Modern Romance Collection: June 2018 Books 5 - 8. Jane Porter

her closest companion.

      For the sake of good humour, Millie adopted a mock aloof air. ‘I hardly think the Sheikh invited me back tonight so he can seduce me.’

      ‘He invited you back!’ Lucy shrieked with a meaningful look at their colleagues.

      ‘Out of politeness,’ Millie insisted, catching Miss Francine’s attention to reassure her with a look that Millie was okay with this comedy sketch. ‘Something about making up the numbers,’ she said vaguely.

      ‘At the ruler of Khalifa’s party?’ Lucy exclaimed with obvious disbelief. ‘You don’t expect us to believe he left something like that to chance, do you?’ she demanded with an eye roll.

      ‘I’m just not seduction material,’ Millie insisted, turning serious. At least that much was true. Her mother’s looks might have been ravished by pain and abuse, but Roxy Dillinger had always been beautiful, while Millie made the best of what she’d got, which wasn’t much. But what she lacked in kerb appeal, she tried to make up for with zest for life.

      A barrage of questions about her time on the Sapphire hit her from every side. What was the Sheikh like? What was it like on a billionaire sheikh’s superyacht? Editing heavily, Millie gave as full an account as she could.

      ‘Why you Millie?’ Lucy demanded in a teasing tone. ‘What have you got that the rest of us lack?’

      ‘The rest of you have got too much work to do, to be gossiping like this,’ Miss Francine insisted above a chorus of groans. ‘We’ll have our own party when the work’s completed,’ she promised to a second chorus, this time of cheers.

      ‘I’d rather be Millie,’ Lucy called out cheerfully as she got back to her work.

      Everyone took the hint and got their heads down, though Millie still had to field a whole host of questions, as well as the teasing remarks of her co-workers, but it had the good effect of making time fly. Good for everyone, Millie concluded, but herself, as, before she knew it, work ended and she had to get ready for the party. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so brave.

      Don’t be such a wuss, she told herself impatiently as she ran up the stairs to her cosy bedsit. She had no excuse not to know how fast things could change from hope to tragedy. She had to seize the moment and make the most of it.

      Relax. Chill, Millie mused, eyes tightly shut as she stood beneath the shower. If she didn’t take this chance to find out the truth about that night, she’d spend the rest of her life wishing she had.

      What to wear to a billionaire’s party when you wanted to blend into the crowd? That was the burning question. Millie should have asked about the dress code, she realised now. Sheikh Khalid had mentioned something about a casual evening. Good. Casual she could do. An apprentice engineer had more overalls in her closet than frocks, but she did have one nice dress.

      It was red, which was unfortunate. Would it make her stand out too much? She didn’t want to look as if she’d tried too hard. She’d bought it in the sales, thinking it perfect for the next Christmas party. At least it was an unfussy style, just a simple column of bright red silk. Having made her decision, she hung the dress on the back of the door.

      Hair up or down? She’d tie it back, Millie decided. Tossing her long, honey-gold hair for effect wasn’t her style. Having trialled a few different looks, she settled on her customary messy up-do. She’d got the knack of arranging that now, but she swopped out the infamous pencil for a simple mock tortoiseshell clip.

      Shoes?

      Wearing high heels on a ship grated, somehow. She compromised with a strappy flat.

      Underwear. She rootled through her drawer. Sensible big knickers, obviously...

      So why was she holding a flimsy thong?

      Who was going to see what she wore? No one. So she settled for the thong. It wouldn’t show any lines beneath the dress.

      As she got ready she kept on glancing out of the window to where the Sapphire was berthed and blazing with light. When she’d finished she leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to blot out that other party and replace it with the new. If she didn’t, she’d never have the courage to step back on board the Sapphire.

      Music from the superyacht wafted over the marina and into Millie’s bedroom. It was tasteful, tuneful music. She’d be all right. She had to be. No one could pick up the pieces. She had to do that for herself, and owed it to her mother to move forward, which was exactly what she intended to do.

      Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, she declared, ‘No problem. I’m ready to enter the lion’s den.’

      * * *

      Khalid frowned as he paced the deck. The band was playing, and his stewards were putting the final touches to place settings as his guests began to arrive, but there was no sign of Millie. He wanted to see her. They had a lot to discuss.

       Discuss?

      All right, he snarled at his moral compass director, but she’d be here. She wouldn’t be able to resist what might be her last chance to question him, and, if the temptation to interrogate him wasn’t enough, he had to trust that the same primal energy drove both of them, and that was an irresistible force.

      An eclectic mix of specialists from the arts, sciences, and the charities he supported, as well as tech kings and a few fellow royals, had gathered on the deck below his quarters. It was an interesting crowd. He was keen for her to see the changes his rule had brought about. It had always been important for him to draw a clean line between the way his brother Saif had ruled, and his own very different approach. Had he mentioned the dress code for her evening would be casual? He couldn’t believe he was worrying about something so trivial, but he wanted Millie to fit in and relax, and if she arrived in a ball gown—She wouldn’t arrive in a ball gown. She had more sense. There was more risk she’d arrive straight from work in a boiler suit smeared with oil.

      ‘Your Majesty seems particularly distracted tonight—’

      ‘Tadj!’ He whirled around to greet his friend. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t see you and your companion arrive. Good evening, Ms...?’

      ‘Lucy Gillingham, Your Majesty. I work at Miss Francine’s with Millie.’

      ‘No need to curtsey,’ he said, raising Lucy to her feet with a smile. ‘Welcome on board the Sapphire.’

      ‘It must be a very beautiful woman to distract you to this extent,’ Tadj teased him discreetly. ‘May I ask who she is?’

      ‘No. You may not,’ he told Tadj. ‘Your reputation goes before you, my friend.’ He had no intention of sharing his interest in Millie with a man known as the Wolf of the Desert for a very good reason.

      ‘The party’s already a success,’ Tadj observed, glancing down to where the good-natured throng was mingling easily.

      ‘Seems so,’ Khalid agreed, scanning the crowd for Millie. ‘Excuse me—I can see some more guests arriving—’

      ‘A very beautiful woman,’ Tadj called after him with amusement, no doubt having spotted where Khalid was heading.

      Millie was trying to find her way through the crowd jostling around his stewards as they offered his guests a welcoming flute of champagne. She looked sensational in a slender column of bright red silk. The crowd parted for him, so he quickly reached her side. ‘You decided to come?’ he remarked.

      Running her eyes over him from top to toe, she looked up and smiled. ‘It appears so, Your Majesty.’

      ‘Have you been practising?’ he asked with amusement as she attempted to bob a curtsey.

      ‘Only as much as you’ve been working on your boilers today,’ she countered, directing this into his eyes as she straightened up. ‘Actually, I’d love to see the engine room.’

      ‘Another time,’