Carol Marinelli - Royal Temptation

Mikael got in himself and before driving off called his favourite hotel.

He glanced over to Layla. Yes, he told Reservations, he would have his usual luxury suite.

‘Right, I’ve booked you into a hotel. I’ll cover it, and we can sort out money some other time.’

‘You have your retainer.’

‘I do.’ Mikael sighed, imagining trying to cash a rare ruby. ‘Put your seatbelt on.’

‘Pardon?’ Layla frowned. ‘The taxi driver said the same.’

‘And did you?’

Clearly not.

‘You need to.’

It should have been easy to reach over and do it himself, except she started to laugh as if he was tickling her as he leant over to retrieve the belt and suddenly there was nothing straightforward about the way Mikael was feeling as his nostrils delivered to his brain its first hit of the exotic aroma of Layla close up.

‘What are you doing?’ She was giddy from the brief contact.

‘Putting on your seatbelt.’ He pulled the belt out, trying to ignore the scent of her and the sound of her laughter as he clicked it in. ‘Don’t you wear seatbelts in Ishla?’

‘ I don’t,’ Layla said. ‘The same thing happened on the plane.’ Then she turned and looked at him. ‘Though it wasn’t as much fun.’

Mikael said nothing. He just drove to the hotel. But he could feel her eyes on him.

‘You’re not a very happy person, are you?’ Layla observed.

‘It’s not a requisite for my job.’

‘You’re not working now.’

‘Yes, Layla,’ Mikael said, ‘I am. Believe me, it would have been far cheaper to get a chauffeur-driven limousine with a trained monkey in the back peeling grapes for you than to have me drive you.’ He turned and saw her frown. ‘You’ll see the breakdown on my bill.’

‘I want that monkey!’ Layla said, then pouted when she got no response from Mikael. ‘You didn’t laugh at my joke.’

‘I wasn’t sure if it was one,’ he admitted, but then turned and gave her a brief smile. ‘It was a good one, though!’

They got out at the hotel and Mikael gave the parking attendant his keys, telling him he’d be out shortly and not to park the car. They walked through to check in.

‘I’ll see you to your room and then I need to go back and do some work.’

‘That’s fine.’

Heads were turning, Mikael realised, and not just turning. People were craning their necks to get a glimpse of Layla as she glided along beside him. As he checked her in under his name he explained that there was no luggage.

‘You might want to…’ He turned to see if she needed some cash but she was no longer beside him. Mikael saw her wandering into one of the hotel’s boutiques.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ he said to the receptionist, and then strode through the foyer and into the boutique.

‘I like!’ Layla said, holding up a very glittery, very high shoe. She sat down and kicked off her silver slipper and held out her foot to him, just as the assistant called over that she would be there in a moment.

Even her feet were beautiful, Mikael thought. Long and slender and, yes, clearly irresistible—because with barely a thought he was helping her on with the shoe.

The sole of her foot was a soft as a kitten’s paw and Mikael tried to ignore the feel of her skin and the scent of her hair as she bent forward as he tried to slip it on.

‘It doesn’t fit!’ Layla exclaimed.

‘You’re like Cinderella in reverse.’

‘Why doesn’t it fit?’ Layla demanded, because in Ishla her shoes were hand-made and fitted beautifully. This she could not even get her foot in.

‘Because this isn’t Planet Layla,’ Mikael said. ‘Come on.’

‘But I want—’

‘Layla.’ His voice was stern. Mikael was fast losing patience as she followed him to the elevators. ‘I don’t have time to be taking you shoe-shopping, I deliver my closing argument tomorrow…’

Not that she’d understand that, Mikael thought as he swiped a card for the lift and handed it to her. ‘You need to use this to take the lift and to get into your suite.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Twenty-fourth floor,’ Mikael said, pressing the button.

‘How did court go today?’ Layla asked.

‘Not very well.’

‘He must be very difficult to defend,’ Layla said.

Mikael shrugged and offered his usual response to that statement. ‘Not difficult for me,’ he said.

‘It’s an interesting case, though,’ Layla said. ‘Her silence is his defence.’

He had assumed that she was talking morally.

For once he was wrong.

‘You really have been following it.’ Mikael didn’t even hide the slight surprise in his voice.

‘Of course,’ Layla said. ‘I wanted to know who I would be dealing with.’

He showed her around the suite and where everything was, and then he showed her the phone. ‘If you want anything ring—’

‘You.’

‘No, you ring the desk.’

‘What if I need to speak with you?’

‘Please don’t need to speak with me,’ he said.

He went to get out his business card but then changed his mind and wrote his personal number down on a pad on the desk.

‘Emergencies only,’ he warned, but she wasn’t listening. She was at the window, her eyes glittering as she eyed the city streets below. He was starting to understand Zahid’s concern—because how the hell would she manage out there?

‘Can I ask that you don’t go out tonight?’

She briefly turned and gave him a scoffing look. ‘You think I did all this just to stay in my room?’

‘Layla, I have a huge case on.’ Mikael let out a breath. ‘But tomorrow night I’ll take you out.’

‘Really?’

‘Or possibly the next night.’

Layla rolled her eyes. ‘Good evening, Mikael, thank you for your help with my brother. You’re dismissed for today.’

He could not dismiss her from his mind, though.

Well, he’d have to.

Mikael returned to chambers and finally sat down to work through his closing argument. If he was lucky he’d get a couple of hours’ sleep.

Mikael was very good at shutting the world out when needed.

This was his passion.

Over and over the prosecution’s closing he went, looking for holes, for the one little thing that might plant reasonable doubt.

He already had it—in fact Mikael had long known that it was all he had. Layla had got it exactly: the victim’s silence was his client’s only defence.

He might be getting more than two hours’ sleep after all, he thought, and his mind briefly drifted to Layla. He wondered how she was doing in a strange city on her first night out of Ishla.

Not his problem.

He walked over to the chessboard to take a small break and stared at it for ages.

It wasn’t even close to checkmate.

Was it?

Mikael looked again, for a considerably longer time.

No.

He made his move.

Mikael got back to his computer screen but there was a gnawing of anxiety in his mind. To ease it he picked up the phone and called the hotel and asked what had been charged to his room.

Several Irish coffees, toiletries and two peeled and thinly sliced apples, he was told for starters. But then that gnaw started to burn as he heard about the dresses and shoes that had also been charged to the suite, and that the car was almost ready to collect them .

‘Cancel the car,’ Mikael said.

Cursing, he reloaded his briefcase and headed out to his car, making light work of the dark city streets. At the hotel he tossed his keys at the valet and made his way up to the twenty-fourth floor—only to meet Layla, stepping into the elevator as he came out.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’