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Chapter Eighteen
Holly couldn’t move. Her every muscle was locked into place while her stomach tumbled and turned. She’d trusted Hamid. She squeezed her eyes closed. Only now that she was free to leave did she mourn what she had with him.
They’d been happy! That he’d stopped drinking had restored her faith in men and humanity. But now…now she was empty inside. Could she trust a man who drank whenever the going got tough?
But then how betrayed must he have been when he’d overheard her rejecting him to one of his friends. She’d been talking shit, really, throwaway words that had been as much to convince herself as anyone else she wanted to leave.
She pressed a hand to her heavy, aching chest.Holy crap.She was falling for him. There was no more denying it. And she’d just blown it all to pieces by rejecting him.
Dhamar stalked toward her. “I just saw Hamid. He looked…devastated.”
She nodded. “He thinks I don’t love him.”
“Except you do,” Dhamar said with a shrewd look. “Guess you need to convince him of that now.”
A man in a thobe approached them, dabbing at the sheen of sweat on his face with a handkerchief. “Holly, may I have a word?”
Holly frowned, recognizing the man—Salman—who’d been on the microphone explaining the origins of each photograph. He’d been witty and informative enough to hold the attention of the audience, and keeping the banter and information to no more than ten of the photographs at a time so as not to bore any potential buyers.
“Now isn’t really a good time,” she said.
“I’ll be quick.” Salman continued dabbing at his brow. “We’ve already sold twenty-three of your photographs, the offers coming through on each one have been far more generous than if we’d put price tags on them…so well done.”
She managed a smile. That other people regarded her work as good enough to pay a high price tag was a compliment beyond compare. A pity the gloss had been dulled after what had transpired between her and Hamid. “Thank you. That is great news.”
Salman nodded. “Yes, yes indeed. Now if you wouldn’t mind making a little speech, thanking the guests, the buyers, and all those here supporting you—“
“Give me fifteen to twenty minutes and I’ll be more than happy to do so.”
Salman spluttered. “But—“
“You heard the lady,” Dhamar interjected. “She has some personal matters to attend to first. Then she’ll be back to do what needs to be done.”
Salman bowed and retreated back to his microphone, and Holly sent Dhamar a shaky smile. She really was doing what needed to be done. Saving her relationship with Hamid. She wouldn’t consider any other option now. She wanted Hamid. They were perfect for one another. She wouldn’t jeopardize that ever again. Not even for her independence.
Her freedom meant nothing if she wasn’t happy.
She needed to fix this.
But where had Hamid gone? She needed to find him and explain.
Aisha approached then, her expression darker than a thundercloud. That she still looked beautiful was a credit to her genetics. Clearly things hadn’t gone too well with the tall, dark and handsome man she’d made a beeline for.
“Men!” Aisha griped with an eye roll.
Dhamar smiled. “We’re not all bad.”
She huffed out a breath. “If you say so.” She glanced at Holly with an arched brow. “You don’t look happy? I expected you to be glowing with triumph. You’re the rising star! What is going on?”
“Other than your brother drowning his sorrows?” Dhamar asked.
“No. Way.” Aisha’s face paled, her eyes glinting with concern. “He was doing so well. What happened?
“He overheard me telling Dhamar I was leaving,” Holly said softly.
Aisha sighed. “Womenneversay no to him. No one has ever wanted to leave him. It must come as quite a shock that the one woman he wants in his life isn’t planning on staying.”
“I’m not even sure about that anymore,” Holly admitted. “I’ve become so focused on my career and freedom I’ve never entertained the idea of doing anything differently. My future was set in stone.”
