âAnd how do I live, Olivia?â
âYou know as well as I do. Parties till dawn and a different woman in your bed every night.â
âYou disapprove?â
âItâs not for me to judge, but itâs certainly not how I want to live my life.â
âSurely thereâs a balance? Weâre opposites, you and I, in our pursuit of pleasure, but donât you think we could find some middle ground?â
Her eyes flashed. âAnd where would that be?â
In bed. Aziz had a sudden vivid image of Olivia lying on top of tangled satin sheets, her glorious hair spread out on the pillow, her lips rosy and swollen from his kisses. His libido stirred insistently. He knew he had no business thinking like this, feeling like this.
And yet he did.
RIVALS TO THE CROWN OF KADAR
Ruthless in battle, ruthless in love â¦
Two powerful men locked in a struggle to rule the country of their birth â¦
One a desert prince, once banished and shamed, the other a royal playboy, cutting a swathe through the beautiful women of Europe.
Tortured by their memories of the past, these bitter enemies will use any means necessary to win. But neither expects the women who will change the course of their revenge!
Read Khalilâs story inCAPTURED BY THE SHEIKH September 2014
Read Azizâs story inCOMMANDED BY THE SHEIKH October 2014
KATE HEWITT discovered her first Mills & Boon® romance on a trip to England when she was thirteen, and sheâs continued to read them ever since. She wrote her first story at the age of five, simply because her older brother had written one and she thought she could do it too. That story was one sentence longâfortunately theyâve become a bit more detailed as sheâs grown older. She has written plays, short stories and magazine serials for many years, but writing romance remains her first love. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, travelling and learning to knit.
After marrying the man of her dreamsâher older brotherâs childhood friendâshe lived in England for six years, and now resides in Connecticut with her husband, her three young children, and the possibility of one day getting a dog.
Kate loves to hear from readersâyou can contact her through her website: www.kate-hewitt.com
CHAPTER ONE
âI NEED YOU, OLIVIA.â
Olivia Ellis quickly suppressed the flare of feeling Sheikh Aziz al Bakirâs simply stated words caused inside her. Of course he needed her. He needed her to change his sheets, polish his silver and keep his Parisian townhouse on the Ile de la Cité pristine.
That didnât explain what she was doing here, in the royal palace of Kadar.
Less than eight hours ago sheâd been summoned by one of Azizâs men, asked unequivocally to accompany him on the royal jet to Siyadâthe capital of Kadarâwhere Aziz had recently ascended the throne.
Olivia had gone reluctantly, because she liked the quiet life sheâd made for herself in Paris: mornings with the concierge across the street sipping coffee, afternoons in the garden pruning roses. It was a life that held no excitement or passion, but it was hers and it made her happy, or as happy as she knew how to be. It was enough, and she didnât want it to change.
âWhat do you need of me, Your Highness?â she asked. Sheâd spent the endless flight to Kadar composing reasons why she should stay in Paris. She needed to stay in Paris, needed the safety and comfort of her quiet life.
âConsidering the circumstances, I think you should call me Aziz.â The smile he gave her was whimsical, effortlessly charming, yet Olivia tried to remain unmoved. Sheâd often observed Azizâs charm from a distance, had heard the honeyed words slide from his lips as he entertained one of his many female guests in Paris. Sheâd picked up the discarded lingerie from the staircase and had poured coffee for the women who crept from his bed before breakfast, their hair mussed and their lips swollen.
She, however, had always considered herself immune to âthe Gentleman Playboyâ, as the tabloids had nicknamed him. A bit of an oxymoron, Olivia thought, but she had to admit Aziz possessed a certain charisma.
She felt it now, with him focusing all of his attention on her, the opulent palace with its frescoed walls and gold fixtures stretching around them.
âVery well, Aziz. What do you need of me?â She spoke briskly, as she had when discussing replacing the roof tiles or the guest list for a dinner party. Yet it took a little more effort now, being in this strange and overwhelming place with this man.
He was, Olivia had to admit, beautiful. She could acknowledge that, just as she acknowledged that Michelangeloâs David was a magnificent sculpture; it was nothing more than a simple appreciation of undeniable beauty. In any case, she didnât have anything left inside her to feel more than that. Not for Aziz, not for anyone.