Crowned For The Sheikh's Baby

Only one question remains:

How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

Find out in:

The Italian’s Christmas Secret by Sharon Kendrick

A Night of Royal Consequences by Susan Stephens

A Baby to Bind His Bride by Caitlin Crews

Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence by Jennie Lucas

Contracted for the Petrakis Heir by Annie West

Consequence of His Revenge by Dani Collins

Princess’s Pregnancy Secret by Natalie Anderson

The Sheikh’s Shock Child by Susan Stephens

Look for more One Night With Consequences coming soon!

This book is dedicated to the urbane and dashingly handsome Matt Newman, with thanks and gratitude for his generous donation to the amazing charity, The Back-Up Trust.

Contents

Cover (#uf2c52973-ebc0-500f-a967-969b2b7af87f)

Back Cover Text (#u087328b0-f511-5485-9a04-2cbd58f0205f)

About the Author (#ue1bb4f8b-58c8-5ad5-acf0-260e857e1427)

Booklist (#u7eb03660-397f-54de-b1ac-a3886f797ec5)

Title Page (#u4780dfff-bc63-50b4-9bd1-e255da9a1c36)

Copyright (#uf5c489e4-bb2e-5fdd-ae9f-563934ac4550)

Introduction (#ub89f4760-b4bc-5c96-8e3a-190733ce3c37)

One Night With Consequences (#u83baf12d-abd4-5f04-a4b4-7617868b8684)

Dedication (#u829f18fb-5367-5e06-8767-72a58dda74de)

PROLOGUE (#uad621d89-f7e4-592d-926c-aa6dd8d683f9)

CHAPTER ONE (#u06846532-45aa-5d27-8624-57133c828998)

CHAPTER TWO (#ub73d0b35-35b6-5fc3-b039-d954af75b5fe)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9b992751-6a8d-5648-b274-a3567d518226)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#u91c540b9-72d4-5522-8f6f-d7e3d614a337)

We trust you will find everything to your satisfaction.

KULAL’S MOUTH HARDENED into a cynical smile. As if. When did anything in life ever truly satisfy?

Crushing the handwritten note—one of the many personal touches which made this Sardinian hotel complex so achingly luxurious—he threw it into the bin in a perfect arcing shot and walked over to the balcony.

Restlessly, his eyes skated over the horizon. He wondered why he could feel no joy in his heart or why the warmth of the sun left him feeling cold. He had just achieved a life’s ambition by bringing together some of the world’s biggest oil moguls. They’d told him it was impossible. That masterminding the diaries of so many powerful men simply couldn’t be done. But Kulal had proved them wrong. He liked proving people wrong, just as he enjoyed defying the expectations which had been heaped on him since the day his older brother had turned his back on his heritage and left him to rule.

He had worked day and night to make this conference happen. To convince attendees with his famously seductive tongue that it was time to look at renewable energy sources, rather than relying on the fossil fuels of old. Kings and sheikhs had agreed with him and pledges had been made. The cheers following his opening speech had echoed long into the night. There were now but a few days left for him to hammer out the fine details of the deal—and he was able to do it in a place which many people considered close to paradise. Yet he felt...

He gave a heavy sigh which mingled with the warm Sardinian breeze.

Certainly not drunk with glory, as other men in his position might be, and he couldn’t work out why. At thirty-four, he was considered by many to be at his intellectual and physical peak. He was known as a fair, if sometimes autocratic ruler and he ruled a prosperous land. And yes, he had a few enemies at court—men who would have preferred his twin brother to have been King because they considered him more malleable. But all rulers had to deal with insurrection. It came with the job—it was certainly nothing new.

So why wasn’t he punching the air with glee? Kulal contemplated the horizon without really seeing it. Perhaps he had been working so hard that he’d neglected the more basic needs of his body. Not to put too fine a point on it—his legendary libido, which had been sidelined ever since he had finished with his long-term mistress a few months back. It didn’t help that she had made the break-up official with a tearful interview in one of those glossy magazines that filled women’s heads with meaningless froth. And that as a consequence, his name had zoomed back to the top of one of those tedious ‘most eligible’ lists—and he now seemed to be on some kind of matrimonial hit list. Rather ironic since he had always avoided marriage like the plague, no matter how determined the woman.

He yawned. His relationship with the international supermodel had lasted almost a year—a record for him. He had chosen her not just because she was blonde and leggy and could work wonders with her tongue, but because she seemed to accept what he would and wouldn’t tolerate in a relationship. But in the end, she had sabotaged it with her neediness. He’d stated at the start that he wouldn’t put a ring on her finger. That he had no desire for family or long-term commitment. Because didn’t domesticity forge cold chains, which could suffocate? He had promised sex, diamonds and a fancy apartment—and had honoured those pledges in full. But she had wanted more. Women always did. They wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.

Dark and bitter memories washed over him, but he forced himself to block them out as he leaned against the rail of the balcony, looking out at boats bobbing around on the Mediterranean. He thought how different this busy stretch of water was from the peace of the Murjaan Sea, which lapped on the eastern shores of his desert homeland. But then, everything about this place was different. The sights. The scents. The sounds. The women who lay on sun-loungers in their minuscule bikinis. One of his aides had told him that the loungers directly beneath his penthouse suite were always the first to go—presumably occupied by those hoping to catch the eye of Zahristan’s Desert King. Kulal’s lips curved in disdain. Did they, like so many others, imagine themselves in the role of Queen? That they would succeed where so many had failed?