Royal Temptation

‘You know that for sure?’

‘I do know that for sure—because the person leaving her bedroom was me. I had met her at Igor’s work.’

‘She named Igor?’ Layla was appalled. ‘Why would she do that when it wasn’t even him?’

‘Because she knew what would happen—she knew that her husband would have him killed and she did not want to lose a good screw.’

His voice was so bitter that Layla shivered, and even if she had never heard that word before she knew what he meant. She lay there as Mikael continued speaking.

‘I hate her more than the man who shot him. I hate her so much that when a witness comes on the stand I picture her and I tear through their answers. I make sure, if they lie, that I expose it on the stand.’

‘This is why you believe in a good defence?’ Layla asked.

‘Absolutely.’

‘So how did you get to Australia?’

‘Demyan,’ Mikael said. ‘He’s a friend of mine. I grew up with him but he had moved to Australia. I knew there would soon be a bullet with my name on it, so I called him and his aunt helped me get to Australia.’

Mikael got out of bed and went to get a drink. He did not want her shock and sympathy; he did not want the questions and the prolonged conversation afterwards.

He had told her—wasn’t that enough?

‘The woman you hate…?’ Layla asked, and Mikael gave a wry smile, because she could easily don a wig and robe, so perceptive were her questions. ‘Did you love her also?’

‘Almost,’ he said. ‘Well, it was the closest I’ve ever…’ He took a belt of his drink and then a very deep breath, wondering if Layla would notice his hesitation—because the way he had felt in the past didn’t come close to the way he was feeling right now.

Not that she would notice.

She was putting on her shoes in bed and admiring her long legs—but what he didn’t know was that it was for his sake.

She’d sensed that he no longer wanted to talk.

He had never met anyone like her. Mikael was far more used to women pleading for conversation, for emotion, for him to just open up a touch more.

Layla had had all three without even asking.

And the only thing opening up now was her knees as Layla offered a rather appealing distraction from his very dark thoughts.

‘Can you kiss me down there?’

It would, Mikael decided, be his absolute pleasure.

CHAPTER TEN

MIKAEL WOKE TO the sound of Layla ordering her usual thinly sliced and peeled apple with mint tea and water.

‘And coffee,’ Mikael said. ‘And cake.’

‘Cake?’ Layla frowned.

‘Cake,’ he said.

‘Could we have some chocolate cake and coffee too?’ Layla said to the chef. ‘And I would like my slice of cake just a little bit warm, with lots of cream to pour over it.’ She ended the call and gave Mikael a wide smile. ‘I love this phone; it’s just fantastic.’

‘I thought you’d always be ringing down your orders in your palace?’

‘No.’ Layla shook her head. ‘I just tell Jamila what I want and she gets it for me.’

‘So Jamila’s your maid?’

‘My handmaiden,’ Layla said. ‘She has been with me since the day I was born.’

‘Like a mum?’

‘No!’ She laughed at the very thought. ‘You don’t love servants…’ Her face was suddenly serious. ‘I do feel a bit sick, though, at the moment when I think of her. She will be so worried. Oh, poor Jamila!’

‘Sounds a lot like love to me,’ Mikael said.

‘So,’ Layla asked, ‘now that the trial is over, do you get that time off you talked about?’

He gave a wry smile. His work had barely begun. There would be sentencing, appeals… He closed his eyes at the thought of it all for a moment.

‘I have a very busy day today. I have to meet with my client, his family.’ God, Mikael knew where he’d rather be.

‘That’s fine. I am going to take a ferry and I am also going to do the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb.’

Mikael lay there and told himself that Layla was twenty-four. She wasn’t incapable. In fact she was possibly the cleverest person he had ever met…

And yet…

That gnawing of unease he had felt the first night when he had called the hotel to see what was happening was back.

It wasn’t Layla so much who concerned him but others. She had been so protected it simply didn’t enter her head that people might not be nice to her.

He closed his eyes as there was a knock at the door and tried to tell himself that he was overreacting, that of course she’d be fine out there without him.

Breakfast was delivered, along with something that Mikael was a bit embarrassed about now but had seemed a nice idea last night—there was a phone in the bathroom, after all…

‘Flowers!’ Layla was ecstatic ‘And a card!’ She opened it. ‘What does it say?’

Mikael groaned. He’d forgotten in the moment when he’d ordered them that she couldn’t read English, and now he’d have to read it out loud to her—but he waited till all the staff had gone.

‘“Layla, Thank you for an amazing end to a difficult day and an even more amazing night. Mikael.”’

‘No kisses?’ Layla asked.

‘Three.’

‘Wow! Thank you! I will keep this for ever—maybe I hide it in my shoe or something, but I will find a safe place for it.’

‘Layla, I don’t want to get you in trouble…’ Mikael halted. They were approaching the halfway mark of her week and four more nights were starting not to seem enough.

‘Look, about today—’

‘Mikael,’ she interrupted, ‘I want to have a day to myself. Please don’t ask me to stay in the hotel.’

‘Okay.’ He pushed out a smile. ‘You’ll need some cash.’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Ask the hotel to organise a driver to take you wherever you want to go.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Take my number with you.’

She did.

She bought some white jeans and a top and some sandals from the boutique in the foyer, along with a handbag, and she was ready for her day of adventure.

Layla was worried that she might run into Trinity or Zahid, but at the same time she was determined that even if she did she would very simply refuse to return until her week was up.

She did not use the phone to organise a driver. Instead she decided to try taking a taxi again.

It was far easier the second time around, and she put on her seatbelt and understood that at the end she had to pay him.

Everything on her list Layla did.

She stood on the top of the bridge, being battered by the wind, and life felt so exhilarating that it was as if she were on the top of the world. Then she took a ferry to Manly and ordered a burger with ‘the lot’ and a can of lemonade, and she met some Dutch backpackers who were very serious but very lovely. They told her that she had to do the night-time harbour cruise while she was there.

‘I don’t know where to go,’ she said.

‘We’ll show you.’

The cruise started long after sunset and went on for three magical hours. It was wonderful to see the Sydney skyline from the water at night. She could see the Opera House and the bridge all lit up. There was wine and a meal, though the prawns were not as nice as the ones she had had with Mikael, but she heard all the history—about Captain Cook and the convicts—and it was simply magical to sit with her new friends and listen, and feel the warm air on her skin.

She took a taxi back to the hotel, elated from a wonderful day out, tired and ready to have a bath and sleep. But as she opened her hotel door she jumped in surprise to see Mikael—and it was a Mikael that she had never seen before.

His face was grey and he did not return her smile when she walked in.

‘Layla…’ He was struggling to keep his voice even. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Doing the things on my list.’ Layla smiled. ‘I had a fantastic day.’’

‘It’s after midnight.’

‘I did a cruise…’

‘And you didn’t think to call me?’

‘Call you?’ She frowned. ‘You said to only call you in emergencies.’

Mikael had had a day like no other. The moment he had got to work he had changed his mind and called the room, only to find that she had already left.

He had got through his work as best he could but had then cleared his desk for the rest of the week, berating himself for leaving her alone.

It had been a very, very long night, and now there she stood, her hair whipped by the wind, her cheeks pink from too much sun. He pulled out his phone and fired a rapid text as, unknown to Layla, he had each night she’d been there—though never as late as it was this time.

Just to let you know, Layla is fine.

‘Who are you texting at this time of night?’

‘Your brother,’ Mikael said. ‘As I have every night.’

‘Why would you do that?’ she demanded.

‘Because he cares about you, Layla.’ Mikael was having great trouble not shouting. ‘Because he must feel sick wondering just how the hell you are and whether or not you are safe, and a text—one bloody text—must surely help, just as one bloody phone call might have…’

He stopped himself. The relief he had felt as she’d walked through the door had flicked to anger and he was not used to it, for he had never really cared enough about another person, or been scared for them before.

‘You have no idea the trouble you will have caused for me!’ Layla roared. ‘My brother will be furious that I am with a man this late at night.’

‘Well, you should have thought of that,’ he said. ‘Did it never enter your head that I might be worried?’

It truly hadn’t, and her eyes told him the same—which only incensed him even further. ‘You, Layla, are the most selfish person I have ever met.’

‘Selfish?’ she shouted. ‘How dare you call me selfish? I bought you a snowglobe.’ She went to get it out of her bag, except Mikael was picking up his keys. ‘Where are you going?’

‘You’ve got a nerve to ask.’

‘Mikael…’

He didn’t answer. Instead he left, and she stood in the lovely suite alone.

She looked out to the dark sky and waited for him to come back.

And waited.

‘Where are you Mikael?’ she said to the streets below the hotel.

She loathed it. And she was starting to understand—because she wasn’t scared for him, she just missed him, and she didn’t like the row that had taken place. She was cross, too, for him texting Zahid—and yet she was starting to glimpse why he had.

Mikael was angry for about another twelve minutes and then he pulled his car over and sat on the edge of the road. The fear that had clutched him all day didn’t come close to the fear he felt as he looked at the clock on his dashboard and saw the time and the date: it dawned on him they were at the halfway mark before Layla returned to her family.

He sat there for a long time, because it took a very long time for him to process it. He had never known love nor loved anyone before.

He had cared for others—sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but he had never actually known love, and now here it was.

He didn’t want to get closer to her—there was no point, because very soon she would be gone.

When she called he didn’t pounce; he did not want to feel the way he did. But he answered his phone on the third ring.

‘I know it is wrong to call you so late…’

Layla gulped and he closed his eyes, for he did not want to be moved by her distress, and yet his heart twisted as she continued.

‘But it is an emergency of my heart, Mikael. I can’t stop crying.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SUNRISE FOUND MIKAEL back in her bed, but wearing only hipsters this time, with Layla asleep by his side. He inhaled the traces of bergamot in her hair—it was fading.

Nothing had happened last night. Layla had been crying too much and it had taken for ever for her to go to sleep.

He didn’t love her, Mikael decided in the warm light of morning. Instead, he told himself, it was as Layla herself had once said—he was attracted to her, perhaps a bit infatuated.

His world operated much more easily when it was devoid of love.

He picked up the snowglobe she had given him as she stirred awake beside him and watched snow fall for the first time on the Opera House.

‘It doesn’t snow in Sydney,’ he said. ‘Not since 1836.’

‘It’s a global warming snowglobe,’ Layla said, curling into him, loving the feel of her leg sliding over his. ‘The weather is doing crazy things everywhere.’

He stared at the settling snowflakes, wishing that she did not make him smile so easily.

If he did love her, then it was a very pointless love.

‘What time are we leaving?’ she asked, and Mikael’s jaw gritted—because just to stop her crying he had suggested that today she check out of the hotel and they go to his home.

He’d rather hoped she might have forgotten his offer. Mikael’s home was his haven. He had needed to be there the other night just to get away from the case, and he did not like sharing it with anybody else.

It was either here or to his city apartment that he brought women.

‘I was just thinking about that,’ he said. ‘It’s probably not such a good idea. There are no clubs or anything—just beach.’ He’d hoped that Layla would decline, yet she seemed delighted with the idea.

‘I would love to go to your home,’ she said. ‘And even if there aren’t any nightclubs there shall still be dancing,’ She smiled. ‘Thank you!’

She felt calmer this morning. Last night had been horrible. After Mikael had stormed off she had realised just how selfish she had been—not just to Mikael. She was glad he was putting her brother’s mind at ease but so terribly worried too, because Zahid would demand to know why Mikael had been with her at those times.

He would sort all that out, Mikael had said.

She hadn’t believed him last night, but this morning she did. Because, warm and safe in his arms, she was sure that there was nothing he could not do.

‘Before I take you to my home I have to go and see Demyan,’ Mikael said. ‘His wife has just had a baby and I need to visit. While I am gone you can sort out your stuff, and then I will come back and you can check out.’

‘What present are you taking for the baby?’

‘A snowglobe?’

‘Mikael!’ Layla scolded. ‘That was my present to you. You have to keep it for ever. Though you do have to take a present for the baby,’ she said. ‘We can go shopping and choose one, and then I would love to meet your friends. We can go on the way to your house.’

He said nothing, but Layla was becoming literally too close to home for him.

* * *

Checking her out proved just as complex as checking her in.

A case was needed for the rather remarkable amount she had accumulated, and even the chef came to say farewell to her. Terrence carried the flowers that Mikael had bought her.

It was only as they drove off that it dawned on Layla that she wouldn’t ever stay there again, and as they passed the court she struggled to come to terms with the fact that the magical day she had spent watching Mikael was the only one she would ever have.

She had planned her getting here so hard, and had been so determined to have fun and to cram all she could into her one special week, but it had never occurred to her that it might kill her to say goodbye.

And that was just to the hotel staff.

It was starting to dawn just how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to the other.

For both of them.

They stopped at the very boutique Layla had escaped from and bought a cashmere blanket and some little clothes and waited as they were giftwrapped. Then they stopped at another boutique and bought a bikini and some beach dresses for Layla, before heading to Demyan and Alina’s very luxurious penthouse.

‘What is Demyan like?’ Layla asked as they took the elevator up.

Mikael just shrugged, not quite comfortable with the cosiness of it all.

‘Surely he’s not as talkative as you?’ she teased. ‘What about his wife?’

‘I have only met her a couple of times,’ Mikael said. ‘She seems more pleasant than the first wife, but the bar was not set very high.’

Back to cynical, Mikael told himself. It was safer that way.

‘This is Layla,’ Mikael introduced her.

Alina was sitting down, holding the baby, and Demyan looked as if he hadn’t shaved or slept since they’d last spoken. Mikael tried to ignore the slight start of surprise on Demyan’s face. He had never brought a woman to his friend’s home before.

‘Actually, this is Princess Layla, and she’s on the run.’

‘You said not to tell anyone,’ Layla scolded. ‘You said that I was not to use my title.’

‘Demyan and Alina are fine,’ Mikael said. ‘Congratulations!’ He gave Alina a brief kiss on the cheek and then peered at the baby. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he duly said.

‘It’s okay, Mikael.’ Alina smiled. ‘I’m not going to breastfeed in front of you.’

Mikael actually smiled at someone who wasn’t Layla. ‘Okay, I will have a seat, then!’

Despite his reluctance to bring her along with him, Layla made the whole visit so much easier for Mikael. She handed over their gift to Alina and oohed and ahhed over the baby while Mikael and Demyan walked over to the bar, where they chatted for a while as they shared a congratulatory drink, speaking in Russian.

‘She’s gorgeous!’ Demyan said. ‘You are good together.’

‘We are good together because she’s temporary,’ Mikael said.

‘So was Alina,’ Demyan said, and they shared a wry smile because Alina had started as Demyan’s temp.

‘Well, in this instance it really is temporary. Layla has to return to her family in a few days.’ Mikael shrugged as if it really didn’t matter. ‘I’ll probably be bored with her dramas by then.’

He very much hoped that he would be.

But he doubted it very much too.

‘How is fatherhood second time around?’ Mikael asked.

‘Just as good,’ Demyan said. ‘Actually, better. I know a bit more what I am doing than I did with Roman. Alina is a natural mother.’

Even though they spoke in Russian this was all a foreign language to Mikael. What was a ‘natural mother’? He looked over to his friend—a man he had had a fist fight with a few months back, when Mikael had suggested that he stop paying child support for his son, given that Demyan’s ex-wife had told him that Roman might not be his.

Mikael had laughed then at Demyan’s passion.

He was starting to glimpse it now.

‘Why does she have to go back to her family?’ Demyan asked.

‘Because they love her,’ Mikael answered, ‘and because she loves them too.’

‘Mikael—?’ Demyan started, but Mikael shook his head.

‘Don’t.’

There was no point discussing it, for there was nothing he could do.

As they headed out to the elevator Layla was all smiles, but when the doors closed she rolled her eyes.

‘What does that mean?’ Mikael asked.

‘You know.’ Layla smiled.

‘No.’

‘All my cousins have babies, and you hold them and you smile, and you say the right thing, but…’ Layla held out her palms in a helpless gesture. ‘Then you run out of things to say.’

Very reluctantly Mikael smiled, but that was enough incentive for Layla to speak on.

‘Now Trinity and Zahid are having a baby it will be the same with them. That was how I escaped. Trinity was watching me like a hawk, but I suggested we go in a baby boutique and once we were in I might just as well have not been there.’

‘You don’t like babies?’

‘I don’t dislike them,’ she said, ‘though they do freak me out a bit, with their big heads and eyes. I know I shall love mine, but really I would love more of this.’

‘Of what?’

‘Kissing and dancing,’ she said as they stepped out of the elevator. ‘Anyway, pregnancy isn’t always a good thing…’

‘Are you worried that it might ruin your figure?’ He smiled.

Just when he thought he knew a little of what went on in her mind, Mikael found out there was so much more he didn’t know.

‘No.’ Layla shook her head as they stepped out onto the street. ‘I worry about death, given that it was pregnancy that killed my mother—she died giving birth to me.’

‘Layla…’ He went to catch her wrist but she shook it off.

‘It is not something I wish to speak about,’ she said.

‘You can.’

‘What’s the point in that?’ she challenged.

There was none.

They walked to the car in silence.

Layla was dreading a future with Hussain by her side.

Mikael felt suddenly ill at the thought of the same.

It was a bit strained on the drive to his property.

Layla was lost in her thoughts and Mikael glanced over several times, trying to work out what she was thinking. Layla wished she hadn’t told him that, for she did not like to discuss her fears about getting pregnant, and there was nothing that could be done about them anyway.

So, as they left the city behind, rather than sit in pensive silence Layla nagged him to teach her to drive instead.

‘Please, Mikael….’ she said, for perhaps the twentieth time. They were miles from anywhere and there was barely a car on the road, just mile after mile of ocean, and then a low white property came into view and she glimpsed what must be his luxurious house. ‘Please let me drive.’

‘No,’ Mikael said as they pulled up on his huge drive.

He took her case in and left it in the hall as Layla looked around.

It was like nothing she had ever seen—a green oasis, and the tropical bush land outside seemed a feature of the home.

The place gleamed with a mixture of modern appliances and a few treasured antiques. A huge black and silver globe hung in one corner, and Layla guessed rightly that it was perfectly angled.

‘I am there,’ she said, pointing straight to Ishla.

If only the world were really that small, Mikael thought as she clipped on high heels through his home.

It was terribly hard for him to comprehend that the last time he had been home Layla hadn’t existed in his world.

‘Oooh, I like your chess set.’

‘Leave it,’ he said, watching her fingers hover over his knight. It felt strange having her here—a streak of feminine beauty in a home that was very male. He did not like the way her eyes seemed to take in each ornament, or each book that lined the walls, and he tried to distract her with the delicious view.

As they walked through to the lounge there was a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean, with its waves constantly rolling in, and Mikael opened the French windows to let in the magical sound.

‘Do you want to go the beach?’ he offered.

‘Maybe later.’ She shrugged and with a complete lack of boundaries walked through the house to his bedroom, which looked out onto the water also.

‘Where are the maids?’ Layla asked with mild interest.

‘I don’t have maids,’ Mikael said. ‘I have someone who comes in daily when I am here and weekly at other times.’

‘So it really is just us?’

He should be offended, Mikael thought as she snooped through his wardrobe and then into his study, except he couldn’t be, for she simply had no concept of living alone.

She thought his home was very beautiful and absolutely intriguing. Unlike the palace, Mikael’s walls were not lined with portraits of ancestors, for he did not know from where he came. Instead the art was modern, and Layla stared at a red line on the wall that was fractured in several places before continuing and branching out.

‘What is that?’ She frowned and peered closer.

‘It’s a lifeline,’ he said, admiring his favourite piece. It had cost an absolute fortune and it spoke to him in many, many ways—not just about this past but about his clients, their victims.

‘A lifeline?’ she queried. ‘Oh, you mean like this?’ She held up her palm and then looked back at the painting and pointed to the first fracture. ‘So is this you in Russia?’