Chapter Fourteen #2
It was a busy day, answering emails and taking calls, and she was just starting to flag from all this positivity, just trying to remember her vow to return to the Liliana of before. With additions. A baby on the way, and a heart she was determined to mend.
It was close to four, and she was just about to sag, just about to reach for her phone in the hope she’d missed his call, when Margo appeared over her computer screen.
‘Your sexy prince is about to give a live interview.’
‘He’s not my sexy prince,’ Liliana said, but of course she looked up to the endless screens, and found him in a split second.
Oh, he looked utterly beautiful, wearing a dark charcoal-grey suit and a gunmetal tie, and her longing for more details had her stand and walk over and just blatantly stare.
A longing for more detail must have overtaken the entire office. It would seem no embargo from Rafiq was going to stop her colleagues from hearing this.
‘I can’t help myself,’ Margo said, working the main remote, and in a matter of seconds, Rafiq filled every screen and the mute button was pressed and there was his deep calm voice.
Talking flowers.
Or rather, rare veiled orchids, found mainly on Yara’s island.
‘The King of Al-Nawar just wanted assurances,’ Rafiq said, and started talking about some cultural exchange. It would be boring if it wasn’t Rafiq. He made everything, everything fascinating! ‘We will of course protect the ecosystem—there was never any question as to that.’
It sounded as if they were back in agreement—more that they were working together to improve both lands’ tourism industry.
Blah, blah, blah…
She wasn’t listening for that, more for the sound of his voice and the dark of his eyes. He looked exquisite. Very austere and sometimes his eyes flashed a warning at the interviewer when they tried to move the topic onto more personal ones.
And she truly didn’t know where he was.
The interviewer was American, so he might be there, and at the table by his chair there were said veiled orchids, and she wondered if he was at the palace, or even in Al-Nawar.
‘You were recently photographed in London,’ the interviewer said.
And then he flashed that look—the one that could halt a meteor and cause it even to revert, but then he swallowed and gave a short nod of permission for the interviewer to continue.
‘Your actions surely caused great embarrassment to all parties?’
‘Unintentionally,’ Rafiq agreed. ‘But that has all been resolved.’
‘Did you apologise to Princess Yara?’
‘Princess Yara said I owe her no apology.’
‘What about the King of Al-Nawar, did you apologise to him for your actions?’
Rafiq shot another look, one that should have shattered that meteorite into millions of little pieces.
It was such a look that even Simon stepped back.
Perhaps he’d been the recipient of it once before.
And Liliana found herself give a little giggle at the very thought, but then it faded as Rafiq cleared his throat.
‘I did not,’ he told the interviewer.
‘So how can things be better if you have not apologised?’
‘I refuse to apologise for falling in love.’
Liliana froze, unsure quite what those words meant.
Then she looked at his eyes and he was looking directly at the camera, defiant. Determined.
She didn’t know what it meant—for if those words were somehow for her…was it a one-off declaration? Whatever it was, her heart was leaping from her chest to her throat.
‘Liliana,’ Margo said and nudged her. ‘You have a visitor.’
Turning her head towards the main glass doors and seeing him, Liliana frowned and then looked back to the screen, where the interviewer was wrapping things up.
So the interview mustn’t have been completely live, because there Rafiq was.
Wearing the same charcoal suit from the television and the same immaculate tie.
But honestly, seeing him in the flesh, the mango ice cream was in danger of melting…
Her first thought was unintelligible. Even Liliana’s own brain couldn’t decipher it: a mixture of joy and relief to see him, and hope, and simply that he was here. Rafiq, the person her heart recognised.
Her second thought was terribly vain—thank goodness he hadn’t appeared yesterday!
Every day was precious, every day could be a lesson and while, yes, she could survive without him, life was so much better when he was close.
She wanted to run to him—no, she wanted to fly into his arms, but he was not one for public displays, and more so now, neither was she.
‘Two minutes,’ she mouthed and then put two fingers up, and then fervently hoped she hadn’t just given him a rude sign, but clearly not, because he gave a simple nod.
‘Er, Simon.’ It was her now slinking over to him. ‘Would it be possible to finish a little early today? I do have a few hours in the bank.’
‘No problem,’ Simon said, his face bright red, and then she glanced over to Margo, who was smiling brightly and gave her a wink.
And somehow, she went and turned off her computer, calmly.
As if every head in the office wasn’t turning between her and Rafiq as if they were watching a tennis match.
Somehow she was outwardly calm as she collected her bag, as if there wasn’t a crown prince standing at the door, waiting for her to join him.
Somehow, she walked to Rafiq when she wanted to run.
‘Hi.’ She smiled. ‘I really wasn’t expecting to see you today.’
‘That almost troubles me,’ Rafiq responded with a smile of his own.
She looked incredible, almost better without him than with, but then he saw the slightly puffy eyes and the slight tremble on her lips, and he knew…
He just knew.
This was love.
He was utterly relieved to see her, and proud to see her gorgeous and smiling when he was certain she had been hurting just as badly as he had. Now, seeing her safe and radiant, he could finally allow himself to be excited too about the baby beneath her floaty, stunning dress.
‘I was hoping you could get away a little early,’ he said.
‘All sorted.’
‘Excellent.’ He nodded and extended his arm in a this-way gesture rather than taking hers. ‘My driver is waiting, though at the private exit.’
He wouldn’t be so tacky as to arrive at the front entrance.
She took the busy elevator down, and they stood together, not touching, not smiling into each other’s eyes, not anything, but together.
Liliana could not wait to be alone with him. Her lips ached for his kiss, her body was alive and she would be a liar if she said she wasn’t going to sleep with him.
The sight of him was divine, the scent of him sublime, and just his strong presence made the world feel right as they walked out to the waiting car,
They drove through busy London streets, and there was no passionate kiss in the back of the car, not even a brush of fingers.
‘Your interview went well,’ she said, hoping for a little more of a clue.
‘Thank you.’ He nodded. ‘We shall discuss it later.’
He turned to look out of the window, and she realised that even in a blacked-out limousine with his own driver, still Rafiq did not let down his guard. Liliana was starting to realise what a complete exception their first date had been. She only saw the real Rafiq when they were alone.
Surely they would be soon? But no, they were leaving central London.
At first she had assumed they would be going to his home, or even her own, but no, as the car turned at an exit, as the roads became winding, the view becoming ever greener, she knew where he was taking her: to the stately home where he had made her his.
And she was through lying to herself. Liliana knew she was his mistress already, because even if he did have to marry Yara…
Her breath caught.
Rafiq had been right to tell her to grow up. Well, he could have said it more nicely, she thought, sneaking a look at him, but she was proud he’d kept that difficult secret.
Oh, she was worried about Yara. If her refusal to go along with things meant the princess was in trouble…
There were two men dressed in dark suits as they entered the driveway towards the carriage house. ‘There’s a lot of security,’ she murmured. ‘They must have someone…’ And then her lips snapped closed and she realised the suited men were there for them.
She looked at the lake where they had first kissed. The swans were squabbling, standing on the water and flapping their wings, angrily turning, then gliding away from the other and elegant again…
Oh, Rafiq.
She had thought he had forgotten her. That distance had somehow severed their bond, yet he was like one of those swans, working beneath the surface, outwardly unruffled.
They stepped out, and the concierge greeted them politely and then they were discreetly escorted for the longest walk, up staircases, and then Rafiq thanked the gentleman and she could feel his impatience as he took the key.
‘Thank God,’ he breathed when they were finally alone.
‘Oh, Rafiq.’ She needed details, to know all that was going on, but she had left them to him. They could stay there for just a little while more, because she was back in his arms and they were kissing. Back where she had longed to be and increasingly naked with the man to whom her heart belonged.
He undressed her, taking in the changes, kissing her shoulder, exploring her breasts, caressing her bump.
‘I was nervous when I found out.’
‘Really?’
‘Terrified,’ he admitted. ‘I knew the gig was up.’ He kissed her. ‘I was going to be in love, like it or not.’ He ran the back of his hand over the swell of her stomach. ‘I like it.’
‘And me.’
He shrugged off his jacket as she loosened his tie, and they were kissing and her hands were on his wide shoulders.
His mouth would forever be too exciting to be familiar, and she undid the buttons of his shirt, and then swallowed, her hands meeting the wall of muscle.
‘Oh, my God…’
Her body wasn’t the only one with changes.
She stripped him with the glee of a Christmas present, undid his belt as if it were annoying tape.