Bound by the Sultan's Baby Read online

  ‘Can it be moved to tomorrow?’ Gabi asked.

  Aside from all that had happened with Alim, Gabi had worked through to midnight and still had a lot to get done today.

  She had to take the gramophone and record back to the grandparents, which was a considerable drive, and there were the outfits to collect, and a hundred other jobs that would go unnoticed but ensured that yesterday’s wedding was seamless for the family.

  ‘I don’t want to let down a prospective client,’ Bernadetta said. ‘Gabi, I really haven’t got the energy for debate. It’s a summer wedding to be held at the Grande Lucia; you’re going to be there today anyway.’

  ‘I don’t have a suit,’ Gabi reminded her boss. ‘Bernadetta...’ Gabi paused. She was about to say no to her, Gabi realised. She had been about to stand up to Bernadetta and not just on the strength of Alim’s offer this morning. Their conversation last night had resonated. She was tired of being pushed around and knew she was worth a whole lot more than the treatment Bernadetta served, but for now Gabi held her tongue.

  Her next step required careful thought, and so, instead of standing her ground, Gabi brushed down her skirt and did the best repair job that she could on the torn seam of her jacket and then headed back to the Grande Lucia.

  There was a lot of activity in the foyer as huge brass trolleys filled with expensive luggage were being moved out.

  ‘Gabi!’

  She turned and smiled when she saw that it was the photographer. ‘How did things go with you last night?’ Gabi asked.

  ‘Probably not as well as you,’ he said, and Gabi frowned as he held out one of his cameras. ‘I left this running in the gallery,’ he explained. ‘I set it to take intermittent photos up until midnight.’

  Now Gabi started to blush as she realised what might have been captured.

  He held out the camera and Gabi could almost not bring herself to look at the screen, terrified what she might see. ‘Not exactly part of the bridal package, though it’s a very beautiful image.’ The photographer said.

  Oh, yet another gaffe! Gabi thought, cringing, but she forced herself to look.

  And then all the magic of last night returned.

  For it had been captured exquisitely.

  On the stunning ballroom floor, there, swirling in Alim’s arms, was Gabi.

  It was as beautiful as any professional wedding photo, though it was almost impossible to reconcile that this was their first night and that they had at that point not so much as kissed.

  She knew the very second that the photo had been taken. It had been when Alim had warned her that he was trouble and she had lifted her face to his.

  The moment had been captured perfectly, for she was looking up into his eyes and Alim was holding her tenderly but firmly.

  ‘Would you like me to delete it?’ the photographer checked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought as much.’

  They had worked together on many occasions and he had Gabi’s contact details. ‘I’ll forward it to you.’

  He headed off with all his equipment and Gabi wanted to call out to him not to forget to forward it, but instead Gabi caught sight of Fleur in one of the side lounges, giving her order to a maid.

  The woman had always intrigued Gabi, but never more so than now.

  Was it lonely to be Fleur? Gabi pondered.

  Of course it must be, but Alim wasn’t suggesting the same for her. This was a business plan almost, a manageable slice of time.

  A year.

  She said it again to herself, though with mounting excitement this time.

  Gabi had never dated, but knew from her friends that most relationships didn’t even last that long.

  It was the way he had said it and the assumption that she would simply comply that had irked.

  ‘Gabi!’ Anya, the receptionist on today, called out to her, and as Gabi looked over she realised that the foyer had become very busy. ‘Can I ask you to step back, please? We have some VIP’s about to leave.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Some dark-suited men were walking through the foyer and Gabi knew they were the hotel’s security.

  And she was about to see the Sultan of Sultans, Gabi realised.

  She watched as the entourage moved through the foyer.

  There was a young woman with a long mane of black hair wearing a deep mustard-coloured velvet gown and jewelled slippers. She was very beautiful, Gabi thought, even if her eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.

  And then she saw a man dressed in a robe of black with a silver keffiyeh and Gabi felt her breath burn as she held it in her lungs, for she knew it was Alim’s father. He was a mature version of Alim and had the same air of authority and elegance.

  The managing director was in the foyer to bid farewell to the royal guests.

  Usually, of course, it would be the owner.

  Except the owner happened to be his son.

  It all made sense now.

  Fleur’s insistence on the venue, and the reason that there had been few guests on the groom’s side.

  And all too soon it was over.

  The procession walked through the foyer and out to the waiting cars, and when the last of them had gone, Gabi looked over to the lounge and to Fleur, who sat dignified and straight but terribly, terribly alone.

  Gabi watched as she reached into her purse and took out a handkerchief, pressing it to her lips for a moment to gather herself.

  There had been no kiss goodbye, not even so much as a glance aimed at her by the Sultan of Sultans. No public acknowledgement from the man to whom she had borne a son.

  What Alim had proposed this morning was different, though, Gabi told herself.

  It was a year of her life and until last night there had been no love life for her.

  It had been work, work, work.

  Which she loved, of course.

  But for a year she could have both.

  And then what?

  She saw that Fleur was making her way to the elevators and for the first time Gabi saw this usually poised woman with her shoulders slumped.

  Defeated.

  But that would not happen to her, Gabi assured herself, for she knew exactly what she was getting into. And Alim himself had said she would be a lover rather than a mistress. She had been carrying a flame for Alim since she had first seen him; the difference now was that she would be not carrying it alone.

  And then?

  She could not think of that now.

  She was going to say yes.

  It hadn’t taken days of consideration, just hours, to come to her decision, and now that she had, hope filled her heart.

  And as if in answer to her decision she watched as the gated, private elevator that had taken her to his suite last night opened.

  Alim stepped out and her heart squeezed in reaction.

  He was clean shaven and immaculate. But instead of ignoring Fleur, as he had before, Gabi watched as he stood and spoke for a moment with the woman and the conversation appeared tense.

  It was.

  ‘I tried to stop him, Alim,’ Fleur said, ‘but we both know my word holds little sway.’

  And Alim let out a mirthless laugh for he had just come off the phone with his mother, imploring her to try and change Oman’s mind, but her response had been almost the same.

  ‘You hold more sway than you know,’ Alim said. ‘You simply refuse to stand up to him.’

  ‘You try, then!’ Fleur said, and her voice was weary.

  Oh, he would.

  Alim respected his father’s title but not always the man himself.

  Yet he was the ruler and his word was law.

  Alim had tried to tell himself that just because the diktat had been invoked it did not mean that everything had to change. He would take over more duties while his father had treatment, but his work could continue here. Then he saw Gabi, standing in the foyer, dressed in that awful suit, but now that he had bedded her, she looked more beautiful than ever before and
he realised that everything had changed.

  The true ramifications were starting to hit home.

  It was not even just about sex, for there could be no intimate conversation, no working alongside a woman for whom he harboured such thoughts.

  And perhaps, more pointedly, no hope of observing the laws when Gabi was around.

  He could only hope that her mood with him was as dark as it had been when she had left his bed this morning, so there would be no need to speak.

  Alim could only think in minutes at the moment, so he focussed on getting through the next few and, ignoring her gaze, he walked across the foyer. He wanted to be outside and to walk the streets of Rome.

  He had changed his mind by the time he reached the brass doors, for Alim did not, by nature, avoid issues. He turned and walked towards Gabi, and when he saw her smile Alim knew she was going to say yes to the chance for them.

  He watched the smile die on her lips as he approached.

  ‘That offer...’ Alim said, and he hesitated. He had been right when he’d said it would be impossible to work alongside each other and not sleep together.

  ‘Yes?’

  Here was no place to explain the diktat, but they could not be alone. He thought of her in bed this morning, wrapping the sheet around herself when he had tried to explain the rules and how lovers could only be alone in the desert.

  Medieval had been her word to describe it.

  It would be kinder to simply end it now, Alim knew.

  It was also necessary.

  He could smell the slight apple scent of her shampoo and could see the soft swelling of her mouth, a remnant from last night’s hot kisses. He thought of how swollen she had been in readiness for him, and he thought of the love they could so easily still make.

  Their bodies were aware of each other, they were attuned and wanting but, as of this morning, they were forbidden.

  And so he said it, simply ended any hope for them.

  ‘The offer has been withdrawn.’

  He watched the colour drain from her face. He watched her rapid blink, and there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

  ‘I see,’ Gabi said, even though she didn’t.

  Yet she fought for dignity.

  And dignity felt like a trapeze that she must grab onto, only Gabi was no acrobat.

  She had only just accepted hope, only just accepted the brief possibility of them, and now it had been snatched away.

  By him.

  Oh, she had known he would hurt her one day, but after the way he had treated her that morning Gabi had never thought it would be today.

  She could not even ask why or demand an explanation for she was fighting not to break down. Her nails dug into her palms and her breath was so shallow it made her feel a little giddy.

  ‘You’ll take care of what we discussed?’ Alim checked.

  Gabi looked at him. He was a bastard to the core, she decided, for she would have happily settled for just one night, but he’d ruined that with the glimpse of a dream. So as the imaginary trapeze swung by, she grabbed onto it with one hand and hoped it would quickly carry her away from him and drop her where she could weep unseen.

  ‘Of course,’ she responded.

  ‘Gabi...’ His voice husked and he did not continue with whatever it was he had been about to say.

  It was Gabi who filled the silence. ‘I need to get on,’ she said. ‘Bernadetta has given me quite a list to get through today.’

  And she completed it. Somehow she got through the first day. Gabi and Marianna met with the new bride-to-be and her mother.

  ‘We have the last Saturday in July available,’ Marianna informed them.

  ‘No, I want August,’ the bride-to-be said.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Marianna shook her head. ‘Summer weddings have to be booked a long way in advance.’

  ‘It’s more than six months away!’ the bride insisted.

  ‘You are lucky that we have this one available.’

  And Gabi just sat there.

  Usually she would make soothing noises to take the edge off Marianna’s slightly scolding tone.

  She had been about to throw in her job, Gabi thought in horror. So trusting had she been that she had almost given Bernadetta her notice.

  The numbness was fading, replaced now by a burn of anger as she watched Alim walk through the foyer.

  Elegant, beautiful, it looked as if he had not a care in the world.

  The rumours were true. Cold and callous did suit him. Alim did not look in her direction. She had been, Gabi knew, dismissed from his life.

  And then the anger faded as she began to feel bereft. Soon followed by fear.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GABI DID NOT take care of things as the Sultan had ordered.

  Though not out of recklessness or spite.

  The first few days had felt like a bereavement, though not one she could ring in to work and explain about.

  What could she say? Bernadetta, I slept with Alim and he promised me the world and then dumped me.

  At best, she was a fool to have believed at all. Yet his behaviour made no sense to Gabi, for he had not offered her anything in the heat of passion. It had all been in the calm coolness of the morning, after hours of thinking, he had said.

  So Gabi had somehow remembered to breathe as she’d fought not to cry and had done her best to get on with her work.

  And by the time the fog had if not lifted then parted enough to take care of anything other than the seconds ahead, she had gone to the farmacia, only to find out that she had left it too late.

  Late.

  It became her most used word.

  She was a day late, but put it down to stress.

  A week late, but that happened at times.

  And then she was late for work two days in a row because even the scent of her favourite morning coffee had her hunched over the bathroom sink.

  Terror was her new friend.

  Not just that she was pregnant, but by whom.

  The more she found out about Zethlehan and the more she discovered about the power of the royals there, the more acute her terror became.

  ‘Pregnant?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gabi had said to her mother.

  It was a gorgeous spring morning.

  Gabi had come from a weekend at the stunning Castelli vineyard, where the wedding had gone off beautifully, and she had told herself it was time. It had taken three months for Gabi to finally find the courage to tell her mother.

  ‘Who is the father?’ Carmel had asked.

  And when Gabi had not answered, her mother had slapped her cheek.

  Carmel, herself a single mother, had never wanted the same struggle for her only child.

  ‘There go your dreams,’ Carmel had said.

  ‘No.’

  Gabi knew things would be difficult but she was determined that her dreams would continue. It was her lack of contact with Alim that felt like an insufferable loss.

  She had not told him about the baby.

  Her mother assumed that because Gabi did not say who the father of her child was, it meant that she did not know.

  Now Gabi was almost glad that she had been unable to tell Alim.

  She was scared.

  Not so much of his reaction, more the repercussions.

  Sultan Alim of Zethlehan.

  Sultan Elect.

  He was next in line to the throne and the more she read about his kingdom the more she feared him. Alim was more powerful than she could fathom. His country was rich, extremely prosperous, and the royalty adored. There was a brother and a sister. Alim was the eldest and one day he would be Sultan of Sultans.

  Gabi did not know how an illegitimate baby would be dealt with.

  Her only reference point was Fleur, and she would never allow herself to become her, Gabi swore.

  Though perhaps she was doing Alim an injustice?

  On several occasions, Gabi had walked past the Grande Lucia, trying to find the courage to
go in. Sometimes she would speak with Ronaldo and pretend that she was merely passing.

  A couple of times she had plucked up the courage to go in but now Alim’s royal status was known, security around him was tighter.

  ‘Is Alim here?’ Gabi asked Anya.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ Anya checked, when once she would have simply nodded or shaken her head, or picked up the phone to alert him.

  ‘No,’ Gabi said. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Then I can see if Marianna is available.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Gabi shook her head and, turning, looked over to the lounge and thought of Fleur, sitting alone and unacknowledged, and she thought too of James.

  She did not want that life for her child, though it probably wasn’t even an option to them. The Sultan of Sultans loved Fleur, whereas Alim had coldly ended things the morning after a night in his bed.

  He had also told her to take the morning-after pill, not once, not twice, but three times.

  Gabi was scared but determined to cope, for now, alone.

  And so the next person she had told was Bernadetta.

  And Bernadetta’s reaction had been one of pure spite.

  She resented that she would be paying for maternity leave and decided to get her money’s worth while she could.

  Every wedding that Bernadetta could, she passed over to Gabi.

  Each teary bride or stressed call from the mother of said bride, Gabi dealt with.

  And the most recent couple had barely left the church before Bernadetta skived off. Gabi barely had time to think, she was so busy working as Bernadetta became increasingly demanding.

  ‘I don’t want you showing,’ she said when Gabi asked about wearing a dress for work rather than the hated suit.

  It was the middle of summer and the weight had fallen off Gabi—or rather she had not, to her doctor’s concern, put any on. Always curvy, at close to seven months pregnant she barely showed, but that wasn’t good enough for Bernadetta.

  ‘Our clients want to think your mind is on the job, not on a baby.’

  ‘It is on the job,’ Gabi insisted.

  But the heavy suit remained. The only concession was that she wore the cream cowl-necked top out of the waistband.

  And concealing her pregnancy as best she could was perhaps wise, for all too soon it was the wedding at the Grande Lucia that she had taken on the day the bottom had fallen out of her world.