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

      He shrugged. “You wouldn’t have seven thousand dollars.”

      “But I would have lost six hundred dollars.”

      “True, but since you’re my guest, and this is by way of a business meeting…”

      She shot him a look of complete disbelief.

      “…and since you’re really ‘working’ tonight, soaking up the atmosphere of Daniz, the house would have forgiven your debt.”

      Emily was skeptical. “Why would they do that?”

      “Because my family owns the controlling interest in the casino.”

      “Ah.” Understanding smoothed the slight frown from her brow. “I see.”

      They stayed at the roulette table for several more spins of the wheel before leaving it to try a game of blackjack. For the next hour and a half, Emily sampled the games beneath the gilt dome. Lazhar strolled beside her, answering her questions about the games, showing her how to roll the dice at the craps table, and keeping her champagne flute filled. When she’d had enough of playing, they toured the other rooms on the casino’s lower level. The central gambling space was huge and wings to the right and left of the domed area housed two fivestar restaurants connected by a wide marbled passageway lined with exclusive designer shops. They browsed, window-shopping but not entering any of the exotic shops before they returned to the central room and climbed the sweeping staircase to look into several of the private gambling rooms on the second level.

      Her curiosity satisfied, Emily paused on the wide balcony that circled the casino floor. With Lazhar leaning casually beside her, she rested her hands on the polished mahogany railing, her gaze sweeping the crowded floor below.

      “It’s a fascinating place,” Emily commented. “The air nearly vibrates with anticipation and I can almost taste the excitement.”

      Below them and to their right, a young woman dressed in a white evening gown, diamonds glittering at her ears, wrists, and around her throat, shrieked with delight and jumped up and down, hugging her silver-haired companion.

      “I think she won,” Lazhar said dryly.

      Emily laughed, her bright green eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m sure you’re right.” She glanced at the scene below before she asked. “You said that your family owns the casino?”

      “A controlling interest,” he corrected her.

      “Ah.” She turned her back to the balcony and fixed her gaze on him, clearly curious. “Did you spend much time here when you were growing up?”

      “A fair amount,” he admitted. “My grandfather loved to gamble and he’d tell my mother that he was taking me out for ice cream, then we’d come here. He taught me to play roulette before I was six and poker before I was eight.”

      “Did your parents object that he was teaching you to gamble instead of buying you ice cream?”

      “At first,” he conceded. Lazhar never talked about his grandfather to anyone outside the family circle, but something about the genuine interest in Emily’s green eyes made him want to confide in her. “My mother lost her temper when she found out but after my grandfather told her that I’d learned to do math far beyond my schoolmates, she calmed down.”

      Emily laughed. “Did you win often?”

      “Not at first. But after a while, yes.”

      “What did you do with all the money?”

      “Put it in the poorbox at St. Catherine’s.”

      Her eyes widened and Lazhar could have kicked himself. He’d never told anyone else what he and his grandfather had done with their earnings. The truth had slipped out, seduced from him by the warm interest in Emily’s green eyes.

      “That’s wonderful,” she said softly. “You weren’t tempted to spend it on candy and toys when you were six?”

      “I was,” he said ruefully. “But my grandfather wisely discussed all the possible things we could do with the money, then took me to visit the nursery school at St. Catherine’s. Afterward, he told me that I could decide whether I wanted to keep the money or share it with the children at the church. Of course, I chose the church.”

      “That must have been a difficult choice for a six-year-old to make.”

      Lazhar remembered very well how he’d felt when his grandfather first asked him if he really wanted to spend his winnings on candy. A reminiscent smile curved his mouth. “At first, yes. But my grandfather was a very wise man. He didn’t tell me I had to give the money to St. Catherine’s. He talked about how fortunate I was to live in a palace and to be able to play cards in the casino; then we walked through Daniz, in and out of the shops, through the residential districts, both affluent and poor areas. By the time we finished, I’d learned an important lesson about the responsibilities that came with the benefits of being born into the royal family.”

      “And the responsibility of being royal is what made you decide to give the money to St. Catherine’s?”

      “Partly. But mostly I did it because I loved my grandfather. If he thought I should give the money to St. Catherine’s, that was a good enough reason for me.”

      “He sounds like a wonderful man.”

      “He was.” A flashbulb went off below them and Lazhar realized that they’d been standing in full view of the throng on the floor below for too long. The paparazzi had clearly found them. He turned his back to the railing and held out his arm, elbow bent. “Are you ready to move on to the next stop on our tour of Daniz nightlife? Or do you want to chance your luck at another table here in the casino?”

      “I’m ready to continue the tour.” She took his arm and they moved down the sweeping staircase.

      They said good-night to Esteban and left the casino. Lazhar’s car waited on the paved forecourt, the driver holding the door open. A small crowd of photographers began snapping photos the moment they left the building.

      “Just smile and wave,” Lazhar advised Emily, keeping her moving forward at a smooth pace. Moments later, they were in the car, doors closed, and the limo was purring smoothly away from the brightly lit building.

      “Goodness, is it always like that?” Emily asked.

      “Not always. The local media has a longstanding arrangement with my family—they respect our privacy and in exchange, we have a publicist that arranges photo ops and information releases on a regular schedule.”

      “So photographers don’t usually follow you when you’re out for the evening?”

      “No, but ever since the tabloids publicized my father’s wish to see Jenna and I married, the international media has flooded Daniz with reporters and photographers. They’re not so willing to stick to the schedule set up by the palace office.” He shifted, his wrist grazing against the bulk of the roll of bills forgotten in his jacket pocket. “I nearly forgot about this.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and took out the bundle of money, holding it out to her. “What do you plan to do with your winnings?” he asked, setting the thick roll on her lap.

      “I have no idea. It’s a lot of money.” She glanced at him, the streetlights flickering light and shadow over her features. “I know.” Her dimples flashed as she laughed. “Let’s drop it into St. Catherine’s poorbox.”

      Arrested, he stared at her for a moment before his mouth quirked. “You’re sure you want to do that?” His voice held amusement. “You could buy a lot of candy with that much money.”

      “I’m sure.”

      “Whatever you say.” He leaned forward. “Nico, stop at St. Catherine’s.”

      Moments later, the limo eased to the curb and Lazhar handed Emily out. He caught her hand and led her up the flight of stone steps