The Park's Empire: Handsome Strangers...: The Prince's Bride

“Yes, I’m Emily Parks. And you must be Prince Lazhar.” And you, she thought, are a dangerous man. Not only was he handsome, with hair as black and glossy as a crow’s wing, olive skin stretched taut over the planes of high cheekbones, black lashes so long and thick that it seemed a crime to waste them on a man, and a powerful body that was six feet four inches of toned muscle and hard angles, but he fairly oozed testosterone and radiated sex appeal. She wasn’t sure what protocol required when greeting a royal prince, but held out her hand and managed a polite smile.

“Please, call me Lazhar.” He smiled and took her hand in his. His fingers and palm were slightly rough against her own smooth skin.

“Very well…Lazhar.” Realizing that her hand was still enclosed in his warm, much larger one, she took a step back, the small, evasive movement slipping her hand from his. She gestured to the archway leading to the hall and the offices that opened off it. “Won’t you come into my office?” She glanced at Natalie and found her pretending to read a file while slanting sideways, fascinated looks at the prince. “Natalie, will you bring us coffee, please.”

“Right away.”

Emily’s skin prickled with awareness as Lazhar walking behind her out of the reception area and down the short hallway to her office. Something about him had set all of Emily’s female instincts shrieking a warning. This was no tame, civilized male. Lazhar Eban threatened her feminine independence on a very basic level. It took all her composure to keep from canceling their appointment and finding an excuse to ask him to leave. Relieved that she could put some distance between them, she gestured to the two damask-covered armchairs arranged before her desk.

“Won’t you have a seat.” She rounded her desk and dropped into her chair, upholstered in a soft blue that echoed the damask of the armchairs, and folded her hands together atop the desk. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

Emily had handpicked the chairs facing her desk specifically because they were large enough to accommodate husbands-to-be and small enough not to overwhelm the more slender forms of their brides. But Lazhar made the chair he sat in seem small and his muscled, broad-shouldered body, combined with the sheer force of his presence, seemed to dominate the room.

“I’m getting married,” he said, his gaze fastened on hers. “And I want you to organize the wedding.”

Emily was speechless. She’d wondered whether this might be the reason for his appointment, but his statement still staggered her. She gathered her composure and nodded. “Very well.” She flipped open her notebook and picked up her gold pen. “I’ll need some parameters. What date have you scheduled for the wedding?” Pen poised, she looked at him, waiting.

“As soon as possible.”

“You and your fiancée haven’t picked a date?”

“No. Is that a problem?”

Carefully Emily placed her pen on the gleaming cherrywood desktop. “Perhaps not a ‘problem,’ exactly, but certainly a concern since it’s impossible to begin planning without a time frame in mind. And I’m afraid our calendar is booked several months, sometimes more than a year, in advance.”

“What’s the earliest date that you’re available?”

Emily wondered briefly if he was thinking of a small, private wedding. Surely a royal affair would be scheduled by the palace and the date set in stone? “Before I look at dates, perhaps we should discuss what sort of a wedding you wish to have. Depending on the preparations needed, we may be able to schedule your event sooner, rather than later.”

Lazhar shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of latitude in the wedding ceremony. Royal weddings in Daniz are ruled by tradition and our customs require that the celebration is a week-long affair.”

Emily blinked, startled. “So,” she said slowly, “you’re asking me to plan a week-long celebration, including a royal ceremony, within as little time as possible?”

“The palace has event coordinators that will assist you. What I need is someone to plan, organize and delegate. And I’m willing to pay whatever is necessary to have you devote your time exclusively to the event in order to speed the process.”

Emily was stunned. A royal wedding on her resume would open doors in Europe and the Middle East and had the potential to gain worldwide recognition for Creative Weddings. But it would mean working with the prince, and she wasn’t sure that was wise. On the other hand, in her experience the groom rarely spent a great deal of time with the wedding consultant. The husbands-to-be were always more than happy to leave the details to their prospective brides. “I assume that the wedding will be held in Daniz?”

“Yes.”

She toyed with her pen, stalling for time while she tried to absorb what he was saying. She glanced up at him through her lashes and found his dark gaze fastened on her, a slight air of tension surrounding him. “May I ask why you chose my firm?”

“You were highly recommended by the Radissons,” he said smoothly. “Their daughter Angela is a good friend of my sister, who was a member of the wedding party.”

“Ah, of course.” Emily instantly made the connection. Angela Radisson was a San Francisco society deb, several years younger than Emily, and wonderfully unspoiled. The wedding party had included several of Angela’s college friends, one of whom had been a beautiful dark-haired young woman named Jenna. Gazing at Lazhar, sprawled casually across from her, she immediately saw the family resemblance. “I wasn’t aware that Jenna Eban was a princess.”

The grin that curved his mouth was wickedly charming. “My sister likes to shed the ‘princess’ title on occasion and pretend she’s not royal. I’m not surprised that she didn’t tell you, but I’m a little surprised that you didn’t suspect.”

“Why is that?” Emily absorbed the impact of the effect the smile had on his already handsome face.

“Because Jenna tends to be a magnet for the tabloids. It’s good to know that they didn’t spoil her fun.”

“Ah. I see.” Emily forced her attention back to the wedding. “Well.” She picked up her pen and flipped the pages on her calendar, swiftly scanning appointments and calculating. “Depending on the expertise of your palace staff—and I assume they’re accustomed to planning grand functions—?” She glanced up. Lazhar’s nod of agreement reassured her. “Good. Then it may be possible to have the ceremony in six months.” She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “But that’s a very tight timetable. And I’ll need to do an on-site inspection…” she murmured. Once again, she consulted her calendar before glancing up at Lazhar. “I’m afraid I’m fully booked for the next two weeks but I can carve out a four-day-weekend after that to fly to Daniz and meet with your people.”

“That won’t work.”

Emily blinked. “What won’t work?”

“I don’t want to wait two weeks. I want you to start immediately. Preferably, this afternoon.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said coolly. “I have prior commitments that I can’t reschedule.”

For a moment he was silent, his enigmatic gaze meeting hers with an oddly assessing light. “So it’s a question of your workload and timing, not of your willingness to begin the wedding preparations immediately?”

“Yes.”

Emily’s agreement seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded abruptly. “Very well. Then we’re agreed that you will come to Daniz as soon as your calendar is cleared?”

“I believe that’s mutually agreeable. I won’t be able to give you a projected cost for our services until I’ve been to Daniz, however.”

“That won’t be a problem.” He shot back the cuff of his shirt, frowned at his watch and stood. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to discuss further details as I have another appointment this afternoon. Perhaps we can resolve the issue over dinner tonight.”

“Oh, but I—” Emily broke off. Despite her instinct to distance herself from him, she couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity. It’s just business, she reminded herself. “Very well, dinner would be good. Where would you like to meet?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I can meet you at the restaurant—I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s not a problem.” He smiled at her, a slow, wicked grin that curled her toes and shortened her ability to draw a breath. “I look forward to it.”

He turned and left the room. Emily wilted in her chair and stared at the doorway where his elegantly clad, broad-shouldered body had just disappeared.

“Well?” Natalie and Jane interrupted her, their faces alive with curiosity. “What did he say?”

“He wants us to handle the arrangements for his wedding.”

They shrieked; Natalie did a quick dance while Jane clapped her hands with delight.

“This is excellent, Emily. What a coup! When do we start?”

“Not for at least two weeks—that’s the earliest I can fly to Daniz.”

“What date is the wedding?” Jane asked.

“There isn’t a date, not yet. The prince wants it scheduled as soon as possible but I told him I doubted it could be done in less than six months.”

“Six months? That’s all?” Jane’s eyes rounded behind her wire-frame glasses. “For a royal wedding? You’re joking, right?”

“No. He insisted that he wants the ceremony scheduled as soon as possible and that the palace staff will assist.”