He wasn’t the next king of Kyr. Rashid was. And he wasn’t going to allow his father to use him as a bludgeon in his personal war with Rashid. Not any longer. When he was ten, he hadn’t understood. He understood now.
He was returning to Kyr because his father was dying and he believed it was important to be there. But Kadir wasn’t going to make it easy for the old man to do what Rashid believed he was going to do.
And for that, Kadir needed a very unsuitable bride. A woman who would horrify his father enough that he would believe Kadir’s judgment so poor he would not, under any circumstances, give the kingdom of Kyr into his keeping.
An American woman with no connections or pedigree would fit the bill nicely. If he could persuade her to act a little more like Lenore—spoiled, entitled and manipulative—it would work even better, though it was not strictly necessary. Her origins would be enough for his father and the staunchly traditional governing council.
King Zaid would turn to Rashid, regardless of their differences, and choose the son who was the only sensible choice. He would not risk his kingdom with a son who was blinded by the charms of a most unsuitable woman.
Kadir knew it was an insane plan, born of desperation, but he was determined to carry it out. Nothing else would work. His father might be petty, but he was much too proud to allow Kyr to pass into the hands of a son who showed such a decided lack of judgment.
“I...I...” Emily raised a hand to push a stray lock of hair from her face and he was once more confronted with a fact he had somehow managed to ignore for the past four years.
Emily Bryant was not quite the unattractive automaton he’d believed her to be. Her brown hair was long, thick and shiny—and very tumbled. He’d never seen it down before. She either wore it scraped up on her head or pulled back in a severe ponytail.
And now her mouth had somehow become enticing, with all that hair to frame her face.
He’d known she was not shapeless. Indeed, her suits were well-fitted and crisp, if stark in color—it was only her shoes that were ugly. Sensible shoes, he believed they were called.
She was almost boyish, with narrow shoulders and hips. But she had a waist, and her small breasts were shapelier than he’d realized beneath her suit jackets. That surprised him in ways he hadn’t expected. He knew it now because he’d had a devil of a time keeping his gaze from straying to where they jutted against the thin fabric of her top.
Still, she was Emily, his PA. Not some woman he could take to his bed and discard. He needed her in his life, and at this moment he very much needed her to agree to his plan.
“I don’t know what to say.” The words tumbled out of her in a breathless rush. Her green eyes, usually the color of polished jade, had darkened in what he supposed was confusion. Or horror. There was always that possibility, he decided.
“Say yes.”
She did the one thing he did not expect. She took a step backward, out of his space, and wrapped her arms around her body. The wineglass was still clutched in one hand and tilted precariously to the side.
Her chin dropped and he got the distinct impression she was meditating. When she looked at him again, her gaze was clear.
“Why are you asking me this? Do you need to be married for a business deal? Is there some piece of property you cannot do without and a wife would ease the way with the owner?”
He could only stare at her. She was so close to the truth it astounded him. And yet not quite.
“I need to take a wife home to Kyr.”
Her brows drew down. “I don’t understand.”
He blew out a breath. “It is very complicated. But suffice it to say that a wife is necessary. Think of this as a promotion.”
She blinked. And then she laughed. He was almost insulted.
“This is the strangest promotion I have ever heard of.” She drew in air, straightened her spine. “And it’s impossible, Your Highness. I cannot do what you ask.”
He felt the sting of her rejection as if it were a blow. It stunned him, if he was truthful with himself. Women did not typically refuse him.
“And why is that? This is a job, Emily. The same as always.”
“You will forgive me, Your Highness—”
“Kadir.” He spoke sharply, but he could not seem to help it. For once, he wanted her to call him by his name. For once, he needed to know that he was more to her than a paycheck. It was beyond insane, and yet he’d not felt quite right since he’d spoken with his father earlier.
It was as if everything he’d known had flipped upside down. As if his life had started out one way this morning—a lifetime ago now—and ended up in a completely different place. He was at the bottom of a pit, trying to find a handhold to pull himself back up again before the walls caved in and crushed him.
She swallowed. He didn’t think she would say it, but then she did. “Kadir.” Her voice was so small, so quiet, as if she feared that saying his name would call down a bolt of lightning.
“Was that so difficult then?”
Her eyes glinted in the dimly lit room. “No.”
“Good.” He retreated a few steps, gave her space. He sank onto her couch, ignoring the scattered papers. “Do I pay you well, Emily?”
She moved to one of the chairs set around a small table several feet away and sank down on it as if she feared she would break it. “Yes.”
“Then you can hardly object if I give you an extra year’s salary once you complete the task. All you need do is pretend to be my wife.”
Her eyes were wide. “Pretend? We wouldn’t actually be married?”
“We would, but it won’t be a real marriage. I don’t want you to think I expect anything other than the pretense of devotion.” Because they would need to appear ridiculously besotted with each other for this to work.
She looked doubtful. “Won’t someone figure it out?”
“How? We will act our parts.”
She shook her head. “No one will believe it. Just yesterday, you were with Lenore Bradford. You were probably photographed with her. And now you are marrying me—when, tonight? After you were with Lenore at her party last night?”
He felt the noose tightening around his neck. “I did not say it was a perfect plan. But we will sell it, Emily.” He twisted the stem of the wineglass in his fingers. “Besides, Kyr isn’t precisely connected to the outside world. Not in the way you would think. It is modern, certainly. But gossip and tabloids are hardly my father’s daily reading material. If I arrive with a wife, a wife who I am clearly crazy about, that will suffice for him.”
He could see her throat work. “You want to deceive your family?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. She would never understand. And yet he had to make her do so if this were to work. It went against his nature to explain himself, but he had to acknowledge that she could just as easily turn him down if he did not. “It’s about the throne, Emily. I don’t want it.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
A riot of emotion twisted through him. He wanted to lash out. To tell her it was none of her business. And yet, if he was asking her to do this thing, it surely was her business. He could tell her the truth without delving into his personal reasons. His guilt. That was private.
“Because a king cannot travel the world