Page 237 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

“A few days—” Val’s voice broke off. “But how—?”

“We had a bargain, sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off his tongue so easily; he almost bit it at the slip.

Val hadn’t noticed. She pressed her hands to her face then jumped a little when she was greeted by one of the daughters of the sultan of Brunei.

“Not here,” she replied softly. She greeted people, posed elegantly for a couple of pictures, and made small talk. She went to Sheikh Rashid and kissed his wrinkled cheek, and hugged Hind.

“Mabrook, dear,” Sheikh Rashid said warmly. “You know, Desmond, she’s a very good girl. I’ve often wished she would settle down with someone like you who can take care of her.”

Val’s polite smile was fixed.

“You’ve hit almost half a million followers,” Hind said excitedly, thumbs racing frantically over her mobile’s screen.

“Oh, Hind.” Val’s face settled into the first genuine smile he’d seen since they’d spoken in the alcove. “Stop making reels for a minute and look at me, lovely.”

Hind’s eyes were bright above her pointed chin. “Thank you for making this night so beautiful,” she said, and the girl beamed.

“Oh, Val, I know I’m a brat sometimes, but I hope I’ll have what you have one day.” She paused. “Well, not like him exactly, he’s not my type at all.”

Excuse me?Despite his discomfort, Desmond raised his brows.

“No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I mean, you’re tall and all, but you’re also very slim and I like men who are—”

Sheikh Rashid tactfully cut off Desmond’s sputtering defense about green juice and CrossFit. “Desmond, I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, so we can put this bride to bed. You can deal with the other bride tonight.” And, chuckling at his own wit, he walked off with Hind, who made a gagging face over her left shoulder.

The party had reached that lazy, languid point where people are softened by food, drink and conversation. Even the music seemed quieter. It was a good time to leave, and Desmond placed his hand on her lower back and bent to speak in her ear.

“Now?”

She nodded, and they headed outside.

Unlike the rather sedate, elegant gathering inside, the outside held the more cheerful partygoers; Hind had done her work well. People were milling about on the lawn of the palace entryway, taking pictures in front of the lanterns, dancing and eating canapés circulated by waitstaff in white jackets. All he could focus on was her face, however, and the fact that she looked—

“Valentina…”

She smiled a little, and he knew. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, a dull knot in his chest tightening.

“London?” was all he said, and quietly.

She shook her head, once, quickly, and the first of several tears broke loose from her eyes. “Desmond—I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” And truly, he did.

She could not commit to him, not without the assurance of his love. And it was the only thing, despite his fortune, that he was too broken to give.

“Malik responded to your team,” she managed, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to go home, Desmond, and finish what you were kind enough to start. But Sheikh Rashid–”

Desmond shook his head. He was the least of their worries. “I’ll figure something out.” At this point, to his surprise, he barely cared one way or another whether they kept the deal. It all seemed so—juvenile now, so unimportant. “Do you plan to quit?”

She nodded. “He’s expecting it, I think, and expects that I’ll be leaving to—your home. To be your wife. He’s not going to ask any questions, Desmond. You’re fine on that front.”

So he’d be returning to London alone, after all. He felt his shoulders sag with the type of weariness he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a very long time.

He should have told her this. He should have said it out loud, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and the words didn’t come.

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