The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride

“I have a company to run,” she said lightly. “I don’t have time to think about children, certainly not for the foreseeable future.”

“But someday, you plan to marry and have children,” he prodded.

“I doubt it.” Something about him compelled her to be truthful when she’d planned to be evasive. She couldn’t bring herself to lie outright to him.

“That would be a terrible waste,” he said quietly. His gaze left hers and stroked over her face, lightly grazing her lips with an almost tangible touch. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “You’ll have beautiful children, Emily, and you’ll make a wonderful mother. You have a soft heart and good instincts.”

His deep voice thrummed along Emily’s veins, making her blood move more swiftly. His dark gaze held hers and Emily felt her bones melting, her body swaying toward his where he leaned against the wall.

The murmur of voices, growing louder as they moved nearer down the hall, snapped Emily back to awareness. She flushed. Lazhar’s fingers trailed across her hot cheek before his hand fell away and he pushed away from the wall to open the door behind her.

“Dinner’s at eight. I’ll be back to take you to the dining room. I wouldn’t want you getting lost.”

Emily murmured a thank-you and stepped inside, closing the door and sagging against it for support because her legs felt like rubber.

Lazhar Eban is a dangerous man. She moved away from the door. I bet every woman he meets falls in love with him. But not me—I can’t afford to care about him. I’m only here to plan his wedding. She shook her head at her reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror over the bathroom vanity. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark, and to her dismay, her nipples were clearly visible, pushing against the white silk blouse she wore under the jacket of her yellow linen suit.

Damn. She groaned and turned away from the woman in the mirror. Lazhar would have noticed, he’d been standing too close, his attention too focused on her, and he was too male to have missed the obvious signs of arousal.

She stripped off her clothes and turned the shower jets on, determined to have a better grip on her emotions during dinner and the planned visit to the Daniz Casino.

Lazhar knocked at his father’s open bedroom door later that evening.

“Come in.”

King Abbar was in bed. The huge mahogany bedstead had blue silk hangings, tied back with gold cord against the four heavy posts at each corner. The headboard was carved with the royal crest and a dozen fat white pillows cushioned the king’s back against the wood. The pillow shams, sheets, blankets and bedskirt were all white. The king preferred plain over opulent and while he’d left the rest of the palace’s historical decorations intact, he’d stripped his own bedchamber of all gilt and velvet the moment he ascended to the throne. The result was a room that was supremely comfortable and reflected the king’s masculine practicality.

“Good evening, Father. How are you feeling?”

“I’m well, all things considered.”

Lazhar acknowledged the king’s dry comment with a half smile as he walked across the room. Despite his father’s constant reassurances, he knew that each day was a struggle. He searched the lined face and saw the weariness in the droop of eyelids and the slump of thin shoulders once military straight. “Are you sure you want to talk? I can come back in the morning after you’re rested.”

“I’m tired, but that’s nothing new. Don’t fuss, Lazhar, I get enough of that from your mother. Sit, sit.” Abbar gestured at the chair next to the bed, but didn’t wait for Lazhar to drop into it before he continued. “I like your Emily. I confess I had doubts when you told me that you’d chosen Walter Parks’s daughter as your bride, but I was most pleasantly surprised when I met her today. She’s nothing like her father. In fact, I quite liked her.”

Tension that Lazhar hadn’t realized existed eased at his father’s words. Relieved, he crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, leaned back in the chair, and chuckled. “I thought you would. And no, she’s definitely nothing like her father.”

“The connection with Walter Parks may turn out to be more of a problem than an asset. Are you sure you want to be involved in business dealings with him? He has a reputation for ruthlessness among the gem traders.”

“I can handle him.”

“What about the rumors that he’s been involved in illegal activity? I read the newspaper articles you faxed me from San Francisco and I have to wonder whether Parks is a company we should associate ourselves with.”

“What I learned about Parks while I was in San Francisco leads me to believe that the company is strong, but that Walter Parks may have reached the end of what could be a dirty career path. I had the impression that what was printed in the newspaper might be just the tip of the iceberg.”

The king pursed his lips, his gaze shrewd. “And in spite of those problems, you don’t think a business association between Daniz and his company will tarnish our reputation?”

“No. The deal is airtight and I’ve had every aspect of the contract details checked. Walter Parks’s personal life may self-destruct, but the Parks company won’t, certainly not in the mining venture that we’ll be involved in.”

“Very well. Does Emily know about the connection between you and her father?”

“No, and I don’t want her to until I’m ready to tell her.”

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The king shook his head. “She doesn’t appear to be the kind of woman who will easily forgive being lied to.”

“I’m not lying to her. I’ve never told her I didn’t know her father.”

“Hmph. Perhaps not. But you’re lying by omission when you purposely keep silent because you know that the acquaintance would affect how she feels about you.”

“You’re probably right,” Lazhar admitted reluctantly. “I plan to tell her, but not until we know each other better. If I tell her now that I’m considering joining her father in a gem mining operation, she’ll write me off as just another of her father’s business associates obsessed with jewels. I need time.”

“Then you’d better hope that she doesn’t learn the truth before you tell her.” Abbar considered his son for a moment. “What made you choose Emily over all the other women you know? You hadn’t met her before this week, had you?”

“No. I’ve been to San Francisco on business more than once but our paths never crossed at any of the gem market functions and after hearing her comments about how she views the industry, I’m not surprised. I doubt she attended very many jewel conferences.”

“So you literally had never seen her until Walter Parks sent her photo to you?”

“No, I’d never seen her.”

“What was it about her picture that was so intriguing?” King Abbar’s voice was mildly curious.

Lazhar shrugged. “She’s a very beautiful woman.”

“True,” the king agreed. “But there are many beautiful women in the world. And if gossip can be believed, you’ve dated several hundred.”

Lazhar’s gaze sharpened, scanning his father’s face. “Gossip? Who’s been telling you tales?”

Abbar waved a hand dismissingly. “No one important. Don’t worry, Lazhar, I’m aware that you’ve been very circumspect about the women you’ve associated with since college. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know their names, or that I haven’t seen them, either in photos or in person.”

Lazhar shook his head, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward. “You have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Yes,” Abbar said mildly. “I’m the king, it’s my job to know these things. And since I’m well aware of the long list of women friends you have, I’m even more curious as to why, out of all the women you know, you chose Emily Parks?”

“Besides the fact that she’s beautiful, well-educated and socially adept so she can cope with the responsibilities of being part of our family, Walter made marriage to her part of his business proposal.”

“Marrying solely to gain an edge in a business deal doesn’t sound wise, Lazhar.” A frown wrinkled Abbar’s forehead.

“That’s not the only reason,” Lazhar said dryly. “I suppose I should admit that I took one look at her picture and wanted to bed her. That didn’t change once I’d met her, in fact, it’s grown stronger.”

“Ah.” The two exchanged a very male look of understanding. “Perhaps not the single best reason for marrying, but certainly important.” Abbar’s shrewd gaze studied Lazhar. “Did you reach any other conclusions about your Emily when you met her face-to-face that convinced you she was the woman you wanted to marry?”

Lazhar had an instant memory of Emily and Walter’s housekeeper talking about her yearning for a family. “Yes.” His gaze met Abbar’s. “She wants to marry and have children, but seems to have given up on the possibility. I can give her what she wants and needs, in return, I’ll get what I want and need. It’s a good bargain.”

“But you haven’t told her any of this?”

“Not yet.”

“Ah.” King Abbar shifted against the pillows. “I think you should find a way to tell her your plans as soon as possible. Women can be unreasonable if they get the misguided impression that we’re not consulting their wishes.”

Lazhar mentally winced. His father was right, he thought, and Emily already had good cause to be displeased with him after he’d whisked her away from San Francisco without consulting her.

“You’re right, Father. I’ll tell her as soon as I can think of a way to bring up the subject without causing her to run straight back to San Francisco.”

“I think you have your work cut out for you, son,” Abbar said with a smile of commiseration.

Lazhar read the growing signs of weariness on his father’s face and in the greater slump of his shoulders. He glanced at his watch and stood. “I promised Emily I’d collect her for dinner. I don’t want her to get lost.” He bent and kissed King Abbar’s forehead. “good-night. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“good-night, my son.”

Emily planned to wear the Vera Wang cocktail dress that evening, the one she’d first donned for dinner with Lazhar in San Francisco. But when she walked into her closet to look for the little black dress, she gave in to temptation and slipped into a sinfully sexy, ankle-length, emerald-green evening gown. The lace-covered bodice was cut straight across the upper curve of her breasts and the short sleeves cupped her shoulders, leaving the long line of her throat and creamy shoulders bare. The dress was a slim, straight tube of emerald lace over satin, slit up the side to her thigh. Emily stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d owned designer gowns since she was in her teens but she’d never had a dress that made her feel so alive. The color made her eyes glow a deeper, more mysterious green; her hair gleamed with golden highlights under the dressing room lights; her skin smooth and lightly tan against the delicate emerald lace.

I shouldn’t, she thought, torn with indecision. But on the other hand, will the queen be offended if I don’t wear the clothes she ordered for me?

Her conscience was still arguing with her love of pretty clothes when a light rap sounded at the door. The clock on the mantel read seven forty-five.

“You’re early,” she said as she opened the door for Lazhar and turned to collect her Palm Pilot from the delicate French table just inside the doorway.

“I know,” Lazhar acknowledged as she stepped into the hall and he closed the door. “What’s this?”

“This?” Emily held up the small electronic day-planner.

“Yes, that.”

“It’s my planner.”

“I know what an electronic day-planner is, Emily, I use one myself. What I don’t know is why you’re taking it to dinner.”

“It’s easier to carry than a notepad and pen. If your mother or sister discuss any details they think should be included in your wedding, I can jot down notes so I won’t forget.”

“Emily,” Lazhar halted her by the simple method of closing his hand around her arm. “This is just a casual family dinner. You don’t need to take notes.”

“But….”

“No buts.” He slipped the Palm Pilot out of her hand and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “You can take all the notes you like tomorrow, but for tonight, forget about work, okay? My mother is looking forward to meeting you, and Jenna to seeing you once again.”

Emily sighed and gave in. “All right. But if you really want this wedding to take place in six months, then I must start the preliminary work tomorrow. And I need to contact my office first thing in the morning to check with my assistant and verify that she isn’t having any problems with clients that I need to resolve since I left without talking to anyone. Early tomorrow, I must get back to work,” she said firmly as he tucked her hand through his arm and resumed their walk down the corridor.

“Of course,” he assured her.

But the amused glint in his eyes and the grin he gave her made Emily shake her head. “Just remember, you’re the one who said he wanted a wedding celebration put together in a very short time,” she said.

“I know. I promise I’ll let you take all the notes you want tomorrow.”

An hour later, Emily was thoroughly charmed by the queen, who insisted that Emily call her Caroline, and she was reminded again how much she’d liked Jenna Eban when they’d met at her friend’s San Francisco wedding.

“Have you seen Angela since her wedding?” Emily asked over dessert.

“Twice,” Jenna nodded. “She was in Paris with her husband three months ago and I met them there for the weekend. And I flew to San Francisco six months before that to stay with her for a week.”

“And both times she brought home a plane load full of new clothes,” Lazhar commented, a smile tilting his lips as he sipped his wine.

Jenna shrugged. “We shopped,” she admitted. Her dark eyes were bright with mischief. “It was Paris and San Francisco, after all, how could we not shop?”

“Easily,” her brother said. “Your closets were already full. What did you do with all the clothes you must have thrown out to make room for the new ones?”

“I donated them to charity,” Jenna replied. “Mother and I packed two boxes and took them to the Sisters of Mercy Hospital for their annual fund-raiser. The nuns were delighted to get them.”

“I’m sure they were. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them had never been worn.”

“Not true!” Jenna shook her head. “Absolutely not true. I didn’t give away anything that I hadn’t worn several times.”

Caroline smiled at Emily. “Lazhar always teases us about the number of gowns we buy, but we’re often photographed and the press has an amazing ability to remember if we wear an outfit more than two or three times.” She sighed. “It’s a shame, really, because I’ve had to give up some gowns and suits that I truly loved.”

“Except for her Chanel suits.” Jenna put in. “She can’t bear to part with them.”

“They’re classics,” Caroline said firmly. “And I have to draw the line somewhere. Besides, I really adore those suits.”

“It’s not easy being a queen,” Lazhar said to Emily, his deep voice filled with affectionate teasing as he grinned at his mother.

“That’s true,” Caroline said promptly. “Your family is well-known in San Francisco, Emily, and I’m sure the society photographers follow you. Do you have this problem?”

“Very rarely. Now that I’m an adult and no longer live at home, I seldom attend functions with my father. But when he requires the family’s appearance at one of the charity dinners or fundraisers that the Parks company supports, I try to make sure I never wear the same dress twice.”

“How do you do that?” Jenna asked.

“I taped a list to the inside of my closet door and write down dates, events and what I wear to each one.”

“Emily likes to make lists,” Lazhar commented.

“I like to be organized,” she corrected him calmly, determined to ignore the shiver of attraction she felt each time he smiled at her.

“Mother and I make lists, too,” Jenna added. “Except my maid keeps track of what I wore where and when. Mother’s secretary keeps a running total for her.”

“I have a staff of two terrific women at the office that keep track of my business appointments,” Emily commented. “I’d be lost without them.”

“It’s the same for Jenna and I, as well as Lazhar and his father. Our commitments to appear at functions on behalf of the crown are a part of our family business,” Caroline said. “Without staff to assist us, we’d be hopelessly lost in no time.”

“Do royal functions take up all of your time?” Emily asked, curious.

“A great deal of it,” Caroline responded. “I always make time to spend with the family, of course. And Jenna has cut back on some of her volunteer work because she’s become more involved with the day-to-day running of the palace stables since my husband asked Lazhar to take over as head of Daniz security.”

“Mother also spends one day a week at the Sisters of Mercy Hospital,” Lazhar said. “Volunteering in the children’s ward.”

“I trained as a pediatrics nurse before marrying Abbar,” Caroline explained to Emily. “And although my other duties make it impossible to have a full-time career outside the palace, I like to keep my hand in at the hospital.”

“And she gets to hold the babies.” Jenna winked at Emily, a mischievous smile lighting her face. “I think that’s the real reason she never misses her time at the hospital.”

“Until you and your brother give me grandchildren, I have every intention of cooing at babies in the maternity ward every chance I get.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, Lazhar chuckled, and their mother serenely sipped her coffee, ignoring them both.

Just like an ordinary family, teasing each other over dinner, Emily thought. Only this family lives in a royal palace and their husband and father is the king. She found it amazing that they were so warm and approachable. Lazhar was relaxed and open, teasing his younger sister, affectionately attentive to his mother. The cool businessman she’d first met in her San Francisco office was absent, replaced in this private setting by a son and brother who clearly loved his family.

She was having trouble keeping her perspective. It was increasingly difficult to think of Lazhar as a client when everything about him seemed to have been tailor-made to fit her private dream of the perfect man.

He’s not perfect, she told herself firmly. This is the guy that tricked you into boarding a plane and then flew you to a foreign country without first asking your permission.

A small voice reminded her that Lazhar had an understandable reason for doing so, but she ignored it. She needed reasons to convince her foolish heart that Lazhar wasn’t a perfect prince. She’d take what she could get.

Emily was still contemplating the unwise attraction she felt for Lazhar when they left the palace for the Daniz casino. They’d said goodnight to Jenna and Caroline after dessert—Caroline leaving to look in on her husband and Jenna off to join friends at a small birthday party. Emily had hoped Lazhar’s sister would join them to provide a buffer between herself and the prince, but Jenna waved goodbye with a promise to see them the next morning.

Fortunately for Emily’s peace of mind, Lazhar seemed intent on playing tour guide as the black Mercedes limousine wound through the narrow streets. The city seemed even more exotic and foreign to Emily under cover of night, the narrow streets sometimes shadowed, sometimes brightly lit.

“The casino provides employment for many of our citizens as well as generating income for the monarchy,” Lazhar said as they turned a corner onto a wide avenue.

A short block away, the avenue ended in the circular driveway facing the casino.

“It looks like photos I’ve seen of the Opera House in Paris. Is there a connection?” Enchanted, Emily smiled with delight and looked at Lazhar for confirmation.

“The architect was Charles Garnier, who also designed the Paris Opera House and the Monte Carlo Casino in Monaco.” Lazhar leaned closer and his fingertip brushed her cheek, just to the left of the corner of her mouth. “When you smile, you have dimples.” His voice was distracted, his gaze intent.

Emily forgot to breathe. Warmth lingered where the tip of his finger had touched her. “I know. You haven’t noticed them before?”

“I noticed. But they aren’t always there.”

A tiny frown of confusion pleated her brow. “They aren’t?”

“No. Only when you really smile, like you did just now, do they appear.” His voice was deeper, the smooth tones roughened and faintly uneven.

“I didn’t know,” she murmured, held by the heat in his eyes and the slow, repeated brush of his fingers against the spot near the corner of her mouth. He bent nearer, his big hand cupping her chin, his fingertips gently covering the frantically beating pulse in her throat. He was going to kiss her. Emily desperately wanted him to; her lashes lowered, her gaze fastened on his mouth as he drew closer.

The car stopped moving.

Despite the opaque glass that separated them from the driver and bodyguard in front, Lazhar heard the passenger door open and knew that he had only seconds. He forced his fingers to leave Emily’s silky, warm skin and eased away from her. Her lashes lifted and she stared at him, clearly disoriented.

“We’re at the casino,” he murmured, watching her. The bemusement cleared from her eyes and she glanced over his shoulder just as the door opened behind him.

“So we are.” Her cheeks were flushed but her voice was calm, composed.

Lazhar wished he were as cool but frustration tightened his muscles and he had to quell the urge to pull the door shut, take her in his arms and to hell with the crowd gathering outside. Instead, he slid out of the car and turned to hold out his hand to Emily.

The thigh-high slit in her gown’s skirt allowed a tantalizing glimpse of shapely leg, ankle and strappy heeled sandals as she took his hand and let him draw her out of the limo. The casino security staff stood in a semicircle, creating an oasis among the elegantly dressed crowd of onlookers.

Someone called to Lazhar and he lifted a hand, smiling with cool ease before tucking Emily’s hand through his arm and bending closer. “The security staff will escort us into the casino. Don’t worry, just keep walking and smile and wave.”

Lightbulbs flashed, excited Danizians and tourists called hellos as they moved quickly across the forecourt and through the wide bronze doors into the casino’s huge foyer.

The security staff, each holding a walkie-talkie in their hand and wearing headpieces that allowed them to hear, escorted them across the marble floor to a series of arched doorways.

Emily’s eyes widened as they paused at the top of the shallow stairs just past one of the rocococarved doorways. Before them stretched the main floor of the casino. Carpeted in plush red, with enormous Waterford crystal chandeliers suspended from the domed ceiling, the gaming tables a mix of turn-of-the-century mahogany and state-of-the-art machines, the Daniz Casino was awash in a glittering, shifting crowd of tuxedo-clad men and designer-gowned women.

The air hummed with excitement and tension.

“Oh, this is marvelous. What fun.” She turned to Lazhar, smiling with anticipation. “I love it.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He nearly groaned with frustration. He wondered how long she’d want to play? How long till they would once again be in the dark privacy of the limo and he could touch her again, taste her as he wanted to? “What do you prefer? Cards? Roulette? Dice?”

“I have no idea.” She smiled at him again before her fascinated gaze drifted over the scene before them. “I’ve only been to Las Vegas a couple of times and I tried my hand at blackjack, but only because the friend I was with played.”

“Friend?” The swift stab of dark jealousy took Lazhar by surprise.