘We are.’ She smiled and looked at the purple marks that were still under his eyes. ‘You look as if you could use a day in bed,’ she said, ‘for sleeping.’
‘Well, that’s not going to happen any time soon.’ Mikael gave a thin smile. ‘But once the verdict is in I’m going to have some time away.’
‘On your yacht!’ Layla said. ‘With your blonde women!’
‘You really did do your homework, didn’t you?’
‘I told you that I did.’ She shrugged. ‘So, how long do you think the jury will take?’
‘As long as they take.’
‘I loved watching you today…’ she admitted. ‘I kept hoping that you would look up.’
‘I had other things on my mind.’
Now he had only Layla, and when her fingers nudged his Mikael took them.
‘How is your game of chess going?’ she asked, and they both smiled at her previous teasing.
‘Can you play?’ he asked.
‘I am very good,’ Layla said. ‘I play with my father when he has the time, and often myself, but now I also play it online. It’s fun—there is always someone in the world to play with and very often I win. Perhaps I could beat you?’
He saw the challenge in her eyes.
‘Perhaps you could,’ he said, ‘if I had a migraine.’
Layla laughed. ‘Don’t dismiss me,’ she warned.
And then she said something that meant he could not dismiss her—for it made them the same.
‘I get bored a lot in Ishla, though it is better now that I can teach…’ She gave a little smile. ‘And now that I have a computer!’
Bored.
Mikael took her other hand and looked down at their entwined fingers to steady himself just for a moment. That word he could more than relate to.
He recalled his years on the streets—hour after hour to fill with nothing.
Day after interminable day.
He did not remind her that she was privileged, he did not scold her with his eyes, for with that word she had him.
Mikael looked into her black eyes and saw the dance behind them, the intelligence that stretched beyond the world she’d been born to.
‘Are you nervous about going back to Ishla?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Layla said. ‘I will be in trouble when I return—I accept that—but trouble always settles. I love my family,’ she said, ‘and I feel sorry that I have had to upset them to get what I want, but there was no other way.’
His hands were warm and dry and his fingers moved to the tiny scar on her otherwise flawless skin.
‘What happened there?’ Mikael asked.
‘When we were nine Hussain, my future husband, showed me how to make a match burn twice.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘I don’t know him,’ Layla said. ‘We played as children. I get to choose my husband, but I have been told, for the good of Ishla, that Hussain would be the wisest choice. My heart does not think so, though.’
He wanted to lift her wrist and kiss it better. Mikael had never felt anything like it before. But then Layla got too close.
‘What are your family like?’ she asked.
‘I don’t have any family.’
‘Are your parents dead?’
Her question was so clinical he was able to answer.
‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t elaborate; instead he dropped hands and took up the menu, started to read out the choices, but she halted him.
‘You choose for me,’ she said. ‘I want what you order—I want to try your favourite thing.’
‘Is there anything you especially like or dislike?’
‘I want to try whatever.’
So Mikael ordered for them. He taught her how to peel the fattest, plumpest prawns and their fingers played together in the warm water bowl.
‘I love these,’ Layla said. ‘I want to eat prawns again.’
‘Don’t you have them in Ishla?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I must ask my father to get some for me.’
Mussels, oysters—all were bliss. But Layla just wanted more prawns.
‘I could live off these,’ she said, and then very rapidly changed the subject back to where she wanted it to be. ‘How can you not know if your parents are dead or alive? Can’t you trace them?’
‘Leave it, Layla.’
‘But I want to know.’
‘Well, I don’t want to tell you.’ Mikael refused to reveal anything. ‘What do you want for dessert?’
‘Prawns.’
After a draining black day it was a lovely night, and as he dropped her off at the hotel Mikael did the right thing: gave the valet his keys for a short while and saw her to her door.
‘Aren’t you staying tonight?’ she asked as they approached her suite.
‘I hope there’s no need for me to stay,’ Mikael said. ‘Unless you’re planning on going out again?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘There is no need for me to go out tonight. I have had the best day and the best night of my life and I am feeling very content.’
‘Good.’
‘Well, almost the best day,’ Layla said. ‘But it would be even better if you kissed me.’
‘I don’t think that’s wise,’ he said.
‘One kiss.’ She smiled, swiping her door pass. ‘Anyway, you have to leave me your shirt to wear—I still don’t have a nightdress.’
‘Your brother asked me to—’
‘You don’t have to keep my promises for me,’ Layla interrupted. ‘I shall be returning to Ishla a virgin.’
‘We were talking about a kiss!’
‘So what’s the problem, then?’ Layla said.
She soon found out.
Mikael turned her around to face him and it was a little like being in the car, with him trying to put on her seatbelt. Every touch had her awareness heightened. She stood shivering in anticipation as he positioned them. She felt his hand on her shoulder and his face move to hers, and then she was lost—because nothing in her imaginings could have prepared her for those arrogant lips turned tender.
His kiss was very soft at first, and one hand rested on her waist, the other at her shoulder.
Then she felt the slip of his tongue and the slide of his hand to the back of her head. She had not known that tongues kissed too. It was shocking, it was sensual, it was the gateway to paradise—and her hands went to his hair now as she matched his tongue. And then, whether it was his hand on her bottom or just the call of her groin, they moved in closer and that was the problem—one kiss led to more.
She could feel him hard at her centre, but more than that she could feel the strain of her breasts and the pull low in her stomach as Mikael kissed her ever deeper and then pulled his head back.
One kiss and her chin was red and her lips swollen.
‘I’d better shave next time,’ he said.
‘We agreed one kiss.’ Layla smiled. ‘But now I know why it is trouble…’
He released her. ‘I’d better go.’
‘You need to leave my nightdress,’ she said. ‘Are you working tomorrow?’
‘I am,’ he said, ‘but I’ll try and finish early.’ He was worried about her going out without him, but at the same time didn’t want to curtail her. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘I have a very special day planned,’ Layla said as he took off his shirt and handed it to her. ‘I am not getting out of bed.’
‘Oh?’ Mikael waited for her to elaborate but she had clearly said all she wanted to on the subject.
She looked at him, naked from the waist up, and wanted more of what she had so recently felt. ‘Can you kiss me now, so I can feel your skin?’
‘Definitely not,’ he said, putting on his jacket and pocketing his tie. ‘Night, Layla.’
‘I have another thing on my bucket list now,’ Layla said as he headed for the door. ‘I want to have an orgasm.’
‘I’m going home.’
‘Seriously, Mikael.’ She saw him to the door. ‘I thought you could only achieve orgasm with sexual intercourse, and even then only if you were lucky. Am I wrong?’
‘Very wrong!’ Mikael almost groaned. ‘Goodnight, Layla.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAYLA AWOKE LONG after sunrise and lay in bed for a happy hour, just remembering Mikael’s kiss and replaying it over and over, before ringing down for breakfast—only to find out that it was lunchtime.
‘What would you like, Layla?’ The staff thought she was wonderful, and the head chef was brought to the phone to help her with her order.
‘I want someone to come and help me put on the television, and I want a thinly sliced and peeled apple to cleanse my palette, and then something nice to eat.’
‘Such as?’
‘Sweet,’ Layla said. ‘Some fruit. You choose for me. One other thing—can I get a joint from you?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, just some sweet milk to drink, then.’
Apart from when she had caught that cold from wearing damp clothes Layla had never spent a day in bed before, and she intended to enjoy it.
The maids delivered her food and Terrence, the butler, gave her a tutorial on the television’s remote control, and Layla lay in bed, still in Mikael’s shirt, dipping raspberries in white chocolate sauce and drinking milk laced with cinnamon and nutmeg while watching television.