Читать книгу Modern Romance May 2017 Books 5 – 8 - Bella Frances, Louise Fuller - Страница 17
ОглавлениеGABI 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.
Not that Alim would notice her, and neither was she likely to see him.
He was barely around any more. Ronaldo had told her that he had moved back to Zethlehan and, sadly, the Grande Lucia was now on the market.
The staff were all worried for their jobs.
It was still beautiful, though, Gabi thought as, on the Friday before the wedding, she went for a breakfast meeting with Marianna in her office.
First they spoke about the timings of the big day and the arrival of the cars and photographers and such things.
Gabi’s main focus was the wedding.
For Marianna, although the wedding was important, she was also dealing with the comfort of the other hotel guests and ensuring that they were not inconvenienced too much.
Again, Gabi pushed for a change to the flowers in the foyer.
‘No, there has always been a red floral display.’ Marianna shook her head and refused to budge on the issue. ‘Our return guests like the familiarity.’
‘But don’t you want to attract new guests?’
Marianna pursed her lips as Gabi pushed on. ‘Some of the hotels I work with actually organise in advance for their floral displays to tie in with the bridal theme...’
‘The Grande Lucia does not compete with other hotels,’ Marianna said. ‘We’re already at the top.’
Thanks to Alim, Gabi thought.
And Marianna was arrogant in her assumption that just because they were successful they could ignore competition.
For a very long while, before Alim had taken over, the hotel had struggled. Mona had been right in her description—the hotel had looked tired and many a potential bride had turned up her nose when the venue had been suggested. Oh, it was because of Alim that the Grande Lucia was now thriving and everyone knew it.
‘I hear it will soon be under new ownership,’ Gabi said.
‘Yes, Alim is bringing potential buyers through over the weekend.’
‘He’s here?’ Gabi squeaked, and then quickly recovered. Her voice had sounded too urgent, her words a demand, and she fought to relax herself. ‘I thought that he was back in the Middle East?’
‘For the most part he is there,’ Marianna agreed. ‘But this an important weekend. Today Signor Raul Di Savo is in residence and has free rein to look around; tomorrow it will be Signor Bastiano Conti.’
Gabi felt her heart sink a little. Hotels often took ages to sell but these were two serious names in the industry. Matrimoni di Bernadetta had held many weddings at Raul’s boutique hotel here in Rome, and Gabi knew that Bastiano was also a formidable player in the industry.
‘If you come across either of them, please be polite,’ Marianna said.
‘Of course.’
‘They may have questions for you.’
Gabi nodded.
‘And, please, ensure that all deliveries are discreet and that there is minimal disturbance to our guests. Alim is soon to marry so he wants the Grande Lucia off his hands as quickly as possible.’
Gabi just sat there.
She had read about it, of course, but it hurt to hear it voiced.
Even Alim had said that they could only last for a year because he had commitments back home.
How she wished they had had that year.
Or maybe not, Gabi thought as she sat there, trying to fathom being closer to him than she had been that night, knowing him more, loving him more...
For, yes, despite the anger and pain, Gabi now knew that it was love.
At least on her side.
‘Gabi?’ Marianna frowned because it was clear their meeting was over yet Gabi had made no move to leave. ‘Was there anything else?’
‘I don’t think so.’
There could be no hope for them.
* * *
It was a very busy day spent liaising with the florists and soothing a temperamental head chef when she informed him that there had been some last-minute food preferences called in.
‘I already have the updated list,’ he told her.
‘No,’ Gabi said. ‘There are more.’
A lot more.
And the head chef was not happy, declaring, as if it were her fault, that the world had gone gluten-free.
The gowns and outfits arrived and it was for Gabi to organise that tomorrow they would be sent to the correct suites.
She spoke with the make-up artist and hairdressers too, ensuring that every detail for tomorrow was in place.
Oh, she was tired, and there was still so much to be done.
Gabi headed to the ballroom to check on the set-up.
‘There are some more changes to be made to the seating,’ Bernadetta said by way of greeting. ‘The ex-wife doesn’t want to be near the aunt...’
Gabi sighed; she had been working on the seating into the small hours of last night and the bride constantly rang in her changes.
‘I’ll leave you to take it from here,’ Bernadetta told Gabi. She didn’t even pretend now to be sick, or to be meeting with a client. She simply waltzed off and left it all to Gabi.
It was late Friday afternoon and most people were just finishing up for the weekend yet Gabi’s work had barely begun. Bernadetta would appear tomorrow, around eleven, just as the guests started to arrive.
One benefit of Bernadetta being gone, though, was that she could take off her shoes, which Gabi did; the high heels were not ideal and after a day of wearing them her back was starting to ache.
This weekend would be, Gabi was sure, her last real chance to tell Alim she was pregnant before the baby was born. Matrimoni di Bernadetta did not have another wedding at the Lucia for three months. She would have had her baby by then and the Grande Lucia could well be sold.
Gabi honestly did not know what to do.
His power scared her and, if she was honest, Alim’s cruel dismissal still angered her; furthermore, he had made it very clear that he did not want any consequence from that night.
A kick beneath her ribs made Gabi smile.
As tiny as her baby was, it certainly made itself known.
At her ultrasound, Gabi had chosen not to find out what she was having. Not because she wasn’t curious, more she did not want the baby’s sex to have any bearing on the conversation, if she told Alim.
If she told him.
She was still troubled and unsure as to what to do.
Gabi stood in the ballroom and looked at the shower of stars that the chandelier created and recalled the bliss of dancing right here, alone with Alim, and how deeply happy she had been that night.
It brought her such pleasure to recall it.
The photographer had not forgotten and indeed the image of the two of them that night now lived on her tablet. It had been her screensaver for a while but that had proved too painful, so she had taken it down and now Gabi barely looked at it.
It had always hurt too much to do so, but time perhaps was kind, because Gabi hadn’t really been able to recall, with clarity, the bliss of them together.
Until now.
But on this afternoon, with her baby wriggling inside her, she remembered how the shadows of the branches outside had crept across the walls, how Alim had, without a word, asked her to dance.
Yes, Gabi was a dreamer, but it was a memory that she was lost in now.
And that was how he found her.
* * *
It had been a busy day for Alim.
And a hellish few months.
His sister Yasmin had created her own share of scandal at the wedding all those months ago, and Alim had been trying his best to sort that out.
Also, he had known the moment that diktat had been invoked that it would be impossible to be around Gabi and not want her. He took the laws of his land seriously. Now he walked into the ballroom with the first of the potential buyers and there was Gabi, holding her shoes and gazing up.
It was safer, far safer that she be gone.
‘Is everything okay, Gabi?’ Alim asked her, and his words were a touch stern.
‘Oh!’
She turned and for the first time since that morning she saw him.
He was wearing a dark navy suit and looked stunning as usual; she had never felt more drab, standing barefoot in an ill-fitting suit.
He was with a man she recognised as Raul Di Savo.
Gabi pushed out a smile and tried to be polite but her heart was hammering.
‘Yes, everything is fine. I was just trying to work out the table plan for Saturday.’
‘We have a large wedding coming up,’ Alim explained to Raul.
‘And both sets of parents are twice divorced.’ Gabi gave a slight eye-roll, and then chatted away as she bent to put on her shoes, trying to keep things about work. ‘Trying to work out where everyone should be seated is proving—’
‘Gabi!’ Alim scolded, and then turned to Raul. ‘Gabi is not on my staff. They tend to be rather more discreet.’ He waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Excuse us, please.’
Just like that he dismissed her.
He knew that he had hurt her, for that morning she had left there had been so much promise between them and now she looked at him with funeral eyes. Alim could see the pain and bewildered confusion there.
He wanted to wave his hand to Raul and tell him to get the hell out of the ballroom. He wanted to take her to bed.
She did not leave quietly.
Gabi slammed the door on her way out and Alim and Raul stood in the ballroom with the lights dancing in the late afternoon sun.
‘What is the real reason you are selling?’ Raul asked him.
Raul knew the business was thriving and he wanted to know why Alim was letting it go. And Raul knew too that Alim could so easily outsource the management of the hotel as he moved his portfolio back to the Middle East.
Alim had brought him here to give the true answer, and now he tried to drag his mind back to the sale, yet Gabi’s fragrance hung in the air, along with the memory of their dance.
‘When I bought the hotel those had not been cleaned in years,’ Alim said, gesturing to the magnificent lights and remembering when the moon had lit them. ‘Now they are taken down regularly and cared for properly. It is a huge undertaking. The room has to be closed so no functions can be held, and it is all too easy to put it off.’
‘I leave all that to my managers to organise,’ Raul said.
Alim nodded. ‘Usually I do too, but when I took over the Grande Lucia there had been many cost-cutting measures. It was slowly turning into just another hotel. It is not just the lighting in the ballroom, of course. What I am trying to explain is that this hotel has become more than an investment to me. Once I return to my homeland I shall not be able to give it the attention it deserves.’
‘The next owner might not either,’ Raul pointed out.
‘That is his business. But while the hotel is mine I want no part in her demise.’
‘Now you have given me pause for thought,’ Raul admitted.
‘Good.’ Alim smiled. ‘The Grande Lucia deserves the best caretaker. Please,’ Alim said, indicating that their long day of meetings had come to an end, for he needed badly to be alone, ‘take all the time you need to look around and to enjoy the rest of your stay.’
Alim walked out of the ballroom and he was conflicted.
So badly he wanted to seek her out. More worryingly, though, he wanted to work out a chance for them. The only place they could speak was the desert.
He could just imagine Gabi’s reaction if he suggested that!
He was informed that Bastiano Conti, who had flown in from Sicily, had just arrived at the hotel. They were, in fact, friends, and would often hit the casinos and clubs together. Those carefree days were gone now, yet they were not the ones Alim craved.
It was one woman, and the hope for one more night with her that could be his undoing.
Alim went and greeted Bastiano and was grateful to hear that he had plans for tonight and would be entertaining guests.
‘We will meet tomorrow?’ Bastiano checked, and Alim was about to agree.
The hotel had to be sold after all and Raul seemed set to decline.
Yet Alim’s problems were greater than real estate, and he watched his friend and potential buyer raise a surprised eyebrow as Alim, usually the consummate host, rearranged their plans.
‘Bastiano, I deeply apologise, but I am going to have to reschedule the viewing. I have to return to my country tonight.’
There was not a hope of being in the same country, let alone the same building, as Gabi, and abiding by the rules.
His rapid departure from the Grande Lucia was unnecessary, though, because Gabi was no longer in the building.
By the time his private jet lifted into the sky, she was in the infirmary.
She had closed the ballroom door loudly on Alim, and at first had thought it was the shock of seeing him and being treated so coldly that had her doubling over.
It was then that her waters had broken.
The staff at the Grande Lucia were more than used to slight dramas unfolding and to handling them discreetly, though Anya was clearly shocked.
‘You’re pregnant?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’ she continued as she ushered Gabi into a small room behind Reception.
‘Not yet.’
Oh, she would have to let Bernadetta know but Gabi could not even think of her now.
And, yes, she would have to tell her mother, but Carmel’s anger and resentment had hurt Gabi so much already.
She just wanted to be alone now.
They waited for the ambulance to arrive and as they did, need spoke for her as inadvertently she said his name.
‘Alim...’ Gabi gasped.
‘Don’t worry,’ Anya reassured her, assuming that Gabi was upset that she might have created a problem for the smooth running of the hotel, especially when he was showing potential buyers around. ‘No one saw what happened. Anyway, he has already left.’
‘Left?’
‘He flew back to his country a little while ago. Do you want me to call Marianna and let her know what is going on?’
Gabi didn’t answer.
She was just trying to take in the news that Alim had gone.
A part of her had hoped that having seen her again in the ballroom he might later seek her out.
It would appear not.
Alim could not make it any clearer that he had no interest in her.
The ambulance did not come to the main entrance, for that might be distressing or cause disruption to some of the guests.
Gabi left by the trade entrance, to bear the child of both the owner of the Grande Lucia and Sultan of Zethlehan.
‘It’s too soon,’ she pleaded to the doctor at the hospital as she fought not to bear down, but time was no longer being kind.
Like endless waves submerging her, there was no pause, no time to catch her breath and calm her racing mind.
Alim.
She wanted his presence and to be held once again in his arms.
Yet she had chosen not to tell him, and whether it would have made a difference or not, this night she gave birth alone.
As she screamed, her mind flashed to Fleur, who had taken this lonely journey also.
And she would never be her, Gabi swore.
Her daughter was born a short while later.
She was delivered onto her stomach and, instead of being whisked away, her little girl was vigorous and Gabi was able to hold her to her chest and gaze down at her daughter.
Oh, she was beautiful, with silky black hair and dark eyes that were almond-shaped, like her father’s.
‘We have to take her now to the nursery,’ the nurse informed Gabi, and it physically hurt to let her baby go.
Soon, though, her mother arrived and it was comforting to make up.
‘You have me,’ Carmel said.
‘I know.’
It felt good to know that, and there were other things to be grateful for.
The baby was strong. So strong, the nurse told her when Gabi got in to see her, for she breathed with just a little oxygen for assistance.
‘Do you have a name for her?’ Gabi was asked.
Gabi had thought she was having a son; she had been so sure that history was about to repeat itself, and that, like Fleur, she would bear the Sultan’s firstborn son.
But history had not repeated itself.
Still, she was absolutely beautiful, a little ray of light, and Gabi knew in that moment what to call her.
‘Lucia.’
‘That’s such a pretty name,’ the nurse said.
It was the place where love had been made.
Alim needed to know that he had a daughter, Gabi was painfully aware of that. But not now, not when she was so emotional and drained. Gabi was scared of what she might agree to. When she was stronger, she would work out how on earth to tell him.
Her mother came into the nursery to see her granddaughter. It was close to midnight and Carmel had been running errands for Gabi—packing a case and also letting Bernadetta know that not only would her very efficient assistant wedding planner not be there tomorrow but that there had also been a lot left undone tonight.
‘Bernadetta is not best pleased,’ she told Gabi. ‘She wants to know if you sorted out the table plan.’
‘No,’ Gabi said, and she got back to gazing at her daughter.
Bernadetta, for once, could sort it all out.
Lucia was Gabi’s priority now.
And always would be.
Whatever the future held.
