Gambling with the Crown. Lynn Raye Harris
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could see her throat work. “You want to deceive your family?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. She would never understand. And yet he had to make her do so if this were to work. It went against his nature to explain himself, but he had to acknowledge that she could just as easily turn him down if he did not. “It’s about the throne, Emily. I don’t want it.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
A riot of emotion twisted through him. He wanted to lash out. To tell her it was none of her business. And yet, if he was asking her to do this thing, it surely was her business. He could tell her the truth without delving into his personal reasons. His guilt. That was private.
“Because a king cannot travel the world and erect buildings. My business will be finished. And you will be out of a job.”
He didn’t like pointing it out so cruelly, but what choice did he have? Because that was, ultimately, what was at stake for her. If he became king, he couldn’t keep her in Kyr. He’d have an entire legion of assistants and she would not be needed. Even if he wanted her there.
There was a hierarchy in serving the royal family in Kyr, and Emily Bryant did not fit into it.
She put her forehead in her palm and slanted her gaze toward him. It was an unconsciously attractive look. A twinge of heat flared to life in his belly. He tamped it down ruthlessly. His life was upside-down, he reminded himself. He was not attracted to his very ordinary assistant. If he had been, he would never have hired her. Besides, if he hadn’t found her sexually appealing in four years thus far, he wasn’t going to start today.
In spite of the awareness that slid through him when she’d put her hand on his arm. In spite of the urge he’d had to bend his head and fit his mouth to hers, just to see if the sparks would continue or if it was simply the incongruity of her touching him so deliberately.
An anomaly. Stress.
“I don’t like the idea of deceiving your family. Besides, I’m a terrible actress. No one would ever believe I was your wife.”
Kadir allowed himself a smile. It was the kind of smile he knew usually had an effect on the women he turned it upon. “I have no doubt they will believe it. You’ve never yet failed at a task I’ve set for you. And you won’t fail at this one.” He leaned forward then, elbows on knees, and delivered what he hoped would be the coup de grâce. “You are the only person I can trust, Emily. The only one who will not fail me. I need you.”
* * *
Emily’s insides were spinning and churning as though she’d taken a ride on a merry-go-round. It didn’t help that Kadir looked at her so seriously. Or that he was specifically asking for her help. How could she refuse him?
And how could she go through with it? No one would ever believe that she—plain, ordinary Emily—was Kadir’s chosen bride. The whole world would see through the deception.
And she’d be mortified when they did. People would laugh and point fingers. She would be noticed, and not in a good way.
It was impossible.
Yet, he looked at her with those gorgeous dark eyes and serious expression and she wanted to do whatever he asked. She closed her eyes, swallowed. It was more than that, though.
One year’s salary.
With that kind of money, she could finish paying her father’s hospital bills and start to put money in the bank for his long-term care. He still lived in the house she’d grown up in, but it was an older house that always needed repairs of one type or another. He tried to do things himself, but it was too much for one frail man.
Anger scoured through her then. Her mother should have been there with him. Would have been there with him if she weren’t selfish and self-serving. If her focus on herself hadn’t led her down a self-destructive path and ended in a twist of steel on a dark highway.
When Emily’s father had needed his wife the most, when he’d gotten too sick to work and couldn’t keep buying her clothes and vacations and cars, she’d said she was too young to be someone’s caretaker. And then she’d run off with another man.
Emily experienced the same cold wash of helpless fury and despair she always did when she thought of her mother. Emily had been heading down the same path, in some ways. She’d loved flashy clothes, loved dressing up and being the center of attention. She’d spent hours at the salon, hours shopping with her girlfriends and hours discussing men. She’d had boyfriends, more than one at a time, because they lavished her with attention and gifts. And that had made her feel special.
But everything changed when her mother deserted them. Emily had realized what a self-destructive road she was traveling when there was no one left to take care of her father except for her. And now Kadir was handing her an opportunity to finally pay off her father’s bills, maybe move him to a retirement community in Florida. He’d always wanted to go to where it was warm. Maybe live in a golfing community and play a few rounds.
If she could do that, it would mean the world to him. And to her, because then she wouldn’t worry so much about him living in the windy, bitterly cold Chicago winters.
“How would this work?” Her voice sounded rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in ages and her vocal cords didn’t want to let the words go.
Kadir sighed and bowed his head for a brief moment. She wanted to tell him that she had not yet agreed, so he shouldn’t get all relieved and everything—but they both knew she was going to. It was simply too good an opportunity to pass up.
No matter how it terrified her.
“My attorneys will draw up the paperwork. We will sign it. That is all that is required in Kyr—a legal marriage document, with both signatures affixed. We can have a ceremony in Kyr, if you like, but the documents will suffice.”
She couldn’t imagine standing at an altar—or wherever one did these things in Kyr—and pledging everlasting love to this man. To her boss.
No matter how fake it would be.
“I don’t need a ceremony.”
He tipped his head, as if he’d known she would say that. “Then there will not be one.”
She clasped her hands in her lap, twisted them together. It was incongruous to be discussing marriage with her boss while in her pajamas in Paris, but that’s precisely what she was doing. How surreal.
“Will there be other paperwork? A prenuptial agreement? A contract detailing the terms of our arrangement?”
“Do you require either of those things?”
She could only blink at him. “It seems prudent, don’t you think? What if I decide I like being a princess so much that I refuse to divorce you and then ask for half your assets when you insist? Or what if you become unhappy with my performance and decide not to pay me?”
He laughed and she let the sound drip down her spine, warming her though she did not want it to.
“You are delightful, Emily. If I don’t tell you that enough, I am remiss.” He got to his feet then and she stood, too, more out of habit than anything. “I will have those documents done as well, if it makes you feel better.”
She sucked in a fortifying breath. “I haven’t said yes yet.”
“But you will.”
Heat rolled through her. She would, but she didn’t like how easily he could read her. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe he just expected her to obey. Because she always had before.
“How can you be so certain? This is far different than ordering me to make phone calls or type up a new proposal.”
He came closer to her and she forced herself to remain where she was. She would not duck