Required to Wear the Tycoon's Ring

Not only had he been presented with the fortuitous opportunity to become the sheikh of Ayabador’s supplier of classic sports cars, but he hadn’t been back at home for very long before it had brought the pretty and delightful Imogen Hayes into his path.

 Studying her across the table just then, he mused that she might well turn out to be the perfect companion for him. Although he personally didn’t like the term, she would be exactly the ‘trophy wife’ that his friend Ash had suggested he find.

 Not only was she pleasant to be around, but she was young and inexperienced enough to see the necessity of taking guidance from him from time to time, and he had to confess he liked that. She would definitely need his help in negotiating the glamorous world his work had made him a part of, and he hoped she would see it as the most incredible asset. And if she was ever intimidated or unsure, Seth would be there to help her.

 ‘What an amazing place,’ she remarked, glancing round. ‘It’s so beautiful!’

 ‘I agree. Its reputation surpasses itself. The decor and ambience are superlative, and so is the cuisine. If you’ve never experienced coming anywhere like this before, it’s a very fitting introduction.’

 His glance swept over her once again. He privately thought that the lawn-green dress he’d bought her was the perfect foil for her innocent and youthful beauty. His eye for what was both stylish and classy hadn’t failed him. Tonight the brunette was positively glowing. And although Seth guessed that a couple of their fellow diners had recognised him, he noted that they were appraising Imogen just as much.

 Telling himself that it was inevitable—who wouldn’t enjoy looking at her?—he smiled up at the attentive blonde waitress who had arrived at their table with the menus and asked, ‘Can you give us a little bit longer before you take our order? Then we’ll select the wine.’

 ‘But of course, Mr Broden. The sommelier is already waiting to serve you, and if there’s anything else you’d like please let me know.’

 When they had chosen their dishes, and Seth had selected a suitable wine, he directed his attention back to Imogen. ‘I’ve had the agreement for our marriage drawn up today by my solicitor,’ he said, ‘and I’ve had a copy made for you to look over. When you’ve read it, you can sign the original.’

 The smooth skin between her delicately arched brows puckered. ‘I told my boss that I might be handing in my notice soon. She was very surprised when I told her why.’

 ‘Because you’re getting married or because it’s to me?’

 ‘Both. I had to tell her who you were—especially as she’ll be looking over the agreement with me. But don’t worry—she won’t tell anyone. In her profession she has to be discreet.’

 ‘It will inevitably come out sooner or later. We’ll both have to learn to handle it.’

 ‘Will your friends and colleagues be surprised that you’re getting married?’

 Linking his hands and resting them on the table, he lifted the corners of his mouth with a touch of irony. ‘The people who know me call me the Ice Man. It’s not meant to be insulting. It’s just that it’s common knowledge that I’m not swayed by my emotions, either in business or in my private life. I’ve certainly never professed to being interested in one particular woman, so it will definitely come as a surprise when they find out I’ve got married!’

 Looking hesitant, Imogen asked softly, ‘Do any of them know what happened...before you went to the States, I mean?’

 Seth handled the flare of disagreeable discomfort that erupted inside him and then ignored it. ‘No. There’s been no need to tell anyone.’

 ‘Not even any of the women you’ve dated? Most females I know would want to express their sympathy and offer consolation if you told them.’

 ‘I make it a point not to discuss my past. I prefer to keep my focus on whatever’s going on in the present. Besides, my relationships don’t tend to be deep and meaningful. They happen purely to fulfil a mutual need.’

 He stared into the dark brown depths of her gaze and was aware that he was challenging her to contest the admission. She didn’t rise to the bait.

 Reminding him of the quintessential, very ‘proper’ English school prefect, she lifted her chin and said, ‘I’m not going to comment on that. But I would like to know how you could bear not telling anybody about what happened to Louisa. It was such a significant event in your life.’