Tori knew about the flaws hidden in many powerful and ‘perfect’ families.
‘Which colour makes you happy?’
‘The lime,’ Azia answered instantly.
‘Then buy the lime. You look beautiful in it.’
Azia wavered, then nodded. ‘You’re right. I will. Thank you.’
With a rattle of curtain rings she stepped back into the changing cubicle, leaving Tori alone with her thoughts. Inevitably they returned to Ashraf. He’d spoken of not being accepted. How had that moulded him into the man he was? He wasn’t uncertain or insecure. In fact he was one of the most determined people she knew.
But what if Oliver wasn’t strong enough to endure the censure of others so easily? Her spirits plunged. Was she selfish, refusing to marry Ashraf and give Oliver a conventional family? Not all conventional families were like hers, where only one parent had loved and supported her.
Her father had been too wrapped up in his career to care for anyone but himself. He’d married Tori’s mother because she came from a family with money and political influence. Tori had always thought if she married it would be to someone who wantedher, not what she represented.
She sighed and put down her tea. At least she and her mother had been close. How Tori wished she were here now, to talk over this enormous decision.
For the first time she understood why her mother had stayed with her father. For the security he offered while she raised Tori. A woman would put up with a lot for her child.
Not that Ashraf would be a hands-off father, like her dad. On the contrary, he’d be very hands-on—
‘You look flushed.’ Azia emerged with a bolt of bright silk under her arm. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken so long.’ She paused. ‘Do you already have something for the reception or should we look now?’
‘I’m not going.’ Tori got up from the visitor’s chair.
‘You’re not? But...’ Azia looked confused. ‘It’s a very special event, hosted by the Sheikh himself. You’d enjoy it. There’s music and traditional dancing as well as a spectacular feast.’
Tori shrugged, suppressing a pang of regret. It did sound interesting. ‘I don’t have an invitation.’
Azia’s brow knotted. ‘That’s impossible. Bram wouldn’t forget your invitation. Heneverforgets—’ She broke off as the shop owner bustled forward to complete the sale.
* * *
Hours later, as the sun paused above the horizon, making the sky ribbons of scarlet and tangerine, Tori entered her private courtyard. It was beautiful, with its delicate marble arches and fragrant garden.
Her gaze strayed to the long green-tiled pool. Ashraf had been delayed. She had time to swim before he arrived. She liked swimming, but hadn’t done much since Oliver’s birth—partly from lack of time and partly because of babysitting costs. This was a wonderful luxury.
Tori was grateful to Ashraf. If nothing else, she welcomed this break from solo parenting. She felt better for more sleep and proper exercise. Nor did she miss the early starts, getting herself and Oliver ready each day, or dealing with Steve Bates and office politics. Her job was good, but not the workplace.
She reached the end of the pool and turned, the rhythmic strokes inviting her mind to drift to the upcoming royal reception.
It was curious that Ashraf hadn’t mentioned it. According to Azia, there’d be hundreds of guests. But not Tori. Silly to feel left out. She didn’twantto attend stuffy official events. She’d done enough of that for her father.
Except this didn’t sound stuffy. Invitees would enjoy displays by acrobats, swordsmen, riders and archers, including a feat where galloping horsemen shot flaming arrows into impossibly tiny targets.
Strange... Wouldn’t Ashraf see this as a chance to showcase his culture? To introduce her to his friends? Instead he kept her secluded like a woman in an old-fashioned harem.
Or an embarrassment he didn’t want anyone to discover.
The thought slammed into her and she swallowed water. An embarrassment? Was that how he saw her and Oliver?
Tori flicked her hair from her eyes and gasped in a lungful of air. No, Ashraf wasn’t like that.
Except the day they’d arrived he’d spoken to her like a casual acquaintance, not a lover. Anyone watching wouldn’t guess they’d been intimate. At the time she’d been grateful to him for helping her to save face before strangers. But what if he had another reason?
He’d sent her off immediately, not even introducing her to the man who’d met them. Plus he hadn’t accompanied her to the palace as she’d expected.
Despite refusing him, you still want his attention, don’t you? You want to be with him. Want him to want you.