Why?
He realised she hadn’t gone into any detail but that, in itself, told a story. Whatever had happened, she had clearly been too ashamed to tell him when he’d asked the day before.
He hoped she would confide in him now, perhaps over the dinner he had offered.
Abbas was surprised at how strong the urge was to talk to her, to try and be open with her about why he’d left the way he had, so that she would understand and forgive.
He could only think that some undercurrent of, yes, guilt must have stayed with him all these years and had been resurrected by her sudden reappearance in his life.
But where she had ended up...
He wanted to find out more.
He knew she likely struggled to make ends meet on her salary, her pay enough to keep body and soul together but without any frills. Cheap plonk but never champagne. He’d revisited the hotel’s books since seeing her yesterday to remind himself of what she earned. She’d started out waitressing but her talent at cooking had soon been spotted, judging from that first pay increase a mere month after she’d joined, but even in the role of chef she still wasn’t making a huge deal of money. The hotel was on its last legs—no one there earned that much because there wasn’t enough to do the rounds.
How? How on earth had her dreams crashed and burned so spectacularly? The question kept coming back to him because it made no sense.
If she’d come here because in the cool light of day she really did want to hear his side of the story, then she would know that he wanted to hear hers.
He half closed his eyes and the image of her leapt into his head with graphic clarity.
So damned pretty...so sweetly tempting without ever realising it...
She’d come to talk and talk they would, but what if talking was not her only reason for being here?
He allowed his mind to drift, went back in time and enjoyed the memory of her, her slight body under his, so supple, so elegant and as graceful as a ballet dancer. There was nothing obvious about her and that subtlety had been an addiction. He had been mystified how someone could be so soft yet have such a fierce core, so shy yet sizzle with such allure...
What if she’s come for more than just a meal and a heart-to-heart?a little voice insisted on whispering in his head and Abe very firmly closed the door on that notion. He hoped she hadn’t because he didn’t relish the prospect of gently showing her the door. Because whether he still found her attractive or not, he was not in the market for any kind of involvement, least of all with an old flame.
Abbas was well aware of what he brought to the table. He also knew what he didn’t bring, and that was emotional involvement.
He couldn’t. Experience had taught him that the whims of emotion would never serve a crown prince. Only a cool head could do that.
But that aside, he’d seen how love could cause as much pain as it could create joy. He’d keenly felt the pain of losing his mother and lived through the horror of his father’s anguish when he’d lost his wife. Abbas wasn’t really sure whether his father had ever got over the loss of the woman he’d loved so much. He just knew that from every angle, it didn’t work letting your heart take over the reins. He’d done Georgie a favour by walking away, he told himself. He’d spared her the pain of realising that he couldn’t allow himself to offer her the sort of emotional connection she would have been looking for.
He stiffened at the rap on the door, moving to open it himself before one of the two bodyguards stationed outside could buzz to let him know of his visitor’s arrival.
Outside Abbas’s hotel-room door, Georgie was trying hard not to feel cowed by the presence of the same beefy bodyguards she had glimpsed yesterday. She was staring straight ahead at the closed door and doing her best to ignore the men on either side of her. In her mind’s eye, she pictured Abbas and was dealing just fine with the obedient, cardboard-cut-out image in her head, but when he softly pulled open the door, she felt the breath leave her body in a whoosh.
He was in a pair of jeans and a dark, fitted long-sleeved tee shirt. Gone was the immaculate, hand-tailored suit of the day before. This was more the guy she remembered and yet, in a thousand crucial ways, nothing at all like him.
Her mouth went dry and for a few seconds, she couldn’t think straight. In fact, she couldn’t thinkat all. How could he still exert such a pull on her senses? When she knew him for what he was? A creep who had used her. He might have been summoned back to his country because of an emergency but, face it, he hadn’t seen any reason to tell her as much because she’d simply been disposable. She’d reached her sell-by date and he hadn’t thought twice about walking away.
So why the hell was she finding it so hard to tear her eyes away when her head knew how the land lay?
‘You don’t look surprised to see me,’ she told him, chin up.
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Would you like to come in before we begin this conversation?’
He stood back and Georgie swept past him, breathing in his scent.
‘Drink?’ He padded barefoot through to a living area that was bigger than her entire flat.
‘Are you?’
‘Am I what?’
‘Surprised that I’m here.’
