CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
I F S AHIR HADN ’ T seen Violet so distraught for himself, he would never have known. She was smiling and throwing confetti, seemingly without a care in the world, as the bride and groom climbed into a waiting vehicle.
‘Get in, you two,’ they urged.
‘I am not getting in your wedding car,’ Violet said—even if she could see it would house plenty and there was champagne waiting inside. Some traditions stood! ‘I’ll get a taxi.’
‘Violet,’ Grace insisted, ‘I wouldn’t put it past you to get the driver lost.’ She looked to Sahir. ‘Honestly, she has no sense of direction.’
‘I got here, didn’t I?’ Violet said, taking out her phone to summon a taxi.
But it would seem the best man had things in hand, for he told her to put away her phone.
‘I’ll take care of your bridesmaid,’ Sahir assured Grace.
He already had, Violet thought as she enthusiastically waved them off.
‘Wave!’ she prompted.
‘I am not as good an actor as you,’ he said, still convinced this marriage was a farce. ‘And aside from that I don’t wave...’ Sahir paused, then refrained from telling her that his waving was reserved for work. ‘Let’s go.’
His car lit up as they approached, and then there was an awkward moment when she had to wait for him to open the door, as she had no idea how to do it herself.
‘What happened to door handles?’ she asked, sinking into soft leather and trying not to notice the more concentrated version of his scent as the doors closed on them and Sahir drove off. ‘And don’t you have a passenger mirror?’
It slid down at the push of a button and she rather wished she hadn’t asked, as it was rather higher quality than her dusty compact. ‘Yikes...’
‘You look fine,’ he told her. ‘You recover quickly!’
‘I do.’ She topped up her lip-gloss, but then her hand went to her stomach.
‘Are you going to cry again?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m just starving.’
‘Do you want to stop for something to eat?’
Violet frowned at the odd offer. ‘We’re going for a sit-down dinner.’
He glanced at the time. ‘There’ll be champagne and hors d’oeuvres for the first hour or so.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
Sahir felt her sideways glance, and her shameless curiosity didn’t bother him. Really, he was more than used to being stared at.
‘Did you get them a gift?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Even though it said not to on the invitation?’
‘I didn’t notice.’
He chose not to mention that his staff dealt with all that.
‘So, what did you get them?’
He was grateful for Faisal’s description of his gift, though he downgraded it a touch. ‘A candlestick.’
‘Oh, I wish I’d thought of that. I’m usually good at gifts, but I’ve never struggled so hard.’
Sahir stared ahead; she was good at talking too!
‘I wish they’d done a gift registry.’
‘They clearly didn’t want anything.’
‘Well, you got them something.’
‘True.’ He glanced over, saw her full lips and pointy nose, and thought she was like no one he had ever met. Gorgeous, chatty, teary, funny...
‘So, what did you end up getting them?’ he asked.
‘Guess.’
‘I’m not guessing.’
Violet waited for him to do just that, but to no avail. Clearly he didn’t wave or guess.
‘A vase.’ She sighed. ‘How boring is that? I spent double my usual wedding present budget—triple, actually, given Grace is such a good friend. But I just couldn’t come up with anything more exciting.’
He made no comment.
‘A tulip vase,’ she elaborated. ‘I was going to get a rose bowl, but I do like tulips. At least while they last...’
Even though he still offered no response, she happily carried on.
‘I get them on a Saturday sometimes, after work. But they’re generally all collapsed by Monday.’
On and on she chatted.
‘Still, they make my Sundays happy.’
They sat for ages at some traffic lights. He could see Layla driving the car behind him, Maaz the one in front, and yet it felt like just the two of them.
Finally Grace paused.
‘In Janana,’ he said, ‘where I am from, tulips were once considered more valuable than gold.’
‘No!’
‘True.’
‘Wow! Well, I’ll send Grace and Carter a bunch when they’re back from their honeymoon, they’ll be searching for a suitable vase, and...bingo!’
‘Bingo?’ He frowned as the lights changed to green and he pulled off.
‘Ta-da!’
His frown remained as he concentrated both on her words and the road.
‘They’ll remember my gift!’ she explained.
‘Unless they already have a tulip vase.’
He turned and saw her slight pout. Usually pouts irritated him. Violet did them exceptionally well, though, and she even slumped for effect.
‘I’m sure they don’t,’ he said kindly. Glancing at the time, he saw that it was approaching six. ‘We’re almost there.’
‘I don’t mind being late.’
‘Well, I do.’
‘I bet you’re always on time.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded. ‘You?’
‘I try to be,’ she said. ‘But I’m always rushing, and sometimes...’
He glanced over. ‘Sometimes?’
Violet didn’t answer. She was sure a man as confident and measured as Sahir didn’t curl up and hide from the world at times.
‘Well,’ he said into the silence, ‘we’re right on time.’
‘Yay,’ Violet said, but without enthusiasm. And then, still staring ahead, she admitted, ‘I’m a bit nervous.’
Usually she’d never reveal such a thing. But, given her performance outside the nursing home, it seemed a little too late to play it cool.
‘Why?’
She hesitated, not used to sharing her fears. ‘I’ve never been to a French restaurant—at least not a posh one.’
‘It’s very relaxed there.’
‘I’ll hardly know anyone,’ she said. ‘Well, apart from Grace and a couple of her friends from school, who I never got on with. They’re married now. I didn’t get an invitation to their wedding.’
‘At least you didn’t have to come up with a gift for them, then.’
That made her giggle a bit. ‘Oh, and her cousin Tanya will be there...even though she’s barely been around since Mrs Andrews got ill. She’s insisted on bringing her children.’
‘I’m used to children at weddings.’
‘Well-behaved ones?’ she asked, and he nodded. ‘Just you wait! Oh, and Tanya doesn’t like me either.’
They were pulling up outside the restaurant. It was elegant beyond words; in fact the whole street was just like a postcard. She honestly didn’t want to go in, but knew that she had to.
‘Even the lampposts are posh.’
‘Violet,’ he said, and she turned at the calm delivery of her name. ‘Why don’t we stand close to the kitchen, get some hors d’oeuvres as soon as they come out, and then you can tell me why you are so unpopular?’
‘Deal.’
The bride and groom were just getting out of their car under the instructions of their wedding photographer. Violet liked the way Sahir handed over his keys to the doorman and explained their gifts were in the car... He just took care of all the details.
‘Our turn,’ he said, and they moved in for photos.
She smiled brightly for the camera, seeing that Sahir didn’t seem to do much of that either.
He was very...remote.
No.
Polite?
Yes, but that wasn’t quite the word...
Formal!
‘Let’s go in.’
Again he offered his arm, and she liked his formality...how he made walking into somewhere that should be daunting rather easy.
‘Allow me,’ he said and relieved her of her bouquet.
He placed it on the table with other gifts—clearly most of the guests had disregarded the couple’s wishes.
‘Now they’ll be stuck with a hundred kettles and toasters,’ Violet said. ‘Serves them right.’
Sahir, while he didn’t really understand a world that had kettles and toasters, got the drift.
He liked her drift...her constant, ever-changing drift...
And that quietly surprised him.
Sahir was used to chic and sophisticated women. His dates were vetted and they all knew from the outset that their relationship was going nowhere. They were just happy for the elevation his status would bring them, the gifts and the baubles...
Of course Violet wasn’t a date, and she endlessly surprised him.
Having escorted her to the back of the room where she was handed a glass of icy champagne, he noticed she shook her head as the trays of hors d’oeuvres started to come out.
‘I thought you were starving?’ he said.
‘I am, but I want something sweet.’
‘That’s later...’ he said, then frowned when the ‘starving’ Violet politely declined everything.
He had a word with the waiter, and soon she stood there with a plate of cakes and pastries all of her own.
‘Thank you!’ Violet smiled, biting into a tiny chocolate ice cream cone, smaller than her little finger, and made just for her. ‘Gosh, that’s better.’
‘You have a sweet tooth?’ he said.
‘Sweet teeth ,’ she corrected, and then worried she’d misled him. ‘Actually, you said it properly. I was making a little joke.’
‘I know.’
And suddenly Violet wanted to know more about him. ‘Have you and Carter been friends for a long time?’
‘Since boarding school,’ he said. ‘Yes, a long time.’
‘You work together now?’
‘We have worked together on a couple of projects.’
Sahir didn’t really know how to explain them without giving his status away, so he turned the conversation to her.
‘What about you and...?’ He had to think for a moment. ‘Grace.’
‘We’ve been best friends since infant school.’
He frowned.
‘Since we were five or six years old. She moved here after her parents broke up.’
‘Ah...’
‘I guess we grew up together. I spent more time in her house than my own.’
Violet took a breath, thinking back to long-ago days and how lovely Mrs Andrews had always been. How it had felt more like home than her own.
‘I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I do wonder...’
‘Go on...’ said Sahir.
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Best forgotten.’
As Sahir caught up with a couple of people he clearly knew, one of the awful old schoolfriends made a beeline for Violet.
‘Violet, it’s been ages!’ she declared. ‘Where are you living now?’ Her eyes widened when Violet told her she was still at the same flat. ‘Still?’
‘Yes.’ Violet smiled.
‘What about work?’
‘The library,’ Violet said, not really wanting to add that she’d just been let go.
She kept her smile on as she heard about Mrs Glass Ceiling’s stunning career, and then her husband, who’d been a real bully at school, came over. She found out that he’d entered politics.
‘He’s been nominated to stand...’
‘Fabulous,’ Violet said, and then stood by as he droned on and on about politics and by-elections and then offered his fake, practised smile.
‘So tell me about you, Violet...where are you working now?’
His wife answered for her. ‘The library.’
‘Still?’ he checked. ‘You had a Saturday job there when we were at school?’
‘Yes,’ Violet said, keeping her smile in place.
‘So what do you do there now?’ he persisted, clearly aghast when she told him she was doing much the same, as if he’d expected her to be running the place by now. ‘Don’t you get bored?’
‘Never.’
She didn’t know quite what to say next, but thankfully Sahir came over.
‘Violet, we need to take our seats.’
Violet found she was seated at the end of the top table, next to Sahir.
‘Phew!’ Upset from the small exchange she forced a smile. ‘I thought we’d have to be bookends.’
‘Were those two your friends from school?’
She nodded.
‘They upset you?’
‘No,’ she lied, but was actually touched he saw through her facade. ‘A bit. I’m probably just being overly sensitive.’ She gave a tight shrug. ‘They were banging on about their wonderful careers.’ She knew she wasn’t making sense so just said it. ‘And I’ve just lost my job.’
‘Okay...’
‘Even Grace doesn’t know yet.’
‘She’s not going to find out from me.’
‘I just need to get through tonight.’
‘And you shall.’
He sounded so sure.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘For...?’
‘Your help today.’
She was grateful to him for looking out for her. Oh, she knew it was all duty, and that nobody wanted to see the bridesmaid falling apart. But it was just nice that he’d noticed the hellish time she was having.
‘It’ll be Cousin Tanya next...’
‘Breathe?’ he suggested again, only he said it very kindly. ‘We’ll talk about it later,’ he offered. ‘Only if you want to.’
‘Thank you.’
‘For now, you are going to smile.’
‘Yes!’
And she did just that, taking a breath, so grateful to have him in on her secret—or rather secrets. Because he shared her suspicions about the bride and groom too—although admittedly they looked incredibly happy.
It was nice to be here with him. And he was delightful company—taking her through the French menu and managing not to make her feel stupid at the same time.
‘I don’t want the cold cuts,’ she said as she pondered it closely. ‘And I am not eating blue cheese. What’s bouillabaisse?’
‘Fish stew.’
‘Oh...’
‘You take your food seriously, Violet?’
‘I don’t think so—I’ll eat anything.’
Actually, he wasn’t very talkative, she thought, possibly a little aloof and stern, and yet he behaved decorously, his focus on both the people beside him as well as the proceedings—so much so that a woman who must be the wedding organiser came and had a word in his ear.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ Sahir said.
Violet watched him walk off, stand and speak with the organiser, and as he did Grace leaned over. ‘How are things?’
‘Wonderful.’ Violet smiled. ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘It’s perfect—well, except for what happened earlier...’
‘Stop!’ Violet warned her. ‘It’s forgotten.’
Thanks to Sahir, Violet thought. She shuddered to think of the blotchy mess Grace might have come out to see had it not been for him.
‘What’s Sahir doing?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Violet shrugged, and then as he made his way back to them saw that the wedding gifts were being moved.
‘Everything okay?’ Grace asked anxiously as he took his seat.
‘Of course,’ Sahir reassured the bride. ‘I’ve suggested we move the gifts to make room for dancing.’
Content with that, Grace got back to her dream day, but Violet wasn’t so easily fobbed off.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked.
‘Later,’ he said.
She gave a contented smile as she took a sip of her newly poured wine, knowing somehow that he would tell her later, and that there were conversations to be had away from the top table.
Then she put down her drink.
‘You don’t like it?’ he checked.
‘It’s fine.’ Violet smiled—after all she was hardly a wine connoisseur.
Sahir must be, though, for he took a sip of his own glass, and realised it wasn’t at all to her sweet taste.
And again he was being a gentleman, taking care of her in little ways, for he spoke to the waiter, and soon she was being poured a glass of far sweeter wine.
He noticed her likes.
And when he did speak it was always a treat.
‘Left and to the rear, wearing floral...’ Sahir said as the starter was served.
‘What about her?’
‘Is that the cousin who doesn’t like you?’
‘Correct.’ Violet smiled. ‘Tanya. How did you know? Because she has children with her?’
‘Hardly with her,’ Sahir said.
And she had to smile, because the kids were play-fighting on the small dance floor.
‘She keeps looking at you,’ he said. ‘And I agree...she doesn’t look very approving.’
‘Hmmm...’ Violet said. ‘She never liked me—even as a little girl.’
He carried on eating as she explained.
‘I think she expected Grace’s full attention when she came to visit her.’ Tanya really was casting her dirty looks, she saw. ‘She probably thinks she should have been asked to be bridesmaid.’ She turned her face to his ear. Not to whisper, just speaking in a low voice to one side. ‘She thinks I really stole the necklace—the one Mrs Andrews was so upset about.’
‘Ah!’
‘I’m sure when she tells the story, she conveniently forgets that it was found. Still, as someone said, never let the truth get in the way of...’
She couldn’t complete the quote, let alone remember who’d said it. His scent was divine, his ear was as perfect as an ear should be...and, oh, that jaw was so smooth, yet she could see the dark shadow beneath the skin.
Sahir was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, let alone spoken to.
He must have wondered why she’d paused, for he turned his face to her. She saw those dark liquorice eyes, and as their eyes met there was a light tension between them that had her abruptly turning from his gaze.
As the starters were concluded he told her that it wasn’t just Grace’s cousin looking over.
‘There are a few men looking your way...although not with critical eyes.’
‘Oh, please...’
‘Seriously.’ He nodded. ‘If you promise you won’t turn to look, I shall tell you who your admirers are.’
‘Okay.’ She needed no excuse to keep staring at him, but was delighted to have one. ‘Who?’
‘Have you noticed the tall gentleman with blond hair?’
‘Really?’ Violet gave a delighted smile. ‘He’s gorgeous!’
‘Actually,’ Sahir said, ‘my description was incorrect—he isn’t a gentleman! His wife is at home with their new baby—not that that will stop him.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He was at my school.’
‘Oh...’ She glanced down at that delectable mouth and guessed it had been working magic for a very long time. ‘And you were an angel, I suppose?’
‘Not at all,’ he said, almost reluctantly leaning back as her plate was removed. Then they faced each other again. ‘But I always made it clear that short term was all I wanted.’
Violet blinked quite slowly, absorbing his words, hearing the subtle warning.
‘Your blond admirer makes promises he has no intention of keeping,’ said Sahir.
She stared back, wondered what his reaction would be if she told him she was a virgin, and that really she’d barely kissed a guy.
But then she stopped wondering. Because that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was his look, and how she felt that if she were to lean forward now and meet his lips, her mouth would know exactly what to do.
The main courses arrived.
To her relief, rather than fish stew, a rich beef bourguignon was placed in front of her. She glanced down at his plate and saw that he’d been served the same dish—no need to offer to swap!
‘I requested the beef for us both,’ Sahir said.
‘I wouldn’t have minded...’
‘Violet?’ His eyes both smiled and called her a liar. ‘You are the fussiest eater I’ve ever met.’
‘I’m honestly not.’
Violet should have felt irritated, and yet she was delighted instead.
She’d asked for an extra napkin. And then another. Then given him a glimpse of her lack of cleavage and turned him on as she did so.
‘I don’t want to spill anything,’ she’d explained, tucking herself in.
Sahir found himself ridiculously attracted to Grace’s unconventional friend.
‘When are the speeches?’ she asked now.
‘There aren’t any.’
‘Oh!’
She ate very methodically, he saw, avoiding all the vegetables.
‘What about the dancing?’
She loaded her fork and pushed off a pea.
‘Do you and I have to...?’
She popped silky mashed potato into her mouth.
‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘There’s no formal order for proceedings—just dinner and a dance if people choose to.’
He watched her chew, even though there was surely no need to, and was arrogant enough to be certain she was disappointed that they didn’t have to dance.
God, she was fun to tease—and that was something he so rarely did.
Still, he was oddly put out when, in a lull between the main course and dessert, with the plates all cleared and some couples dancing, she nudged him with a question.
‘What about the silver-haired guy? I think he’s looking at me.’
Sahir glanced around the room, then saw to whom she referred. ‘No. Anyway, he’s a bit old,’ Sahir pointed out—even though he knew that he and Mr Silver-Hair had been in the same year at school!
‘I don’t mind that,’ Violet said. ‘There’s something attractive about maturity. I’m sick of guys my age. So...’ She met his eyes. ‘Is he looking at me?’
‘I already told you—no.’
‘Really?’ She frowned. ‘My mistake... He must be making eyes at you.’
As the bride and groom headed to the tiny dance floor, Violet popped a mint in her mouth and proceeded to top up her lip-gloss—no discreet bathroom exit for her.
And now, with her lips so shiny and kissable, Sahir found he wanted a taste of that after-dinner mint more than he had ever wanted anything.
Or rather, he wanted that minty mouth on his...
She stood up and shook off her many napkins—an accidental dance of the seven veils—and he sat there, a little stunned by the impact of her company.
‘I’m going to dance,’ Violet declared.
He watched her head to the small dance floor...watched as a silver head turned and a blond man moved to stand. And, yes, there was a reason Sahir enjoyed a traditional English wedding...
‘Hey,’ he called.
As Sahir caught her wrist, a flutter, a thrill...something that felt like a warm breeze from an open door...brushed through her as he turned her around.
‘For the sake of tradition, I believe the best man and bridesmaid dance together.’
Oh, they do , Violet thought, smiling because her plan had worked, and this gorgeous, delectable man was hers for the next few minutes.
It was nice to dance with someone so elegant, so beautiful and so magnificently scented.
‘What a lucky bridesmaid I am,’ she said, breathing him in.
She was bold, a bit cheeky, but it covered up so much shyness, so much hurt. But then she winced, wondering if she was being too much. And then he spoke in her ear.
‘What a fortunate best man...’
She closed her eyes at his velvet words and fought not to lean on him, just absorbing the moment.
‘Your dress is perfect.’
‘I know!’ She nodded as she leant on him anyway, but then she wanted to share what a find the dress had been and so she pulled her face up to his, and being so close up to those lips and eyes was a reward in itself. ‘I only found out about the wedding on Monday.’
‘I did too,’ he concurred.
‘The Saturday before, I was getting my hair cut and someone was bringing these dresses back.’
‘I’m lost...?’
‘My hairdresser rents out dresses.’
‘Okay...’
‘Well, I saw this one and I kept hearing it calling to me as I sat there. Anyway, I ignored it—because I had no reason to hire a ball gown—but then I found out about the wedding. Grace wanted me to go to some designer, but I told her I’d already seen the most perfect dress.’
‘So you went back?’
‘Yes, only they didn’t want to hire it to me because it’s booked out for a wedding next week—the bride’s actually wearing it. I had to beg, and promise it will be returned by Monday, but for tonight it’s all mine.’
‘I want to see the back,’ he said, and raised her hand.
She actually twirled, and it was fun.
So much so she did it again.
He glimpsed the straight spine, the pale, slender back, and he didn’t need a second look to know that she was exquisite...and just breathless enough that, as the music slowed, she returned her head to his chest and leant on him a little more.
He was being incredibly respectful, she thought, even as he held her close. For it felt not quite close enough, and she felt like a mouse who wanted to burrow into him.
She experienced the odd temptation to move in just a fraction, for more of this bliss. And yet, it was a polite dance.
And then she felt the warmth of his palm on her waist, and his cheek next to hers, not quite touching, and she wanted to feel that smoothness in a way that felt new.
‘There are so many moving parts to you, Violet...’
Sahir’s low voice tickled her ear.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The missing necklace...the dreadful week...the tears...the smiles...’
Damn, the desserts were coming out. Their dance was over and they were soon back at the table—but now she was itching for more physical contact.
‘I chose this for you,’ Grace informed Violet, as the most perfect chocolate mousse was served, and Violet gave a smile of delight and sank in her spoon.
‘Goodness!’ Violet closed her eyes as she tasted it. ‘That’s incredible.’
Yet despite the deliciousness Violet didn’t quite finish it, because the dancing had started up again and she was back in Sahir’s arms, resting her head on his chest. She reminded herself that she was terrified to kiss—dreadful at it—and yet she had never, ever wanted to kiss someone so badly.
It was all part of a bigger problem. Her childhood had been confronting at times. The company her family had kept had ensured she put a chair to her door at night, and not every foster home had been perfect.
Violet had quickly worked out that showing fear made her vulnerable, and had adopted a chatty, breezy persona. Her teenage years had been even worse. Visiting her father in prison, she had experienced comments and looks from some of the men there. Instead of quivering, she’d spoken up and out, even when she was scared on the inside.
Now, at twenty-five, she wanted to trust...wanted what came so naturally to others to unfold for her.
Yet any hand closing around hers felt like a vice, and any mouth on her own caused a dreadful panic, even though she fought it, persisted, hoping that in the end it would fade.
Why, when she ached for affection, didn’t she want to kiss anyone?
Or have sex?
She didn’t even like touch...
Only, Violet amended, it would seem that suddenly she did.
Sahir’s touch.
The sense of unease she seemed to have lived with for ever had dimmed. In fact, it had dispersed completely—only noticeable by its absence. For in his arms, with the brush of his cheek against hers as he moved closer to speak, she imagined his lips finding hers...
Sahir’s low voice didn’t jolt her—it felt like a caress. At least until her dizzy mind deciphered his words.
‘The music has stopped.’
Violet blinked, as if snapped from a trance. ‘So it has...’ She pulled back from his embrace, a little flustered as to where her mind had just been, for it felt as if they’d kissed. ‘I was miles away.’
‘And me.’