not for me,’ Millie said quickly, going on to explain the situation.
‘Is money all you want?’
‘Should there be anything more?’ Of course there should! She had to tell him about the baby—Over the phone? No. She couldn’t do that to him.
‘Anything more?’ he queried. In the pause that followed, she could picture him frowning.
‘No. There’s nothing more,’ she confirmed, knowing she could never agree to his terms. Becoming Khalid’s mistress while he lived with an arranged bride would break her, and that was even supposing he hoped for something more.
Millie’s heart was in pieces to hear Khalid sounding so unemotional. It was as if he hadn’t missed her at all—and why should he? They were still worlds apart, Millie concluded sadly, not only in the physical sense, separated by thousands of miles, but by a yawning gulf in their destiny. But she couldn’t allow any of that to matter now. She had to try and do a deal with him, to save Miss Francine’s laundry. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she hit him with her first idea.
‘Would you have any objection to my putting Miss Francine’s lawyer in touch with your Development Grant department? I thought that perhaps they could look at the possibility of franchising the business,’ she went on. ‘It would mean everything to Miss Francine to keep the name.’
‘And she could be a figurehead?’ the deep, husky voice at the other end of the line said thoughtfully.
‘Exactly,’ Millie agreed, relieved that he’d caught on so fast. She smiled to herself, thinking, when did the hawk of the desert ever have any difficulty in making a decision?
‘I’ll think about it, and let you know,’ he said.
The line cut abruptly. She stared at the receiver in her hand, and only then realised that tears were streaming down her face.
* * *
Millie, Millie, Millie. Just the sound of her voice was enough for him to start cancelling appointments. Since the moment they’d parted, he’d realised that there was only one woman he could ever care for. To be a better man than his brother meant leading by example. It took time to effect change in an ancient constitution like that of Khalifa, but alterations would be made. On that he was determined.
He had omitted to mention to Millie the fact that he was in England. An invitation to dine with royalty in London at the palace tomorrow night to discuss various matters had prompted this visit. After talks and a dinner, a ball was to be held in his honour. Anticipating hopeful parents with a daughter to offload, he had planned to make his excuses and leave the palace before the ball. Hearing Millie’s voice again had changed that decision.
* * *
Impatiently knuckling away tears, Millie replaced the receiver in its nest. There was no point cradling it, as if that could keep Khalid close. She had to be patient and wait to see if he would be as good as his word. She believed franchising Miss Francine’s laundry would be a good investment, and could only hope that he agreed. But now she had work to do. Sprucing up the laundry to entice any investor was essential. She owed it to Miss Francine to make sure the business looked its best.
Everyone at the laundry was only too eager to repay Miss Francine’s kindness by pitching in to touch up paintwork in rooms that hadn’t been decorated for years. Millie’s job was to check the machinery was working smoothly, and when they finished Miss Francine had promised a special supper to celebrate what she was already calling ‘a new era’ in the laundry’s history, as if the deal to save it were already done.
Much to Millie’s relief, her elderly friend seemed to have regained her former vigour, and brightened even more when Millie mentioned another idea she’d come up with, which was for Miss Francine to invite some of the workers to move into her spare bedrooms, much as Millie herself had done after her mother’s death. Miss Francine was known for her soft heart, and many of the girls had experienced unpleasantness in their past like Millie. This would not only provide those who needed it with stability, but would give Miss Francine company and a little extra cash.
When their long day had finally ended, Miss Francine hurried out of the office with a printout in her hand. ‘This has just arrived from the Sheikh’s office,’ she explained in a voice trembling with hope. ‘His business development team is coming here to look us over!’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Millie exclaimed as excitement rose around her.
Khalid hadn’t let her down.
Maybe jobs would be saved, and the name of the laundry kept intact. The expression in Miss Francine’s eyes was so full of happiness that it took hold of Millie’s heart and twisted it hard.
‘Do you really think we’ll be okay?’ she asked Millie.
‘I know we will,’ Millie said confidently as she plucked the pencil out of her up-do to tick another job off her list.
* * *
Everyone was laughing at each other’s paint-streaked faces, especially at Millie’s face, as she had added a good dose of black, greasy oil, and not just to her face, but all over the dungarees she’d been wearing to work on the boiler.
‘I need to check one more thing,’ Millie said as she climbed back into the tiny, spider-infested cubbyhole where the ancient boiler was housed. She would clean it out, once she had a minute—if that ever happened, Millie thought, grimacing as she stared around in the gloom. Brushing a web out of her hair, she checked the valve she’d replaced was working smoothly, and then carefully backed out of the confined space on all fours.
‘Phew, it’s hot in there,’ she exclaimed as she emerged into the light. ‘I’ll have to set up a fan or something before the Sheikh’s team arrives—’
It was the silence that alerted her to something out of the ordinary. Standing, she turned around. ‘Khalid?’
Millie’s stomach clenched alarmingly and, turning away, she was forced to put her hand over her mouth.
One. Two. Three. Time up! Turn around.
‘We were only speaking on the phone an hour or so ago,’ she exclaimed heatedly, as if he were in the wrong. ‘How on earth did you get here so quickly?’
‘I’m overwhelmed by my welcome,’ he said dryly.
His smoky, mocking tone, and those eyes...those all-seeing, darkly amused eyes, made her heart beat off the scale.
Was he really here? Their baby! How would he take it? I love you—so, so much. Oh, good grief, what do I look like with webs in my hair and oil on my face? I never thought to see you again, and now you’re here—
And breathe.
‘No! Don’t touch me!’ she yelped, backing away as Khalid, looking like the master of the sexual universe in a rugged jacket and jeans, advanced. ‘I’m covered in oil and spiders’ webs.’
As she spoke the room cleared as Miss Francine quickly ushered everyone out.
There was no stopping Khalid now. Closing the distance between them in a single step, he took hold of her arms in a non-negotiable grip,
