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His jaw clenched, teeth grating together. The questions were bound to come, he expected it now, but still that made it no easier to deal with. ‘She was young and pretty, a student at university, very clever. Our parents supported the marriage, it would have cemented relations between a huge oil conglomerate and a producing nation. It would have been a good match.’
‘Did you love her?’
It was a difficult question and so long ago. He was sure he’d thought he’d loved her once, but now, knowing Sapphire and the way she made him feel—maybe he had just liked the idea of being in love. He shrugged. ‘I was barely twenty years old.’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
‘Then, no,’ he said on a sigh. ‘I didn’t love her. But I wanted her. It could have been a good marriage, beneficial to both our families and interests. But it was not to be.’
‘Because Paolo got there first.’
‘He interfered in something that had nothing to do with him,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘He should have stayed out of it. And for what he cost me I swore I would take something from him, to make him suffer loss even just a fraction of what I had lost. To make him realise the damage he had done and to make him pay.’
‘He saved her! He stepped in and did more than a friend should ever be asked to do, he stood up for her and rescued a terrified girl from a marriage she didn’t want, and from a man who would ruin her life. And yet you can’t see what an heroic thing he did? Then you pursue him for years, years, merely because he snatched something you wanted.’
She paused, her face flushed and eyes wild. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you got over it?’
Breath hissed through his teeth as he sought to bring his breathing under control. ‘You think that losing Helene is what this is all about?’
‘Isn’t it? Though I’m sure your pride took a beating too—knowing that someone was smarter and faster than you. I’m sure you’ll never forgive Paolo for that.’
His fist slammed onto the desk, toppling items and scattering pens. Pain shot up his arm but it was nothing compared to the hate. To the pure, unadulterated hate for someone who’d cost him so much.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I could get over him taking Helene. I could even live with him outsmarting me, if that’s how you see it. But I will never forgive him for what he did to my parents.’
‘Your parents? What are you talking about?’ Her brow furrowed, her head tilting to one side.
‘On the day they should have been at my wedding, the day they should have been celebrating my marriage to Helene in London—on that very day, on the side of a Swiss mountain, they were swept away by the avalanche that killed them.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HER hands flew to her mouth, covering a gasp of horror.
‘My intended wedding day,’ he continued. ‘Definitely not a day of joy for anyone. It took the authorities three weeks to recover their bodies and those of their two companions, three weeks where I didn’t know whether to hope they would be alive or to hope their bodies would just be found as soon as possible. Three weeks of hell.’
She stepped closer, placing her hand on his arm. ‘Khaled, I’m so sorry.’
‘Are you? Then maybe you understand now why I set out to do what I did. My parents had been in London for the wedding preparations but two days before the bride was spirited away to marry someone else. My mother was distraught, my father embarrassed. There was no point them staying in London to sort out the mess. It wasn’t their mess to sort out. My father took her to her favourite resort in an effort to cheer her up, only…’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Khaled, I don’t know what to say—that’s a terrible thing to happen. But you have to realise, it was an accident. You can’t blame Paolo.’
‘Can’t I? Their deaths were the direct consequence of his actions. He didn’t just cost me a bride. He cost me my parents. He might as well have killed them himself!’ He moved away, just far enough away that she had to let go of his arm.
He didn’t want anyone touching him, he felt too raw, just as he had when he’d received the visit from the police, their faces glum, their eyes averted, coming to relate the message from the Swiss authorities that his parents had been swept away and they were doing everything humanly possible to save them.
Just like back then it felt that someone had grated the skin off his body—every part of him felt exposed and raw and weeping.
Her heart was breaking, her anger now tempered with sympathy. It was clear what his parents’ deaths had cost him. The young prince had lost his youth, had lost his chance to become his own person before being thrust prematurely into the leadership of the sheikhdom of Jebbai against the backdrop of tragedy.
