AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Because she was trying to obfuscate but he was too clever for that. What was the harm in being honest with him? He had reserved this suite for four nights—this was his second. He would be gone soon and she’d never see him again.
‘I wanted to be a concert pianist, actually.’
He went very still, his eyes hooked to hers, waiting, watching. And she found the words spilling out of her even when she generally made a habit of not speaking them. After all, what good could come from reliving a fantasy lost?
‘My father was a jazz musician. He taught me to play almost from infancy. I would sit beside him and he would arrange my fingers, and when we weren’t playing, we would listen to music, so I was filled with its unique language, all the beats that mixed together to make a song, to tell a story and weave a narrative with their melody. I love all types of music, but classical is my favourite. I lose myself in Chopin and Mozart, so that I’m barely conscious of the passage of time.’
He stared at her, his surprise evident, and with little wonder. It was as though the words had burst from her, so full of passion and memory, so alive with her love and regrets.
‘Do you play?’
A beat passed, a silence, as he contemplated this. ‘No. My mother did, and very well.’ Another pause, and, though his expression didn’t shift, she had a feeling he was choosing his words with care. ‘After she died, my father had all the pianos removed from the palace. He couldn’t bear to hear them played. Music was not a big part of my upbringing.’
Her heart twisted in her chest. The pain of losing a mother was one she was familiar with. ‘How old were you?’
A tight smile. ‘Seven.’
The tightness in her chest increased. ‘I’m sorry.’
He nodded. ‘As am I. Her death was a grief from which my father never recovered.’
‘The flipside to a great love.’
‘Speaking from experience?’
Her denial was swift and visceral. ‘No.’
Though she’d been married, she could see now that she’d never loved Max. She’d felt grateful to him, glad to have someone in her life after her mother’s death.
‘My mom died five years ago, and not a day passes when I don’t think of her in some small way. At this time of year, when the sunflowers in the street are all in bloom, I ache to take photos for her. She loved that, you know. “Only in New York would you get sunflowers as street plantings.”’ Her smile was wistful.
‘How did she...?’
Daisy’s throat thickened unexpectedly. ‘A car accident.’ She didn’t elaborate—that her mother had been responsible. That she’d driven into a lamppost after drinking half a bottle of gin.
They sat in silence for several moments, but it was no longer a prickly, uncomfortable silence. On the contrary, Daisy felt an odd sense of peace wrap around her, a comfortable fog that made her want to stay exactly where she was.
It was the warning she needed, and she jolted herself out of her silent reflection, forcing herself to stand.
‘I really should go, sir. It’s late and I’m sure you have more important things to do than talk to me.’
As with the night before, he didn’t try to stop her. She ignored the kernel of disappointment and stalked to the door, pulling it inwards. But before leaving him, she turned back to regard him over her shoulder.
‘Goodnight, Your Highness. Sleep well.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘HE’S ASKING FOR YOU.’
Daisy had just walked in through the door of the hotel, and she shot a glance at her watch. It was after ten o’clock at night. The Sheikh was supposed to be at a party until midnight. She’d come in early to settle her nerves, and to mentally prepare her excuses in case he called for her to come and talk to him again.
Henry grimaced apologetically. ‘He seems more demanding than most.’
‘No, he’s not really.’
‘You sure? You could get Amy to take care of him. She’s already been up there a few times today.’
Daisy thought of the woman who’d been recruited to shadow Daisy, taking care of Daisy’s clients when Daisy couldn’t. Instinctively, she pushed the idea aside.
