Bound By The Sultan's Baby. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
just this morning and had spent most of the day staying warm in her luxurious car.
Gabi stood there, biting back tears as Bernadetta waltzed off, though of course she took time to network. Bernadetta knew very well which side her bread was buttered on, and was sweet and charming to anyone who might assist her ascent. She walked up to Alim, and Gabi saw her put her hands up in false modesty as she no doubt accepted congratulations from Alim for another hugely successful wedding.
And Gabi stood there, dreaming of one day going it alone.
Just dreaming of the day when she could call a night such as this her success and be the one Alim congratulated.
And that was how he saw her.
Lost in a dream.
Alim walked towards her and as she turned and looked towards him he smiled. She felt that she shone.
Criticism and fault were gone when she was held in his gaze.
No man had ever made her feel like that, no man had ever made her feel as if there was nothing, but nothing, that she needed to change.
He did that with just one look.
‘I was wondering...’ Alim said in that smoky voice of his, and so lost in her dream was Gabi that she put down the tablet she held and stepped towards him on instinct.
‘I’d love to.’
And then she wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
Of course his arms were not waiting for her. Gabi had thought, stupidly thought, that he was asking her to dance, but instead, as he sidestepped, it was just a cringe-inducing faux pas.
Of all the embarrassing moments she had lived through, this was Gabi’s worst.
‘We’re working, Gabi,’ Alim said politely.
But no matter how skilfully he deflected or made light of her gaffe, not even he could save her from her shame as he told her the real reason that he had approached.
Of course he hadn’t been about to ask her for this dance.
‘I was wondering,’ Alim repeated, ‘if I might have a word.’
OH, THE SHAME!
Gabi wanted the dance floor to open up and swallow her whole.
Instead, she stood there as Alim gestured with his head, indicating that they move out from the ballroom.
When Alim asked to speak with someone, they tended to say yes, even if they would have preferred to run.
‘The bride might need me.’ Gabi floundered for an excuse. ‘Bernadetta just left.’
‘I know that.’
Alim had a word with one of the staff as they made their way out and told them where they could be found. ‘If anyone is looking for you, you will be told.’
She retrieved her tablet and he led them out of the ballroom to a table and chairs, and as she took a seat he put up his hand to halt a waiter as he approached.
This was business.
Yet her navy eyes were shining with embarrassed tears and there was a mottle to her chest from the mother of all burning blushes.
Poor thing, Alim thought.
He was terribly used to women liking him, even if it was a more sophisticated sandpit where he usually played.
Gabi would know that.
Surely?
* * *
‘The wedding and the celebrations have gone very well,’ Alim said.
‘Matrimoni di Bernadetta put a lot of effort into it,’ Gabi duly responded.
‘I think we both know,’ Alim said, ‘that Bernadetta put precisely zero effort into this wedding.’
Gabi blinked at his forthrightness.
‘Bernadetta isn’t here,’ Alim interrupted, ‘so speak to me, Gabi.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I might be able to help. I appreciate hard work, I like to see talent rewarded.’
‘I am well rewarded.’
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
The pay, they both knew, was terrible.
‘I know that the gramophone was your idea,’ Alim told her.
‘How could you know that?’
‘I know the groom. That is why I had to drop in and check that everything was going well.’
‘Oh.’
‘And he told me how impressed they were with you.’
Actually, the information hadn’t been that forthcoming, James hadn’t raced to tell Alim how wonderful the assistant wedding planner was.
Alim had specifically asked.
His success had come, not by accident, or by acquired wealth or by flouting his title. He kept his royal status as private as he could, and while his impossible wealth had been a starting point, it was his attention to detail that caused his ventures to thrive.
Alim did not merely accept findings, he dug deeper. And while he knew that Matrimoni di Bernadetta was amongst the top tier of wedding planners, he was very aware of the mechanics of the business.
Bernadetta had chosen well!
‘Tell me.’
He could tell she was nervous.
‘Why did you choose this career?’ he asked.
‘Because I love weddings.’
‘Even now?’ Alim asked. ‘Even after...?’ He asked a question. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-four and, yes, I still love weddings. I always have, since I was a little girl.’
‘And you’ve worked for Bernadetta for how long?’
‘Six years,’ Gabi said. ‘Before that I worked for a local seamstress. And when I was at school...’ She halted, not wanting to bore him.
‘Go on.’
‘I worked for a local florist. I used to work through Friday night to have the bouquets ready for weddings. I would get up to go to the markets before school...’
This was the passion Alim wanted in his staff.
‘I was very lucky that Bernadetta took me on.’
‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘Well, I had no qualifications. My mother needed me to work so I left school at sixteen and Matromoni di Bernadetta has a good reputation.’
‘So how did you get an interview?’
‘I wrote to her,’ Gabi admitted. ‘Many times. After a year she finally agreed to give me an interview, though she warned me the competition was extremely tough. I had my friend Rosa make me a suit and I...’ Gabi gave a tight shrug. ‘I asked for a trial.’
‘I see.’
‘Bernadetta showed me a brief she had for a very important wedding and asked for my ideas.’ Gabi gave him a smile. ‘You’ve heard of fake it till you make it...’
‘Fake what?’ Alim asked.
‘I pretended that I knew what I was doing.’
‘But you did know what you were doing,’ Alim said, and Gabi swallowed. ‘You had already worked for a seamstress and a florist...’