Sheikh's Pregnant Cinderella. Maya Blake

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      With elegant fingers and an unwavering gaze, he handed it to her.

      Niesha took a sip, swallowed it along with the hysterical laughter bubbling up. This wasn’t happening. She wanted to go back to an hour ago, when she was the least significant person in the room, no different from the straggly orphan without a past she’d been some twenty odd years ago, the one who’d been absorbed by the state orphanage that bore the royal family’s name.

      The hand-me-down clothes she wore were two sizes too large, and really should have done their job of hiding her better, she mused dazedly. She’d chosen them out of prudence, not fashion. It had simply meant she wouldn’t have to worry about new clothes any time soon.

      Except, even covered from head to toe, she felt more naked now than she’d ever felt in her life.

      ‘Drink some more,’ he decreed.

      Her hands shook wildly, but she managed to take another sip without spilling it. He promptly relieved her of the glass. Still dazed, Niesha watched as it was spirited away.

      Then her eyes clashed with his, and the words he’d spoken rose like a horrifying mirage before her eyes. Beyond the space filled out by his broad shoulders and his overwhelming presence, Niesha spotted movement as the bridal attendants entered.

      He flicked a wrist, and Halimah, the head attendant of the women’s wing, who’d barely tolerated Niesha before today, approached.

      Zufar acknowledged her presence with a single glance. ‘I do not take your loyalty for granted. But I demand your discretion in this matter.’

      ‘Of course, Your Highness,’ Halimah replied.

      Zufar nodded. ‘My new bride has been selected. You will ensure Niesha is ready at the allotted time. Is that clear?’

      Halimah’s eyes widened as she stared up at her King.

      ‘Is there a problem?’ he demanded.

      Her head lowered immediately. ‘No, Your Highness.’

      Another tremble swept through Niesha as he continued, ‘You will dress her and present her to the Grand Hall ready for her royal parade in one hour.’ The deep, dark, ruthless timbre of his voice brooked no argument.

      No. This wasn’t happening.

      She was just a maidservant. An orphan with no past. A nobody. She wasn’t even worthy of wearing Amira’s cast-offs, never mind her wedding gown!

      ‘Please,’ she started. The word emerged as a weak, scratchy sound. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Your Highness, I beg your pardon, but I cannot.’

      Pure thunder rumbled across his impressive eyebrows. His eyes, so direct, so hypnotic, drilled right into her bone marrow.

      ‘Yes, you will. Unless you prefer to suffer the consequences of disobeying your King you will go forwards with this.’

      Niesha balled her hand and placed it over her racing heart, desperate to calm it before it burst out of her chest. A long time ago, she’d sworn allegiance to him and his family. It had been one of the conditions of inhabiting the palace, and she’d done so willingly. And although he had no inkling who she was or her very small insignificant role his life, she’d done everything asked of her, for him.

      In her own way, she’d given him moments of comfort, she liked to tell herself, by making sure that the food she was tasked to serve him in his private dining room was the right temperature, by ensuring his favourite wines were on hand when he returned to his royal apartments after long days away from the palace.

      On one occasion, she’d taken it upon herself to purchase a bottle out of her meagre savings when the palace delivery had been delayed.

      And when his personal cleaning staff had come down with the flu, she’d volunteered to work in his private quarters. To this day, tucked away in her mind, Niesha had a memory of the scent of his sheets and the unique cologne he wore on his skin.

      Those tiny, insignificant but intense moments had made her blush for weeks afterwards on recollection. Still made her blush.

      So, yes, like everyone else in this room, she would do anything for Sheikh Zufar al Khalia.

       But not this.

      The oscillation of her head grew faster as her alarm escalated. ‘With respect, Your Highness, you don’t want me. I’m nobody. Th-there are others far more suitable for this role. You’re making a mistake.’ She was a little glad that her voice held firmer than before.

      Not so glad when several gasps echoed through the room and his forbidding expression tightened even further.

      ‘I have made my decision. You are my choice. So, do you have any other objections?’ he drawled.

      Niesha was stunned by his question. Did that mean he would listen if she objected? What further objection could she voice other than telling the King of Khalia that he was utterly, stark raving crazy? The mere thought of doing such a thing made the blood drain from her head.

      ‘By your silence, I assume you do not.’

      ‘Please, you have to reconsider,’ was all she could manage.

      ‘This discussion is over,’ he declared. ‘But, rest assured, you will be adequately compensated for your role.’

      He turned away.

      Niesha knew she shouldn’t trust the tiny burst of relief that spiked through her after being released from the force field of his stare. Her emotions had been on the edge of severe agitation ever since she’d walked in to find Amira and that towering barbarian of a man climbing out of the window.

      She’d lost precious minutes frozen in place, unable to believe her eyes. After she’d screamed and sounded the alarm, she was sure she’d been incoherent in the first few minutes. Guilt surged anew beneath her skin.

      She should’ve done more to stop them from leaving. Or raised the alarm quicker, as Zufar had said.

      This was her punishment for not acting swiftly enough. If she had, this...insanity wouldn’t be happening.

      Because...marriage? To him?

      Sweet heaven, she couldn’t do it.

      She took a faltering step closer to where he stood issuing clipped instructions. ‘Your Highness, please, can we talk about it?’ she ventured.

      ‘We don’t have time for a discussion,’ he stated. His voice was soft and even, but she wasn’t fooled. He was seething. ‘This is an emergency requiring an interim solution. Any long-term resolutions will be thrashed out later, including whatever concerns you might have.’ He went back to issuing instructions.

      Heads bobbed up and down, unlike her shaking head and her quivering body, everyone poised to move the moment he finished speaking.

      Moments later, firm hands reached for her, fingers tugging insistently at her clothes. She was going to be undressed in front of him? A bolt of rebellion fired through her, and she СКАЧАТЬ