The wedding.
Just how the hell was he going to manage with Charlotte married to Syed?
“Ashad Al’Eba?” He barked into the phone, his eyes moving back to the chair.
“Bad time?”
Guilt was a spiral in his gut at the sound of his cousin’s voice. “Not at all,” he responded with the appearance of calm.
“How are things?” Syed asked.
“Things? You mean getting your wedding cancelled?”
Syed’s laugh was deep. “Something like that.”
“I’ve just met with your bride,” Ash muttered, forcing himself to look away from the seat. Her ghost was haunting him. Those bright red toenails were in his mind. He dragged a palm across his eyes, but the spell remained.
“What for?”
“Well, she is the woman you’re supposed to marry,” Ash pointed out.
“Yes, but since when is she interested in meeting anyone from Kalastan? Her father has a team of legal experts appointed to smooth out the final details …”
“Do you want the final details smoothed out?” Ash asked pointedly.
“No.” Syed shook his head. “Perhaps it’s better you’re dealing with her. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to work out how to put an end to this.”
Ashad was torn. Loyalty to his cousin was heavy in his heart. His dick was hard with need for Charlotte. The two sentiments were at odds. It was a death match, but in the end, his heart won. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, the words pulled from him slowly. “She is an excellent match. She would make any man proud.”
“I don’t want to marry her,” Syed responded. “My father will not tolerate my reasoning.”
“What is your reasoning?” Ash interrupted urgently.
“That I don’t want to marry her. That I don’t see the need.”
“I’m hard pressed to think of a woman who would make a better wife.”
“You like her?” Syed asked, with the insight of a man who knew his cousin almost as well as himself.
“No, I hardly know her,” Ash’s response was short. “But I can see, even after a brief meeting, that she has all the qualities you would want.”
“Such as?” Syed prompted.
“She is beautiful and intelligent, fierce and strong. She is truly a fascinating woman, Syed.” His gut turned. “Why don’t you fly over and meet her?”
Syed’s sigh was heavy. “I have my reasons. Reasons I can’t give you, or anyone. I’m not asking you to break this betrothal lightly, my friend. I am aware of the shame I risk bringing to our family. But everything in my soul prevents me from taking these vows. I cannot do it. It is better for Charlotte to be released from our engagement now rather than have it go any further.”
“Then release her,” Ashad said simply. “I will tell her you wish to break the betrothal.”
“No. It has to come from Falina. If there was any other way, I would take it, believe me.”
“I don’t think you understand quite how sublime she is,” Ash heard himself say, and cringed as the words hit the phone line and travelled across the ocean.
“Sublime?” Syed laughed. “Hell, cousin, it sounds as though you are quite captivated by her.”
Ash laughed to cover his remorse. He’d said too much. “As your bride, yes.”
“I don’t know,” Syed teased. “If you want her, perhaps you should find a way to make her want you too. Sleep with her, Ash; seduce her. That would solve all our problems, for you know I could never marry a woman you’d lain with.”
Ash ground his teeth together, incensed at the way they were discussing Charlotte as though she were a pawn on the chess board Adin adored so much. “I think it would be the beginning of our problems,” Ash contradicted.
“Perhaps. You’ll keep me posted?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. I’m in your debt.”
Ash expelled a breath and disconnected the call. He wasn’t sure quite how he’d get through the next few weeks but he was pretty sure they’d involve a lot of ice cold showers.
CHAPTER THREE
He read the email with a smile, for he thought of Charlotte and the black and white words breathed to life as though she were speaking them.
Your Highness,
Thank you for your time yesterday. It was an honour to meet you. I have attached a document which includes my chief concerns for the marriage negotiations. I’d appreciate it if you’d take a look before our next meeting.
Many thanks,
Her Royal Highness
Charlotte Shareef.
So much for ‘call me Charlotte, we’re going to be family’, he thought with a grin. It wasn’t possible for her to have sent a more stilted or formal note, and for all that she’d tried to put distance between them, it had the opposite effect on Ash. He imagined her typing these words, pausing as she deleted and rephrased sentences, looking to convey just the right mix of professionalism and formality.
He hit reply and wrote,
Good morning, Charlotte. I trust you slept well. I find it hard to get used to the sounds of boats in the distance.
I will review the document over breakfast (guava fruit and toast). Shall we meet later today?
A.
He sent it imagining the effect his casual address and subjects would have on her. Would she come back with yet another stilted, rehearsed email? Or would she reply in kind?
He wasn’t disappointed. Only five minutes later, another email zipped into his phone.
Ashad,
I barely hear the boats anymore. If you think they’re loud at the embassy, you should see the marina! Today is fine. I have appointments this morning but can come to you again in the afternoon.
Charlotte.
He made a small sound and shook his head. He was playing with fire, he knew it. Despite Syed’s suggestion, there was no way Ash could act on his attraction for this woman. Was flirting with her the next best thing?
Charlotte,
This afternoon is fine. But I am in your debt already – let me make the effort of travel today.
A.
He clicked into the attachment and began to read his way through it.
Country of residence – expectation of visits to home country.
Home – expectation of privacy.
Employment – expectation of being able to continue to perform functions beyond ‘princess’.
Intimacy and family – expect input and clarity on this before wedding.
Financial terms.
There was nothing new there. She had already enumerated these issues and he intended to get to each of them. Point four, intimacy and family, he would save for last. It was the only subject matter he dreaded discussing with her.
Ashad,
That’s fine. I have an apartment near the marina. You can be deafened by the boats. I’ll have my security detail contact yours with the address. Four o’clock?
Charlotte.
He smiled. A dangerous smile, because it was borne from a happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time – if ever.
I’m looking forward to it.
A.
What the hell are you doing, he groaned inwardly, polishing off his breakfast and draining his coffee. He had a full morning of business to attend to and he threw himself into it, desperate for a chance to be distracted by his obligations. As the afternoon sped past, he found himself looking at his watch frequently. Waiting. Anticipating. Wondering.
Would the sense of attraction still be there? Or had it been enhanced by surprise at seeing her unexpectedly? Would Ash discover today that Charlotte was beautiful, yes, but that she inspired no greater desire in him than any other attractive woman he came across? Would he find that instantaneous arousal he felt at the sight of her (hell, the thought of her) no longer the case?
He hoped so.
He needed to focus on extricating Syed from this betrothal without hurting Charlotte. Both concerns were now of equal importance to him. This was a task that required more finesse and skill than his libido made him feel he possessed – he was like a bull in a china shop, wanting to ravage his way past her objections and make her his, to hell with the consequences. To hell with what his uncle Adin would say, what Charlotte’s father would say.
He had never felt such an animalistic need to possess a woman.
He changed into jeans and a shirt for their meeting. The robes he wore with the colours of Kalastan weaved into the sleeve were conspicuous and he didn’t feel like seeing Charlotte as a prince of Kalastan today. He wanted to meet with her as a man.
Which was all the more reason he should have stuck with the robe, he thought, as his limousine pulled out of the embassy car park and turned onto a narrow road. He sat back and watched the city pass, waiting, waiting, wondering.
* * *
A kaleidoscope of wild butterflies was battering her stomach from the inside. Charlotte clamped a hand over her skin, willing them to settle. They didn’t. She moved around her apartment, checking it for the tenth time that hour. It was immaculate. How could it not be? Set high above the Royal Marina, this was Charlotte’s own private bolt-hole. Her home away from the palace, where she came when she wanted to be undisturbed; to pretend she was a normal woman, looking out at the world and seeing it for its possibilities. Imagining that she had every right to choose her own adventures in life rather than succumbing to the footsteps that had been painted on the ground before her many years earlier.