Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

“So I’m following his orders in the best way I know how, trying to be fair to you in the process. As Bhaskar’s daughter you would probably have inherited a bankrupt country, as my grandfather did, but I believe you’re still due compensation as his heir, so think of the lump sum in that light, even though it comes with strings. The monthly stipend will be for the sheer upheaval moving and playing your part will bring.”

He wouldn’t tell her the deal he offered wasn’t sanctioned by his father, who believed theirs would be a true, lasting union, not the limited one Farhan envisioned.

Sara still looked unsure, however, so he continued, “If after a time we part ways, my father won’t be happy, but that wouldn’t be his decision to make. He can order me to marry, but he can’t order you to stay in the marriage if you don’t want to.”

“That makes sense,” she said, shifting her empty cup back and forth between her hands. Then she cleared her throat, the blush now suffusing her entire face, but she bravely held his gaze as she said, “Before I agree, I have to ask: would you be expecting me to fulfill all the usual roles as your wife?”

He knew what she was asking; would have found her delicacy amusing if it weren’t for the ramifications of even thinking that way, coupled with the rush of heat up his spine at the thought of having her in his bed.

“No,” he said, quickly enough that her blush deepened. “Us being intimate isn’t part of the bargain.”

If his father had his way it would have been written into the contract. Uttam had gone so far as to say he would give Sara a million dollars to produce an heir within the first year, saying it might, “smooth the way to compliance.” Farhan found his father’s suggestion offensive in every way, and had no intention of telling her about it. Ever.

She looked back down at her cup, and he held his breath. He’d thought it would take weeks, perhaps even months to convince her to marry him, but beyond the shyness and anxiety in her gaze there was also curiosity and something akin to excitement. Farhan hoped it would be enough to get her to agree to his terms.

“Okay, but I’ll need time to get everything sorted out.”

Outwardly calm, but inside doing fist pumps and cartwheels, he said mildly, “That’s good. You won’t regret it.”

Then, with ruthless efficiency, he steamrollered over every objection that would delay their return to Kalyana, or make her change her mind as the reality of her agreement set in.

No, she didn’t need time to give notice or to pack. He was royalty, and rich. They’d hire people to deal with those pesky details.

“You can leave all that to me, and we’ll be on our way in two weeks.”

Eyes wide, she’d gasped. “Wait. You’re kidding, right?” Waving her hands, she continued, “I don’t know anything about being royalty; what to do or say. It’ll be a disaster, and an embarrassment. I can’t do it.”

“I’ll arrange for you to learn whatever you need to know, as well as make sure you’re completely kitted out for the part. If we get everything squared away here over the next week or so we’ll go to Toronto, get married there, and then head to Paris or Milan to get you a new wardrobe.”

The mingled horror and shock on her face was obvious, yet she didn’t object again. Instead she muttered, “And what the heck do I tell my family?”

“The truth?” he ventured, only to be met with a scathing glance.

“Oh, heck, no. All this princess business would blow their minds.”

“They’ll find out sooner or later that you’re marrying a prince, albeit one from a tiny kingdom.”

She nibbled at the corner of her lip, and then replied, “And we’re going to have to come up with a realistic backstory about how we met, and why we’re marrying in such a rush.”

He shrugged, and gave her a smile. “I came to Canada on business. We met and I fell head over heels for you. I refused to go home without you, and you finally gave in.”

Her scathing glance and answer made him smile.

“You’re going to have to come up with a better story than that. No one would believe you’d fall for me like that.”

“We’ll see,” was all he said, rising to get another coffee, which he found to be surprisingly good. “Want another drink?”

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