Читать книгу Royal Temptation - Carol Marinelli - Страница 14

CHAPTER SIX

LAYLA AWOKE TO the gorgeous scent of Mikael.

Or rather the gorgeous scent of Mikael’s shirt, and she lay there remembering him bathing her and how cross but kind he had been. There was a flurry low in her stomach as she remembered toppling into him and smiling up at him, telling him that she liked him.

She still did.

Yes, he was a commoner, but she only had six days now and Mikael, Layla decided, would be her romance for the week.

Layla picked up the phone by the bed and ordered a thinly sliced apple, some mint tea and iced water and then padded out to the lounge, where Mikael was stretched out asleep on the sofa.

He looked so different asleep, Layla thought as she stood over him.

He appeared a lot less cross and he had shadows under his eyes like those Layla had had once had when she’d caught a cold. She looked at his chin. In all the photos she had seen he had been clean-shaven, but she loved his stubbly jaw.

Layla’s eyes drifted from his face to his body, which was just as beautiful.

His skin was pale and his flat nipples were the same dark red as his lips. She liked his flat stomach, and she blew out a guilty breath as she saw the snake of hair that led from his navel. She knew she should not be looking there and so moved her eyes back to his face instead. She watched him wake, his grey eyes frowning into hers. A look of concern darted across his face.

‘Good morning!’ Layla smiled down at him.

‘What time is it?’ Mikael asked with a horrible, panicked feeling that he might have overslept.

‘Sunrise!’ Layla smiled again and then turned when there was a knock at the door. Mikael watched as a trolley was wheeled in.

‘You’ve ordered breakfast?’

‘No, just something to cleanse my palate—my mouth is very dry.’

‘I bet it is,’ Mikael said, watching as she nibbled on her apple while walking over to the window.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Layla said, looking out at the Sydney skyline. The Opera House looked gold in the morning sun and the whole city was gleaming and beckoning. ‘I’m trying to think what to do today.’

‘I’ve already decided,’ Mikael said, picking up her glass of sparkling water and draining it. ‘You’re joining me at work.’ He’d decided that just before dozing off. ‘You can sit in the public gallery.’

‘Really?’ Layla beamed. ‘How exciting!’

‘And you’re to behave and be quiet.’

‘I do know how to behave,’ Layla retorted.

Mikael looked at that mane of black hair and those very long brown legs and tried not to wonder if she had panties on; instead he turned his mind to think about clothes for her. Dressed in the silver tunic she had arrived in, or any of the clothes she had bought last night, she would bring the court down!

‘We need to tone you down, Layla.’ Mikael stood and rang down to the desk, not caring who needed to be awoken in order to facilitate his request.

‘Why do I need to be toned down?’

‘Because you don’t want your brother to find you… And anyway,’ he told her, ‘today it’s my turn to shine.’

‘Oh, Mikael…’ Layla smiled. ‘I cannot wait.’

A selection of outfits was brought to the suite for Layla to try, and Mikael ordered coffee too.

‘I’m hungry,’ Layla moaned, coming out of the bedroom in a navy shift dress and screwing up her nose.

Mikael was putting his shirt back on—it was still warm from her.

‘We’ll have breakfast out,’ Mikael said, because he liked to eat at his favourite café during a trial and he was not changing his routine for Layla. ‘That looks nice.’

‘You wear it, then,’ she said. ‘It makes me feel miserable.’

She selected another outfit and headed back to the bedroom. The pale grey linen suit looked very drab to Layla, but when she put it on the skirt was nice and short, and with a silver cami and the jacket’s sleeves rolled up she liked it.

‘I’m ready,’ she said, stepping out of the bedroom and putting on her silver jewelled slippers. ‘And I’m very, very hungry, Mikael.’

There was no chance of outshining Layla, Mikael thought, because she looked stunning. ‘Don’t you want to do your make-up?’ he asked—because wasn’t that what every woman did?

She wasn’t every woman, though…

Layla shook her head. ‘I will only wear make-up for my future husband. Come on, Mikael, I need to eat soon or I will faint.’

‘I won’t be picking you up if you do,’ he said.

Mikael’s choice of café was a trendy converted warehouse that was frequented by his peers, who would all leave him alone, knowing that he wouldn’t want small talk this morning or best wishes for the day.

‘This is near the hotel where my brother and Trinity are,’ Layla commented.

‘Now do you see why I wanted you in different clothes?’ Mikael said, and she nodded. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added, ‘even if we see them, you’re having your week.’

Heads turned as they walked in. Not because Mikael was with a woman, more because Mikael was with a woman this close to the end of a trial—and what a woman she was!

Waving and smiling to anyone who caught her eye, Layla was surprised when they didn’t wave back.

‘Are you nervous about today?’ Layla asked, but then the waiter handed her a menu. She looked at it for a moment and then handed it back to him. ‘I can’t read or write English,’ she said, and beamed.

Mikael watched as Joel just about fell to the floor as she aimed her smile at him.

‘I’ll order,’ Mikael said, because Joel would clearly be only too happy to go through the entire menu for her. ‘Just fruit and pastries,’ Mikael said, ‘and two coffees—and two on sub. Actually, just a regular cappuccino for my guest,’ he said, because he always had an extra shot, and a high-on-caffeine Layla he wasn’t sure he could handle.

‘You drink a lot of coffee,’ she commented.

‘Because I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,’ he said, and then realised what she meant. He had ordered four coffees. ‘Two are on sub…’

Mikael let out a breath as she frowned. Just one easy conversation where he didn’t have to explain everything would be welcome, but that wasn’t going to happen this century.

‘If someone needs a coffee and they don’t have any money then they can ask if there are any on sub.’

She still looked bemused.

‘Do you have homeless people in Ishla?’

‘I believe so, but my father refuses to discuss those sort of issues with me.’

Those sort of issues.

Mikael was less than impressed when she wrinkled up her nose.

‘They’re people, Layla,’ Mikael said. He didn’t order those coffees without reason. How much easier would his life have been had he been able to get a warm drink or a sandwich just by asking. For a long while Mikael had scrimped or scavenged for every morsel. He remembered that every time he ordered food, and he did not take kindly to some pampered princess screwing up her nose.

‘Of course they are people,’ Layla said, ‘but it is an issue, no?’ She shrugged her shoulders, but not in a dismissive way. ‘I am not to worry about such things, apparently.’

She looked over to him and Mikael realised that again he had misread her when she spoke on.

‘But I do.’

The coffee was lovely, Layla declared, thanking Joel profusely for the shake of chocolate on the top of her frothy milk. ‘What an amazing combination,’ Layla said, as if Joel himself had invented cappuccino.

‘You didn’t answer me before,’ Layla said once Joel had gone. ‘Are you nervous about today?’

‘I’m never nervous,’ Mikael said.

‘Never?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m prepared for today.’

‘Good! So I will start my magical week listening to you in court. I’m looking forward to it so much.’

She wasn’t being sarcastic, but Mikael took a second to realise it.

‘Layla—’ he started, because what had seemed the most sensible idea when he had fallen asleep in the small hours felt more than a touch uncomfortable now. ‘Some of the things that I say today…some of the things you might hear..’

‘It’s fine!’ she dismissed.

‘It’s really not fine…’ He breathed out, for today he was going to discredit the deceased. Today was not a day during which Mikael would be endearing himself to anyone. But immediately Layla waved his concerns away.

‘I’ve been following the trial. I know what he did.’

‘What he’s accused of doing,’ Mikael corrected, but she just shrugged.

‘He should be fed to the dogs!’ she said, and then looked straight at him. ‘And in my country that isn’t just a saying.’

The whole café seemed to fall silent as the impossible happened.

Mikael Romanov laughed.

At seven a.m. near the end of a trial.

‘So,’ Mikael said as their breakfast was served, ‘apart from dancing and getting drunk, what else is on your bucket list?’ He chose to explain that before she asked him to. ‘Your to-do list.’

‘Oh…’ Layla smiled. ‘This.’

‘What?’

‘This is on my list—I wanted to share a meal in a restaurant with a sexy man. But in my plan it was in the evening and we were holding hands.’

‘This is a café,’ Mikael said, ‘and I don’t hold hands. What else?’

‘I’m not telling you,’ Layla said, popping blueberries in her mouth.

‘Go on,’ he pushed, ‘tell me.’

‘If you take me dancing tonight I will tell you some more.’

‘I’m not dancing till the jury is in,’ Mikael said, ‘and if today goes well then you’ll be long gone by then.’

‘Then you won’t ever find out.’ Layla shrugged.

‘How about dinner tonight?’ he offered.

‘Somewhere romantic?’ Layla checked.

‘I don’t do romance.’

‘Oh. Well.’ She shrugged again. ‘Your loss. I might have to find another person to fulfil my wishes.’

* * *

When they arrived at chambers a rather bemused Wendy took Layla over to the court while Mikael showered and changed into a fresh suit, and then he sat for a long quiet hour going through everything in his mind, over and over. He scratched out phrases, honed in on words, re-examined every angle, just to plant that seed of beyond reasonable doubt.

As court resumed Mikael glanced up at the public gallery just once to check that she was there.

She was smiling down at him.

In black robes and a wig Mikael looked even more incredible than he had when he had been on her computer.

His voice, when finally he commenced his closing argument, had the goosebumps rising on Layla’s arms, for it was rich and deep and reached every corner of the courtroom. It was her privilege to sit, absolutely mesmerised, as Mikael set to work.

On many occasions throughout the long day Mikael rather wished that Layla had left, for what he had to say was not pretty.

There was a furious audible gasp from the gallery as he reminded the jury of a witness’s testimony—an ex-boyfriend of the deceased had stated that she preferred her sex rough.

God, no wonder he was loathed by so many, Mikael thought as the lights in court seemed to flicker as social media lit up, demanding that Romanov’s guts should be hated.

Still he did not look up to the public gallery.

‘My client has never denied that intercourse took place before the deceased fell in the stairwell,’ Mikael said. ‘Nor has he denied that the sex was violent. But that was by mutual consent.’

Still he did not look up—even when the judge called for someone to be removed from the public gallery for shouting obscenities at Mikael.

He pointed to the gallery once, though, as order was restored. ‘Up there is emotion,’ he reminded the jurors. ‘Down here we examine facts.’

The court broke for lunch and Layla hoped he would come and find her, so that she could tell him how well he was doing, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where’s Mikael?’ Layla asked Wendy, who was walking towards her.

‘He just texted me and asked if I would take you to lunch.’

‘Oh.’

‘What would you like to eat?’ Wendy asked as they stood in a café, and Layla frowned. It was so much easier with Mikael.

‘What that man is eating,’ Layla said.

‘A burger?’

Layla nodded.

‘With the lot?’ Wendy checked.

Layla had no idea what she meant, but nodded.

Despite the company, it was possibly the best meal of Layla’s life—and then it was back to court to watch Mikael at his savage best.

‘My client has freely admitted that he was angry she had stayed out so late, and that she was drunk when she got home and an argument ensued. Arguments happen—so does make-up sex.’

The lights flickered again.

Hour by hour he shredded the prosecution’s arguments, twisted words, questioned statements of so-called fact, reminded the jury of the amount of alcohol and drugs involved, inching them towards his conclusion.

‘Did she ask the paramedics to get him away from her?’ Mikael demanded. ‘Did she plead with the treating doctors and nurses to keep this monster away? No, she did not. In fact, as we heard from the senior nurse who took her to the operating theatre where she subsequently died, she asked to see her boyfriend.’

Mikael watched as a couple of jurors frowned.

‘Does that sound like a woman in abject terror? Does that sound like a woman who had been raped and beaten in a stairwell to you?’

Mikael was the second most hated man in Australia today.

His client was the first.

But for Igor he delivered the best defence he knew how.