Crowning His Convenient Princess. Maisey Yates

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      “All right,” she said, doing her best to cover up just how aggrieved she felt. “If I had to choose, I would choose not so much to please you, but to give maximum improvement to your reputation, and to the reputation of the country. Therefore, we can set aside your personal preferences as secondary.”

      He rubbed his chin, the light in his blue eyes wicked. “Can we?”

      “Yes,” she said decisively. “This marriage is for the country, after all.”

      “And yet, I feel that if I am to be shackled to one woman for the rest of my life, it will have to be a marriage bed that I enjoy the idea of being shackled to.” His lips curved upward. “Rather, a woman not averse to being shackled to the marriage bed for my pleasure. I’ve never been one who enjoyed being shackled. But I have nothing against doing a bit of shackling.”

      Yet again, she ignored the searing heat in her body, and affected an incredibly bored expression. “Yes, yes. I and the rest of the world are aware of the fact that you are shocking, and love to engage in edgy sexual activity. I promise you that if a double entendre presents itself you do not have to be so obvious as to speak it.”

      “Oh, but I enjoy being obvious.”

      “Do you?” she asked. “Because I would say that the fact you own your own company was not obvious at all.”

      She hadn’t intended to bring that up.

      In fact, she had every intention of ignoring it completely in the conversation today, if only to spite him slightly. And herself. Because the fact that he was a secret mogul fascinated her. And the one thing she was eternally trying to ignore when it came to Gunnar was her fascination with him. And anything that seemed to foster further fascination she resented.

      There was something about him that enticed her to act in ways she knew she should not. She didn’t like it. It made her feel like she was not above the rest of the female population of the world in any way at all. And she liked to think that she wasn’t that basic.

      “That’s the trick,” he said. “Be obvious enough over here that you can have your secrets where you choose.”

      “I see.” She took a breath. “Well. That aside.” She shuffled through the folder and plucked out one. “I would choose…these.”

      “Explanations,” he demanded, taking the stack of folders in his hand. “Or do I have to do everything myself.”

      “You have done absolutely nothing for yourself since I walked in,” she said.

      “That isn’t true. I’ve been breathing the entire time. I’m keeping myself alive. For which you and the rest of the world should be supremely grateful.”

      “I’m about to expire from gratitude,” she said. “The first candidate is Hannah Whitman, an English rose. She will compliment you well. Though, your progeny will likely burst into flames in the sun.”

      He laughed, explosive and deep, hitting her in unexpected places.

      “Well,” he said. “Melanin deficit aside, she is pretty. And what attributes do you suppose she would bring to our alliance?”

      “She’s extremely wealthy in her own right, her family is very successful in manufacturing. She has started several charities, with a focus on educating children with special needs. She is more than willing to do the work, not simply write a check.”

      “I imagine that means there are many photographs of her with grateful children.”

      “You are correct. She is a light to all the world.”

      “Well, I have always thought that one’s wife should be able to double as a flashlight.”

      “Best of all,” Latika continued, “she’s scandal free.”

      “Excellent. Because I have enough scandals for ten people. It’s one thing I do not need a wife to bring to our marriage.”

      “Next is Lily Addington.”

      “Another Brit?”

      “Yes. Her family owns horses.”

      He frowned. “That sounds like an awful lot of time spent at racetracks.”

      “Would you not find that enjoyable?”

      “No. I prefer my gambling to take place in a casino. It’s much more civilized.”

      “All right. Bim Attah. She is a Nigerian heiress and UN ambassador for women’s rights. She has a PhD from Oxford, and has been instrumental in supplying feminine hygiene products to impoverished girls throughout the world.”

      He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. “She sounds a bit overqualified, don’t you think? PhD. I’m not sure I’m equal to that task.”

      “You have a title. I suspect that in many ways that outstrips a PhD.”

      “One you are born with,” he pointed out. “One you must work for.”

      She arched a brow. “Shall I take her off the list?”

      “Oh, no,” he said. “I feel nothing if not entitled to things that might be too good for me. Leave her on the list.”

      She cycled through the rest of them quickly with Gunnar vetoing all but numbers one and three.

      “Okay,” she said, sighing heavily. “I will attempt to arrange a meeting for you. Whatever you do, try not to be yourself when you meet them.”

      “I never am,” Gunnar said. “Why, when there are so many other interesting people to choose to be?”

      Latika gritted her teeth. “Why indeed.”

      She turned away from him, and her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down and saw that it was an unknown number.

      “Oh, don’t decline the call on account of me,” Gunter said. “There’s no need to worry about manners in my presence.”

      “I wouldn’t,” she said, answering the phone decisively. It had nothing to do with her anyway. She worked for Astrid, and she couldn’t afford to miss any kind of communication just in case.

      “Hello?”

      “Latika Bakshmi.”

      The voice was strange, low and husky, and something about the accent sent a familiar sliver of dread beneath Latika’s skin.

      “Yes?”

      “Check your email.”

      The line went dead. Latika lowered the phone and stared at it, feeling like she lost herself for a full thirty seconds. She had no sense of where she was, or what she was doing.

      Until she felt the intensity of Gunnar’s gaze on the side of her face. She looked toward him. “What?”

      “Are СКАЧАТЬ