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She stared at Sabrina’s worried face. ‘Khalim asked you out once, didn’t he, Sabrina?’
Sabrina’s eyes widened. ‘Who on earth told you that?’
Rose smiled. ‘Khalim did. He said…’ Her voice began to waver as she remembered the closeness they had shared the night he had made the admission. ‘He said that he didn’t want there to be any secrets between us…’ Her eyes filled with tears and she turned a stricken face to Sabrina who instantly came over and put her arms around her.
‘Oh, Rose,’ she whispered. ‘Poor, darling Rose.’
‘Just tell me one thing, Sabrina!’ sobbed Rose helplessly. ‘Why the hell did he have to be a prince? Why couldn’t he have just been a normal man?’
The death of Khalim’s father was announced on the national news that evening, and Rose found herself watching the set obsessively, unable to turn the television off, even though her sanity pleaded with her to.
There was a short clip showing Khalim arriving at Dar gar airport, with hordes of people clogging up the tarmac and paying homage to their new leader.
How stern he looked, in his pure white robes, she thought longingly. And how icily and perfectly remote. Looking at the footage of his arrival, it seemed hard to believe that just a few hours ago they had been making love in the room next door.
She swallowed, and as the news switched to other items she turned the set off.
She went home to her flat that same evening, to find the place almost unrecognisable and Giles snoring on the sofa.
Biting back her temper, she marched over and shook him by the shoulder.
‘Whoa!’ He opened bleary eyes and blinked at her. ‘Whassa matter?’ he slurred.
Rose took a steadying breath as she backed off from the stench of stale alcohol. ‘Where’s Lara?’
‘She’s away filming. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m moving back here—in to my home. I know it’s short notice, but would you be able to find somewhere else to live, please, Giles? And if it’s at all possible I’d like you out tonight.’
Giles sat up and sneered. ‘What’s happened? Has he kicked you out? Has your pretty prince tired of you?’
‘Khalim’s father died this morning,’ she said, in a voice which was threatening to break.
Giles narrowed his eyes. ‘So he’s in charge now, is he? Wow!’
It shamed her that he had not expressed one single sentiment of sorrow for Khalim’s father—even for convention’s sake.
‘Just go, will you, Giles?’ she said tiredly.
‘Okay, okay—I’ll go and stay with my brother.’
Once he had gone, she set to cleaning the flat, and at least it gave her something to do to occupy herself, so that by midnight, when everything was looking pretty much normal again, she was able to take a long bath and fall into bed.
But she couldn’t sleep.
For too long she had been used to drifting off in the warm haven of Khalim’s arms. Now she felt cold. And alone. She put on a baggy T-shirt for comfort, but there was still precious little warmth to be found.
She found a purchaser for the house almost immediately. That part of Chelsea had people just queuing up to buy homes there—and she was lucky enough to find a newly engaged merchant banker who was a first-time buyer.
‘I want to complete the sale as quickly as possible, that’s my only condition,’ she told him and his horse-faced fiancée.
‘Soon as you like,’ he agreed smoothly, barely able to contain his glee as he examined the luxurious wealth of fixtures and fittings.
Rose tried to throw herself into her work, and when the money for the sale came through she went straight to the Maraban Embassy in Central London. It was difficult to keep a rein on her emotions as she spoke to the receptionist—a man whose glittering black eyes reminded her of Khalim, and made her feel such a deep sadness.
‘Yes?’ he asked.
Rose pulled the cheque out of her handbag, still finding it difficult to come to terms with just how much money the house had made. Khalim had been correct, she thought wryly—it had been a good investment.
