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Prince Nadir's Secret Heir
Michelle Conder
The prince with the planPrince Nadir’s brief liaison with virginal Moulin Rouge dancer Imogen Reid was over almost before it began. And Imogen fled…carrying something very precious to Nadir. Now he’s found her again and he has a plan:Step 1: Take Imogen and their daughter back to Bakaan.Step 2: Ignore his body’s betraying desire for the woman he never forgot.Step 3: Marry Imogen, securing his heir and stabilizing his desert kingdom.But step two proves increasingly difficult to execute, especially when it’s clear he’s not the only one struggling. So now it’s time for Plan B…finish what they started in Paris!Praise for Michelle ConderSocialite’s Gamble 4* RT Book ReviewConder’s romance is full of fireworks and her narrative is a heady mix of sensual banter and humor. Set in a tropical paradise, the book has an arrogant, vulnerable hero and a heroine with an unjustified image. They may seem like an unlikely pair but will win hearts on their passionate journey.The Most Expensive Lie of All 4* RT Book ReviewConder’s intense drama brings to life incredible horse country vistas, and her reunited couple’s banter is as combustible as their lovemaking.Duty at What Cost? 4.5* RT Book ReviewConder’s fantastic romance, with its sexy banter between her perfect-for-each-other couple, shines and their story is heartfelt.
‘I won’t let you take my baby, Nadir.’ Imogen hated it that her voice rang with fear. ‘If that’s your plan.’ She’d never even considered it before, but now that she had she couldn’t push it from her mind.
He glanced at her impatiently. ‘If I wanted that then you couldn’t stop me.’
‘I could. I’d …’ Panic clawed inside her throat. ‘I’ll …’
‘But I don’t want that.’ He made an impatient gesture with his hands. ‘I am not so callous that I don’t realise a baby needs its mother. That is why I plan to marry you.’
Marry her!
She shook her head, biting back a rising sense of hysteria. She needed time to make sense of everything that was happening, and she couldn’t because her mind didn’t know which way to turn.
‘Breathe, Imogen.’
Nadir went to put his hands on her shoulders and she jerked back, wondering how he had got so close to her without her being aware of it.
Imogen shook her head. ‘You’re crazy to think that I’d marry you after the way you treated me.’
Nadir’s mouth thinned and he stepped closer to her, contained anger emanating from every taut line of his body. ‘I can assure you that I’m not. This is non-negotiable.’
ONE NIGHT WITH CONSEQUENCES (#ulink_64216946-5388-5b18-ad78-9ee86b480015)
When one night … leads to pregnancy!
When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire it’s impossible to think past the morning after!
But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!
Only one question remains:
How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?
Find out in:
Nine Months to Redeem Him by Jennie Lucas
January 2015
Prince Nadir’s Secret Heir by Michelle Conder
March 2015
Carrying the Greek’s Heir by Sharon Kendrick
April 2015
More stories in the One Night with Consequences series can be found at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With two university degrees and a variety of false career starts under her belt, MICHELLE CONDER decided to satisfy her lifelong desire to write and finally found her dream job. She currently lives in Melbourne, Australia, with one super-indulgent husband, three self-indulgent (but exquisite) children, a menagerie of over-indulged pets, and the intention of doing some form of exercise daily. She loves to hear from her readers at www.michelleconder.com (http://www.michelleconder.com)
Prince Nadir’s Secret Heir
Michelle Conder
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Pam Austin, who planned the most wonderful holiday while I wrote this book. Meeting you on that train ride to Paris was one of life’s little gifts.
And for Paul for always being there.
Contents
Cover (#u0287cc2c-2c72-5823-ae2f-685e61ee03f2)
Introduction (#u42983781-6086-5995-97ef-5571f9e4ee11)
ONE NIGHT WITH CONSEQUENCES (#ulink_91782757-32eb-515a-9af4-1297df11126e)
About the Author (#u15207ab9-c255-5c81-a1b8-ae2e6367183c)
Title Page (#ub312aafb-5afb-5d38-bf8e-cf586a9757eb)
Dedication (#u58455813-0045-5f12-92aa-63c743bf7d23)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Special Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue1ebb4a9-43dd-561e-9f06-7416d29bf883)
SOME DAYS STARTED OUT well and stayed that way. Others started out well and rapidly deteriorated.
This day, Nadir Zaman Al-Darkhan, Crown Prince of Bakaan, decided as he stared at a very large and very ugly statue squatting in the corner of his London office, was rapidly sliding towards the latter. ‘What the hell is that?’
He glanced over his shoulder at his new PA, who blinked back at him like a newly hatched owl transfixed by a wicked wolf. She’d been recommended by his old PA, whose recently acquired husband had taken offence at the seventeen-hour work-days Nadir habitually kept, and he wasn’t sure how she was going to work out.
In general people either treated him with deference or fear. According to his brother, it had something to do with the vibe he gave off. Apparently he emanated an aura of power and ruthless determination that didn’t bode well for his personal relationships, which was why he didn’t have many. Nadir had merely shrugged when Zach had delivered that piece of news. Personal relationships ranked well down below work, exercise, sex and sleep.
Not always, a sneaky voice whispered in his ear and he frowned as that voice conjured up an image of a woman he had once briefly dated over a year ago and had never seen since.
‘I believe it’s a golden stag, sir,’ his PA all but stuttered, definitely falling into the fearful category.
Applying some of that ruthlessness his brother had mentioned, Nadir banished the image of the blonde dancer from his mind and turned back to the statue. He could see it was a stag and he only hoped it hadn’t once been alive. ‘I got that, Miss Fenton. What I should have said is—what the hell is it doing in my office?’
‘It’s a gift from the Sultan of Astiv.’
Ah, just what he needed—another gift from some world leader he didn’t know, offering commiserations over the death of his father two weeks ago. He’d only been back in Europe a day since the funeral and he was, frankly, tired of the reminders which always brought up the fact that he felt nothing for the man who had sired him.
Annoyed, he strode across to his desk and sat down. His PA stopped in his doorway with her iPad clutched to her chest.
‘Tell me, Miss Fenton. Should a person feel badly that their father has just passed away?’
His PA’s eyes slowly widened as if he’d just raised a gun to her head. ‘I couldn’t quite say, sir.’
Meaning she didn’t want to say. Which didn’t surprise him. It wasn’t as if he was known for seeking out the personal opinion of those who worked for him. Not on private matters anyway.
Still, he couldn’t quite contain his frustration as his PA shuffled into his office and perched on the edge of an office chair. Between fear and awe he’d go with awe every time but his new PA looked as if she was waiting for him to attack her with a blunt instrument, which could have something to do with the whole host of unwanted emotions and memories his father’s death had stirred up in him. He knew a shrink would tell him that was a good thing. As far as Nadir was concerned, long buried emotions and memories were long buried for a very good reason.
‘What else have you got for me, Miss Fenton?’
She flashed him a relieved look that he had turned his mind to work. ‘Miss Orla Kincaid left a message.’
Nadir already regretted calling up an old mistress to see if she was free for dinner. Earlier, when it had crossed his mind, he’d been bored by a group of business executives who couldn’t give away a cold beer to a dying man in the desert let alone convince him to shell out millions to invest in a product they were trying to manufacture on the cheap. ‘Let’s have it.’
His PA shifted uncomfortably. ‘She said—and I quote—“I’m only interested if he’s going to take our relationship seriously this time”—unquote.’
Rolling his eyes, Nadir told her to strike that one. ‘What else?’
‘Your brother rang and wants you to call him ASAP.’
Maybe Zachim had received a giant stag as well. But more likely he wanted to know how Nadir was going with his plan to help haul their Arabic homeland into the twenty-first century. With a spaceship, Nadir thought wryly, or maybe a really big front-end loader. His father had ruled Bakaan with an iron fist and now that he was dead it was supposed to be Nadir’s job to lead the country into the future. Something he had no intention of doing.
Years ago he had made a promise to his father that he would never return to rule Bakaan and Nadir always kept his promises. Fortunately, Zachim had been groomed in his stead and had agreed to take on the position as the next King of Bakaan. Poor bastard. ‘Get him on the phone.’
‘I have other messages,’ she said, balancing her iPad with one hand.
‘Email them to my palm pilot.’
Moments later his palm pilot beeped right after his landline. His new PA was efficient; he’d give her that at least.
‘If you’re going to hassle me over the business proposal to reinvent the Bakaani banking system I’d like to remind you that I do have an international business to run,’ Nadir grouched good-naturedly. Despite the fact that they were only half-brothers, Zachim was the only person Nadir would call a true friend and they caught up whenever their work paths crossed.
‘I wish it was only that.’ His brother’s tone was grim. ‘You need to get back here right away.’
‘Ten hours in that place was ten hours too long,’ Nadir drawled. Before that he hadn’t been back to Bakaan for twenty years and he’d be happy to make it another twenty. The memories his homeland conjured up in him were better left buried and it had been more of a battle to keep them at bay yesterday than he’d be willing to share with anyone. In fact the only way he’d succeeded was to call up images of that exotic dancer and he hadn’t much liked thinking about her either. Especially with the way things had ended between them. And here he was thinking about her again. He scrubbed a hand across his freshly shaven jaw.
‘Yeah, well, you hotfooted it out of here before you heard the news,’ his brother said.
Nadir lounged in his seat with a relaxed feline grace and propped his feet on his desk. ‘What news?’
‘Father named you the next in line to the throne. You’re to be King and you better get your sorry arse back here quick smart. Some of the insurgent mountain tribes are making moves to cause instability in the region and Bakaan needs a show of leadership.’
‘Hold up.’ Nadir’s chair slammed forward as his feet dropped to the floor. ‘Father named you the heir.’
‘Verbally.’ The frustration in Zach’s voice was clear. ‘It seems that doesn’t hold much sway with the council.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘That’s what happens when you die of a heart attack without putting the paperwork in order.’
Nadir forced himself to relax and sucked in a deep breath. ‘You know it makes sense that you become the next Sultan. Not only do you run the army but you’ve lived there most of your life.’
He heard his brother’s weary sigh and hoped another lecture wasn’t coming about how Nadir was the oldest and how it was his birthright. They’d discussed this ad nauseam for years but it was only yesterday that he’d realised Zach had always believed that he’d one day return to Bakaan and take over. ‘I think you’re making a mistake but you’ll need to officially renounce your position to the council.’
‘Fine. I’ll send them an email.’
‘In person.’
Nadir swore. ‘That’s ridiculous. This is the twenty-first century.’
‘And, as you know, Bakaan is labouring somewhere around the mid-nineteenth.’
Nadir ground his jaw and picked up the stress ball on his desk, tossing it through the basketball hoop set up beside the Matisse on his wall. His father might not have planned to die when he had but he would have known the succession protocol. Was this his way of trying to control him from the grave? If it was, it wouldn’t work. Once, when Nadir was a child, they might have had a close relationship but that had ended when Nadir realised how manipulative and self-centred his father was. ‘Set it up for tomorrow.’
‘Will do.’
He rang off and stared into space. That was what you got for not tying up loose ends at the right time. Twenty years ago he’d left Bakaan after his father had refused to give his mother and twin sister a state funeral after a fatal car accident. They had shamed him, his father had said, when they had tried to flee the country to start a new life. It didn’t matter to his father that they had not lived as man and wife for years or that his mother and sister were desperately unhappy with their exiled life in Bakaan. It only mattered that they continued to live where his father had placed them. When Nadir had stood up for their honour his father had basically said it was either his way or the highway.
