Page 7 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

Sahir had no desire to change, though, and no desire for a cold marriage. And he certainly did not want love. He’d already managed to stall things—there was a private agreement in place with his father that the matter of his marriage would be addressed only when he turned forty.

Although now he was thirty-five, it seemed a little too close.

‘You got to choose your bride,’ Sahir said to his friend. ‘And I am sure you made a wise choice.’

‘I have,’ Carter said. ‘Hey, at least you get to choose your second...’

‘True.’ Sahir let the small joke pass, even if it irked. His friend knew a little of Janana’s royal ways, and he would never understand them. ‘Carter, you know I shall always wish you well.’

‘I do—but could you also extend that courtesy to Grace?’

‘Of course.’ Sahir wasn’t lying—he hoped that both parties got whatever it was they needed from this union. To him a marriage was as transactional as that. ‘I wish you both well.’

‘Good.’

‘And speeches?’ Sahir checked. ‘Are you sure you don’t want—?’

‘It’s an informal dinner,’ Carter interrupted swiftly. ‘No need for speeches.’

‘As you wish.’

‘I’ll meet you at the nursing home. Text me when you arrive.’

‘Certainly.’

‘Thanks,’ Carter added, ‘for managing to be here today.’

‘Of course,’ Sahir said.

‘It means a lot.’

Sahir frowned as the call ended. Carter sounded as if this marriage actuallymeantsomething to him.

But his cynical nature soon returned, and a black smile was on his face as he collected the card and gift Faisal had left out.

Of course this had nothing to do with love.

Driving out of the underground garage in his sleek silver car, he found that he was relieved for some time alone—a rarity for Sahir.

London was looking stunning—and yet he drove away from the gorgeous centre to the outer suburbs, occasionally glancing in the rear-view mirror to see Layla driving the car behind. Maaz, as arranged, was already parked opposite the nursing home.

Sahir pulled into the car park outside a very plain-looking building indeed. Layla followed him, parking a suitable distance away.

He glanced around for Carter, and was about to text that he was there when a taxi pulled up and a pair of black stilettoes peeked out, followed by a lot of purple silk.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he saw Layla idly leaning against her vehicle, though he knew she was watching carefully... It irritated Sahir. Why was everyone considered a threat? They would have already vetted the guests—discreet checks would have been made, the guest list gone through with a fine-tooth comb.

He was soon given a swift update by phone, and he glanced at Layla’s text.

Bridesmaid. Violet Lewis.

Sahir was sorely tempted to fire back that he’d rather worked that out—he doubted there were many calls for silk ball gowns on a Saturday afternoon around these parts. But, yes, the stunning dress was apt, given her name! The shade was violet, he corrected, not purple.

He thought it a vivid choice when he saw the woman’s colouring. Her skin was very pale, especially given it was early September and the end of summer. Her blonde hair was worn up, though there were tendrils blowing in the breeze. She had a purse on her wrist, and from that she took out her phone to pay the driver. She looked happy and carefree, completely unaware that she was being watched by his protection officers. She even laughed at something the driver said.

Sahir watched idly as she retrieved a carefully wrapped silver box with an awful lot of curled ribbons, and then laughed again. He found himself tempted to open the window a touch, mildly curious not so much about what was being said, more to discover the sound of her laughter.

She waved to the driver and then, with that same hand, lifted the hem of her gown and walked in her high heels across the rather dour car park. Her pale shoulders were exposed by the gown, and she moved with flair. She could be walking the red carpet and being photographed, rather than arriving unseen and avoiding potholes.

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