Not if he develops feelings for you…
It’s horrible to use a man like that.
Yet lots of men have developed feelings for you, and you’ve never worried overly much about hurting them before…
A knock sounded on her door. Relieved to escape the conflict of her conscience, Nic took the bobby pin from her mouth and tucked it into the coil of hair at her nape. ‘‘Come in.’’
Malik entered her room. ‘‘Am I interrupting anything?’’
She pulled another pin open with her teeth and plucked it into the coiled mass. ‘‘I’m just doing my hair.’’
He entered her room, closed her door behind him. ‘‘You do have beautiful hair.’’
The sincerity of the unexpected compliment made her flush. ‘‘Thank you.’’
‘‘I’ve always loved hair that color. I was admiring the shade yesterday.’’
Nic didn’t know what to say. It was a bottle-brown, something Nic had washed in herself. ‘‘I’m flattered, Your Highness.’’
‘‘It’s odd,’’ he continued, ‘‘but I’ve never been attracted to blondes.’’
Nic’s hand shook, and the coiled hair, not properly anchored, slipped loose, delicate pins tumbling free. ‘‘You don’t like blondes?’’ Men loved blondes.
‘‘Not particularly.’’
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘I don’t want to be stereotypical, but…’’
‘‘But what?’’
‘‘Well, in my experience, I’ve found most blondes to be…shallow. Self-absorbed. Less intellectual.’’
Nic blinked to chase away the veil of red before her eyes. In his experience. What kind of blondes had he met? ‘‘My sister, Nicolette, she’s a natural blonde, and she’s extremely intelligent.’’
‘‘Really?’’ He frowned skeptically.
‘‘Yes,’’ Nic answered firmly, outraged that he could hold such a ridiculous prejudice against women based on hair color. ‘‘Nic holds advanced degrees in mathematics and science.’’
‘‘Speaking of your sister,’’ he said, changing topics. ‘‘That’s why I’ve come. As we’re not married yet, I wouldn’t normally visit your room uninvited, but since your sister called, I thought it might be urgent.’’
‘‘Which sister?’’
‘‘I could have sworn she said Chantal.’’
‘‘Impossible.’’ Chantal must have made a mistake and said her own name.
‘‘Exactly.’’ His gaze met hers and held. ‘‘Chantal’s here.’’
‘‘Maybe it was Joelle. Sounds a bit like Chantal.’’
‘‘Maybe.’’
‘‘Or Nic,’’ she added, seeing a spark of a smile in his eyes, and the cool mocking smile put her teeth on edge. What was he thinking? What did he know?
‘‘Didn’t sound like Nicolette,’’ he answered, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the phone. ‘‘This sister sounded sophisticated. Refined. And from what I’ve heard, that’s not your sister Nic.’’
She tensed at his criticism. He didn’t even know Nicolette and yet he sounded as if he were the font of all wisdom. But he was holding the phone out to her, asking her if she wanted to take it. ‘‘Do you want to call?’’ he was asking. ‘‘I have the number saved.’’
So who would have called, Nic wondered? Her grandparents didn’t even know she was here—so obviously they hadn’t phoned. Joelle knew Nic was gone, but believed she’d headed off for a visit with Chantal in La Croix, leaving only Chantal to phone, but that wasn’t a call Nic wanted to make in front of King Nuri. ‘‘I can phone later.’’
His expression didn’t change. His arm remained extended, offering the slim phone. He was dressed casually today, khakis, crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up a couple times on his forearms. ‘‘It could be urgent. Just hit Redial.’’
Nic tried not to glare at him as she took the phone, moving past him to stand at the window overlooking a pretty interior courtyard. Pressing the redial button, Nic heard the phone ring and almost immediately was connected with Chantal.
‘‘Thank goodness it’s you,’’ Chantal said, wasting no time on preliminary greetings. ‘‘I’ve been worried sick.’’
‘‘No reason to worry. Everything’s fine.’’ Lie again.
‘‘So how is it going?’’
Nic knew she couldn’t tell Chantal the truth. Chantal was the typical first born, big sister. A worrier, overly responsible, Chantal was also a guilt-ridden perfectionist. The last thing she needed was one more reason to blame herself. ‘‘I’m fine. Honestly.’’
Chantal hesitated. ‘‘How…how is he?’’
Nic tried to close her eyes and blot out King Nuri’s presence, but he wasn’t easy to dismiss, and even with her back turned, Nicolette felt his proximity. The man radiated energy. ‘‘Okay.’’
‘‘Is he giving you any trouble?’’
‘‘No.’’ Nic glanced over her shoulder, caught Malik’s eyes. He’d been watching her with interest. As well as amusement. ‘‘How is Lilly?’’
Chantal let out a small breath. ‘‘We’re making plans. I’ve been in contact with mother’s high school friend, Andrea. She’s agreed to help us once we reach Baton Rouge.’’
‘‘Good.’’
There was a moment of silence on the line. ‘‘I appreciate what you’re doing,’’ Chantal said quietly. ‘‘I’m not sure it’s the right thing—I still think it’s awfully risky for you—’’
‘‘No regrets,’’ Nic interrupted. ‘‘No second thoughts, either. This is for Lilly. I love her dearly. You know that.’’
‘‘I do.’’
‘‘Okay.’’ Nic’s heart felt tight. There was so much at stake. Just hearing her sister’s voice made Nic realize all over again how much depended on her. ‘‘We’ll talk soon.’’
The call ended, Nic returned the phone to King Nuri. ‘‘Thank you. You’re right. The call was important.’’
‘‘I heard you mention your daughter. I trust she’s fine?’’
Nic saw Lilly’s wide blue eyes, already too troubled. Four-year-old children weren’t supposed to worry so much. ‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘When is she going to join you?’’
‘‘Soon.’’ Nic mustered a tight smile. ‘‘I hope.’’
He nodded, hesitated. ‘‘I don’t see you again until later this evening, and I imagine you’ve looked over today’s agenda. Did you have any questions?’’
His question suddenly reminded her of why she’d woken in such a lousy mood. He might exude raw sensuality, but he was nothing short of a dictator. ‘‘I’m not a child, Your Highness.’’
‘‘I didn’t think you were.’’
She felt her temper swell, her anger was fueled by completely contradictory emotions. She’d never been so attracted to anyone before, and yet he was entirely unsuitable for