Unknown Royal Baby

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

H IS H IGHNESS I SAM IBN R AFA T , Crown Prince of Zahdar, rose from the conference table, walking around it to the interviewee. ‘Thank you, Mr Drucker. This has been a most useful meeting.’

Avril stifled surprise. As His Highness’s assistant, it was her role to usher guests through the presidential suite before and after meetings.

Drucker realised that too. He couldn’t mask his excitement as his host personally escorted him from the room. The visitor didn’t even spare her a glance, much less say goodbye to her, though they’d had several conversations prior to today and he’d been surreptitiously checking out her breasts through the meeting.

Repressing a fizz of distaste, she focused on her notes.

It was some time before her boss returned. The hotel was one of London’s finest and the suite took up a whole floor.

When the door reopened she looked up, skin prickling in the way it always did when Isam was around.

He’d stripped off his suit jacket. Her gaze snagged on broad shoulders and a body that seemed all lean, hard muscle beneath his perfectly tailored shirt and trousers.

She drew in air, trying to slow her racing pulse. Clearly she wasn’t used to being around such masculine perfection! She needed to get out more.

The irony wasn’t lost on Avril. She hadn’t begrudged her cloistered life and now Cilla’s death had given her more freedom. Yet these past weeks she’d had to force herself out of the house. Grief lay heavy and she felt bereft. Cilla had given her stability and love for as long as she could remember. She didn’t want freedom at the cost of her great-aunt’s life. She missed the feisty, frail, wonderful woman.

Her emotions were all over the place.

That was why she was so unsettled. It wasn’t just the impact of being physically near her boss instead of separated by a continent.

He tugged his tie loose and undid two shirt buttons. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Avril? It’s been a long afternoon and I hate being trussed up in a suit.’

But you wear it so well.

She bit down the words. The fact he was even more attractive in person than in his photos was a shock she still grappled with after days working side by side.

It’s ridiculous. He pays your salary. You’ve worked for him for six months.

But her brain had trouble equating this stunningly handsome, charismatic man with the clever, demanding, yet approachable colleague she’d come to know and like via email, texts and phone calls. The man with whom she’d built a rapport, even, to her surprise, a level of friendship.

She was his only UK-based PA, working remotely. She was the conduit for his business interests in Britain while he lived in Zahdar or travelled the globe.

Yet sometimes, when he’d anticipated her next words during a long-distance call, or made her laugh with his wry, insightful humour, she’d felt they understood each other in a way that transcended business. Lately she’d felt closer to him than to anyone other than Cilla.

Avril fought an unfamiliar full-body blush. ‘Of course I don’t mind, Your High—Isam.’

His dark eyebrow had shot high in a look of mock severity. But when she used his name instead of his title he smiled his approval.

Absolutely, you need to get out more, when a man’s smile makes your stomach flutter.

Yet his familiar name tasted strange now on her tongue, though she’d been calling him that for months.

Isam in the flesh was an altogether more sensational being than the faceless colleague to whom she’d grown close.

She’d only ever dealt with him, not any of his other staff. Given the frequency of their communications and the growing understanding between them, he’d insisted on using first names. Avril had been surprised, but what did she know about the ways of royalty?

Yet what had seemed practical and easy when he was far away grew more difficult as they worked together in his private hotel suite.

Because now he’s not just your employer. He’s the sexiest man you’ve ever met. The first man ever to awaken those dormant feminine longings.

She hoped he had no idea how he made her feel. It was as if her life of sexual abstinence—because she’d had other responsibilities and no time for a boyfriend—finally took its toll.

She’d never had such vivid sexual fantasies as in the last couple of days, since Isam came to London. Last night she’d lain awake for hours imagining how it would be to touch him, kiss him, undress him.

Even now she couldn’t stifle the burr of excitement under her skin at being near him. Or the unfamiliar ache in her pelvis.

Hurriedly she pressed her thighs together.

‘That was a useful session, don’t you think?’ Her voice was stilted and she took refuge in her notes, pretending absorption in what she’d written.

Because she feared what he might see in her eyes. It was vital she remain professional, unswayed by his bone-melting smile.

He flopped into a chair beside her. From the corner of her eye she saw him spin to face her, knees close to her, solid thighs encased in charcoal superfine wool. ‘Very useful. What did you think of him?’

‘Me?’

She shouldn’t be surprised. Isam regularly sought her input. But something in his tone made her look up sharply.

Dark grey eyes regarded her intently. Beneath his imposing, straight nose, his sensuously sculpted mouth had flattened. The angle of his jaw seemed sharper. He looked—not disapproving, but not happy.

What had Drucker said to get Isam offside?

‘It’s not my decision but—’

‘That’s never stopped you giving input before.’

Startled, Avril hesitated. Isam might be demanding but he was never impatient. She firmed her lips and lifted her chin. ‘I wouldn’t employ him.’

Something flared in that gunmetal gaze but she had no hope of identifying it. ‘Go on.’

She shrugged. ‘On paper the deal seems promising. But I’m not sure he has his priorities right and that doesn’t say much for his judgement. He pumped money into creating executive suites in his hotel but I think he’s overcapitalised. They’re underutilised, maybe because of the location. It’s the more affordable accommodation that brings in the money there, yet he refuses to take an interest in that. Plus...’

A nod encouraged her to continue. ‘He skimmed over the issue of staff underpayment. From what I’ve been able to discover that’s an ongoing issue. If rumours are to be believed, it’s a major problem. Apart from the legalities, do you want to take on someone who doesn’t value and reward staff? If you acquired the hotel I definitely wouldn’t keep him on as executive manager.’

‘I caught him staring at you.’

Discomfort lifted her shoulders. ‘Some men seem unable to resist leering at a woman.’

Even an altogether ordinary woman in a plain navy suit and white shirt. It was something she hadn’t missed when she left her job in an office to work from home remotely as a virtual PA.

‘I apologise that he made you uncomfortable, Avril. That’s why I cut off the meeting. I won’t do business with him. But I needed to meet him and ensure I was making the right decision.’ His tone darkened. ‘That short session convinced me.’

Isam had ended the meeting because his visitor ogled her? She blinked, digesting the idea. Avril had known there was something wrong—they hadn’t got through half the points she’d prepared. She slanted a glance at Isam and discovered him watching her with a look of concern.

‘It’s all right. I—’

‘It’s not all right, as I made clear to him just now. But thank you for your patience today. I’m sorry it happened.’

He’d called the guy on his behaviour? Avril reminded herself it was only what any decent person would do. She should have done it herself instead of pretending it wasn’t happening by focusing on her work.

That Isam hadn’t ignored the behaviour, but had done something about it, released a flood of warm emotion.

You’re not here to feel emotion. You’re here to work.

But she couldn’t suppress the warm glow inside.

‘I’ll tidy my notes and send them to you. And the list of action items from today’s meetings.’

She paused, reluctant to continue because, despite the long day, and the session with Drucker, she’d enjoyed herself. Enjoyed being with Isam. She liked the way he worked and that he valued her input.

A secret, feminine part of her thrilled at being with this potently masculine, charismatic man.

Plus she hated the idea of returning to the empty house she’d shared with Cilla. Isam was so alive , so real and strong. She craved some of that strength and assurance. Craved the excitement of being with him as an antidote to the bleak loneliness of her home.

‘Thanks.’

Isam paused, a couple of frown lines appearing on his forehead. Instead of detracting from his handsome features the hint of extra gravity only enhancing his allure.

Careful, Avril. You sound starstruck.

‘I fly back to Zahdar tomorrow but there are some things I still need to sort out.’ He shot a look at his watch, a sleek statement piece that probably cost as much, if not more than Cilla’s house and all the adjoining ones in their terrace. ‘It’s late, but can you stay back to work this evening?’

Avril stiffened, hesitating. Not because she begrudged him her time. But because working any longer with Isam in his private suite wasn’t a good idea. Not because he’d be anything other than professional. But because her feelings about him were increasingly chaotic.

Face it, woman! They’re not chaotic. You know exactly what they are. Excitement. Old-fashioned attraction. Lust.

‘The hotel does an excellent dinner and my driver would take you safely home afterwards.’ Grey eyes narrowed on her. ‘Unless you have another engagement?’

Desolation shot through her, undercutting any half-formed idea of excusing herself to avoid an evening closeted with him.

She had no engagements, except watering her great-aunt’s African violets and finishing the job she’d begun earlier, sorting Cilla’s clothes to donate to charity.

Isam watched Avril’s mouth crumple for a second before curving into a smile.

Something in his chest clamped painfully tight.

This smile wasn’t like the warm ones she bestowed when caught up in their work and enjoying herself. When she forgot he was a crown prince. It was more like the polite expression she’d worn as she’d ushered Drucker into the room.

Abruptly he sat back in his seat. Surely she didn’t equate him with Drucker! Isam might be dangerously drawn to his delightful PA but he’d been careful not to reveal it. Despite the fact that over the months they’d worked together they’d developed an easy familiarity, an ability to anticipate each other’s reactions, a rare type of intimacy he’d never known with a woman.

The power imbalance between them, the fact he paid her salary, made it impossible for him to act on his attraction. Avril Rodgers was out of bounds. Even if she didn’t work for him, he sensed she was a home and hearth sort of woman, not like his usual sexual partners who were happy to indulge in a short-term affair.

Isam had spent the last four days, since his arrival in London, constantly reminding himself that Avril was a work colleague. The difficulty was that too often he caught her looking at him with definite sexual interest that fed his own desire and weakened his scruples.

When her brown eyes shimmered like old gold and she slicked her bottom lip with her pink tongue, regarding him with a mix of eagerness and awe, she tested every good intention.

But not now. Now, he knew something was wrong, and it evoked every protective instinct.

‘Avril, are you okay?’

She blinked, banishing that momentarily haunted look, and sat straighter. Yet her restless hands gave her away. ‘Of course. I was just thinking about tonight.’

‘It’s short notice. I understand that you can’t—’

‘I can. I’m free tonight. I can stay on.’ Her smile this time was more familiar. ‘Easier by far if we finish whatever work you have in mind before you leave for Zahdar.’

Isam reminded himself he was a disciplined man. A few more hours in close proximity to temptation wouldn’t matter.

Though Avril was like no temptation he could remember. Capable, organised and clever, she was the perfect PA. But there was something else, a warmth, a genuineness, that called to him. Not to mention a sexual allure that frankly stunned him. She wore conservative suits with a minimum of flesh on display, so different from many of the women he met on his travels. But despite her air of wholesomeness...

Better not to think about. Or about how Drucker’s lewd appreciation had evoked in Isam something like jealousy.

You want her to look at you, only you.

Who was he kidding? He wanted a whole lot more than Avril’s looks. His gaze caught on her capable hands, now neatly clasped in her lap. Too often he’d imagined them on his body.

Isam shot to his feet and strode around the long table, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets in an attempt to hide his burgeoning arousal.

‘Excellent. What would you like for dinner?’

Hours later, Avril stretched stiff muscles and rose from her chair. Isam had left the room to take a private call from Zahdar. She’d finish her work. Soon she’d leave.

Would she see Isam again? Probably, but not for a long time. They’d go back to working at a distance.

That was good. She needed that distance.

Yet she wished...

Don’t even think about it! You’re too sensible to pine for what you can’t have . You and he... Inconceivable!

She grabbed her barely touched glass of red wine and stalked across to the window, not bothering to put on the shoes she’d discarded under the desk while they worked.

She’d requested a glass of wine to accompany the superb meal she’d been served, but then hadn’t had the stomach for it. It was Cilla, dear Cilla, who’d loved the occasional glass of Shiraz. It must have been sentimentality that made her order the glass.

Avril looked out across the dark street to the leafy park that made this Mayfair location so desirable. It had rained while they worked. The pavements shone, reminding her of the night Cilla died.

Melancholy filled her. She knew Cilla had been in pain. That slipping off peacefully in her sleep had been a blessed release. Cilla had wanted, insisted, Avril not mope. Her great-aunt had even made her create a list of fun things she wanted to do when the time came and Avril had more time for herself.

Her lips twisted. Cilla had been a remarkable lady. She lifted her glass in silent salute and took a long, slow sip, savouring the wine’s mellow fruitiness. It warmed her, a comforting glow settling deep inside her.

Tomorrow she’d honour Cilla by reading through that list, though she wasn’t in the mood to try new adventures yet.

Unless Isam was on your list. Then you’d be ready for adventure.

‘Avril.’

His deep voice came from so close behind her that she jumped, twisting around.

Isam stood there, dark shadows dusting his jaw, making him look even more elementally, bone-meltingly male.

She saw him in the same moment she registered the wave of red wine arc up from the glass that jerked in her hand. In slow motion she saw it collide with his pristine shirt and horror filled her.

Avril put the glass down to search for a tissue but her bag and jacket were at the other end of the imposing room. The dinner napkins had been cleared away long ago.

‘Handkerchief? Tissue?’ she rapped out.

A large handkerchief, ironed and snowy white, was pressed into her hand. ‘Thanks.’

She held it to his shirt, knowing she was probably ruining both, but unable to watch the spill dribble further. With her other hand she tugged open a shirt button then another and another. ‘You need to get this off straight away. Salt will lift the wine stain. Or soak it in cold water.’

Beneath her touch she felt the sudden flex of warm muscle. A waft of air eddied across her forehead and she realised it was Isam’s breath, soft as a caress.

Avril froze, eyes widening as she realised what she was doing. Her left hand pressed the damp handkerchief to Isam’s chest. His hard, hair-roughened, golden-toned chest.

She gulped. The fingers of her right hand were curled, immobile, around a shirt button halfway to his belt.

Only now did she register the rise and fall of his chest with each breath and the friction of chest hair against her knuckles. A tickle of excitement lifted the hair at her nape and pulled her scalp tight.

‘I can take it from here.’

There must be something wrong with her hearing. Isam’s voice sounded strained, gravelly rather than smooth. The blood pounding in her ears must be to blame.

Her flesh tingled all over and her nipples pushed hard against her bra, making her shiver.

‘Of course.’

Her gaze was glued to her hands against his chest but her synapses weren’t firing properly. She should be lifting her hands off him yet they didn’t move. Her brain was too scrambled. Or her body refused to heed its orders.

She’d dreamt of touching him, of seeing the powerful body beneath the custom-made clothes. The reality was shockingly arousing. Isam in the flesh short-circuited her ability to move.

Two large hands covered hers. But instead of dragging them off him, those long fingers wrapped around hers. Avril’s breath disappeared in a gasp.

Sensations shot through her. His scent, citrus and warm male flesh. The gentle strength of his touch. A sudden twitching movement of his pectorals. The quick thud of his heart against her knuckles. As quick as her own, surely.

‘Avril. Look at me.’

Reluctant, because she knew this had to end and the fallout would be embarrassing, she arched her neck, her gaze snagging on the bronzed column of his throat, strong and fascinating. Up to that determined chin, dark with an evening’s beard growth. She swallowed hard, taking in the sculpted perfection of his mouth, the long, aristocratic nose, stopping when she reached heavy-lidded eyes.

She jumped and would have tugged her hands away except he held them against his chest.

Because what she saw was unprecedented. Isam’s expression was aware. Aroused. Sensual.

All the things she’d believed impossible.

Of its own volition, her body swayed closer, her breasts pressing against his hard torso, stealing her breath from her lungs as his heat engulfed her. Sparks ignited across her skin and her blood shimmered as if effervescent.

Someone’s breath hitched. It must be hers, but then she felt the rise of his torso as if he held back the air in his lungs.

Avril couldn’t find anything coherent to say. No man had ever looked at her the way Isam did now. As if he wanted to eat her all up. As if he craved her the way she longed for him.

It made her feel different. Powerful.

She swallowed, the movement jerky as though her muscles forgot how to work. Dry-mouthed, she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip.

Heat blazed in Isam’s eyes, his nostrils flared, and suddenly he didn’t look like the civilised man she knew but some marauder. The glint in his eyes was surely avaricious, and his hands tightened possessively. Avril thrilled at the change in him.

‘Isam.’

She had no trouble now, saying his name. It emerged as a whisper, husky with longing. She rose on tiptoe, needing to bridge the gap between them.

Except with shocking finality, he shattered the precious moment. Still gripping her hands, as if knowing her legs were wobbly, Isam stepped back. The room was comfortably airconditioned, yet it felt as though an arctic blast swept between them. Avril shivered.

His voice was deeper than she’d ever heard it, with an accent edging his previously perfect English. ‘This can’t happen.’

Yet it was happening. Didn’t he feel it?

‘I employ you. You depend on me for your salary.’ He shook his head, his mouth crimping down at the corners. ‘It would be wrong.’

Avril understood. There was a power imbalance between them. He didn’t want to take advantage of her and she admired him for that.

Yet this need wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t tainted. It was mutual and ferociously real.

More real than the grey half-life she’d been living lately. She craved this as a diver, too long below the surface, craved air.

Even now, as she watched him distance himself, the hammer beat of her heart and the jittery restlessness low in her body were all about her needs, not something imposed by him.

‘Couldn’t we pretend that you’re not my boss? That I’m not your PA? Just for this evening?’

At any other time she might have winced at the stark need her words revealed. But this between them was so consuming, it superseded the normal rules. In twenty-six years she’d never experienced anything so visceral.

He scowled and even then she hungrily devoured the sight of him—no longer urbane and in control, but prey to strong emotions, like her. ‘No. Absolutely not!’

Suddenly, it was easier than she thought to step away. She wrapped stiff arms around her abruptly chilled body.

What had she been thinking? She’d seen the photos of Isam with a series of stunning women. All glamorous, all beautiful and no doubt at home in his rarefied social milieu. The sort who held down high-flying careers yet found time to look a million dollars at royal events.

‘I understand.’ Avril struggled not to feel hurt. If she’d thought rationally she’d have known the idea was ludicrous. She didn’t fit his world or his expectations. Her stockinged toes curled into the thick, handwoven carpet. ‘I’m not sophisticated and sexy and you’re—’

‘Avril, you’ve got it wrong.’

She shook her head, pursing her mouth before she blurted out any more foolishness. It was time to leave.

‘This isn’t about you.’

He was trying to soothe her ego but his words had the opposite effect. Her turbulent feelings coalesced into anger, pumping through her bloodstream. She welcomed it because it obliterated, at least for now, embarrassment and disappointment.

‘Of course it is. I’m no fool. I know the huge gulf between us. I’m ordinary and you’re...you. It was laughable to think—’

‘Stop that!’ Isam folded his arms, muscles bulging and eyes glinting like molten mercury. He was the image of furious, frustrated masculinity and still he made her knees go weak. But she stood tall and returned his heated stare. ‘Do you see me laughing, Avril? I spent today, all the days we’ve worked together, locking my feelings away. Trying to ignore my attraction to you. Pretending to be unaffected and uninterested, when all the time...’

Stunned, she watched a muscle spasm in his cheek as his jaw clenched. The tendons in his throat were taut and she felt tension radiating from him.

He was so angry he glowered through slitted eyes.

But instead of dismaying her, his fury had the opposite effect. It told her he felt something for her.

She took a half-step towards him. Instantly he pulled back, chin lifting arrogantly. ‘That wasn’t meant as encouragement, Avril.’

But his hauteur didn’t deter her. ‘You want me?’ The words dropped, soft as petals on dewy grass.

Isam swallowed but said nothing.

‘You want me!’ The realisation eased her racing pulse and soothed the desperate ache just a fraction.

His voice was flinty with authority. ‘It would be madness to act on it.’

‘Madness, maybe.’ She paused to snatch air into oxygen-starved lungs. ‘I understand your reservations. Our lives are worlds apart. This can’t lead anywhere beyond tonight. You’re an honourable man who doesn’t want to take advantage.’

Unable to resist any longer, she placed a hand on his arm, feeling the abrupt jerk of muscles in response.

‘But what if I initiated it? If I invited you? It would be a momentary madness and I know it could only last one night. A secret shared by just us.’

She felt a shudder pass from him to her—a quiver of awareness and deep-seated longing. That proof of connection strengthened her determination. And her recklessness.

‘Even if it meant we couldn’t work together later, it would be worth it. Don’t you feel it too?’

Avril knew instinctively this madness as he called it was what she needed. For the first time in weeks the world made sense in a way it hadn’t since she’d lost Cilla. Even if the price was to leave this job, she’d take it. With her skills she’d find work. But where else would she find someone who made her feel the way Isam did?

Even the touch of her hand on his arm was enough to banish the shadows that had eclipsed her life, turning her black and white world into vivid colour again.

Lately everything except work had seemed out of kilter. But this was absolutely right.

Avril needed to feel joy and comfort. She needed the touch of someone warm and living. Not just anyone. Only Isam made her feel this way.