GINA WILKINS - The Park's Empire - Handsome Strangers... - The Prince's Bride

“You’re amazing.” Emily slowly shook her head. “It takes a certain kind of courage to look for love even once, but searching twice in one’s lifetime? You deserve a medal.”

“Courage?” Brenda looked at Emily over the rim of her glasses, a small frown creasing a line between her brows. “Why courage?”

“Because it seems to me that being loved once in a woman’s life is a rare thing.” Emily shrugged and lifted her cup. “The chances of it happening twice have got to be slim to none.”

“Oh, hon.” Brenda’s voice held sympathy and she covered Emily’s free hand with her own atop the table. “Not all men are like your father and the men you’ve dated.”

“Perhaps.” She didn’t bother to hide the skepticism she felt. She didn’t need to—not with Brenda. “But if there are any nice guys in the world—with the exception of my brothers—I’ve never met them.”

“So you’ve given up on finding a prince?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Brenda sighed. She sipped her tea and a smile curved her mouth. “It’s difficult to believe that the little girl who loved fairy tales has grown up to be a woman who doesn’t believe in love. Remember how you declared that you were going to marry a prince when you grew up, just like Cinderella?”

“I remember.” Emily’s answering smile faded quickly. “That was a long time ago, Brenda. Unfortunately little girls grow up and have to live in the real world. Much as I would love to have a real family, with a husband who would love me and cherish our children—I’ve given up on finding my prince.”

“I’m afraid your father has a lot to answer for.” Brenda frowned, concern chasing away her smile. “He’s ruined your faith in men. But all men aren’t like Walter Parks. And someday, somewhere, the right man will come along and you’ll have the family you’ve always wanted.”

“I hope you’re right, Brenda,” Emily’s voice held a deep well of sadness. “It would be lovely to believe in fairy tales again.”

“Hmmph.” Brenda shook her finger at her. “Just be sure you’re paying attention so you can recognize him when he arrives. Not all princes ride a white horse and wear a crown, you know.”

Emily laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I know. But while I’m waiting for him to ride up to my door, I think I’ll spend my time building my company, since I suspect that dream has a much better chance of coming true.”

Lazhar Eban was on his way to Walter Parks’s library on the first floor of the sprawling mansion. Distracted by the contract he scanned while he walked, he turned left instead of right at the foot of the stairs, moved down a hallway and found himself standing just outside the kitchen, frozen by the conversation he’d accidentally overheard. The gold framed mirror hanging on the wall opposite him reflected the kitchen interior. On the far side of the room, tucked into a bay window looking out on the kitchen garden, was a comfortable dining nook where two women sat. The older woman was the housekeeper who’d shown him to his room late the night before. Lazhar instantly recognized the stunningly beautiful younger woman. Her thick mane of glossy hair was golden-brown, her eyes a bright green, and dimples flashed beside her lush mouth when she smiled. Emily Parks, Walter Parks’s daughter, was the reason Lazhar had abruptly changed his busy schedule and flown to San Francisco.

Her photo had accompanied an addendum to a business proposal from her father, received at Lazhar’s office only three days before.

Walter had approached him months earlier with a business proposal that had the potential to be lucrative for his country. He’d been on the verge of signing but had had second thoughts when the San Francisco newspapers publicly accused the American gem trader of questionable business practices. When he told Walter that he was reconsidering, Walter sweetened the deal by offering his daughter, Emily, as the bride Lazhar needed. The investigative report faxed to him from his security force as he flew over the Atlantic reflected an image of a sophisticated woman from a rich family, educated in private schools, who had built a thriving wedding consultant business in the years since graduation from college. His investigator could find no indication that Emily was currently involved with anyone, nor that she had been so since a canceled engagement some three years before. Emily appeared to be focused on her career, with her social life existing only as an extension of her work.

Given the fact that she was one of the most beautiful women Lazhar had ever seen, he found it nearly impossible to believe that she wasn’t involved with someone, but it appeared that she was not.

Which was all the better for him, he’d thought with satisfaction.

But in person, Emily Parks wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

The beautiful face in the photo had fascinated him with the faint vulnerability behind the cool green gaze and the hint of passion in the sulky mouth. But the fleeting expression of stark loneliness that he glimpsed on Emily’s face as she spoke with Brenda struck a powerful chord within him, calling to him on a level far deeper than her surface beauty.

She wanted to believe in fairy tales again.

A woman who once believed in fairy tales is a romantic, he thought, she’ll never agree to a business merger marriage. His eyes narrowed as Emily pushed her hair back from her face and smiled warmly at Brenda. Even that small, graceful gesture from her was enough to send his blood pounding a little harder.

To hell with it. He wanted her. And he was going to have her, he vowed. It was good fortune that his need for a wife coincided with finding a woman that he wanted to bed.

But after overhearing Emily and Brenda’s conversation, he knew he needed a change of plan. He was convinced there was no chance that she’d meekly agree to marry where her father commanded. Lazhar turned away from the mirror’s reflection of the two women in the kitchen, moved silently back down the hallway, crossed the marble floor of the entry to the library and tapped on the heavy door.

“Come in.”

Walter Parks looked up as Lazhar entered, a distracted frown quickly replaced by an affable smile of welcome.

“Lazhar, come in, come in.” He gestured at the leather-covered chairs facing his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Lazhar dropped into the chair, his gaze flicking to the single sheet of paper in Walter’s hand. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” Walter’s fingers closed, slightly crumpling the sheet of paper before he dropped it atop his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve changed my mind about Emily.”

Walter’s tanned, lined face flushed, his cold brown eyes narrowing. “Why? Has she done something to offend you? Because if she has, I’ll talk to her—”

Lazhar gestured abruptly, cutting off the older man’s comments. “No, she’s done nothing. In fact, I haven’t even been introduced to her. I’ve simply rethought our original plan and decided that I don’t want her to know about our business arrangement. I’ll introduce myself and let matters take a more natural course.”

“Ah, I see.” Beneath his salt and pepper hair, Walter’s eyebrows rose, deepening the cynical expression on his leathered face. “I take it that you’re agreeing to my proposition, then?”

“If Emily agrees to become my bride, I’ll sign the contract,” Lazhar said. Walter’s swift satisfaction was easy to read. “But not until,” Lazhar added.

Walter’s mouth twisted in displeasure before the older man nodded his agreement.

“Excellent.” Lazhar stood. “I want your assurance that you won’t mention anything about our arrangement to your daughter.”