He paused and considered her with his head tilted to one side. ‘Not entirely,’ he admitted. ‘You can take the jacket off, Georgie. I am no fan of the cold. The heating is on in here.’
He was still so beautiful, she thought resentfully. So tall, with tigerish gold-flecked eyes and perfectly chiselled features, stamped with the cool, superior confidence conferred upon him from his noble lineage.
She removed the puffer jacket and hesitated before taking the glass of wine he was holding out to her.
‘That said,’ he murmured, ‘I anticipated some advance warning... A chance to book a table at a restaurant...’
‘Dinner...’ she said vaguely.
‘Is that why you’re here?’ He shrugged but his dark eyes were intent under lush lashes. ‘No matter. The room service is excellent. Will you leave it to me to order? And relax, Georgie.’ He paused. ‘We’re just going to talk. You don’t have to worry that there might be anything else behind my suggestion that you join me for dinner.’
‘I’m not,’ Georgie said sharply.
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘Tell me what you’d like to eat. No need for any menu. Whatever you want, they will oblige.’
‘The advantages of being a prince,’ Georgie muttered, feeling herself flush. ‘I don’t care. Anything.’
‘Okay.’ But his voice was cooler now, more speculative. He sauntered over to his phone, dialled what she expected was room service and ordered who knew what. She didn’t listen and instead busied herself looking around the sort of expansive, luxurious space that only the ridiculously wealthy could ever hope to afford. Huge, ultra-modern kitchen, huge ultra-modern sunken sitting area with leather furniture, several doors ajar, probably leading to huge ultra-modern bedrooms and bathrooms. Everything, from walls to blinds to curtains, was in varying shades of off-white. It was clearly the biggest and the best the hotel had on offer.
‘So...’ he drawled, moving to sit on one of the leather sofas and looking at her over the rim of his glass. ‘You’re here and I am glad you decided to come, Georgie. I need not tell you that I’ve been curious as to what’s happened with you since we last saw one another... Tell me what you’ve been doing...’
‘You know what I’ve been doing,’ she said tersely, edging her way towards one of the pristine white chairs and perching awkwardly on it. Surrounded by this lavish display of luxury, she was acutely aware of the gaping chasm between them. Sprawled on the sofa facing her, he was the epitome of sophistication. Hebelongedagainst this sort of backdrop, casually elegant and at ease in his surroundings.
She, on the other hand, looked as she felt—out of place and ill at ease.
‘Tell me why you ended up where you did. What happened? When I knew you, you were so enthusiastic about illustrating. You were also good at it. I remember the sketches you constantly used to do.’
‘Life happened,’ Georgie said curtly, heart speeding up and nervous perspiration dampening her upper lip.
Abe nodded sympathetically and she gritted her teeth, willing to bide her time for the moment.
‘It has a way of doing that,’ he agreed. ‘I never expected my father to fall suddenly ill the way he did—the best-laid plans and all that... I also never saw myself taking over as ruler of my country at such a young age but, as you say, life happens and we simply have to adjust and go along for the ride.’ He paused, frowned. ‘There’s no need to look so nervous, Georgie. No one’s forced you to come here so I don’t understand why you’re so tense. Art and catering are worlds apart. Did working at that restaurant in Ibiza kill off your original plans?’
‘I couldn’t afford to invest in the time I would have needed to get contracts,’ she told him jerkily. ‘Yes, I had some connections but even with those... I would have needed to be able to financially support myself for a while in order to successfully build my business.’
‘Quite,’ Abe murmured with an understanding smile.
‘I never told you,’ she said quietly, ‘but I went to Ibiza in the first place to recover from my father’s death.’ She watched as he registered surprise and she knew why because when they’d been an item, she had been the one doing all the confiding, but she had still been too raw then to tell him about her father’s brief illness and sudden death.
Her mother had died when she’d been young, too young for Georgie to really remember much about her. Her father, the local vicar, had been the rock in her life. He had never remarried and so there had been no competition for his attention—it was always just the two of them. He had been a gentle man with a very firm moral compass and Georgie had spent her life striving to please him, to do well at school, then at art college, aware of but not unhappy with the expectations he’d placed on her.
She wondered what he would make of her situation now. Frankly, she worried he might be turning in his grave.
‘I had to get away for a while, wanted to throw myself into a lifestyle that could...make me forget.’ She waited for him to interject but he remained silent, looking at her with his head tilted to one side. He’d always been a good listener. That was something she remembered. He looked like a playboy, with those swarthy, impossibly sexy good looks, but he knew how to listen. It had been seductive, especially at a time when she had been hurting and vulnerable. He had shown her how to trust again, how to laugh again, how to see that there were always rainbows even if the skies looked stormy. She’d been ready to reveal that final snippet about herself to him, knowing that he would understand, would be there for her, would know just how to wrap her in the safety of his embrace...but then he’d vanished.
‘I’m sorry,’ Abe said quietly.
‘Why?’
‘I wish you’d told me.’
‘Really?’ Past hurt suddenly swamped her and she clenched her fists. ‘Because you would have sympathised for five minutes before disappearing into thin air, without bothering to tell me?’ She waved her hand and looked away. ‘Doesn’t matter. I was there...to recover. I needed to get away from everyone and everything. I grew up in a small village where everyone knew everyone else’s business. It was stifling after my father died. The kindness, the sympathy...the pity, sometimes. I appreciated that people cared but I needed to escape.’
She shook her head, determined not to let emotion get the better of her. ‘Anyway, why should you be interested in hearing all this now? The fact was that I ran away, used some of the money Dad left me to travel. That was how I was able to afford to rent that flat in Ibiza. When I returned, there was just about enough left to buy somewhere small...but there was no way I could contemplate months of living off my savings while hoping to make it big. Illustrating is a competitive business and... No, I couldn’t take the chance of striking the jackpot, even though my list of contacts might have been enough to see me through. There was just too much uncertainty in going down that road. It would have meant sacrificing the chance to buy a place of my own and there was no way I could do that.’
She breathed in deeply and gazed down at the black void of a precipice. She had come here for a reason yet she was cravenly relieved when he picked up the conversation.
‘Your father’s death was unexpected enough to make your world unravel,’ Abbas said with pinpoint accuracy, ‘as my father’s sudden heart attack caused my life to deviate from the direction in which it had been going. Similar situations, in some ways, would you not agree?’
