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Oh, wait, maybe she could. It was before her wedding, holed up in a midrange hotel overlooking the French Quarter. Then, she’d been surrounded by family and friends, none of whom she’d seen in years. Family and friends that had no idea that she was celebrating a pretend marriage today to a man they’d never met.
It was just…
How had she let this happen? How had she gotten to a place where she’d become so isolated? Malik hadn’t only stolen her money; he’d stolen her agency, her self-confidence. She’d allowed him to finish the job her parents had started. She hadn’t even tried to stand her ground with them.
Val picked up her mobile and toyed with it absent-mindedly. She could call her mother—she could call her right now. But how the hell would she even begin to explain what had happened to her over the past several years?
As if the mobile could hear her innermost thoughts, it rang so suddenly that she jumped, sending a jar of berry-colored powder clattering to the floor. She slid out of the room amidst Gifty and Hind’s exclamations and scrambled for a broom and damp rag and went out onto the balcony, which was the only place in her apartment that wasn’t currently jumbled with beauty products. She answered the mobile on the third ring.
“Val.” Desmond’s voice was rich and low.
She said nothing.
“You all right?”
She took a breath of perfumed air. “Hind has been here for two hours. She broughtstylists. She won’t stop playing Robbie Williams.”
“RobbieWilliams?”
“She said she wanted to play something from my generation.”
His laugh reverberated through her body. She closed her eyes. “You ready?”
“Absolutely not. I feel sick to my stomach.”
“Keep your focus on what’s important.” He paused, and in that moment Val wanted to ask him how preparations were going for his pitch, and how he was doing, and if he was dreading tonight as much as she was and whether he missed her at all. She wanted to say that she’d read all the articles, all the stories, and her heart ached for him. But she didn’t.
She’d asked for distance, and she would do well to remember why.
* * *
The Majestic Gold Palace was situated in a desert oasis a little way from the city; Val had made the trip many times before for one event or another. It was part royal residence, part hotel, part events center, part resort, and tonight, it gleamed for her in the soft purple-orange twilight, framed by shadowy desert sand. Desmond had sent a car to collect her about an hour before the event, and as the Jaguar crawled sedately up the road to the palace, Val pressed a hand over her chest, willing her heart to beat just a little slower.
Ground-level floodlights illuminated the sand-colored buildings and they gleamed in the twilight. Motifs of beaten gold representing the early days of Bahr-al-
Dahab flashed and twinkled, and the main dome, the centerpiece of the estate and a marvel of architecture that had been studied for years, stood proudly atop the main building. It was decorated with soft mosaics that seemed to blend and change as seamlessly as the stirring of the sea. From where she was, it looked as if the colors were dancing across the fading sky. Val rolled down the window, partly for fresh air and partly to take in the heady smell of jasmine, balmy and sweet, wafting from the low bushes that lined the road.
Hind, thank goodness, had elected to travel with her parents, so Val was alone, which gave her time to collect her thoughts and do her best not to have a panic attack. The sheikh loved any excuse to throw a party, and the union of his daughter’s companion with one of the United Kingdom’s rising stars of business and enterprise was something to be celebrated.
The pathway leading to the entrance was lined with polished onyx and ebony tiles, reflecting more light from ornate jewel-studded lanterns that flanked the path. The metalwork cast dancing shadows on the stones. Lush plants in vibrant green also lined the entryway, including the jasmine trees for which the palace was famous. The driver passed through a stone arch with an intricate frieze racing round it, and she could see Desmond, hands folded, looking tiny against the massive double doors of gleaming wood.
There was no one else outside, except for a traffic warden in a whitecandourawith a reflective jacket over it. He was directing the cars to a side entrance. Only Val’s car was directed so close to the front stairs that she could have touched them from the back seat if she’d wanted to. Desmond opened her door with a smile, the gesture taking over his handsome face.
“You made it,” he said simply, and Val’s body flushed with mingled shyness and heat. He drew her out of the car and his eyes skimmed her body—possessively, she thought—and that little flutter went up her spine again.
This, she thought, was not helping at all.
Her gown, chosen by Hind, was of the palest blue sprinkled delicately with a handful of midnight blue crystals. It fit so tightly to her hips and legs that she was only able to take tiny steps forward, tottering slightly in heels of the same shade of midnight blue. A translucent overskirt in the same color cinched in her waist and flowed out, giving the illusion that she was rising from a bed of mist.
She’d never worn something so lovely before. And now that she was close enough, she could see that Desmond’s close-fitting tux was of the same midnight blue. Above it, his skin glowed brown and gold and she ached to touch it. And as if in response to what she felt inside, he laughed a bit shakily.
“Good evening.”
Had she ever seen him so awkward, so unsure of himself? She was disarmed enough to let him draw her close, and she marveled at how very natural it felt.
“You look lovely,” he said, reaching up and running the back of his hand down the curve of her cheek, well below where Gifty had accentuated the curve of her cheeks with blush, highlighter and tiny crystals that she assured her wouldn’t fall off.
“It’s all thanks to Hind.”