Hired: The Sheikh's Secretary Mistress. Lucy Monroe
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about personality or compatibility, unless she wanted to count sex. Was he really that shallow?
She knew he wasn’t. So why was he willing to settle for a marriage of convenience with a woman who had little more to offer than her beauty and ability to be charming in social situations? He deserved so much more. His passionate soul needed more, even if he refused to see it.
This had to be the result of losing Yasmine at such a young age. He’d once told her the grief had led him places he never wanted to go back to. The men of the Zorhan royal family hated any semblance of weakness. Perhaps Amir even more than the others, because he was the youngest and felt he had something to prove.
It must have been difficult growing up an alpha male with two brothers of equally dominant natures. She often saw him chafing against that reality even now. But to resort to this? It wasn’t right.
The second to the last thing Grace ever wanted to see was Amir in love with another woman. The last was him married to a woman he could never love. As annoyed as his current attitude made her, she couldn’t help wanting him to be happy.
He wasn’t going to end up that way married to some empty-headed beauty, who shared nothing in common with him but her ability to traverse the two worlds he inhabited and her prowess in bed.
Grace hugged the pillow more tightly, feeling lonelier than she had since first meeting Amir. From the moment she’d walked into his office at the age of twenty to interview for the position of personal assistant, he had changed her world. He’d filled it with light, warmth and sound.
The social awkwardness that usually plagued her did not touch her when she was with him. It was as if, standing in his shadow in her role as PA, she was part of him. He had nothing to be shy and awkward about and therefore neither did she on his behalf. She had felt at home in his office from the very beginning.
She’d also loved him practically from the first, not that she’d realized it. Sure, it had started as a typical crush on the gorgeous, wealthy prince—and even when she’d had a crush on him, she’d been singularly naive to what that meant. But Amir had quickly shown her that he was more than a rich and pretty face.
He cared about his family. He cared about the people of Zorha. He cared about the people of his adopted home, giving more to charities than most businessmen ever dreamed of doing. He was also kind to children and old people. It was such a cliché, but true. Not to mention, he was patient and generous toward his nondescript PA. Not patient and generous enough to consider her for the position of his convenient wife though.
For a mad moment, right at first, she had let herself imagine it was possible.
After all, hadn’t he made a point of saying he didn’t expect or even want to love his future wife? Even the idea that his wife must be able to move in his different worlds had fit Grace. She might have spent her entire life until she came to work for him being socially backward and tongue-tied in any situation that included more than two people, but she’d found her niche with him and learned to function as his personal assistant no matter where they were or who they were with.
Couldn’t she have done the same as his wife?
Oh, sure, she mocked herself. Grace Brown, future princess. She could just see it. Not.
Ignoring the hot wetness tracking down her cheeks, she replayed the moment in the limo when she’d realized she could never put herself forward as a candidate for him to consider. Right up to that second, she’d still been harboring secret, crazy fantasies. Only when he had said he wanted to be attracted to his bride—so his vows of faithfulness did not create a purgatory for him to live in—had she known. One thing Grace was absolutely certain of, Amir did not want her sexually.
It was as that reality came home to her that her ill-conceived dreams shattered around her, leaving her already battered heart hemorrhaging.
Now, she sat, unable to sleep, considering what the future held for her. Pain. Yes. She saw no way around it. The man she loved with every fiber of her being was going to marry another woman. If she loved him enough and was strong enough, she was going to help him find that woman.
Why?
Because it was the one chance she had to ensure as much of Amir’s future personal happiness as she could. If she continued to refuse to help him, he would end up marrying some beautiful icicle and think that was exactly what he wanted because it did not put his heart at risk.
Grace was not a fool, at least not a complete one. She knew he was avoiding any chance of being weak like he had been when he was eighteen. He did not want to hurt and she understood that. What he didn’t understand was that loneliness within his marriage would chip away at his warm heart until it was as cold as he thought he wanted it to be.
She could not stand the prospect of such a thing happening to him. The only way she could help him avoid it was to find him a convenient wife that had the potential to be so much more.
If her own heart lost the final fight in the process, she would survive…somehow.
Amir sat down to the breakfast Grace had ordered them. Dark circles painted the skin below her eyes and her skin was even more pale than normal.
He frowned, concern making his voice edgy. “You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well last night? Are you coming down with something?”
“I’m not sick, but I didn’t sleep much, either.” She smiled, a muted facsimile of her usual expression.
“Because of what I asked you to do?”
“Yes.”
“If it causes you such concern, I withdraw my request.” He did not want her losing sleep over this project. She worked too hard as it was. She had no more of a life outside his business than he did.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“I decided to take on the assignment.”
“But if it makes you like this…” His words trailed off, but he swept his hand toward her, leaving no doubt what he was talking about. “You look terrible.”
She grimaced. “Thank you so much, Amir.”
“This is no time for false modesty. Are you sure you are not ill?”
“I am positive. I am also certain that I am willing to help you find a wife.”
Something inside him jolted, but he ignored it. “That is a relief.”
She smiled, this one more genuine. “I’m glad.”
“Thank you, but I do not want you making yourself sick. Tell me if it is too much.”
She laughed. “Right. Like you won’t be demanding the list in twenty-four hours.”
“I am not that impatient.”
“Yes, you are.” But humor, not irritation, laced her voice.
Gratitude for her surged through him and he found himself standing up and walking around the table to pull her into a rare hug.
At first, she stood in rigid shock in his embrace, but then she relaxed, clinging to him. Her warm feminine body pressed tightly to his and inescapable arousal surged through him.
He did not let go.
She did not step away.
His head tipped down of its own volition as he instinctively sought to take in more of her scent. “You smell like cinnamon,” he said against her yet-to-be-put-up mass of red curls. “And jasmine.” The fragrance reminded him of home.
“Your mother sends me handmade soaps and hair products from her herbalist.” Grace’s face was buried in his neck and her voice came out a husky whisper.
He lifted his head and then tilted her chin up with his finger until their eyes met. “My mother sends you things?”
“Yes.