out.
It would appear not.
Alim could not make it any clearer that he had no interest in her.
The ambulance did not come to the main entrance, for that might be distressing or cause disruption to some of the guests.
Gabi left by the trade entrance, to bear the child of both the owner of the Grande Lucia and Sultan of Zethlehan.
‘It’s too soon,’ she pleaded to the doctor at the hospital as she fought not to bear down, but time was no longer being kind.
Like endless waves submerging her, there was no pause, no time to catch her breath and calm her racing mind.
Alim.
She wanted his presence and to be held once again in his arms.
Yet she had chosen not to tell him, and whether it would have made a difference or not, this night she gave birth alone.
As she screamed, her mind flashed to Fleur, who had taken this lonely journey also.
And she would never be her, Gabi swore.
Her daughter was born a short while later.
She was delivered onto her stomach and, instead of being whisked away, her little girl was vigorous and Gabi was able to hold her to her chest and gaze down at her daughter.
Oh, she was beautiful, with silky black hair and dark eyes that were almond-shaped, like her father’s.
‘We have to take her now to the nursery,’ the nurse informed Gabi, and it physically hurt to let her baby go.
Soon, though, her mother arrived and it was comforting to make up.
‘You have me,’ Carmel said.
‘I know.’
It felt good to know that, and there were other things to be grateful for.
The baby was strong. So strong, the nurse told her when Gabi got in to see her, for she breathed with just a little oxygen for assistance.
‘Do you have a name for her?’ Gabi was asked.
Gabi had thought she was having a son; she had been so sure that history was about to repeat itself, and that, like Fleur, she would bear the Sultan’s firstborn son.
But history had not repeated itself.
Still, she was absolutely beautiful, a little ray of light, and Gabi knew in that moment what to call her.
‘Lucia.’
‘That’s such a pretty name,’ the nurse said.
It was the place where love had been made.
Alim needed to know that he had a daughter, Gabi was painfully aware of that. But not now, not when she was so emotional and drained. Gabi was scared of what she might agree to. When she was stronger, she would work out how on earth to tell him.
Her mother came into the nursery to see her granddaughter. It was close to midnight and Carmel had been running errands for Gabi—packing a case and also letting Bernadetta know that not only would her very efficient assistant wedding planner not be there tomorrow but that there had also been a lot left undone tonight.
‘Bernadetta is not best pleased,’ she told Gabi. ‘She wants to know if you sorted out the table plan.’
‘No,’ Gabi said, and she got back to gazing at her daughter.
Bernadetta, for once, could sort it all out.
Lucia was Gabi’s priority now.
And always would be.
Whatever the future held.
‘THE CONTRACTS ARE still with Bastiano?’ Alim frowned when Violetta gave him the news. ‘This should all have been dealt with by now.’
Despite Alim’s rapid departure, an offer on the Grande Lucia had been made and accepted, but nearly three months later the sale seemed to have stalled.
Alim needed the hotel gone!
He sat in his sumptuous office in the palace and tried to take care of business with a mind that was elsewhere.
Seeing Gabi again had proved to be his undoing.
Temptation beckoned more with each passing day but never more so than now.
A wedding was being held there this weekend and Matrimoni di Bernadetta was the company that had been hired for the event.
The itinerary was open on his computer and Alim scrolled through it, hoping for a glimpse of her name, or a note that she might have left in the margins, as Gabi often did.
There was none, though.
‘Do you want me to contact his attorney?’ Violetta asked, but Alim shook his head.
‘I will speak with Bastiano myself,’ Alim said.
He might even speak with him face to face.
Alim was sorely tempted to summon the royal jet, with the excuse of meeting with Bastiano, but really for the chance to see Gabi.
He was dangerously close to breaking the diktat.
‘That will be all,’ Alim said, and, having dismissed Violetta, he attempted to deal with the day’s correspondence.
He didn’t get very far.
It had been months since he had seen Gabi again but the feelings had not faded.
If anything, they had intensified for, despite the pressure his father and the elders exerted, Alim was no closer to agreeing to a wedding.
His mind was in Rome, rather than here in Zethlehan, where it should belong.
He thought of the days he had loved most at the Grande Lucia.
Gabi, arriving early in the morning, and how she would become increasingly frazzled throughout the working day.
And he thought too of the wedding nights, and how she would finally relax again and enjoy watching the show she had produced.
He missed her.
Not the risqué life he had once led, but the small moments that were now long gone—stepping through the brass doors and seeing her sitting in the lounge with Marianna. Knowing that there would be another wedding soon and the chance to see her again had brought him more pleasure than he had realised at the time.
His times at the hotel had been made better by her—the scent of flowers coming from the ballroom and Gabi directing brass
