That sounded foolhardy but noble and all too possible. For all her professionalism he suspected Rosanna had a soft heart.
‘Does she know about the rumours?’ he asked.
He had to squash them before she found out. The idea of her suffering for what her ex had done, and because of her involvement with Salim, was unbearable.
‘I’m not sure. She wanted to see me this afternoon but I’ve been too busy.’
Salim nodded, his thoughts racing. ‘We need to deal with this. Straight away.’
Rosanna surveyed her wardrobe.
She needed something elegant enough for the gala gallery opening and eye-catching because she refused to let Salim ignore her any longer. But she refused to spend her hard-earned money on new clothes just to confronthim.
Emotions churned but she told herself it was impatience she felt. And determination. Not hurt or regret.
She reached for a scarlet top and a pair of silky white palazzo pants that she’d packed at the last moment. The top had a straight boat neck and its long chiffon sleeves gave an air of elegance. It was perfect, demure because it covered her totally, yet provocative with its unmissable colour and the way it moulded her body.
She’d had enough of fading into the background at Salim’s convenience.
What she’d say when she saw him, she had yet to decide. A public event wasn’t ideal, but if it was the only way she could see him, she’d make it work.
Rosanna had an invitation to the event because she’d originally planned to introduce some potential brides today. Before Salim decided to postpone her work.
Rosanna’s heart lurched. The search was continuing without her.
She hated the idea of continuing the role of matchmaker but she’d despise herself if she let him dismiss her both personally and professionally without making a stand.
The event was crowded. There were locals in traditional clothes, foreigners in suits and designer fashions and enough jewels to dazzle the unwary.
Rosanna ignored them all as she made her way towards the central atrium where the crowd was thickest. Soon she was rewarded with the sight of Salim, half a head taller than most of the men around him and more compelling than any of the art on the walls.
Her heart stuttered and she pressed her hand to her breastbone.
This wouldn’t do. She wasn’t even close yet she felt a flurry of nerves.
Determined, Rosanna forged a path towards him. Finally she was close enough to hear the deep burr of his voice, and feel it like the memory of a caress stroking her abdomen, breasts and lips.
Despair assailed her.
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t march up to him and demand a meeting. She’d done it before but that was when she hadn’t known the truth of her feelings for Salim. To face him before all these curious eyes and pretend she felt nothing...
Rosanna was turning away when a voice stopped her.
‘Ah, there she is. Ms MacIain, the very woman.’
What was he playing at? He’d avoided her for days yet now he singled her out in this crowd.
She swung around, her breath shallow as that dark, impenetrable gaze snared hers.
Something pulsed between them. Recognition, memory, desire.
No! She might feel that but she had to stop imagining he did too. What for her had been a primal connection had been for Salim simple lust, now eradicated.
‘Your Majesty.’ As the crowd parted she sank into a deep curtsey.
‘This is very timely,’ Salim said, beckoning her as she rose. ‘My friend here was just mentioning you.’
Rosanna approached, her heart sinking as she recognised Zarah and her uncle with Salim.