Carol Marinelli - Royal Temptation

He released her. ‘I’d better go.’

‘You need to leave my nightdress,’ she said. ‘Are you working tomorrow?’

‘I am,’ he said, ‘but I’ll try and finish early.’ He was worried about her going out without him, but at the same time didn’t want to curtail her. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

‘I have a very special day planned,’ Layla said as he took off his shirt and handed it to her. ‘I am not getting out of bed.’

‘Oh?’ Mikael waited for her to elaborate but she had clearly said all she wanted to on the subject.

She looked at him, naked from the waist up, and wanted more of what she had so recently felt. ‘Can you kiss me now, so I can feel your skin?’

‘Definitely not,’ he said, putting on his jacket and pocketing his tie. ‘Night, Layla.’

‘I have another thing on my bucket list now,’ Layla said as he headed for the door. ‘I want to have an orgasm.’

‘I’m going home.’

‘Seriously, Mikael.’ She saw him to the door. ‘I thought you could only achieve orgasm with sexual intercourse, and even then only if you were lucky. Am I wrong?’

‘Very wrong!’ Mikael almost groaned. ‘Goodnight, Layla.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

LAYLA AWOKE LONG after sunrise and lay in bed for a happy hour, just remembering Mikael’s kiss and replaying it over and over, before ringing down for breakfast—only to find out that it was lunchtime.

‘What would you like, Layla?’ The staff thought she was wonderful, and the head chef was brought to the phone to help her with her order.

‘I want someone to come and help me put on the television, and I want a thinly sliced and peeled apple to cleanse my palette, and then something nice to eat.’

‘Such as?’

‘Sweet,’ Layla said. ‘Some fruit. You choose for me. One other thing—can I get a joint from you?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, just some sweet milk to drink, then.’

Apart from when she had caught that cold from wearing damp clothes Layla had never spent a day in bed before, and she intended to enjoy it.

The maids delivered her food and Terrence, the butler, gave her a tutorial on the television’s remote control, and Layla lay in bed, still in Mikael’s shirt, dipping raspberries in white chocolate sauce and drinking milk laced with cinnamon and nutmeg while watching television.

It was fantastic!

She watched as the couple on the screen started kissing, and blew out her breath as she remembered her kiss last night with Mikael again.

She watched, eyes wide, as the man started to take off the woman’s top, and started to blush as he undid her bra.

Oh!

Layla knew that she should not be watching this, that she should turn it off, but she could not stop herself. She wanted some lemonade from the fridge. Usually she would use the phone to get Terrence to fetch it for her, but she did not want to be disturbed and so, with her eyes not leaving the screen, for the first time Layla fetched a drink for herself.

The couple were now on the bed, with a sheet over them, and Layla just about choked on her lemonade at the noises they were making. She reached for the phone—not to call down to the desk, though; instead she called Mikael.

‘I can’t speak now, Layla,’ he said. ‘I’m about to have a meeting with my client’s family.’

‘Just one question?’ she begged.

‘One.’

‘I am watching television and I think people are having sex in the middle of the day and they are not married to each other.’

‘You’re not watching television, then,’ he said. ‘You’ve put on the adult channel.’

God, he thought, another thing he’d have to have removed from her bill before her brother saw it.

‘Oh!’

He heard her gasp of disappointment. ‘Now they are putting on the thing where they try to make me thirsty again.’

‘That’s a commercial.’ He laughed. Okay, so she wasn’t on the adult channel. ‘Do you know the name of the show that you’re watching?’

Layla told him.

‘That’s what we call a soap,’ Mikael explained. ‘They’re not really having sex—they’re just acting.’

‘Well, it’s very good acting,’ Layla said. ‘She looks how I felt when you kissed me last night. Are they dressed beneath the sheet?’

‘I would think so.’

‘But I saw the top of his bottom.’

‘I have to go.’ Mikael hesitated as Wendy buzzed. ‘Hold on a moment, Layla.’

She would happily hold on, she thought—her show was back on and the couples were lying together and smiling.

‘I really do have to go, Layla.’

‘Just one more question…’ She didn’t get to ask it.

‘Layla, the jury’s returning.’

‘So soon? But—’

Mikael had already hung up.

He met with his client, who was sweating. ‘It’s not good that they’re back so soon, is it?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘A little bit of hope would be nice.’

He did not respond. He had done his very best for the filth that now sat next to him. What hope had he given his victim that night?

Mikael sat, his face impassive, waiting.

‘All rise.’

Mikael did.

* * *

Layla hopped on one leg as she watched the court reporter on the court’s steps and Terrence stood beside her, navigating social media and giving her updates.

‘The verdict’s coming.’

‘Oh,’ Layla said. ‘Do you think he’ll be upset if he loses?’

‘He rarely loses,’ Terrence said. ‘Probably…’ Terrence paused. ‘Okay, here it is…’ He paused for a moment and then read out the verdict. ‘Guilty.’

Layla gasped as pandemonium hit the courtroom.

‘They’re shouting abuse from the public gallery,’ Terrence said, reading from a laptop as Layla watched the news. ‘The judge is thanking the jury.’

‘What are they saying about Mikael?’ Layla demanded.

Nothing the court reporter or Terrence could find gave her a clue as to how he was feeling.

Mikael Romanov, the court reporter said, was, as always, a closed book.

Not even later, as he walked down the court steps and ignored the reporters, did his expression give Layla an inkling as to his thoughts.

‘Send someone to tidy the room,’ Layla said, ‘and I want more fruit and chocolate sauce and champagne…’ Rapid were her orders.

‘Champagne?’ Terrence checked. ‘I don’t think he’ll be in the mood for celebrating.’

‘ Now , Terrence, please!’

* * *

Mikael’s expression was unreadable as he walked back to chambers—just as it would have been had his client been found not guilty.

No one could ever guess what went on in his mind.

He de-robed and took a long drink of sparkling water. Then, a short while later, his car gunned from the car park and Mikael left in a puff of smoke, driving straight to the hotel, where he threw his keys at the valet and this time told him to park it. He took the elevator to her door.

‘Enter,’ Layla called, and he took out his swipe card and let himself in.

She was sitting up in bed, still wearing his shirt. There was champagne in a bucket and he hadn’t had a drink in two months, and there was fruit and chocolate sauce. She understood him, Mikael realised, somehow she understood him—or rather she simply let him be.

‘Are you upset?’ Layla asked.

‘No.’

‘Because I thought you could just hide in bed with me. Not for sex. I have always dreamt of it, but today I found out it is really nice to sit in bed and just eat.’

‘Okay…’ Mikael’s voice was a touch wary, but he took off his jacket and tie, shoes and socks, and then opened the champagne. He poured two glasses and joined her, but lay on top of the bed rather than getting in.