‘Inform my wife’s motorcade not to leave without me. I’m attending the ceremony with her.’
His private secretary hid his surprise well, made a quick note on his tablet, bowed and hurried away to do his bidding.
Ten minutes later, Zufar waited in the limo as her bodyguards escorted Niesha to the car. For the several seconds it took for her reach him, he stared, once again arrested and a little stunned that he’d ever imagined her plain.
Sunlight glinted on her thick, luxurious hair, which had been rearranged into another attractive knot. The sea-green dress she’d changed into hugged her slim torso before flaring at the waist, the skirt showing off shapely long legs balanced on designer heels. A pulse of satisfaction went through him as he spotted the emerald necklace he’d given to her two days ago circling her neck.
It was part of a larger collection of jewellery that had belonged to his grandmother, and, even though the emerald was the smallest of the lot, it was eye-catching on Niesha and suited her outfit perfectly.
She was truly exquisite, he observed with a curious catch in his chest and a slowly elevating heartbeat.
When his gaze rose again to trace her delicate cheekbones and wide, generous mouth, renewed hunger punched through him.
He hurried to adjust himself or risk embarrassing both of them as the driver held the door open for her.
She slid in and froze, her eyes widening in surprise and then suspicion. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I found myself free of obligations.’
‘So you decided to come to a ribbon-cutting ceremony?’
He shrugged and reached out to secure her seat belt. ‘I’m in danger of losing my position as the most popular figure in Khalia,’ he mused dryly.
She didn’t return his smile. ‘There’s no danger of that, and even if there was, you’re not vain, so there must be another reason for your presence,’ she said, her eyes growing wary as the motorcade left the palace grounds.
‘A compliment slapped away by suspicion. I don’t know whether to be pleased or wounded, Niesha.’
Her face remained set in lines that suggested she wasn’t too pleased by his appearance.
‘What’s really going on, Zufar? Do you not think I can execute my duty properly?’ she asked with a trace of hurt in her voice.
‘I wouldn’t have given you this responsibility if I didn’t think you could handle it,’ he stated, a little put out by the need to explain himself.
‘Then why? Don’t forget I saw your itinerary in your office.’
He’d kept his schedule free to spend time with his wife. It was that simple. And that complicated, Zufar realised.
‘There may be questions about Galila.’
‘Questions you don’t think I can handle.’ It wasn’t a question but a flat statement.
For a moment, he wished he’d stayed in his office after all. It was certainly an odd feeling to know his presence wasn’t required. Unsettling still to acknowledge that he wasn’t wanted. That brought back memories he’d dwelt on for far too long already today.
‘I don’t believe I owe you an explanation of how I use my time,’ he added, his voice emerging a touch more tersely than he’d intended.
He caught her wince and her pinched face, and suppressed a growl.
For several minutes they travelled in silence. Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Well, I’d intended to read through my speech in the car, so if you don’t mind...?’
‘You may practise it on me, if you wish.’
Her breath caught faintly before a wave of colour flowed into her cheeks. It took every ounce of control he could muster not to touch her in that moment. ‘Are...are you sure?’
‘Of course,’ he replied.
She stared at him for endless moments, then gave a small nod. After straightening the sheet, she cleared her throat. And then she began to speak.
Zufar listened. Watched her. Struggled not to get lost in her husky, melodious voice. Not to get lost in the powerful message of support, the strong empathy and even the self-deprecating joke