‘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.’
‘Would you, now?’
‘You did ask.’
‘Are Sahara roses your favourite flower?’
‘No,’ Gabi said.
‘What is?’
‘Sweet peas.’ She gave him a smile. ‘Marianna would faint at the idea and deny that they are sophisticated enough for the Grande Lucia, but, honestly, when arranged right...’
Her face lit up and he smiled.
Gabi was all fresh ideas and the zing of youth, and coupled with Marianna’s wisdom...
But it was getting harder to think of business.
Very hard.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Alim offered.
‘I’m working.’
And there was a slight ironic smile that dusted his lips as she mirrored his own words from earlier.
‘Gabi...’ Alim said, and then halted.
He needed to think this through before he offered her this role; she had already been dragged over the coals. If she were to work for him, it could get messy. One-night stands were his usual fare and that was why he kept his personal life where it belonged.
In bed.
He wanted the best for his business and yet, rarely for Alim, he found that he wanted what was best for her, so he came up with an alternative.
‘Have you thought of going into partnership with Bernadetta?’
‘Partnership?’ Gabi shot him an incredulous look. ‘She would laugh me out of her office if I suggested it.’
‘And when she had stopped laughing, you would tell her that you’d make a better partner than rival.’
It had never even crossed her mind.
‘Or, if you continue to work for her you set your limits, you tell Bernadetta only what you are prepared to do. What works for you...’
He did not want to lose her though.
Oh, this could get messy, yet the closer he examined it, the more it appealed.
‘There is another option...’
‘Gabi!’ Her name was said again and she turned as one of the waiters came over. ‘The photographer wants to speak with you.’
‘Excuse me,’ Gabi said, and, ever the gentleman, Alim stood as she left.
Alim went back into the ballroom and looked up. He saw the westerly door open and smiled at the thought of Yasmin creeping in.
And then he turned and saw his brother.
There were no halves where love was concerned.
‘Congratulations,’ Alim said.
‘Thank you.’
And that was all he could offer in public.
James’s complexion and hair were lighter but standing side by side it would be hard to miss the similarities. They had to step apart before someone made the connection.
Alim took a call from Violetta and was told that the Sultan of Sultans would like to speak with him.
Things were already tense between Alim and Oman.
Oman resented Alim’s freedom, and was bitter with his lot for Fleur was the love of his life. And, in turn, Alim, though respectful with words, was silently disapproving, for he loved his mother and loathed how she had been treated.
Alim bowed as he entered the Royal Suite and then told his father about the wedding’s progress.
‘Everything is going smoothly,’ Alim informed him, though that knowledge did not make things better for Oman since he could not be there to see his son marry for himself.
‘Where is Yasmin?’ he snapped.
‘We had dinner,’ Alim calmly answered, ‘and she is now in her suite. The reception will finish shortly; you will see James and Mona in the morning.’
No doubt, Alim thought, Fleur would be here soon.
He thought he would now be dismissed but, instead, Oman brought up an argument of old.
One that had never really left them.
‘I want you home.’
Alim was in no mood for this but he did not show his irritation. ‘I was in Zethlehan last month and I shall be back for a formal visit in—’
‘I mean permanently.’ Oman interrupted.
‘That isn’t going to happen.’
They had had this argument many times before.
Alim refused to act as caretaker to his country just so that his father could travel abroad more.
He would not facilitate the shaming of his mother.
Although he was happy for James and Mona and wished he could participate more in the celebration, tonight still felt like a betrayal to his mother.
‘You are thirty-two years old, Alim. Surely it is time that you marry?’
Alim stayed silent but his eyes told his father that he did not need marriage guidance from a man who had a wife and a mistress. Alim never cheated. He was upfront in all his relationships, and there could be no confusion that what he offered was a temporary affair. Arrogant, some might say, but better that than leading someone on.
‘I shall select a bride for you,’ Oman said in threat. ‘Then you shall have no choice but to marry.’
‘We always have choices.’
The advice he had so recently given to Gabi had been tested over and over by Alim—he had long ago set his limits with his father and told him what he was and was not willing to do.
‘To choose a bride without my agreement could only serve to embarrass not just the bride but our country when the groom does not show,’ Alim warned. ‘I will not be pushed into marriage,’
‘Alim, I am not well.’
‘How unwell?’ Alim asked, for he did not trust his father not to exaggerate for gain.
‘I require treatment. I am going to have to stay out of the public eye for six months at least.’
Alim listened as his father went into detail about his health issues and Alim had to concede grudgingly that there was a battle ahead.
‘I will step in,’ Alim responded. ‘You know that.’
It wasn’t the response his father wanted, though, and he pressed his son further. ‘Our people need good news, a wedding would be pleasing for them.’
Alim would not be manipulated and stood up to his father just as he always had. ‘Our people would surely want to see the Sultan of Sultans at such a celebration. A son’s wedding without his father’s presence would send the message that the father did not approve of his son’s choice of bride, and this could surely cause our people anxiety.’ Alim watched his father’s jaw grit. ‘Let us discuss this again when you are well.’
His father would have argued further, but suddenly Alim sensed distraction as he saw Oman glance towards the adjoining door, and he guessed that his father’s