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Prince Reyes paced in a tight circle. ‘When did you find out?’ he asked.

‘I did the tests an hour ago. ’

Jasmine held up three pink and white sticks.

Reyes forced himself to move. He took them, examined them. Somehow their presence finally hammered the reality home.

He was going to be a father.

Elation. A strange, undeniable possessiveness.

‘Everything has changed. ’

Reaching down, he stroked her cheek. He wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Jasmine wasn’t the perfect candidate, but she was miles better than anyone he knew. There would be no false proclamations of love to confuse issues. They were compatible in bed.

And she was carrying his child …

‘I’m calling off next week’s wedding. And I’m getting married in three days instead. ’

Jasmine felt the blood drain from her head.

‘I … Okay.

Leave it with me. I’ll call Miss Holden and arrange for her to fly over immediately,’ she replied through numb lips.

Reyes’s brows bunched. ‘Why would you be calling her?’

‘Because you’re marrying her!’

‘You misunderstand, Jasmine. The wedding is for you. I intend to marry no one else but you. ’

MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance aged thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then, to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does!

Feel free to pinch her too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!

Married for the Prince’s Convenience

Maya Blake

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SHE WAS A THIEF.

A thief...

Jasmine Nichols’s heart pounded the indictment through her bloodstream. She hadn’t stolen anything yet, but that was beside the point. She’d travelled thousands of miles for the sole purpose of taking something that didn’t belong to her.

Telling herself she had no choice didn’t matter. If anything, it escalated her helplessness.

By the end of the night, she would wear the damning label as close to her skin as her black designer evening gown clung now.

Because failure wasn’t an option.

Fear and shame duelled for supremacy inside her, but it was the deep knowledge that she couldn’t turn her back on her family that propelled her reluctant feet up the sweeping crimson carpet towards the awe-inspiring masterpiece that housed the Contemporary Museum of Arts, perched on a cliff-side overlooking Rio de Janeiro. Even the jaw-dropping beauty of her surroundings couldn’t detract her from the simple fact.