their families have a political or financial agenda. Or all of the above. You and I are different.”
Laila cocked an eyebrow. “We don’t want real marriages?”
“We want to be free.”
He heard her subtle intake of breath. Out in the hall, footsteps moved quietly past the door. The aides would be getting antsy. If he didn’t get back to the ballroom soon, his mother would come looking for him herself. His lungs seemed too small. If Laila dismissed this out of hand right now, he’d have no choice but to go find someone at the party. At the end of the hall a grandfather clock that had been passed down for four generations ticked and struck the time—eleven p.m. Not quite Cinderella’s midnight, but he was running out of time to choose a backup bride.
“I do want to be free,” Laila said softly. “I do.”
“Good.” That was all he needed—at least for now. He stood up, head humming with plans. “I can give you the night to make your final decision. Wait here for my aides. They’ll take you where you need to go.”
“Where’s that?” Laila was on her feet in an instant, moving closer. He pushed down the urge to sweep her up into his arms and take her to the helicopter pad himself.
“Back to the city,” he said, tearing his eyes away from her one last time. “You’ll stay at the palace there. The guest rooms here are full, and I think it will be better if the hopeful guests at the ball are kept in cheerful ignorance of your presence, at least for tonight.”
5
Laila rolled and stretched, coming awake under the softest sheets she’d ever touched in her life. This had to be the best bed in the universe. For once, her body felt perfectly rested. She hadn’t spent all night tossing and turning the way she did in her tiny apartment, with its ancient twin mattress. As excited as she’d been after the helicopter ride from one palace to the other, she’d still fallen almost instantly into a deep sleep.
Now she opened her eyes onto a sunlit guest suite in the private wing of Zayid’s palace. The king and queen, it turned out, spent most of their time at the country palace where the party had been held. Zayid lived here. And for the moment, so did she.
Laila abandoned the comfort of the sheets and took everything in. It had been late enough the night before that she’d climbed straight into bed, but now—now she was in the palace. The palace that had watched over everyone in the city for centuries—including her, for a little while.
Deep blue wallpaper etched with a thin leaf pattern in gold covered the walls. The bed itself was a massive creation of gleaming dark wood and pristine white sheets. Pillows on pillows. She’d dumped her purse and phone on the matching bedside table. Laila threw open the curtains, letting in another wash of sunlight. The room overlooked the royal gardens, teeming with flowers.
Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. The view made her heart race. She threw the curtains shut to cover it up, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by her circumstances.
It would be an adventure to marry the crown prince; she couldn’t deny that. But how could she accept it? She didn’t want to get married. That had not been the plan when she bought her ticket to Raihan. Her plan was to go back to London and get a teaching job—preferably one that included making and researching pottery. Marrying Zayid would only be exchanging one marriage contract for another. This one came with its own gilded cage.
But it was still better than marrying Harb or leaving her grandfather to deal with the fallout. A burst of anger shot through her arms and balled her hands into fists. That man didn’t deserve a marriage contract for scamming her grandfather. He deserved—
She shuddered away from the dark, vengeful thoughts.
A soft knock reverberated through the bedroom door, which cracked open an inch. “Ms. Tindall? I heard you moving about. My name is Maha, and I’ll be your personal aide during your stay at the palace. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said, wrapping her arms across yesterday’s clothes. “A personal aide? I’m not sure I’ll need help with anything.” Laila hadn’t even considered day-to-day life at the palace. She hadn’t considered that it might last longer than a single night. Yet here she was, talking to her new aide through the door. “Will I?”
“Sheikh Zayid wanted me to bring