Bound by the Sultan's Baby Read online

  She deserved a little fun during her time in Rome, Alim thought.

  So he led her to the stairwell and warned her again to stay low and to be quiet.

  ‘Thank you, Alim!’

  ‘Don’t make trouble! Watch for a little while and then go to bed.’

  Alone now, it was Alim who wanted to see his brother on this his wedding day.

  And he also wanted to speak with Gabi.

  Alim was a very astute businessman and he recognised Gabi’s talent. He had worked very hard to bring the hotel up to standard but was aware that there was still much to be done. Marianna was very set in her ways and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted Gabi to be a part of his team.

  Alim did not use the main entrance to the ballroom, for he wished to be discreet. Instead, he walked out through a courtyard and breathed in the cold air.

  It was snowing and he stood for a moment listening to the applause as the speeches ended. The master of ceremonies was telling the guests that there had been another couple who had married here some sixty years ago and was leading into the first dance for the newlyweds.

  Holding the wedding here and all that entailed had been the least he could do for his half-brother.

  The staff might discover his royal status perhaps, but that was a small price to pay for being able to be somewhat involved in this day.

  He wondered how his father felt, upstairs in the Royal Suite, as his eldest son married downstairs.

  Alim walked in through the French windows and looked over at Fleur, who sat, a part of the bridal party yet somehow remote.

  Alim held nothing against her—in fact, he felt for her. She had been a good mother to James and had never caused any problems for his family.

  He, himself, was causing problems for a certain someone, though.

  His entrance, however unobtrusive, could not have come at a worse time for Gabi.

  Of all the moments that Alim could have chosen to check on proceedings, Gabi would have preferred that it was not this particular one.

  Often he arrived with an entourage, but on this night he had slipped quietly into the ballroom just as the happy couple were about to take to the floor.

  And that was the problem.

  An old-fashioned gramophone had been set up and a microphone discreetly placed over it so that in this delicious old ballroom history would tonight be repeated.

  Of course, there was a back-up recording to hand should the needle skid across the vinyl or start to jump, or should the assistant wedding planner’s hand be shaking so much just at the sight of Alim.

  He made her a quivering wreck simply by his presence.

  He came in from the cold and, though impossible from this distance, she felt as if the cool air followed him in, for she shivered.

  Do not look over, Gabi told herself. Just ignore that he has come in.

  Under Bernadetta’s less-than-reassuring glare, Gabi placed the needle on the vinyl and the sounds of yesteryear crackled into life. It was not the bride and groom who took to the dance floor—it was the bride’s grandparents.

  Tenderly, the elderly man held his wife and it was the perfect pastiche as the younger couple joined them.

  It was an incredibly moving passing of the baton and just so utterly romantic to watch the elderly couple and the newlyweds dance side by side that it brought a tear to Gabi’s eyes.

  Oh, it made all the sleepless nights worth it, just for this.

  She glanced up and saw that the photographer was snapping away.

  They would be beautiful photos indeed.

  Gabi went through her list on her tablet and saw that for now she was up to date.

  Everything really had gone seamlessly.

  ‘Another Matrimoni di Bernadetta success,’ Bernadetta said, and Gabi’s jaw gritted as her boss came and stood by her side. ‘I hope that I can trust you to take it from here.’

  Bernadetta made it sound as if she was bestowing a great favour when in truth she was skiving off early and leaving it all to Gabi.

  All of it had been left to Gabi.

  Bernadetta had flown back from her vacation just this morning and had spent most of the day staying warm in her luxurious car.

  Gabi stood there, biting back tears as Bernadetta waltzed off, though of course she took time to network. Bernadetta knew very well which side her bread was buttered on, and was sweet and charming to anyone who might assist her ascent. She walked up to Alim, and Gabi saw her put her hands up in false modesty as she no doubt accepted congratulations from Alim for another hugely successful wedding.

  And Gabi stood there, dreaming of one day going it alone.

  Just dreaming of the day when she could call a night such as this her success and be the one Alim congratulated.

  And that was how he saw her.

  Lost in a dream.

  Alim walked towards her and as she turned and looked towards him he smiled. She felt that she shone.

  Criticism and fault were gone when she was held in his gaze.

  No man had ever made her feel like that, no man had ever made her feel as if there was nothing, but nothing, that she needed to change.

  He did that with just one look.

  ‘I was wondering...’ Alim said in that smoky voice of his, and so lost in her dream was Gabi that she put down the tablet she held and stepped towards him on instinct.

  ‘I’d love to.’

  And then she wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

  Of course his arms were not waiting for her. Gabi had thought, stupidly thought, that he was asking her to dance, but instead, as he sidestepped, it was just a cringe-inducing faux pas.

  Of all the embarrassing moments she had lived through, this was Gabi’s worst.

  ‘We’re working, Gabi,’ Alim said politely.

  But no matter how skilfully he deflected or made light of her gaffe, not even he could save her from her shame as he told her the real reason that he had approached.

  Of course he hadn’t been about to ask her for this dance.

  ‘I was wondering,’ Alim repeated, ‘if I might have a word.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  OH, THE SHAME!

  Gabi wanted the dance floor to open up and swallow her whole.

  Instead, she stood there as Alim gestured with his head, indicating that they move out from the ballroom.

  When Alim asked to speak with someone, they tended to say yes, even if they would have preferred to run.

  ‘The bride might need me.’ Gabi floundered for an excuse. ‘Bernadetta just left.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Alim had a word with one of the staff as they made their way out and told them where they could be found. ‘If anyone is looking for you, you will be told.’

  She retrieved her tablet and he led them out of the ballroom to a table and chairs, and as she took a seat he put up his hand to halt a waiter as he approached.

  This was business.

  Yet her navy eyes were shining with embarrassed tears and there was a mottle to her chest from the mother of all burning blushes.

  Poor thing, Alim thought.

  He was terribly used to women liking him, even if it was a more sophisticated sandpit where he usually played.

  Gabi would know that.

  Surely?

  * * *

  ‘The wedding and the celebrations have gone very well,’ Alim said.

  ‘Matrimoni di Bernadetta put a lot of effort into it,’ Gabi duly responded.

  ‘I think we both know,’ Alim said, ‘that Bernadetta put precisely zero effort into this wedding.’

  Gabi blinked at his forthrightness.

  ‘Bernadetta isn’t here,’ Alim interrupted, ‘so speak to me, Gabi.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I might be able to help. I appreciate hard work, I like to see talent rewarded.’

  ‘I am well rewarded.’

  He raised an eyebrow slightly.

  The pay, they both knew, was ter
rible.

  ‘I know that the gramophone was your idea,’ Alim told her.

  ‘How could you know that?’

  ‘I know the groom. That is why I had to drop in and check that everything was going well.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And he told me how impressed they were with you.’

  Actually, the information hadn’t been that forthcoming, James hadn’t raced to tell Alim how wonderful the assistant wedding planner was.

  Alim had specifically asked.

  His success had come, not by accident, or by acquired wealth or by flouting his title. He kept his royal status as private as he could, and while his impossible wealth had been a starting point, it was his attention to detail that caused his ventures to thrive.

  Alim did not merely accept findings, he dug deeper. And while he knew that Matrimoni di Bernadetta was amongst the top tier of wedding planners, he was very aware of the mechanics of the business.

  Bernadetta had chosen well!

  ‘Tell me.’

  He could tell she was nervous.

  ‘Why did you choose this career?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I love weddings.’

  ‘Even now?’ Alim asked. ‘Even after...?’ He asked a question. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty-four and, yes, I still love weddings. I always have, since I was a little girl.’

  ‘And you’ve worked for Bernadetta for how long?’

  ‘Six years,’ Gabi said. ‘Before that I worked for a local seamstress. And when I was at school...’ She halted, not wanting to bore him.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I worked for a local florist. I used to work through Friday night to have the bouquets ready for weddings. I would get up to go to the markets before school...’

  This was the passion Alim wanted in his staff.

  ‘I was very lucky that Bernadetta took me on.’

  ‘Why is that?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I had no qualifications. My mother needed me to work so I left school at sixteen and Matromoni di Bernadetta has a good reputation.’

  ‘So how did you get an interview?’

  ‘I wrote to her,’ Gabi admitted. ‘Many times. After a year she finally agreed to give me an interview, though she warned me the competition was extremely tough. I had my friend Rosa make me a suit and I...’ Gabi gave a tight shrug. ‘I asked for a trial.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Bernadetta showed me a brief she had for a very important wedding and asked for my ideas.’ Gabi gave him a smile. ‘You’ve heard of fake it till you make it...’

  ‘Fake what?’ Alim asked.

  ‘I pretended that I knew what I was doing.’

  ‘But you did know what you were doing,’ Alim said, and Gabi swallowed. ‘You had already worked for a seamstress and a florist...’

  ‘Yes, but...’

  ‘And what happened with the ideas you gave her for this very important wedding?’

  ‘She incorporated some of them.’

  ‘So what part were you faking?’

  Gabi frowned. ‘I’ve learnt an awful lot working for Bernadetta.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alim agreed. ‘She is at the top of her game. I have no hesitation recommending her. Still, I know that lately most of the credit should fall to you. Have you ever thought about moving out on your own?’

  Her blush had all but faded and now it returned, though not to her chest. He watched as her cheeks darkened and her jaw tightened and Gabi was angry indeed, Alim knew.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Alim...’ Gabi shook her head. She was loyal, even if it was misplaced, and she had also got into trouble for dreaming out loud before.

  ‘Talk to me,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I may be able to help.’

  ‘Bernadetta found out that I one day hoped to go out on my own, and she reminded me of a clause in my contract.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That I can’t use any of the firms that she does for six months after leaving. I’d have to make new contacts.’

  ‘But you already use only the best.’

  ‘Yes.’ Gabi nodded, glad that he immediately got it. She had spent hours trying to explain it to her mother, who’d said she should just be glad to have a job. It was so nice to discuss it with Alim! ‘Those contacts weren’t all Bernadetta’s to start off with.’ Gabi had held it in for so long that it was a relief to vent some of her frustration. ‘The bride tonight is wearing Rosa’s creation. It was her lounge floor that I used to cut fabric on.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he urged.

  So Gabi did.

  ‘When I first worked for Bernadetta we had a bride to dress and she had only one arm. So many of the designers shunned her, they did not want her wearing one of their creations. I was furious so I suggested that Bernadetta try Rosa. She scoffed at the idea at first but in the end agreed to give her a try—Rosa made the bride a princess on her day. It was a very high-profile wedding and so in came the orders. Now Rosa works in the best street in Rome. Rosa is my contact but of course I did not think to get that in writing at the time.’

  Alim watched as Gabi slumped a little in her seat.

  Defeated.

  And then he fought not to smile as her hand went to her hair and she coiled a strand around her finger.

  For after a moment’s pause she rose again.

  Now she had started to air her grievances, Gabi found that she could not stop. ‘The flowers today, the gardenias—it was the florist’s idea to replicate the grandmother’s bouquet.’ Alim noted that Gabi did not take credit where it was not due and he liked that. ‘The florist, Angela, is the woman I worked with when I was at school. We used to work in a tiny store, now she is known as one of the finest bridal florists in Rome.’

  ‘So the best contacts are off limits,’ Alim said, and Gabi nodded.

  ‘For six months after I leave—and I doubt I could hold off for that long. That is assuming anyone will hire me as their wedding planner. I doubt Bernadetta will give a good reference.’

  ‘She’ll bad-mouth you.’

  He said it as fact.

  He was right.

  Alim had thought he had the solution.

  Right now, he could be wrapping the conversation up with the offer that Gabi come and work for him.

  It was rather more complicated now, though, and not just because she liked him. Alim was very used to that.

  It was that he liked her.

  He acknowledged it then. Just a little, he assured himself.

  But, yes, for two years the hotel had seemed warmer when Gabi was here. For two years he had smiled to himself as she clipped across the foyer in those awful heels, or muttered a swear word now and then under her breath.

  He had never allowed himself to acknowledge her beauty but he could not deny it now.

  She looked stunning.

  Her hair was falling from its confines, her dress shimmered over her curves and how the hell had he not swept her into his arms to dance? Alim pondered. But the answer, though he denied it, was becoming clearer the longer they spoke—he had been resisting her for a long time.

  The other week his mood had not been great.

  Christmas was always busy in the hotel industry but it wasn’t just that that had accounted for his dark mood.

  Issues back home were becoming more pressing.

  But it wasn’t that either.

  There had been a vague air of discontent that he could not place, though admittedly he had avoided seeking its source.

  Alim had not wanted to give voice to it.

  So he hadn’t.

  Outside work he had been his usual reprobate self, but some time between Christmas and New Year he had walked into the foyer of the Grande Lucia and seen that Fleur had taken him up on his suggestion that they use Matrimoni di Bernadetta to plan the wedding. They hadn’t held a wedding here in a very long while and Alim had found that he missed Gabi’s presen
ce. The air felt different when she was around.

  He fought to bring his thoughts back to work.

  ‘What would you do differently from Bernadetta?’

  Gabi frowned, for it felt like an interview, but she answered his question.

  ‘I’d ditch the black suit.’

  ‘You already have.’ His eyes did not leave hers as he said it but he let her know that the change from her usual attire had been noted.

  Oh, it had.

  It no longer felt like an interview.

  Their minds actually fought not to flirt—Gabi because she did not want to make a fool of herself again, and Alim because he kept work at work.

  ‘There was a wardrobe malfunction back at the church,’ Gabi carefully answered.

  ‘Malfunction?’

  ‘I fell,’ Gabi said. ‘Thankfully it was after the bridal party had left, but I tore my suit.’

  ‘Did you hurt yourself?’

  ‘A bit.’

  He wanted to peel off her dress and examine her bruises; he wanted to bring her now to his lap.

  But still his eyes never left hers and the conversation remained polite.

  ‘So you would ditch the black suit in favour of what?

  ‘I’ve seen this fabric, it’s a willow-green and pink check, more a tartan. It sounds terrible but...’

  ‘No,’ Alim said. ‘It sounds different. Do you have a picture?’

  Of course she did, and she took only a moment to bring it up on her tablet and hand it to Alim.

  He looked at the picture of the fabric she had chosen. It was more subtle than she had described and, yes, it would be the perfect choice.

  ‘What would you change here at the Grande Lucia?’ he asked as he handed back the tablet. He expected her to flounder, given that she’d had no time to prepare.

  Gabi though knew exactly what the first change would be.

  ‘There would be a blanket ban on red carnations throughout the hotel.’

  She watched the slight twitch of his very beautiful lips. Alim had many areas of expertise but flowers were not amongst them. ‘I don’t tend to get involved with the floral displays,’ he said.

  ‘I do.’ Gabi smiled. ‘I obsess about such things.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘What would you choose?’

  ‘Sahara roses are always nice, though I think it should vary through the week, and at weekends I would change the theme to tie in with the main function being held.’