Читать книгу Royal Temptation: Protecting the Desert Princess / Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation / The Prince's Second Chance - Carol Marinelli, Brenda Harlen - Страница 12

CHAPTER FIVE

WHERE TO HOUSE the runaway princess? Mikael thought as her eyes lit on his chessboard and she walked across his office.

‘Leave it!’ he warned, because he played against himself and chess was part of his process when he was working through a case and needed fifteen minutes away from it at a time.

‘But I can see checkmate!’ Layla said.

‘Layla!’ Mikael warned again, and strode over. ‘Leave it!’

He pointed his finger at her and blinked as her teeth made a biting noise and she smiled widely at him.

She was like a little wild animal.

Sex had previously been the last thing on his mind.

That would happen after the trial—as soon as possible after the trial—when Mikael would make up for all he had missed out on as he surfaced to the world.

Sex, though, was right at the front of his mind now—and starting to make itself known elsewhere.

‘Come on.’ His voice was brusque as he opened his office door. ‘Wendy…’ he called as Layla followed him out, but then Mikael halted. It would be easier to drop her off himself than explain it all to Wendy, so they walked together to his car.

‘This is your car!’ Layla clearly approved. ‘It is very beautiful.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’d love to drive it.’

‘But then I’d have to kill you,’ Mikael said, opening the passenger side door for her.

‘You are much more polite than the taxi driver,’ Layla said.

Mikael got in himself and before driving off called his favourite hotel.

He glanced over to Layla. Yes, he told Reservations, he would have his usual luxury suite.

‘Right, I’ve booked you into a hotel. I’ll cover it, and we can sort out money some other time.’

‘You have your retainer.’

‘I do.’ Mikael sighed, imagining trying to cash a rare ruby. ‘Put your seatbelt on.’

‘Pardon?’ Layla frowned. ‘The taxi driver said the same.’

‘And did you?’

Clearly not.

‘You need to.’

It should have been easy to reach over and do it himself, except she started to laugh as if he was tickling her as he leant over to retrieve the belt and suddenly there was nothing straightforward about the way Mikael was feeling as his nostrils delivered to his brain its first hit of the exotic aroma of Layla close up.

‘What are you doing?’ She was giddy from the brief contact.

‘Putting on your seatbelt.’ He pulled the belt out, trying to ignore the scent of her and the sound of her laughter as he clicked it in. ‘Don’t you wear seatbelts in Ishla?’

‘I don’t,’ Layla said. ‘The same thing happened on the plane.’ Then she turned and looked at him. ‘Though it wasn’t as much fun.’

Mikael said nothing. He just drove to the hotel. But he could feel her eyes on him.

‘You’re not a very happy person, are you?’ Layla observed.

‘It’s not a requisite for my job.’

‘You’re not working now.’

‘Yes, Layla,’ Mikael said, ‘I am. Believe me, it would have been far cheaper to get a chauffeur-driven limousine with a trained monkey in the back peeling grapes for you than to have me drive you.’ He turned and saw her frown. ‘You’ll see the breakdown on my bill.’

‘I want that monkey!’ Layla said, then pouted when she got no response from Mikael. ‘You didn’t laugh at my joke.’

‘I wasn’t sure if it was one,’ he admitted, but then turned and gave her a brief smile. ‘It was a good one, though!’

They got out at the hotel and Mikael gave the parking attendant his keys, telling him he’d be out shortly and not to park the car. They walked through to check in.

‘I’ll see you to your room and then I need to go back and do some work.’

‘That’s fine.’

Heads were turning, Mikael realised, and not just turning. People were craning their necks to get a glimpse of Layla as she glided along beside him. As he checked her in under his name he explained that there was no luggage.

‘You might want to…’ He turned to see if she needed some cash but she was no longer beside him. Mikael saw her wandering into one of the hotel’s boutiques.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said to the receptionist, and then strode through the foyer and into the boutique.

‘I like!’ Layla said, holding up a very glittery, very high shoe. She sat down and kicked off her silver slipper and held out her foot to him, just as the assistant called over that she would be there in a moment.

Even her feet were beautiful, Mikael thought. Long and slender and, yes, clearly irresistible—because with barely a thought he was helping her on with the shoe.

The sole of her foot was a soft as a kitten’s paw and Mikael tried to ignore the feel of her skin and the scent of her hair as she bent forward as he tried to slip it on.

‘It doesn’t fit!’ Layla exclaimed.

‘You’re like Cinderella in reverse.’

‘Why doesn’t it fit?’ Layla demanded, because in Ishla her shoes were hand-made and fitted beautifully. This she could not even get her foot in.

‘Because this isn’t Planet Layla,’ Mikael said. ‘Come on.’

‘But I want—’

‘Layla.’ His voice was stern. Mikael was fast losing patience as she followed him to the elevators. ‘I don’t have time to be taking you shoe-shopping, I deliver my closing argument tomorrow…’

Not that she’d understand that, Mikael thought as he swiped a card for the lift and handed it to her. ‘You need to use this to take the lift and to get into your suite.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Twenty-fourth floor,’ Mikael said, pressing the button.

‘How did court go today?’ Layla asked.

‘Not very well.’

‘He must be very difficult to defend,’ Layla said.

Mikael shrugged and offered his usual response to that statement. ‘Not difficult for me,’ he said.

‘It’s an interesting case, though,’ Layla said. ‘Her silence is his defence.’

He had assumed that she was talking morally.

For once he was wrong.

‘You really have been following it.’ Mikael didn’t even hide the slight surprise in his voice.

‘Of course,’ Layla said. ‘I wanted to know who I would be dealing with.’

He showed her around the suite and where everything was, and then he showed her the phone. ‘If you want anything ring—’

‘You.’

‘No, you ring the desk.’

‘What if I need to speak with you?’

‘Please don’t need to speak with me,’ he said.

He went to get out his business card but then changed his mind and wrote his personal number down on a pad on the desk.

‘Emergencies only,’ he warned, but she wasn’t listening. She was at the window, her eyes glittering as she eyed the city streets below. He was starting to understand Zahid’s concern—because how the hell would she manage out there?

‘Can I ask that you don’t go out tonight?’

She briefly turned and gave him a scoffing look. ‘You think I did all this just to stay in my room?’

‘Layla, I have a huge case on.’ Mikael let out a breath. ‘But tomorrow night I’ll take you out.’

‘Really?’

‘Or possibly the next night.’

Layla rolled her eyes. ‘Good evening, Mikael, thank you for your help with my brother. You’re dismissed for today.’

He could not dismiss her from his mind, though.

Well, he’d have to.

Mikael returned to chambers and finally sat down to work through his closing argument. If he was lucky he’d get a couple of hours’ sleep.

Mikael was very good at shutting the world out when needed.

This was his passion.

Over and over the prosecution’s closing he went, looking for holes, for the one little thing that might plant reasonable doubt.

He already had it—in fact Mikael had long known that it was all he had. Layla had got it exactly: the victim’s silence was his client’s only defence.

He might be getting more than two hours’ sleep after all, he thought, and his mind briefly drifted to Layla. He wondered how she was doing in a strange city on her first night out of Ishla.

Not his problem.

He walked over to the chessboard to take a small break and stared at it for ages.

It wasn’t even close to checkmate.

Was it?

Mikael looked again, for a considerably longer time.

No.

He made his move.

Mikael got back to his computer screen but there was a gnawing of anxiety in his mind. To ease it he picked up the phone and called the hotel and asked what had been charged to his room.

Several Irish coffees, toiletries and two peeled and thinly sliced apples, he was told for starters. But then that gnaw started to burn as he heard about the dresses and shoes that had also been charged to the suite, and that the car was almost ready to collect them.

‘Cancel the car,’ Mikael said.

Cursing, he reloaded his briefcase and headed out to his car, making light work of the dark city streets. At the hotel he tossed his keys at the valet and made his way up to the twenty-fourth floor—only to meet Layla, stepping into the elevator as he came out.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I am looking for my driver…’

Mikael tried not to notice how gorgeous she looked in a tight red dress, and he also tried not to recall how soft her feet were as he saw that she had managed to get the shoes in her size.

Then he looked at black eyes that were almost crossing as they tried to focus.

‘You’re drunk!’ Mikael accused.

‘Am I?’ Layla said, sounding very pleased with herself.

‘No way are you going out tonight,’ Mikael said, frogmarching her back to her suite.

‘You can’t stop me.’

‘I’ll call your brother, then,’ Mikael said. ‘Because I’m not going to police you.’

He pulled out his phone the second they got into her suite. There were glasses everywhere, and dresses and shoes; it was clear that Layla was seriously going all out for her week of fun.

‘You will not call Zahid!’ Layla roared. ‘I am an adult. I am capable of making my own decisions.’

‘Fine, then,’ he snapped. ‘But I’m warning you: it would be beyond foolish for you to go out in that state, but if you choose to then that’s up to you.’ He turned to leave and yet he couldn’t. ‘Where exactly are you planning to go tonight?’

‘I want to go to a club—to dance.’

‘With…?’ Mikael looked at her and tried to ignore her gorgeousness, tried to be cross. And yet he was tempted to laugh. What did she do to his head? ‘Have you got any money, Layla?’

‘No.’

‘Have you any idea of the trouble you could get into?’

She just looked at him, and suddenly it was very easy for Mikael to be cross—just not with her.

‘My current client isn’t the only bastard out there, Layla.’

‘Mikael…’

‘No, you need to hear this.’

‘Mikael, help me!’

He watched her beautiful face pale and her hand clutch her throat.

‘I think…’ Layla said. ‘I think that I’m…’

He got her to the bathroom just in time.

Never in his life had he done this, and never again would he do this, but Mikael stood holding her silky black hair as she knelt in the bathroom.

‘I should ring your brother, you know.’

‘I know,’ she said. Unseen by her, Mikael smiled as she continued, ‘But you won’t.’

Yes, he really should ring Zahid and have him come and collect her—but instead he ran her a bath as he thought about her brother.

Mikael had been worried—and with good reason. Zahid must be beside himself.

Mikael was not a sentimental person—not in the least—but surely a text to put him at ease could not cause any harm?

As he waited for the bath to fill Mikael fired a quick text.

Just to let you know, Layla is fine.

‘Have a bath and wash your hair, and then I suggest you get some sleep.’

‘Can you send someone in to wash me?’

‘Wash you?’

She had no idea how to do it herself.

‘I’ll tell you this much…’ He was breathing very hard as he massaged shampoo with rather angry fingers into her hair. He’d insisted she keep her underwear on—as if that would go down well with the defence! ‘You’re completely—’

He’d been about to say spoilt but he halted and thought about it as he rinsed the shampoo out of her hair.

She might be pampered, and way too used to getting her own way, yet Layla was the most unspoiled person he had ever met.

‘There,’ Mikael said. ‘Your hair’s clean.’

‘Jamila oils it now.’

‘There,’ Mikael said again, a little while later. ‘Your hair is washed and conditioned and now…’ he moved in to pull the plug and met her lovely feet again ‘…I’ll help you out of the bath. Then you’re to dry yourself and put on a robe.’

‘Okay.’ For once she agreed.

He helped her out and she made sure that Mikael too was soaking as she toppled against him.

‘I still feel a bit…’ She didn’t know how to describe it as he handed her a towel. ‘I think I like you,’ Layla said, and Mikael’s jaw gritted as she continued. ‘Not just like you…it feels a bit different to that…’ She turned as he walked out. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To do some work,’ he said. ‘Work that pays in dollars instead of stones.’

He was cross, Layla realised as he stalked out.

But lovely.

He didn’t even look up as she came out of the bathroom.

‘I know that I behaved badly tonight…it was just too enticing…’ She looked out at the lights that still beckoned.

‘You need to sleep,’ Mikael said, ‘and I need to work out what the hell I’m going to do with you.’

He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her—but not in a bad way.

Mikael went to the couch and took out his laptop and got to work as Layla made her way to the bedroom.

‘The maids didn’t put out a nightdress.’

Mikael closed his eyes for a second before answering. She was the most exhausting person he had ever met. ‘Just sleep in your robe.’

‘But it’s damp.’ She came out from the bedroom. ‘If I sleep in damp clothes I’ll catch a cold.’

‘That’s an old wives’ tale.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Neither did Mikael, because a few minutes later he was naked from the waist up and trying not to notice just how long her legs were as she walked from the bathroom wearing his shirt and was finally safe in bed for the night.

‘Mikael!’ she called from the bedroom. ‘Will you still take me out tomorrow night?’

Mikael didn’t answer.

‘Mikael…’

‘Layla,’ Mikael called back, ‘could you really see checkmate?’

Silence.

‘I want the truth—yes or no?’

‘No.’

She started laughing and Mikael gave a wry smile. He’d add the extra twenty bloody minutes he’d spent staring at the board to her bill.

‘Go to sleep, Layla.’

Finally she did as she was told and Mikael got on with his work, only pausing occasionally.

The sound of her soft snoring was actually quite relaxing…