Page 50 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘I would prefer for you to be the person to speak with her,’ Sahir said. He knew Aadil would be by far too abrupt, and that Pria would be tactful and kind. ‘Kumu can take over here.’

‘Sir...’ Pria said, and she swallowed.

Sahir was aware that Kumu was new and it was her first foreign trip.

‘We’ll be fine.’ Sahir nodded. ‘Let me know if there are any updates.’

There were none.

The reception was magnificent, the company interesting at times, but even so, for Sahir, the day seemed to move at a ridiculously slow pace.

It had nothing to do with the lack of sleep—it was his mind all too often drifting to the night ahead, to last night...

It was most unlike Sahir, but he even found his gaze wandering, looking for Pria. Or even Aadil.

He just wanted to know that Violet was okay.

Finally the formalities were over, and he was more than relieved to climb into his private vehicle, with both Kumu and Layla joining him.

‘Where’s Pria?’ He frowned.

‘I’m not sure,’ Layla admitted.

‘I sent her to the house a while ago. What about Aadil...?’

‘I haven’t seen him. I had a message to say that all the footage has been taken down, though there’s the occasional photo popping up...’

Of course she had them stored, and Sahir glanced at the photo on Layla’s phone and had to force himself not to take it from her just to get a better look. Actually, he had to force himself not to smile—for there was Violet, just as he recalled seeing her this morning, only this was an aerial shot.

‘Hardly incriminating,’ he said.

He’d been over and over that moment in his head, and aside from that, Sahir always took great care.

‘What about the footage?’ he asked, and Layla handed him the phone and he played the short video.

Violet stood there, her face turned to the skies, her arms waving as if she was standing on the bow in theTitanicmovie, looking so wonderful and free.

And for the rest of the week he would be too.

‘Oh,’ Kumu said. ‘The King is asking you to call him.’ Her eyes were wide with alarm, and she was clearly struggling with Pria’s tablet. ‘The request came through an hour ago.’

‘It’s fine,’ Sahir said, quietly certain that his father wanted to discuss the futility of sending an unversed Ibrahim or a nervous Jasmine to meet with King Abdul.

God, it had been a long day...

He glanced out of the window and realised the car had barely moved. Pressing a button, he opened the screen between himself and the driver.

‘What’s the delay?’

‘We’re just about to exit, sir.’

There were many other dignitaries leaving, and as they left the official event and blended into the traffic the crowds slowly started to disperse, with pedestrians ignoring traffic signals and crossing roads en masse.

‘We’re still well ahead of schedule,’ Layla added, perhaps noticing that the usually measured Crown Prince was impatiently drumming the fingers of his free hand on the armrest.

Sahir halted the small gesture, for he rarely allowed his body to betray his thoughts or emotions.

Anyway, Layla was wrong. Sahir wasn’t worrying about the schedule—he was feeling restless in the slow-moving vehicle. Or rather, he felt a sense of impatience building. He had a previously unknown desire to get home and tell Violet he’d taken the week off, work out what they might do with this precious slice of time he had engineered.

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