Page 49 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

Violet wanted that moment captured, wanted it saved on her phone, but it was nowhere to be found.

She hit rewind on the news channel, tried to go back fifteen minutes...ten...thirty. But there was nothing...

‘Where am I?’ she muttered.

She tried for ages, but found nothing, so she lay back in bed, sulking but happy, watching all the dignitaries arrive. Her eyes were growing heavy at the presenter’s drone, yet she fought to keep them open in the hope of catching a glimpse of Sahir.

But there was no sign of him, and after such a brilliant night of dancing, talking and being so gloriously ‘bedded’—as Sahir would say—her lack of sleep was finally catching up.

She lay curled up in the bed, excited at the prospect of Sahir coming back this evening. She’d honestly thought she’d be back in her little flat by now...

Her bravado wavered a fraction as she slid towards slumber. She’d known all they had was one night... But the thought of stepping into her empty flat and peeling off her dress... Even the prospect of a week off work didn’t help—she’d rather be there, be busy...

Instead, she’d be returning her dress. Looking for a job.

She thought of what Sahir had said last night.

‘We all have our own mountain to climb.’

Violet half wondered about his. Certainly, she’d faced many mountains in her time—starting over with a new family, saying goodbye to her own. New people...new faces... Endless goodbyes and people walking away.

With Sahir it felt different.

Her heavy eyelids fluttered open in a brief attempt to face this new mountain she was about to climb, yet she was daunted by the prospect of saying goodbye to Sahir.

The little mountain seemed to have turned into the Alps—only they weren’t inviting. They were icy and cold, with dark clouds hiding their peaks. And, really, she didn’t want to know what was up there.

She glimpsed missing Sahir, getting over their wonderful night, facing a whole world without him...

Violet had a very good trick for when panic hit.

She hid.

Pulling the crisp linen over her head, she closed her eyes and gave in to the bliss of sleep.

Sahir rarely missed a beat at these events.

Yet today he struggled to focus on his conversations, and Pria had to subtly prompt him to offer his condolences to the Sultan.

Certainly, the Sultan didn’t get the extended, effusive words of sympathy that Aadil had suggested...

For the first time Sahir just wanted this over and to head home.

Nothome, home...

But back to his bolthole in London, where Violet was waiting.

‘Your Highness...’ As he mingled in the grounds, Pria discreetly pulled him aside. ‘There might be a slight issue.’

He frowned.

‘Some footage of your balcony was briefly aired on television. Aadil was straight on it and it’s been taken down.’

‘I see.’ Sahir immediately understood the concern. ‘Was it just my guest the cameras captured?’ he enquired.

Sahir wouldn’t be so crass as to look at his phone in the current surrounds.

‘Layla has the footage. She thinks you might have been glimpsed, although there’s no sign of you on anything else we’ve seen...’ She glanced to her own assistant, Kumu, who shook her head in agreement. ‘As I said, sir,’ Pria continued, ‘it’s all been taken down, and Aadil is going to speak to your guest and ensure that she doesn’t go back out onto the balcony.’

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