Crowned For His Desert Twins by Clare Connelly

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN’SVOICEHADbeen droning on for a very, very long time. India nodded and smiled—it was pretty obvious he didn’t require much more than that. The few times she’d attempted to interject her own thoughts, he’d given her a condescending look, as if to imply, ‘what would you know about it?’ and then waffled on some more. His companions didn’t seem to mind, which led India to believe that Ethan Graves was either seriously rich or seriously important. There was no other reason for so many people to be intent on sucking up to him. Oh, he was handsome, in that movie star way, but he was clearly so full of himself that India was beyond bored.

Unfortunately, that left her brain with way, way too much run time, and it was occupied on a singular task: overthinking the experience she’d had with Khalil—she didn’t even know his last name! And yet he’d almost kissed her as though she were his dying breath, and he had—for that moment—been all she was aware of. She tried to think of other matters. Her conversation with Jackson this morning, for example, and how happy he’d sounded, his placement at college coming at a time when he’d been besieged by grief—they both had been—after the sudden, tragic loss of their parents. Her life’s purpose had become, in the last twelve months, about maintaining the status quo for him.

She owed that to her mother and stepfather. She’d loved them so much, and they’d worked so hard to give their children a great life. She’d do anything she could to honour them, and working out a way to cover Jackson’s expensive tuition so he could take up his place at the prestigious institution seemed like a good place to start. They’d been so proud when he’d got his acceptance letter. Jackson’s degree had meant the world to them. She had to make sure he was able to complete his studies.

But was it tenable? Could she keep this up for another three years? Panic rose in her chest, as it always did when she contemplated the future, the financial obligations around her neck tightening until she felt as though she were going to black out. Unfortunately, there were only so many ways an unqualified twenty-four-year-old could make money in this economy, and the amount of money India required meant she’d had no option but to turn to a job like this. Escorting wealthy men to fancy functions wasn’t exactly her dream career, but it paid well. And Jackson was worth it.

She would have done anything she could to be with him today. It was her first birthday without her parents. They’d died three days after she turned twenty-three. She hadn’t stopped to think about that, but this morning, she’d faced this milestone without them, and it had brought all the grief and loneliness and missing them back so she’d wished the day away, simply so she could get this ‘first’ day over with. Christmas had been the same. Jackson had come home though, so at least they’d been together, but it had been hollow and haunting, their parents’ absence making the holiday heavy with sadness.

Ethan’s companions laughed at something he’d said, dragging her back to the conversation. She faked a laugh, before lifting the mineral water to her lips and taking a sip. It wasn’t intentional, but her eyes shifted sideways and it was like being electric-shocked.

Khalil stood across the room, in a conversation he clearly wasn’t listening to. His eyes bored into her in a way that sent her pulse into overdrive. She didn’t—couldn’t—look away, and a moment later his lip lifted in a knowing smile, before his eyes dipped lower, undertaking a slower, more thorough inspection. Her body’s response was immediate. Her stomach squeezed and her breasts tingled, her nipples taut. She knew he realised, and heat bloomed in her cheeks. India sipped her drink again then forced herself to listen to Ethan, dragging her gaze back to her client.

He knew nothing about economics. He clearly thought he did, but India had finished two years of her degree and, beyond that, economics had long been a passion of hers. She knew that he was fudging numbers and his understanding of trade relationships was deeply warped. Did the others in the group realise?

On he went, for at least another twenty minutes, before turning to India. ‘Darling, would you mind fetching me another from the bar?’

Heat flushed her cheeks for a different reason now, and a quick glance confirmed that Khalil was watching, a look in his eyes that knocked the breath from her lungs.

‘Of course not,’ she said, embarrassed, but all too aware she was being paid to be the perfect date.

‘Anyone else for a drink?’ he offered the group.

‘A beer,’ one of the men said with a grin of appreciation.

‘Same,’ another agreed.

India smiled through gritted teeth as she turned and walked towards the bar.

‘You know, there are waiters here who would happily take care of his needs for you.’ Khalil was behind her, his voice caressing. ‘Why does he send you like a little servant?’

The moment he spoke, she realised she’d been hoping he would pursue her. ‘I’m his date and I’m happy to make him happy.’

‘Is this what you think a date should be like?’ Khalil murmured, making a tsking sound of disapproval. ‘What fools you must have been wasting your time on.’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she muttered, before she could stop herself.

‘Then let tonight be the night your poor taste in men stops,’ he said with a lift of his brow.

‘We’ve already discussed that. I’m not going home with you.’

‘Because you’d rather go home with him? Or because I was honest about what would happen the morning after?’

Her heart felt as though she had a stitch. ‘A little of both.’

‘I don’t believe you. Not on the first count. I have been watching you all night and there is no spark between the two of you. Not like when I touch you.’

India swallowed quickly. She’d never felt anything like she had when Khalil had touched her, let alone when he’d moved in to kiss her, as though her lips had been designed to dance with his.

‘I wish you’d stop watching me,’ she murmured quietly, except it was a lie. Even his eyes, from across the room, had the power to turn her blood to lava.

‘I can’t. For as long as you are in this room, I will watch you, and I will want you.’

It was so direct! India’s eyes leaped to his, all the breath whooshing out of her. ‘Khalil,’ she moaned. ‘You have to stop this.’

‘When it is so obvious that we both want the same thing?’

She couldn’t deny that, so she stuck with the line she’d already given him. ‘I’m here on a date. I’m not going to ditch him for someone I’ve just met, okay?’

His response was to reach down and put an arm around her waist, drawing her away from the bar.

‘Hey,’ she protested. ‘I have to order their drinks.’

‘Drinks, plural?’ He swore under his breath. ‘You are retrieving beverages for the entire group?’

‘Just a few, it’s no big deal.’ She waved her hand in the air. ‘I offered.’

It was obvious he didn’t believe the lie. His lips compressed in an angry slash as he lifted a hand and beckoned another waitress with enviable ease.

‘What is your order?’ he commanded, and for a moment she was struck dumb by the sheer authority he exuded from every pore of his body, his comfort with command unmistakable.

‘India,’ he insisted.

She nodded, regathering her wits. ‘Um...a pinot noir, and two beers, please.’

‘Deliver them to that group, over there. With the arrogant blond man holding forth on matters about which he knows little.’

Her eyes flew to Khalil’s face. How did he know? Had he had the misfortune to be stung by Ethan in the past?

She didn’t get a chance to ask. Order handed over to a waitress, Khalil was whisking her further away from the bar, towards the edge of the room. There were floor-to-ceiling windows here, bracketed on either side by a plush velvet curtain made of gold damask. Security guards, indiscernible from the tuxedo-clad guests, except for the little earpieces they wore, stood at each window.

As Khalil approached, one of the guards bowed before stepping back. Another pressed the windows, so India realised they were actually French doors, opening onto a narrow balcony that formed a perimeter around the Manhattan high rise.

The view was eye-watering. Picture perfect, showcasing the glittering city in all its postcard glory. Even now, as someone who’d seen the view many times, she felt a rush of emotions as she contemplated the beauty of the outlook.

‘That’s better,’ he remarked, right beside her, his body so close they were almost touching.

She shivered, not because she was cold but because alone out here she experienced a rush of feelings and they were sending her nervous system into overdrive.

Nonetheless, Khalil shrugged out of his jacket, handing it to her on autopilot, so some part of her responded to his ingrained good manners. It reminded her of her stepdad, and the way he’d always treated her mother. But she couldn’t think of her parents now—it was too sad. Even a year on from their sudden deaths, and the fallout from that tragedy, tears were still too quick to moisten her eyes.

‘I can’t stay long,’ she said, and heard the acquiescence in her voice as he did. She was fighting him as best she could, but it was a losing battle, given that he was right: she wanted to go home with him, to hell with the fact it would never be more than a one-night stand.

‘Why are you so adamant you want to be with him? Is it serious between the two of you?’

She hesitated a moment. ‘No, it’s not.’

‘Surely you can see he’s not worth your time?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Khalil.’ Her voice was lightly pleading. ‘You seem to be forgetting we’ve just met.’

‘I’m not forgetting that. Nor am I forgetting how much I’m looking forward to getting to know you properly.’

Her skin flushed all over. ‘You’re talking about sex.’

His laugh was a warm reward. ‘I’m talking about a long, beautiful night together.’

Desire flashed through her—she wanted that. Oh, she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life. But how could she? It was so outside her experience... ‘I’m sure you do this kind of thing all the time, but I really don’t,’ she said, brutally honest. ‘I know that being here, dressed like this, you might think I’m the kind of woman who...who...’

‘Who what?’ He pushed, but the smile on his face was teasing her innocence and she hated that! She squared her shoulders and fixed him with a cool glance.

‘There’s no need to laugh at me.’

He sobered, shaking his head. ‘I’m not, I assure you. It’s only that I find your honesty refreshing.’ An emotion crossed his eyes, a look that made no sense. Guilt? Regret? ‘Come home with me.’ His voice was gruff. ‘We can have coffee, sit and talk if you would prefer. This does not need to be about sex.’

Her lips parted in surprise at the offer. She rejected it instantly. ‘Coffee’ wasn’t enough. She wanted so much more.

‘Kiss me properly.’ She blurted the command out. Foolish? Definitely. But when he kissed her, she saw things with a blinding clarity—or perhaps it was simply that she stopped overthinking everything, and could truly comprehend what she wanted.

Khalil did not need to be asked twice. He stepped forward, his powerful frame pressing hers back against the brick wall, his body dwarfing hers despite the fact India wasn’t short. He was all hard planes and angles, the weight of him against her a pleasure she could barely process. Just like before, he stared into her eyes and dropped his head slowly, giving her time to rethink this, to change her mind, but India had already decided what she wanted.

He sensed her acquiescence, his kiss relentless, his tongue lashing hers as his mouth moved, so she could barely breathe, and yet she kissed him back just as hard with a matching urgency, her hands curving around behind him, her nails digging into his suit jacket with the strength of her desperation.

The dress was a fine silk and his fingers caught the hem, lifting it at one side, so the flimsy evening air brushed her bare legs, creating the perfect contrast to his warmth and hardness. Higher and higher he drew the dress, until his fingers were on her hip, the dress bunched in his palm, and she moaned, low in her throat, because she wanted now to be naked for him, to be all his, just as he’d promised he’d make her.

The thought should have been sobering and yet it wasn’t, it was the exact opposite. An erotic fever had overtaken India completely, she was subject to its whims completely.

Higher and higher his hands went, until the dress was at her breasts. She moaned, lights bright behind her eyelids. He broke their kiss so he could stare at her nakedness, his eyes fixated on her in a way that sent a rush of power through her limbs, before his dark head swooped down and his mouth drew one of her nipples in. His teeth clamped down and she cried out, the sharp pleasure too much to bear, more than anything she’d ever experienced. Her body was quivering with needs; the heat between her legs demanded attention.

‘Please,’ she whimpered, tilting her head back to stare at the sky.

‘Say my name,’ he demanded, transferring his mouth to her other nipple. She groaned, the touch so perfect, the first breast he’d lavished with attention enjoying the contrast of the cool night air, sending her pulse into overdrive.

‘Please, Khalil,’ she said instinctively, not even sure what she was asking for, only that her life might very well depend on it.

His wolfish grin when he looked up at her was all the confirmation she needed. Her heart thumped and her stomach rolled with desire. She wanted him; she had to have him.

But it wasn’t so easy. There was Ethan to consider—not for himself, but for the fact he was a client and she desperately couldn’t afford to lose her job.

‘How long are you in town for?’ She whimpered, as his hand found her inner thigh and teased the flesh there, tantalisingly close to—and yet desperately far from—her sex.

‘Why?’ He moved his mouth back to hers, kissing her once more, so answering was impossible. The dress fell back down and she moaned, because the silk against her taut, overly sensitive breasts was a form of torture.

Now his knee wedged her legs apart and she pressed down, her most intimate cluster of nerves seeking gratification, needing a pleasure only he could give her. His laugh was a rumble in his throat, and his fingers worked her hair, loosening it from the bun so it fell in waves down her back.

‘Tomorrow night,’ she said breathlessly, unable to think beyond the words she was trying to get out. ‘A date.’

‘No. Tonight.’

‘I—’

‘Do not tell me you can’t,’ he said firmly, and she heard his regal authority and knew that, in his country, Khalil would be obeyed by all he met, without question.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

‘And yet you will, if you want me to make love to you.’ And with that, he stepped back, the ultimatum delivered at the same time he put space between them, the distance between their bodies a form of torture for India. She groaned as she straightened, staring at him with disbelief.

‘Why?’ It was thick with surprise. ‘Why does it have to be tonight?’

‘Do you think I would accept you going home with another man now?’ he said seriously, but with such a sense of possession that her stomach burst into flames. ‘You will be mine tonight, India. Not his.’

India knew better than to tell him she wasn’t ‘anyone’s’ to claim—she was a sentient human being with her own will and desires—but he knew that already, because he’d stoked her desires to a fever pitch and was currently demanding she exercise her own free will by choosing him over Ethan. He was making her acknowledge their connection, but she was under no illusions: this decision was hers. He was waiting for her answer.

‘But how?’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t want to offend Ethan.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘A man who treats you as little more than a waitress deserves to be offended,’ he said with firm disapproval, so she smiled despite the precariousness of her situation.

‘I’m serious,’ she said after a beat. ‘We can’t be seen leaving together.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine. Then tell him you are not well and make your escape. I will follow a short time later.’

Her breath grew thin, as though the altitude were affecting her. Yes, that was an option. She could make her excuses via text message, apologising and saying she’d suddenly become unwell. It was hardly a glorious way to conclude the evening, but it also wasn’t likely to get her fired.

‘Okay,’ she said with a quick nod, before she could change her mind. ‘Where shall we meet?’

His smile was pure arrogance—as though he’d known all along it would reach this point.

‘My car is out the front. I’ll let my driver know to expect you.’

A tremor ran down her spine as their plans took a firm shape. There was no turning back; this was happening. But India didn’t want to turn backwards anyway. For this night, and just this night, she wanted to look forward, at the man opposite her, who’d promised to make love to her until she couldn’t think straight.

‘Fine, I’ll meet you soon,’ she said.

She turned to leave but he grabbed her hand, pulling her abruptly back to him and kissing her soundly, so her senses were in overdrive all over again.

‘Be quick, India. I don’t want to wait.’

India nodded, then slipped through the glass doors, into the buzzing ballroom. It took on an almost psychedelic quality now: the world was tilting at an odd angle; her experience with Khalil had sent her into another dimension. She made a beeline for the restrooms, ignoring the queue of Manhattan socialites waiting for a stall to free up and instead heading for a mirror. She braced her palms against the marble counter and stared at her flushed reflection and wild hair. There was no way she could face Ethan like this—even if she wanted to. Surely anyone would take one look at her and know exactly what she’d just been doing!

Pulling her phone from her bag, she loaded up a text message. She’d exchanged a few messages with Ethan to arrange the date, so had his number.

I’m so sorry, but I’m not feeling at all well. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation, nor to risk making you ill. Thank you for a lovely evening.

‘Holy hell, what are you doing here?’

Khalil couldn’t hide the sneer from his face. He hated this man but, until now, he hadn’t realised that he’d been waiting a long time for the perfect opportunity to take his revenge. He had fantasised about making Ethan pay for what he’d done to Astrid, he just hadn’t known the perfect plan would land right in his lap. He curled his hand into a fist, dug deep into his pocket. For Astrid, he would have liked to punch him hard in that arrogant, pretty-boy face. For India, he wanted to shove him out of the nearest window. What the hell had she seen in this guy?

Khalil clenched his jaw, staring down at the inferior specimen, as the men Ethan had been standing with ebbed away, sensing an impending dispute.

‘I was invited,’ he drawled. ‘And you, Ethan? Looking to find the next wealthy heiress you can sink your teeth into?’

‘There’s no need.’ Ethan’s smile was the last word in smarmy. ‘My divorce settlement from your cousin was more than enough to set me up for life. I must thank you again for introducing us. You really made all this possible for me.’

Khalil’s temper was rock steady, except where his cousin was involved. Orphaned at only a few months old, she’d come to live with Khalil and was more like a little sister to him. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her, and, in this instance, avenge her. And appease your own guilt, a little voice reminded him, and of course that was true.

‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and find my date.’ Ethan’s leering smile at Khalil was the last straw.

‘Do you mean India?’ For the briefest moment, he regretted the words. India deserved better than this—to become collateral damage in his need for revenge. But he was also saving her from a future with this bastard. Maybe she’d even thank him one day.

Ethan stopped walking, his back straight, as he turned slowly to face Khalil. ‘How did you—?’ Ethan frowned. ‘Do you know her?’

‘We’ve just met, but I intend to know her a lot better.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Ethan demanded, looking around, his face puce with outrage. A moment later, his phone buzzed and the blond man drew it from his pocket, his eyes darting with unmistakable anger as he read the text message.

She’d messaged him, rather than said goodbye? A small smile touched Khalil’s lips at the slightly anxious gesture. Ethan was disappearing into the recesses of his mind, barely worth his time.

‘I’m very serious,’ Khalil murmured, leaning closer, his expression showing exactly why the press had nicknamed him the Ruthless Prince. ‘So while you are alone tonight, you can imagine India and me, together. Believe me when I tell you she won’t be missing you at all, Ethan. I’ll make sure of that.’