Wanted: A Baby by the Sheikh(60)

“Where’s that operator gone?”

The supervisor looked up and Taina could tell from his expression that he was innocent of what had happened. He looked around. “He shouldn’t have gone anywhere.”

“Who was he? I hadn’t seen him before.”

“He’s new. My usual operator was sick.”

She nodded. It all fitted. “Give me the memory stick with the wrong presentation on and delete it from the computer. I don’t want any more mistakes.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened. There won’t be any more mistakes.”

She’d make sure there wouldn’t be. She took his phone and rang security and soon a couple of burly men had been briefed and were in place. She glanced at the presentation which would be over in a few minutes. She and Daidan had to get back for their big moment when they took the stage and the evening concluded.





She swept up her gown in her hands and ran through the ruins back to where she’d left Daidan and Mark. There was no one there. Just a trail of blood that went down the stairs. Christ! Was it Daidan’s or Mark’s?

But there was no time to think about it. She had to get down to the stage before the music ended. She ran through the back corridors, empty except for the occasional security guard who looked at her with distant professionalism and nodded respectfully as she flew past. Suddenly she slammed into Daidan.

“Daidan! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“What happened to the video? Where have you been?”

“There was a problem—” The music played and she took his hand which was gripped into a fist and pulled him onto the stage. She smiled and he formed some semblance of a smile. She lifted their joined fists as they’d agreed but saw blood on his. She felt her smile waiver and she pulled it back to their sides once more.

She was furious that Mark had not only tried to ruin her marriage but also that he’d nearly managed to ruin the culmination of her and Daidan’s hard work. She knew how much it all meant to Daidan. Then she took Daidan’s fist again, blood stained and all, and held it aloft in the air. Let everyone, including Mark, wherever he was, see that she and Daidan were strong and wouldn’t be defeated.

Suddenly Daidan pulled away and she felt her heart freeze by the doubt in his eyes when he looked at her. He backed away a couple of paces and took his place before the microphone, framed by the logo and the image of a simple trailing diamond necklace she’d designed. He took one last look at her and then turned to their guests, spread out before them, shaded by the low evening sunshine by the castle walls. The spotlights which ranged along the castle walls were focused on the stage. And Taina stepped back so she could see better. Daidan filled the stage with his presence. His dark beauty was stunning against the bright lights and glittering diamonds. His eyes flashed with confidence and authority and his deep voice filled the auditorium. She couldn’t take in his words, but she knew what he’d planned to say so it didn’t matter. Then suddenly, too soon, he stepped aside and looked at her. He didn’t look at her with invitation, but a wariness which broke her heart. But it wasn’t time for her to fall apart. It was time for her to be strong.

She walked into the bright spotlight, cameras flashing as she looked out at the crowd which shimmered under the light of its own jewelry. It was a spotlight she’d been at pains to avoid all her life. But she was ready for it now.

She began the prepared speech, thanking everyone for coming, referring back to her family history—the good bits anyway—and to the land of her birth from which the diamonds were being mined. Then she halted, caught by the shimmering light, arrested by what really filled her heart. She turned to Daidan and reached back and held out her hand to him, imploring him with her eyes to come to her. She didn’t need him to make her feel strong because she felt strong already. She reached back because she wanted him—not needed him—to share the moment with her.

“And I’d like to thank my husband for having faith in me, and, I hope, trusting in that faith now, more than ever.” She kissed his bloodied hand. “The future,” she said into the microphone. She stepped toward him. “Our future,” she said to him alone. He nodded slowly. “Our future?” he repeated tentatively. Then he pulled her to him within full view of everyone and kissed her tenderly on the lips. When he moved away he sighed. “Our future,” he said again, this time with a certainty that was missing before. Suddenly she was aware of the uproar of clapping and whistling from the audience. Their distinguished guests were showing very undistinguished approval of their kiss. She turned to the audience and laughed, suddenly remembering her last duty on stage—to announce the second performance by the soprano. She leaned toward the microphone while Daidan kept her hand firmly within his. “Ladies and gentleman, Karita!”