included more than two people, but she’d found her niche with him and learned to function as his personal assistant no matter where they were or who they were with.
Couldn’t she have done the same as his wife?
Oh, sure, she mocked herself. Grace Brown, future princess. She could just see it. Not.
Ignoring the hot wetness tracking down her cheeks, she replayed the moment in the limo when she’d realized she could never put herself forward as a candidate for him to consider. Right up to that second, she’d still been harboring secret, crazy fantasies. Only when he had said he wanted to be attracted to his bride—so his vows of faithfulness did not create a purgatory for him to live in—had she known. One thing Grace was absolutely certain of, Amir did not want her sexually.
It was as that reality came home to her that her ill-conceived dreams shattered around her, leaving her already battered heart hemorrhaging.
Now, she sat, unable to sleep, considering what the future held for her. Pain. Yes. She saw no way around it. The man she loved with every fiber of her being was going to marry another woman. If she loved him enough and was strong enough, she was going to help him find that woman.
Why?
Because it was the one chance she had to ensure as much of Amir’s future personal happiness as she could. If she continued to refuse to help him, he would end up marrying some beautiful icicle and think that was exactly what he wanted because it did not put his heart at risk.
Grace was not a fool, at least not a complete one. She knew he was avoiding any chance of being weak like he had been when he was eighteen. He did not want to hurt and she understood that. What he didn’t understand was that loneliness within his marriage would chip away at his warm heart until it was as cold as he thought he wanted it to be.
She could not stand the prospect of such a thing happening to him. The only way she could help him avoid it was to find him a convenient wife that had the potential to be so much more.
If her own heart lost the final fight in the process, she would survive…somehow.
Amir sat down to the breakfast Grace had ordered them. Dark circles painted the skin below her eyes and her skin was even more pale than normal.
He frowned, concern making his voice edgy. “You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well last night? Are you coming down with something?”
“I’m not sick, but I didn’t sleep much, either.” She smiled, a muted facsimile of her usual expression.
“Because of what I asked you to do?”
“Yes.”
“If it causes you such concern, I withdraw my request.” He did not want her losing sleep over this project. She worked too hard as it was. She had no more of a life outside his business than he did.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“I decided to take on the assignment.”
“But if it makes you like this…” His words trailed off, but he swept his hand toward her, leaving no doubt what he was talking about. “You look terrible.”
She grimaced. “Thank you so much, Amir.”
“This is no time for false modesty. Are you sure you are not ill?”
“I am positive. I am also certain that I am willing to help you find a wife.”
Something inside him jolted, but he ignored it. “That is a relief.”
She smiled, this one more genuine. “I’m glad.”
“Thank you, but I do not want you making yourself sick. Tell me if it is too much.”
She laughed. “Right. Like you won’t be demanding the list in twenty-four hours.”
“I am not that impatient.”
“Yes, you are.” But humor, not irritation, laced her voice.
Gratitude for her surged through him and he found himself standing up and walking around the table to pull her into a rare hug.
At first, she stood in rigid shock in his embrace, but then she relaxed, clinging to him. Her warm feminine body pressed tightly to his and inescapable arousal surged through him.
He did not let go.
She did not step away.
His head tipped down of its own volition as he instinctively sought to take in more of her scent. “You smell like cinnamon,” he said against her yet-to-be-put-up mass of red curls. “And jasmine.” The fragrance reminded him of home.
“Your mother sends me handmade soaps and hair products from her herbalist.” Grace’s face was buried in his neck and her voice came out a husky whisper.
He lifted his head and then tilted her chin up with his finger until their eyes met. “My mother sends you things?”
“Yes. Since after our first trip to Zorha when I remarked that I loved the soaps and shampoos I found in the palace baths.”
“She likes you.” He wondered why he had never noticed that before. Perhaps because he assumed others would like her. There was nothing unlikable about Grace. She could be shy and stubborn even, but she was not annoying.
“I like her, too.”
“It pleases me that you do.” She worked too close with him for it to be comfortable for anyone involved if she did not. Why hadn’t he let Grace go yet? This hug was becoming something more, something he could not afford for it to become. He willed himself to step back, but his arms remained stubbornly around her. Now that she was looking up at him, her lips were an enticing few inches from his. They parted, her delicious-looking pink tongue just barely visible.
Her breathing increased and if he looked down and drew her suit jacket away, he knew he would see hardened nipples. Her response to his presence was one reason it had become so difficult to fight his own desires. He didn’t do it. He had that much sanity left.
She was strangely silent, very unlike his Grace.
Even in her sensible inch-and-a-half heels, she was taller than most of the women he dated. Tall enough to be just the right height for him to tilt his head slightly and be kissing her. The temptation was growing by the second and her hazel eyes going dark and unfocused with desire were not helping.
She wanted him, but it was the desire of the innocent. She did not know how it would end. She was not one of his women. Grace was a far more permanent fixture in his life and he intended to keep it that way.
But right now, the temptation to taste that innocence was overwhelming.
His PDA’s alarm went off, reminding him of an upcoming meeting at the same time that Grace’s started beeping from the other room.
The interruption of the discordant beeping was what he needed to find the wherewithal to let her go and step back. “Potential candidates
