Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Sheikh's Desert Duty\Nine Months to Redeem Him\Fonseca's Fury\The Russian's Ultimatum

A Chatsfield Scandal!

Journalist Sophie Parsons needs a scoop to stop the sale of her friend's hotel chain. And she's found it! But being abducted by a sheikh goes
way
beyond the call of duty...

Sheikh Zayn Al-Ahmar has a wedding to arrange, a sister to protect and a country to rule. He's not going to let one woman bring it all down with a headline! Kidnapping Sophie
seemed
like a good idea, but soon her delectable company puts everything he values at risk.

Only one mistress can rule Zayn's heart—will it be Sophie, or his duty?

Welcome to The Chatsfield, New York!

“I'm working on something that concerns the Chatsfield family,” Sophie said finally.

“Clearly not something they would be very happy about.”

“Well, probably not. But I can see you're not one of their fans. It would please you to know that I'm not a big fan of the Chatsfield family either. And I don't think they necessarily deserve the somewhat pristine public reputation they seem to have cultivated recently.”

“So what is it you're after?” asked Sheikh Zayn Al-Ahmar.

“A scandal.”

“Of course, I should've known you were after a scandal. What good reporter isn't?” Unfortunately, she was very close to a scandal. One that would involve his family, his sister. One that was simply unacceptable to have out in the open.

“Well, exactly.”

“And you know that I'm not James's biggest fan?”

“Well, clearly not. As he seems to have gotten himself involved with your sister.”

And just like that he realized that whatever else she knew, she knew too much. With an entire newspaper to back her, she would be relaying this information to interested parties, who would likely do much more digging than he would want done.

“Yes indeed.” And just like that, he realized he had made his decision. He leaned forward and pressed the intercom button on the partition between the backseat and the front seat. “We are not going back to the hotel. We will be going straight to the airport.”

The world's most elite hotel is looking for a jewel in its crown and Spencer Chatsfield has found it. But Isabella Harrington, the girl from his past, refuses to sell!

Now the world's most decadent destinations have become a chessboard in this game of power, passion and pleasure...

Welcome to

The Chatsfield

Synonymous with style, sensation...and scandal!

With the eight Chatsfield siblings happily married and settling down, it's time for a new generation of Chatsfields to shine!

Spencer Chatsfield steps in as CEO, determined to prove his worth. But when he approaches Isabella Harrington, of Harringtons Boutique Hotels, with the offer of a merger that would benefit them both...he's left with a stinging red palm-shaped mark on his cheek!

And so begins a game of cat and mouse that will shape the future of the Chatsfields and the Harringtons forever.

But neither knows that there's one stakeholder with the power to decide their fate...and their identity will shock both the Harringtons
and
the Chatsfields.

Just who will come out on top?

Find out in

Maisey Yates—
Sheikh's Desert Duty
Abby Green—
Delucca's Marriage Contract
Carol Marinelli—
Princess's Secret Baby
Kate Hewitt—
Virgin's Sweet Rebellion
Caitlin Crews—
Greek's Last Redemption
Michelle Conder—
Russian's Ruthless Demand
Susanna Carr—
Tycoon's Delicious Debt
Melanie Milburne—
Chatsfield's Ultimate Acquisition

Eight titles to collect—you won't want to miss out!

SHEIKH'S DESERT DUTY

Maisey Yates

USA TODAY
bestselling author
MAISEY YATES
lives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiseled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. She feels the epic trek she takes several times a day from her office to her coffeemaker is a true example of her pioneer spirit.

In 2009, at the age of twenty-three, Maisey sold her first book. Since then it's been a whirlwind of sexy alpha males and happily-ever-afters, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Maisey divides her writing time between dark, passionate category romances set just about everywhere on earth and light, sexy contemporary romances set practically in her backyard. She believes that she clearly has the best job in the world.

Other titles by Maisey Yates available in ebook:

TO DEFY A SHEIKH
ONE NIGHT TO RISK IT ALL
PRETENDER TO THE THRONE
(The Call of Duty)
FORGED IN THE DESERT HEAT

To Pippa, Laura and Jackie. Thanks for talking me through this one. Sometimes you need the whole team.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EXCERPT

WELCOME MS YATES

WELCOME SHEIKH ZAYN AL-AHMAR

CHAPTER ONE

S
HEIKH
Z
AYN
A
L
-
A
HMAR
had many regrets in his life. The kind of regrets that reached into the darkness in the middle of the night, and tried to strangle him while he slept. The kind of regrets that followed him all through the day, and informed his every action; constant reminders of why he'd had to leave the old version of himself behind, and become something entirely different.

But however pressing his past regrets might be, right now he could think of only one. Right now, his most sincere regret was that he could not close his fist around James Chatsfield's throat and end the worthless man's life here and now, in an alley behind his family hotel.

Instead, he settled for something much less satisfying. He curled his hands around the lapels of James's jacket and shoved the other man back against the brick wall. It was a violent action but, Zayn found, not quite violent enough for his current mood.

“I'm not quite sure what has your knickers in a twist, Al-Ahmar,” James said. His pretty-boy face, filled with that kind of insouciance he excelled at, only enraged Zayn further. The mocking gleam in his eyes only stoking the fires higher. Because Zayn was so well acquainted with both. Because Zayn might well have been looking into a mirror that showed a reflection of the past.

But most especially because what the man had done was unforgivable.

“I think you very well know, Chatsfield.” Zayn didn't see the point in playing games. Not here in a darkened alley with no one around to witness his actions.

For sixteen years, his life had been consumed with the protection of his family. With the protection of his reputation, and that of his country. And now, this one man was threatening to undo it all. Right now, this man represented the single greatest threat to Surhaadi, its people and to everything Zayn had built his new life on.

“Please, tell me this isn't about your sister.”

Violence surged through Zayn's blood, and he took the opportunity to reacquaint the back of James's head with the wall. “What else could this be about? You have dishonored her. And in so doing you have dishonored me, the royal family and my people.”

James didn't even have the decency to look scared. Instead of trembling, he arched a brow, his lips curved into a mocking smile. “That is a very heavy burden to place on one woman's body. I was not aware that the integrity of the nation rested upon your sister's maidenhead.”

“You have no place to comment on integrity,” Zayn said, tightening his grasp on James. “You are a man in possession of none.”

“But at least I don't treat women like they are my property.”

No, James Chatsfield would never treat a woman like she was his property. Because once he had slept with a woman, he had no further association with her. Worse than treating them like he owned them, he treated them as though they were disposable. Paper dolls that he could dress, and undress, at will, before crumpling them up and throwing them away.

And in Zayn's sister's case, leaving them forever altered. Leaving her with child. A fact Zayn preferred James Chatsfield never even know. He didn't have a right to know. Because he had never had a right to touch Leila in the first place. And as far as Zayn was concerned, James would never touch her again.

“Perhaps not, Chatsfield, but the fact remains that you have badly handled what belongs to me. My family, anyone beneath my protection, belongs to me. You are fortunate we are
not
in my country, for there, I would not hesitate to remove the member that committed the offense.”

Chatsfield shifted, suddenly breaking Zayn's hold, his agility and strength surprising. Indeed, contrary to Zayn's initial appraisal, the man was not the lazy playboy he appeared to be. Oh, the fact remained that he was a playboy, but there was a sharpness to him that Zayn found surprising.

“You're positively biblical, Al-Ahmar.” Chatsfield straightened his suit jacket, and his tie, brushing off an imagined bit of dust. “Sadly, I haven't the time to engage in any eye-for-an-eye nonsense.”

Rage poured through Zayn, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off Chatsfield's face. But he would not risk drawing attention. Would not risk giving Chatsfield a reason to wonder if there was more to Zayn's rage than him simply sleeping with Leila. “You will not speak of your dalliance with my sister to anyone in the press.”

James made a scoffing sound. “Why would I ever speak to the press about such a thing?”

“Because while Leila was simply one in a long line of your exploits, the fact remains she is a princess. The media would love to get their hands on that.”

“You insult me, Al-Ahmar. In this country I am royalty in my own right. I hardly need to trade on your name to create a scandal so I can get featured in the headlines. I have my own.”

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will have your head. And I do not speak metaphorically.”

Something in Chatsfield's expression hardened. “Oh, I have no doubt.” He straightened his jacket yet again and turned, walking back inside the hotel, leaving Zayn alone in the alleyway to curse into the emptiness around him.

The feeling of helplessness that was pouring through him was unwelcome, and all too familiar. It echoed a time he'd failed another sister. Another time the problems had been too big to fix. Regret piling on top of regret.

Rain was starting to fall, the only light coming from a lone streetlamp, casting everything in a yellow glow. Zayn's mind was racing, his pulse in overdrive. If any of this got out, the press would have a field day. He had no idea what Leila intended to do about her pregnancy, and with the heightened interest surrounding the royal family, due to Zayn's own upcoming marriage, she was in a much more precarious position than she might have been.

She was vulnerable enough without introducing the variable of public opinion and scrutiny. That would add pressure she didn't need, judgment she didn't deserve. No, he would not have that. He would not expose his family to such criticism and judgment. Not again. Not while he drew breath.

He heard a clattering sound in the corner of the alley, a trash can turning over on its side, a blur of motion catching his eye.

He was not alone. And he and Chatsfield had not been the only two involved in the conversation that had taken place only minutes before. They had a witness.

And that was unacceptable.

The feeling of helplessness drained, a shot of adrenaline moving through his veins. Action. He craved action. He craved a plan.

Zayn stalked toward the movement, his body on high alert, muscles tensing, ready to strike. When a man lived as he did, he had ample time to train his body. And Zayn had done just that. Had taken every opportunity to spend hours channeling physical frustration into strength training.

He didn't fear whatever would be waiting for him in the shadow. He had no reason to. Because he had no doubt whatsoever that he was the most dangerous thing in this alley.

There was more clattering, followed by a squeak, and he acted, reaching into the darkness and coming up with a fistful of hair, resistance and a sharp squeal.

Not the sound of a hardened criminal.

He released his hold on the person he had seized, and straightened.

“Who are you?” he asked. “What do you want?”

“Ow,” his quarry made a plaintive noise.

“I doubt very much that you're injured,” he said. “Come into the light.”

The intruder obliged, moving from the shadow and into the golden haze cast by the streetlight. He wasn't entirely certain what he'd expected, but the slim blonde with long honey-colored hair, disheveled—likely from when he had grabbed it—wearing a sequined dress with a hemline that fell well above her knee, and mutinous expression on her face, was not at all what he'd imagined he might find.

“I am very much injured.” She sniffed.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you are so easily damaged, it is advisable that perhaps you shouldn't spend time hiding in dark alleys. They are dangerous.”

“It would seem so.” She was frantically straightening her dress now, moving her hands over her slight curves, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suspicion pressing down on him.

“I followed Chatsfield out into the alley.” She straightened, flipping long hair back over her shoulder, a pale, glimmering wave in the streetlight.

That made sense. She was very likely one of Chatsfield's hopefuls, or one of his previous acquisitions. Probably trying to find out if she could finagle another night in his bed. Or perhaps just hoping she could trade on her connection with him for money or status.

Either way, she was dangerous. Either way, she would have motive to take her story to the press. The opportunity for revenge in the hands of a woman scorned by a playboy could prove dangerous for his sister.

“I see. And how much did you hear?”

Her eyes, which were already quite wide, widened further. “Nothing of interest. I was actually quite bored. I was
actually
taking a nap.”

“Try again.” He found he had little patience to continue standing out here as rain began to pour down on them. He found he had little patience for any of this. To face another failure where his family was concerned. To face another threat to them, after all they had been through.

It was in his power to spare them more pain, and he would do so. And he would not let one large-eyed blonde get in his way.

“I'm really into the free-food movement. And I like to make sure that there are no salvageable edibles in various trash cans surrounding posh hotels.” She started to move away from him. “You would be surprised how much gourmet food is simply tossed. I have found foie gras that was still quite fresh just cast out into the gutter. It's egregious.”

“You said you followed Chatsfield out into the alley.”

She squinted. “I thought he might be looking for the foie gras.”

“It is getting quite cold out.” He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, and she tugged back. But he held fast. “Why don't we finish this conversation in my car?”

“Oh, you know—” she waved a hand “—I would, but I have a thing.”

“What thing?” he asked.

“A thing that is not getting into a car with a stranger.”

“I feel that after all you must have surely heard from your vantage point, we can hardly be considered strangers.”

He tugged her along through the alley with him, heading to where his limousine was idling. She walked along with him, but her hesitance was clear. For a moment he questioned himself. Asked himself what the hell he was doing.

But then he imagined Leila, in her distress, confessing her indiscretion, and worrying about the consequences. No, he would do whatever he had to do. No matter what that was.

There was no room, no time, for guilt.

“I really need to go,” she said. “My bicycle is double-parked. I think there's a timer on the rack. I bet they're going to cut my chain.”

“I will buy you a new bicycle.”

“That one has sentimental value.”

He paused, and looked down at her. “Why did you ride a bicycle in this weather? In that dress.”

“We don't all hemorrhage gold.”

“No, indeed we do not. I imagine you have realized that James Chatsfield does.”

“What exactly are you implying?”

He propelled her forward to the passenger door of the limousine, and jerked it open. “I'm implying that you need to get into my car now.”

“I don't think I will.”

“I'm sorry, I see you've confused my command with a request.” Not breaking his hold on her, he moved down into the limo, bringing her with him, her soft body flush against his.

And because it had been so very long since he had touched a woman, even given the circumstances, he could not help but take a moment to pause and enjoy the feel of her against him.

She wiggled, her bottom coming into contact with things he would rather not have her in contact with. “What are you doing?” she shrieked.

He did not answer. He only held fast to her, trying to figure out exactly where to take it from here.

Though he was immediately drawn back to the moment by the feel of her body against his.

It was in moments like this, moments when heat and curves overtook the gravity of the situation, that he wondered whether or not he'd truly managed to change. Or if he had simply spent years burying his weakness beneath the rock of good intention. Though, as he had so rarely found himself in this position since he had changed the focus of his life, he supposed it was neither here nor there. It did not matter how soft this woman was. It did not matter how good it felt to have her in his arms.

All that mattered was Leila. Her honor. Her safety, both physical and emotional.

No one could be allowed to compromise that.

He closed the limo door, and kept his hold on the woman, who seemed to have gone limp in his grasp. For one moment he wondered if she had fainted. And then she started talking again.

“Somehow I don't think you've brought me in here because you're concerned about me getting wet.” She turned to face him, concern lighting her eyes.

“It's quite possible you're correct.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“I feel that term implies both premeditation and a desire for ransom money. And as we've established that I hemorrhage gold, and you do not, I have no need of ransom money. Also, there was no premeditation involved, how could there have been? I had no idea you would be in the alleyway.”

“I don't feel that either of those things is a necessary requirement to call something kidnapping.” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you detaining me against my will?”