Page 6 of Prince of Her Heart
Tabitha blinked and turned, surprised to find herself already in the elevator, rising back up to her office.
She sighed and slouched gently against the warm wood paneling behind her.“Sorry, Mom.I was just...”
“Thinking about work,” her mother finished, with a disapproving grunt.She faced forward again, watching the glowing floor indicators with a dramatic tilt of her head.“You’re always thinking about work, Tabitha.You never think about yourself.”She turned toward her again, expression soft but insistent.“What about your hopes and dreams?”
The elevator doors opened.
Tabitha stepped forward first, placing her hand gently on the door to keep it open while her mother stepped through at her usual pace.Tilda didn’t move as quickly these days, and Tabitha wasn’t about to let elevator doors catch her.
Her mother had been about fifty pounds overweight since Tabitha was born.She often blamed hormones—insisting the pregnancy had “shifted her body chemistry.”Tabitha knew better.It was the pastries.And the casseroles.And the pies.Tilda was the best baker in the county and wielded her talent like a ministry—showing up to homes with cookies and cakes whether people were grieving, celebrating, or simply lonely.
“My hopes and dreams are fine,” Tabitha said, offering a half-smile.
They had this conversation every year.
What Tilda really wanted was a grandchild.What Tabitha had wanted...she’d buried those hopes a long time ago.
Mostly.
If her thoughts occasionally wandered to dark eyes and a maddeningly controlled smile, to broad shoulders in tailored suits and a voice that could drop into velvet when no one else was around—well, fantasies were harmless.
Necessary, even.
“I need to stop by the restroom,” Tabitha said, glancing toward the hallway.“I’ll meet you in my office, then I’ll grab my car keys and drive you to the train station.”
She didn’t wait for her mother’s agreement.She’d had three glasses of water at lunch, and her bladder wasn’t in the mood to negotiate.
Chapter 3
“So, it’s your fault,” Tilda announced, nodding as if delivering the final ruling in a courtroom.
Ramzi stared at the round, determined woman seated in the leather chair across from his desk.“You’re telling me the reason Tabitha isn’t going to this wedding is because she’s still in love with her former fiancé?”
The idea hit him like a fist to the ribs.
Heat surged beneath his collar.Rage simmered just under the surface—dark, fast, and completely out of proportion.The thought of Tabitha—brilliant, beautiful, maddening Tabitha—still holding a candle for some idiot who’d cheated on her made him want to growl.To destroy something.
She deserved worship, not betrayal.
Ramzi didn’t understand how any man could’ve let her go.Ifheever had her—really had her—he’d never stray.Hell, he hadn’t looked at another woman in months.His thoughts were consumed by Tabitha.Her voice.Her insight.Her mouth.
It was why he spent so much time in the Philadelphia office now.Not because it needed him—it was becauseshewas here.
He’d even considered moving her to Uftar.Not just to the corporate headquarters, but into his inner circle.His palace staff.An office beside his.
More access.More time.Moreher.
But if she was still in love with someone else, that complicated things.
Still...he couldn’t picture Tabitha pining for five years.She wasn’t weak.She wasn’t sentimental.She was sharp, logical.Strategic.
This could be an opportunity.
Ramzi made his decision.
“You’re right, Ms.Jones,” he said abruptly, standing with quiet command.“If Tabitha’s still in love with an idiot, I’d be more than willing to help her move on.”
“Excellent,” Tilda replied, setting her untouched scotch on the table between the chairs.She pushed herself up from the deep cushions, adjusting her cardigan over her ample figure.Before he could offer a hand, she was already upright and gathering her oversized purse.“Then I’ll leave it to you to tell her the news.”
