Cinderella's Desert Baby Bombshell Read online

  In the sunlight slanting through the windows, the brilliant green eyes locked to her were as jewelled and intense as polished emeralds. All of a sudden, a bizarre level of annoyance was gripping Saif. Evidently it was one thing for him to want to be rid of her, but another thing entirely when she appeared to return the compliment. ‘That will not be necessary,’ he began before he could question the far from sensible reaction steering him off course.

  Tati tilted her chin. ‘It’s necessary,’ she pointed out. ‘I don’t think either of us could have got much sleep last night.’

  Saif discovered that he did not like being told what was necessary by her. It set his even white teeth on edge and brought out a self-destructive edge of pique he had not known until that instant that he possessed. ‘We will continue to share the same room.’

  ‘But why on earth would we?’ Tati exclaimed with incredulity.

  ‘You wanted this marriage... Live with it!’ Saif spelt out without apology or, indeed, further explanation. Even had he tried to do so, he could not have explained the gut instinct that was driving him because he did not know what had roused it or even what it meant.

  ‘You know...’ Tati began, her chest heaving with a sudden dragged-in breath, furious that he appeared to be taking out his disappointment that Ana wasn’t his bride on her...as though it were her fault. Did he think that? And shouldn’t she know by now what he was thinking? The lack of communication between them was only adding to their problems. ‘Sometimes, you make me want to hit you!’

  ‘I noticed the streak of violence in your family when your aunt attempted to slap you. Make no attempt to assault me. There is no reason in the world why we should descend to such a degrading level,’ the Prince asserted.

  His mind was wandering again, questioning how she could utter such a threat while still looking so fresh and tempting. It was first thing in the morning as well and her hair was tousled and she had utilised not a scrap of cosmetic enhancement that he could see. Indeed, in harsh daylight her porcelain skin had an amazingly luminous quality that confounded his every expectation. She might be a substitute; she might be everything he despised in the wife he had not wanted in the first place, but one truth was inescapable: she was much more of a beauty than he had initially been prepared to acknowledge.

  ‘You don’t even have a sense of humour, do you?’ Tati gasped, staring accusingly at him.

  ‘I have made arrangements for your entertainment today,’ Saif informed her smoothly, refusing to react in any way to the charge of a lack of humour. Certainly, he found nothing about their current situation worthy of amusement.

  ‘How very kind of you,’ Tati muttered tautly, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘I have hired a team of personal shoppers to give you a tour of the best retail outlets in Paris,’ the Prince completed.

  Send the little woman out shopping, Tati thought furiously. He simply wanted her out of his hair. And what did you do with a gold digger when you wanted peace? Throw money at her! And when you had more money than a gold mine, throwing money was the easy option. Tati clamped her teeth together hard on a sarcastic response. She recalled her Granny Milly telling her that you caught more flies with honey than vinegar. But sheer rage rippled through her in a heady wave that left her almost light-headed because she wasn’t some greedy tramp the Prince could tempt, control and ultimately debase with cold, hard cash!

  ‘How wonderful,’ Tati told him with a serene smile. ‘I shall feel as though all my Christmases have come at once. Do I have a budget?’

  Saif interpreted the glitter in her big blue eyes as pure avarice. ‘No budget,’ he retorted with a flashing smile of reassurance.

  He was giving her a free ticket to spend, spend, spend and she would be sure not to disappoint him. After all, if ever a guy deserved to have his worst expectations met, it was Saif, and she would enjoy playing the gold-digging bride, she told herself fiercely. If anything, he would learn to know better than to send her out shopping in one of the most expensive cities in the world without a budget.

  She put on her jeans. Her brain could still not quite encompass the reality that the Prince was now her husband instead of her cousin’s. He didn’t even act as a husband would, did he? Well, like a very reluctant one, she decided ruefully. Possibly he hadn’t wanted to get married either.

  My goodness, maybe that could even explain why he had been married off in the first place...was it possible that the Prince was gay? And that he had been married off to conceal the fact? But if that were true, why, given the opportunity, wouldn’t he have wanted to claim a bedroom of his own?

  Tati frowned and conceded that Saif was a mass of confusing contradictions. He insisted they had to share a bedroom. For the sake of appearances? Did he want their marriage to look normal even if it wasn’t? Out of pride or out of necessity? If he was gay and if it was impossible for his father to accept him as such, their crazy marriage made sense. Of course, understanding didn’t make her like Saif any better for the way he had accused her of being a gold digger.

  In fact, she hated him for that. Tati had spent her entire life being pushed around and put down by those who had more power than she had. Her own relatives had done that to her and, even before her mother had succumbed to dementia, Mariana had urged her daughter not to ‘rock the boat’ by defending her. Sadly, swallowing her pride and turning the other cheek had never improved matters in the slightest for Tati. In fact, that attitude, both at school and at home, had only made the bullying worse. And she wasn’t prepared to settle for that again, for being abused when she hadn’t done anything wrong, for being insulted simply because she was poor and had fewer options than other people. Her head came up, her chin lifting. No. No way was His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Alharia about to get away with doing her down as well!

  Thirty minutes later, Tati stepped into a long cream limousine containing three very ornamental and chatty women. At first glance, she could see that she was a surprise, a disappointment, in that she wasn’t as decorative as they had expected and, as it was normal for her to want to please people and she fully intended to spend, spend, spend as directed by her bridegroom, she said, ‘I need a whole new wardrobe!’

  And the smiles broke out, betraying the visible relief that she was likely to be a keen buyer. Presumably, her companions worked on commission and why shouldn’t they profit from her pressing need for clothes? Starting with nightwear and lingerie, she required everything. It was one thing to be proud and independent, another thing entirely to be the most poorly or inappropriately dressed person in the room. And she had no plans to start washing and drying her knickers in the nearest bathroom any time soon. In fact, she had to suppress a giggle as she attempted to picture the Prince’s reaction. She doubted that he had ever been exposed to that kind of common touch.

  The first stop on their trip was the Avenue Montaigne, a tree-lined thoroughfare packed with high-end fashion outlets. Aside from the uneasy acknowledgement that her cousin, Ana, would have truly revelled in such an opportunity, Tati concentrated on the practicalities of buying as much as she possibly could without ever consulting a price tag lest it send her into shock. She strayed from one designer boutique to the next with her companions, having by then established her preferences, working hard to locate the casual and formal items she specified. They moved on to the Boulevard Saint Germain, where she found chic dresses aplenty and the shoes and bags to team with them. She eventually succumbed to the temptation of putting on a new outfit. They visited a trendy rooftop café, where she enjoyed the spectacular views of the city and drank champagne. Of lunch there was no sign and only a handful of nuts came her way.

  Mid-afternoon, she was professionally made up and equipped with enough cosmetics to provide a makeover for half a city block. Perfume specially mixed for her came next and she loved the perfume as much as the professional jargon of the scent world, which talked of hints of jasmine
and spice, redolent of hotter climes. She allowed herself to be talked into buying a new phone and a new watch as well.

  The guilt of enjoying herself while being wildly extravagant soon engulfed her in a tide. She had spent, spent, spent to hit back at Saif for his condemnation of her when in truth he knew nothing about her and evidently didn’t care to find out anything about her either. But only on the drive back to the house, while her companions were cheerfully breaking out the champagne again to celebrate a successful day of shopping, did she ask herself how meeting every one of Saif’s worst expectations of her character could benefit her in any way. She refused the champagne because she wasn’t in the mood to rejoice.

  What had she done? Why had she let her raging resentment at her position and his attitude take over and drive her? Why had she set out to prove that she was every bit as greedy as he had assumed she was?

  A severe attack of the guilts gripped Tati as she watched a procession of staff march through the echoing hall to deliver the boxes and bags of her accumulated shopping upstairs to the bedroom. There they would proceed to unpack and organise her many, many purchases before storing them in the empty drawers and closets. She flopped down on an opulent couch in the drawing room, her face burning with mortification as she pictured the sweater she had bought in four different colours. The cringe factor was huge because in all her life she had never made an extravagant purchase before.

  When would she contrive to wear a sweater in a desert kingdom? Presumably, she would wear the winter garments when she went home to visit her mother, she reasoned weakly. As for the fancy dresses, the high heels and all the elegant separates, where was she planning to wear them? Observation currently suggested that the Prince she had married would be in no hurry to take her anywhere, particularly now that she had shown what he would no doubt deem to be her true colours. And yet she had needed clothes, she thought wretchedly, for not only had she packed very little to fly out to Alharia for what she had assumed would be a very short stay, but she also had nothing much worthy of packing back home. The kind of casual wear she had worn to run her aunt and uncle’s household wouldn’t pass muster in her current role.

  But neither of those facts excused her extravagance. She could have gone to a chain store to cover her requirements and only bought the necessities, she conceded unhappily. Instead she had shopped and spent recklessly in some of the most exclusive designer shops in the world.

  Marcel brought her tea and tiny dainty macarons on a silver tray. She glanced up when she heard a step in the hall and saw Saif still in the doorway. He had shed his jacket and tie and his sculpted jawline was shadowed with stubble. His gorgeous green eyes clashed with hers and she felt hot all over as if she had been exposed to a flame. She went pink and shifted uneasily on her seat, her mouth running very dry.

  Saif was trying very hard not to gape at the blonde beauty on the opulent sofa. Like a fine jewel once displayed in an unworthy setting, she had been reset and polished up to perfection since their last meeting. A dark off-the-shoulder top clung to her like a second skin, lovingly hugging pert full breasts and skin that looked incredibly perfect and smooth. A short skirt in some kind of toning print exposed slender knees and shapely calves leading down to small feet shod in strappy heels. Off the scale arousal inflamed Saif as fast as a shot of adrenalin in his veins. An uncomfortable throb set up an ache at his groin.

  Tati gazed back at him, dismay and a leaping hormonal response that unnerved her darting through her tense body. She found it utterly impossible to look away from Saif. His raw desirability was that intense from his tousled black hair to the rich green deep-set eyes fringed with ebony lashes that magnetised her.

  ‘We have to talk,’ she told him awkwardly. ‘We have to sort stuff out.’

  His half-brother, Angelino, the consummate playboy, had once told Saif that the minute a woman mentioned the need to talk, a sensible man should go straight into avoidance mode. Saif collided warily with huge blue-pansy-coloured eyes and parted his lips to shut her down.

  ‘Please,’ Tati added in near desperation. ‘Because right now, everything’s going crazy and wrong.’

  ‘Is it?’

  He did not know why he questioned that statement when he should have agreed because the arousal afflicting him was both crazy and wrong. He had to remain detached and in control. Nothing good could come from giving in to his baser instincts; nothing good could come from him backing down when confronted with her feminine wiles. And those flowery eyes of hers were shimmering with what might have been tears, her full lower lip quivering. The sight stabbed him to the heart, and he strode forward, a forceful, instantaneous urge to fix whatever was wrong powering him.

  ‘Tatiana,’ he began, determined to continue the conversation in private where they could be neither overheard nor seen. It was second nature for Saif to consider appearances, raised as he had been in a palace swarming with staff where keeping secrets was an almost impossible challenge.

  ‘Nobody calls me that,’ she told him in a wobbly voice.

  ‘Except me. I will not call you Tatty like your relatives. It is an insult and I don’t know why you’ve allowed it.’ Without another word, Saif bent down and scooped her off the couch as if she were no heavier than a doll.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed in stark disconcertion.

  ‘Taking you upstairs where we may be assured of discretion,’ the Prince countered, striding out across the hall with complete cool as if carrying a woman around were an everyday occurrence for him.

  ‘Why on earth would we need discretion?’ Tati queried nervously. ‘You can put me down now.’

  ‘You were becoming distressed... Crying!’ Saif pointed out with a raw edge to his dark, deep drawl.

  ‘I wasn’t crying!’ Tati protested, highly offended by the charge. ‘I don’t cry. You could torture me and I wouldn’t cry! Just sometimes my eyes flood when I’m upset—it’s a nervous thing but I don’t start crying, for goodness’ sake! I’m not a little girl!’

  ‘No, definitely not a little girl except in height,’ Saif quipped, pushing through the bedroom door to set her down on the big bed. ‘Now tell me, why are you upset?’

  ‘Because I let you goad me into behaving badly today and I’m furious with myself and with you!’ Tati told him roundly. ‘I went out today and spent a fortune on clothing because—’

  ‘I urged you to...how is that bad behaviour?’ Saif prompted, his gaze locked to the beautiful eyes angrily fixed to him, his fingers rising to brush back the silky blond hair rippling across her cheekbone. The long strands fell over his wrist, pale wheaten gold against his skin.

  That light touch that seemed perilously close to a caress made Tati shiver while her skin broke out in goosebumps of awareness. ‘You don’t understand...’

  ‘The only thing I understand right now is that I want you,’ Saif breathed in the driven tone of harsh sincerity, his beautiful jewelled eyes smouldering as she looked up at him.

  ‘Me? You want...me?’ Tati almost whispered in disbelief and wonderment.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I want you?’ Saif turned the question back on her in equal surprise. ‘You are a remarkable beauty.’

  That was a heady compliment for a woman who had never been called beautiful in her entire life, who had always been in the shadows, either unnoticed or passed over or summarily dismissed as being unimportant. Tati stared at him in astonishment and she was so blasted grateful for that tribute that she stretched up and kissed his cheek in reward.

  As her breasts momentarily pressed into his chest and the intoxicating scent of her engulfed him, the soft invitation of her lips on his skin burned through Saif’s self-discipline like a fiery brand and destroyed it. Without any hesitation, he closed her slight body into the circle of his arms and brought his mouth crashing down on hers with a hunger he couldn’t even attempt to control.

  Oh, wow, Tati though
t abstractedly, wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting to feel this...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AND THIS WAS the amazing sign that Tati had always been waiting and hoping to feel in a man’s arms: electrified, exhilarated, physically aware of her own body to the nth degree. Only until that moment she had honestly believed that that kind of reaction was simply a myth, something that some women chose to exaggerate, which didn’t truly exist. But with that single kiss Saif had knocked Tati right out of her complacent assumptions, knocked her sideways and upside down and just at that moment, regardless of whether it made sense or not, her stupid body was humming as fiercely as an engine getting revved up at the starting line.

  ‘So...er...you’re not gay,’ Tati commented weakly as he released her mouth and dragged in a shuddering breath. ‘Obviously.’

  Saif gazed down at her in complete astonishment. ‘Why would you think I was gay?’

  ‘Your father marrying you off like that, not caring that I was a substitute for the bride that he had chosen,’ Tati pointed out breathlessly. ‘It seemed like he didn’t care who you married as long as a marriage took place.’

  ‘It was like that. All of Alharia knew that it was my wedding day. My father viewed the bride’s disappearance as an absolute humiliation and an outrage against the throne itself. He could not accept that shame. As long as a wedding took place and he could cover up what really happened, he was appeased,’ Saif explained, a lingering frown drawing his sleek dark brows together.