Commanded by the Sheikh. Кейт Хьюит
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‘And how do I live, Olivia?’
‘You know as well as I do. Parties till dawn and a different woman in your bed every night.’
‘You disapprove?’
‘It’s not for me to judge, but it’s certainly not how I want to live my life.’
‘Surely there’s a balance? We’re opposites, you and I, in our pursuit of pleasure, but don’t you think we could find some middle ground?’
Her eyes flashed. ‘And where would that be?’
In bed. Aziz had a sudden vivid image of Olivia lying on top of tangled satin sheets, her glorious hair spread out on the pillow, her lips rosy and swollen from his kisses. His libido stirred insistently. He knew he had no business thinking like this, feeling like this.
And yet he did.
RIVALS TO THE CROWN OF KADAR
Ruthless in battle, ruthless in love …
Two powerful men locked in a struggle to rule the country of their birth …
One a desert prince, once banished and shamed, the other a royal playboy, cutting a swathe through the beautiful women of Europe.
Tortured by their memories of the past, these bitter enemies will use any means necessary to win. But neither expects the women who will change the course of their revenge!
Read Khalil’s story in CAPTURED BY THE SHEIKH September 2014
Read Aziz’s story in COMMANDED BY THE SHEIKH October 2014
Commanded by the Sheikh
Kate Hewitt
KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and she’s continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence long—fortunately they’ve become a bit more detailed as she’s grown older. She has written plays, short stories and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and learning to knit.
After marrying the man of her dreams—her older brother’s childhood friend—she lived in England for six years, and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.
Kate loves to hear from readers—you can contact her through her website: www.kate-hewitt.com
Contents
‘I NEED YOU, OLIVIA.’
Olivia Ellis quickly suppressed the flare of feeling Sheikh Aziz al Bakir’s simply stated words caused inside her. Of course he needed her. He needed her to change his sheets, polish his silver and keep his Parisian townhouse on the Ile de la Cité pristine.
That didn’t explain what she was doing here, in the royal palace of Kadar.
Less than eight hours ago she’d been summoned by one of Aziz’s men, asked unequivocally to accompany him on the royal jet to Siyad—the capital of Kadar—where Aziz had recently ascended the throne.
Olivia had gone reluctantly, because she liked the quiet life she’d made for herself in Paris: mornings with the concierge across the street sipping coffee, afternoons in the garden pruning roses. It was a life that held no excitement or passion, but it was hers and it made her happy, or as happy as she knew how to be. It was enough, and she didn’t want it to change.
‘What do you need of me, Your Highness?’ she asked. She’d spent the endless flight to Kadar composing reasons why she should stay in Paris. She needed to stay in Paris, needed the safety and comfort of her quiet life.
‘Considering the circumstances, I think you should call me Aziz.’ The smile he gave her was whimsical, effortlessly charming, yet Olivia tried to remain unmoved. She’d often observed Aziz’s charm from a distance, had heard the honeyed words slide from his lips as he entertained one of his many female guests in Paris. She’d picked up the discarded lingerie from the staircase and had poured coffee for the women who crept from his bed before breakfast, their hair mussed and their lips swollen.
She, however, had always considered herself immune to ‘the Gentleman Playboy’, as the tabloids had nicknamed him. A bit of an oxymoron, Olivia thought, but she had to admit Aziz possessed a certain charisma.
She felt it now, with him focusing all of his attention on her, the opulent palace with its frescoed walls and gold fixtures stretching around them.
‘Very well, Aziz. What do you need of me?’ She spoke briskly, as she had when discussing replacing the roof tiles or the guest list for a dinner party. Yet it took a little more effort now, being in this strange and overwhelming place with this man.
He was, Olivia had to admit, beautiful. She could acknowledge that, just as she acknowledged that Michelangelo’s David was