Modern Romance May 2017 Books 5 – 8. Louise Fuller
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realised, Violetta had an assistant to do her make-up and hair.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Gabi said. ‘I’m here so that Alim can see his baby.’
‘The Sultan—’ Violetta started, but Gabi would not hear it.
‘He didn’t tell me he was a sultan when he took me to bed,’ Gabi interrupted. ‘And I am not here as his mistress. I am here as the mother of his child.’
Violetta blinked, clearly more used to people bending over backwards to please the Sultan. Well, no bending over would be happening today.
‘This is Hannan,’ Violetta introduced them. ‘She is a royal nanny of considerable standing and will help get the baby ready to meet Sultan Alim.’
‘Her name is Lucia,’ Gabi said. ‘And she is ready.’
This time Violetta paid no attention.
The muslin was replaced with a cashmere wrap and Gabi bit her lip as Hannan dared check that her baby was clean enough for the Sultan’s eyes.
It incensed Gabi but for now she stayed quiet.
Lucia did not.
She let out a cry of protest as her face was wiped.
‘Perhaps we will wait till after she is fed so that she is content when she sees the Sultan,’ Hannan suggested.
‘She isn’t due to be fed for another three hours.’ Gabi said. ‘And, given I’m due to leave at five, it would make it a very short first visit with her father.’
‘Perhaps just a small feed,’ Hannan suggested. ‘The Sultan is not yet here.’
Gabi clutched her daughter, and already ached for her, unable to believe that Alim could be late for his first meeting with his daughter.
The wait was awful.
But finally the words were said. ‘The Sultan is ready for you.’
The real question was, was she ready to face Alim?
His offer that she be his mistress had been met with the contempt it deserved.
Yet talking to herself was easy when Alim wasn’t close.
She picked up little Lucia and held her close and when Hannan came over to check again that her baby was sweet and clean enough to meet her father for the first time, Gabi shot her a look.
Wisely, Hannan stepped back.
The small entourage walked along the long carpeted corridor and Gabi did her best not to think of the last time she had been here—being kissed up against these walls, falling together through the door that Violetta now knocked on.
Making love.
She walked in, holding Lucia to her chest, with Violetta and Hannan by her side.
Alim stood by a window in his immaculate reception room. The fire that had blazed as he’d stripped her naked was now devoid of flames and filled with an autumnal floral display.
A tamed version of itself.
Just like Alim.
He was wearing a suit and was clean shaven, and though he looked somewhat less formidable out of traditional robes, not for a moment would she forget his power.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting,’ he said by way of introduction, but offered no explanation for the reason he had done so. He looked over at Violetta and Hannan. ‘Excuse us, please.’ Polite, in all dealings outside the bedroom, Alim dismissed his staff and Gabi stood, a little awkwardly, as Alim’s eyes flicked down to the baby she held in her arms, though he did not approach.
‘She’s just been fed,’ Gabi said with a distinct edge to her voice, ‘to ensure that she’s no trouble for you.’
‘Did they feed you too?’ Alim asked, implying he knew full well that it was the mother who was trouble, and he saw that she resisted a smile.
‘No,’ Gabi said.
‘Then I had better watch out.’
Indeed he had, for Gabi made her own rules, and that, his father had pointed out, might make her an unwise choice for a sultan’s bride.
He walked over and peered at the bundle that she held—their tiny baby hidden in a swathe of cashmere.
Gabi watched as his hand moved back the fabric. She heard the slight hitch in his breath as, for the first time, he met his daughter.
She had dark hair, like her parents’, and her dark lashes swept over round cheeks. Her little rosebud mouth was pink and her skin as pale as Gabi’s.
And she was beautiful.
Alim had been raised knowing he would one day be Sultan of Sultans, yet he met true responsibility now, for he would move mountains for his daughter and she had not even opened her eyes to look at him.
He looked up to Gabi and saw that her eyes were angry.
Though she held Lucia tenderly, Gabi’s stance was almost confrontational, and he loved that she would do anything to protect not just her daughter but herself.
She was a wise choice indeed.
And for Gabi he had moved mountains.
Though Alim would tell her that later, right now he was overwhelmed to see Lucia.
‘Can I hold her?’
Gabi handed him their child and it was the first awkward move she had ever seen him make.
Indeed, it was awkward at first, for Lucia was so light and she moved and stirred as she went into her father’s arms, and he held her perhaps a little too firmly.
Gabi said nothing; she did not tell him to watch her head and she did not move to hush her daughter, who was starting to wakeup; instead, she walked over and took a seat.
She was close to tears, watching him hold their daughter so tenderly and witnessing the obvious love he had for Lucia.
It didn’t feel fair that they could never be a family. She wanted to go over to where he took a seat, she wanted to be with the two people she loved.
His part-time lover.
The desert still tempted her. Alim always would.
Then Lucia opened her eyes.
Alim had never doubted that Lucia was his—had he, though, he would have been proved a fool, for her eyes were navy, turning to grey, and there were the same silver flecks that greeted him in the mirror each morning.
He hoped she might cry so that he could hand her back to her mother, for he had never felt more moved than now; there was guilt too for the months Gabi had dealt with this alone, and fear about how tiny Lucia was, even though she was more than three months old.
But Lucia did not cry or whimper. She looked straight at her daddy and smiled and completely won his heart.
‘I could have lived my entire life not knowing about her.’
‘No,’ Gabi said. ‘I lived my life without knowing my father so I would never do that to my child. I was going to wait till I felt a little better, and then tell you.’
‘Better?’ He frowned, worried that she had been ill.
‘Stronger.’
‘Stronger?’ Alim checked.
‘To say no to you.’
His eyes raised just a fraction, as if doubting she could.
‘I meant what I said—I shan’t be your mistress, Alim. I will always let you see your daughter whenever you come here to Rome but there will be no trips to the desert.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
She