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‘I’VE sorted everything out with the travel agent. Apparently Sheikh Al Faisir is going to provide us with a private villa in the grounds of the Jumeirah Beach Club.’
Silas had been dealing with the arrangements for their trip to Dubai, and Julia nodded wanly as she listened to him, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. She had felt so nauseous this morning when she woke up, and yesterday as well, and now she just felt so incredibly tired.
‘The Sheikh is connected to the ruling family of Dubai, and this post-Ramadan party we are doing for him will be attended by members of that family as well as his corporate guests,’ she explained briefly.
‘It’s going to be a pretty grand affair, then?’
‘Very much so,’ she agreed, abandoning her mental attempts to backtrack over the last few weeks and work out some all-important dates. ‘We suggested to the Sheikh that we keep to a glamorous Arabian Nights-based theme for the décor, with a sophisticated exotic fantasy element. For instance, the party is being held on a private beach with access to some of Dubai’s most exclusive hotels. The guests will be able to sit and eat inside specially designed pavilions. They’ll be covered in richly coloured silks and velvets—the whole effect will be rather theatrically over the top and very lush. Sort of Cecil B DeMille meets Bollywood, only much richer.
There’ll be the usual fireworks, and those things that produce strawberry-flavoured smoke—they’re really big over there. We’ve got a floorshow as well—magicians, sword-swallowers, a snake charmer, all that kind of stuff—and a belly dancer—the real thing. She’s a superstar over there in her own right. They take belly dancing very seriously. It’s a complete art form, of course. And we’ve got live music, and a guest list that includes loads of famous names from the horse racing scene and the pro golf world, plus quite a few Formula One stars. Then there are the celebs who have bought property out there on the Palm Islands. Over a thousand guests have been invited in total. It’s a hugely important contract for us.’
‘And a very profitable one too, I should imagine.’
‘I hope so, for Lucy’s sake. She sort of hinted that it was Marcus who got us the business.’
‘Blayne is not likely to turn up, I hope?’
‘That wasn’t the plan. We only got the contract after we’d drawn up the schedule for the year. Both Lucy and Nick were already involved with other projects, which is why I got it.’
‘So where’s Blayne now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Julia started to frown. ‘It’s rather odd, really, because although I’ve spoken to Lucy pretty regularly she hasn’t mentioned him at all.’
‘According to my source, he isn’t in London—or at least, if he is, he isn’t living at home.’
Julia didn’t want to talk about Nick. She had far more important and personal things on her mind. Was it nearly five weeks since she had last had a period or was it closer to six? And if it was closer to six did that just mean that she was late, or did it mean something else? Her heart bumped against her ribs.
‘Silas, I…There’s something…’ she began huskily, but he was looking at his watch and exclaiming urgently.
‘Hell—is that the time? I’m going to be late teeing off if I don’t leave now.’
And then he was leaning over to give her a brief kiss before heading for the villa door.
Julia sighed ruefully. Was she pregnant? She certainly hoped so. Perhaps she should go into Marbella and buy a home pregnancy testing kit before she started getting too excited and making announcements to Silas. But first she had some work to do.
Silas had been gone just over an hour, when Julia heard someone knocking on the front door of the villa. Thinking it might be their maid, coming to see if they wanted the fridge restocked, she padded barefoot to the door and pulled it open.
An impossibly thin white-blonde young woman, with equally impossibly large unmoving breasts, was standing outside, a heavy fur coat draped over one arm and a tiny snakeskin handbag clutched in the diamond-encrusted fingers of her other hand.
Julia recognised her immediately.
‘Aimee DeTroite.’
‘I have to see Silas,’ she burst out, pushing past Julia and marching into the villa. ‘Where is he?’
‘He—he isn’t here,’ Julia told her. It was the truth, after all.
‘You aren’t that aristocratic distant relative he’s engaged to, are you? No, you can’t be. Silas hates brunettes. He adores elegant blondes. Where is he anyway? I can’t wait to see him and tell him our news.’
Their news—what on earth did she mean? Anxiety was beginning to tighten its grip on Julia’s body.
‘You are related, aren’t you? He can’t possibly marry you. He’s going to have to marry me instead. You see…’ Aimee paused for effect before announcing, ‘I’m having his baby.’
Julia felt as though a trap door had opened under her feet, sending her hurtling downwards into sickening darkness. Don’t you dare faint, she warned herself grimly.
Trust. Trust and truth were the foundations on which their marriage was going to be based—Silas had told her. And she had believed him because she knew that she could. Somehow she was going to find a way to hold on to that belief now.
‘Really?’ she heard herself saying. ‘How very interesting. Are you sure it’s Silas’s?’
The puppy-brown eyes hardened into cold little pebbles.
‘Of course I’m sure. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I love Silas and he loves me, even if he refuses to admit it. He’s all I’ve ever wanted. He knows that. We are destined to be together. Our souls have sped together through time and space to bring us here now. My astrologer has done our charts. He says he has never seen a couple so harmoniously linked to one another. I told him that our son will be a Lord…’
‘An earl, actually,’ Julia corrected her flatly.
Could it be true? Could Aimee be having Silas’s child? Her belly was so flat and her body so thin that it didn’t seem possible for her to have so much as a pinhead inside her, never mind a baby, but appearances could be deceptive.
Her own stomach was still concave at the moment.
‘If I were you I’d start packing right now,’ Julia heard Aimee telling her smugly. ‘After all, there’s no point in making things harder for yourself, is there? I mean, Silas is not going to want you around, is he? He’ll have to marry me now that I’m having his baby. Naturally a man in Silas’s position needs a son, and I know that my baby is going to be a boy.’
It wasn’t in Julia’s nature to be manipulative or deceitful, but rather shockingly she heard herself announce calmly, ‘Well, I’m afraid if you want to see Silas you’ll have to go to London.’
‘London? I was told he was here.’
‘He was, but his mother stopped over a short time ago and asked him to go to London to attend to some business for her.’
‘So when will he be back?’
‘I don’t know. He said not to expect him until the end of next week.’
‘Next week? I’ve got a manicure booked the day after tomorrow. Whereabouts in London is he?’
‘He normally stays at the Carlton Towers,’ Julia told her truthfully.
‘You won’t be able to keep him, you know,’ Aimee warned her. ‘Silas is mine, and I’m going to have him—no matter what it takes. Where do I get a cab?’
‘From the hotel.’
‘You mean I’ve got to walk back there in these?’ she demanded, displaying thin high-heeled lizard-skin shoes for Julia’s inspection.
‘Manolos?’ Julia guessed appreciatively.
‘Sure. I get the same design as the Hilton woman, only mine are higher. But then I guess my bank account is bigger than hers as well.’
Your ego certainly is, Julia reflected acidly. ‘I’ll walk back with you if you like.’
Anything to get rid of her before Silas got back.
‘Sure. You can carry my coat for me. I had it specially made. There’s this guy who breeds these special cats with long fur…’
Julia’s stomach heaved.
Silas couldn’t love this woman, she decided. It was totally impossible. Apart from anything else, there was something unwholesome and skin-pricklingly not quite normal about her.
