Chapter One
He noticed the girl in the bar right away. She was sitting on her own with her back to the entrance, so she wasnât looking out for friends or for her husband or for her lover, and her elegant though tense back view didnât give him the impression of someone who regularly frequented high-end bars on their own.
He strolled in to take a closer look. They had a history of sorts, though he doubted sheâd remember him. Sheâd been too involved at the front desk when heâd arrived, trying to work out why the sumptuous Chatsfield Hotel, renowned as a haven of efficiency and discretion, had got her room reservation so badly wrong.
Sheâd drawn his attention for a number of reasons. She was quite unlike his usual type, in that she was naturally attractive, with mussed up hair, and an open, make-up-less face, but it was her manner that had really impressed him. The way she handled disappointment after a long journey when she discovered that she didnât have a room at the hotel, had showed restraint and a high level of diplomacy. And now she really intrigued him, because the chain store clothes were gone, and in their place was a simple outfit that screamed money. She had transformed into a butterfly in less than an hour. Who wouldnât be curious about that?
***
Privilege. Wealth. Status. And above all confidence. That was what set the Chatsfield hotel guests apart, Libby concluded. Catching sight of herself in the gilded mirror above the grand Edwardian bar, she almost laughed out loud to see she fit in so well â but only because she was wearing her cousinâs clothes. It was amazing what a change of look could do, and it amused her to think that she could change from mouse to vamp with nothing more than a few yards of cleverly engineered silk and a pair of stiletto heels.
She curbed the desire to laugh, guessing a peel of unrestrained laughter might not go down too well in the studied opulence of the hotel bar. Sheâd caused enough consternation in the Chatsfield for one day.
There had been some confusion about her room. More accurately, no hotel room had been reserved for Libby as she had been promised, because the wedding she was here to attend was off. Around the time Libby was scoring the last economy seat on the flight to London â right at the back of the plane between two very large men â the bride had done a bunk and the groom had too, leaving Libby one giant step behind everyone else in the bridal party.
Libby had missed her flight to pick up the alterations to her cousin Lucindaâs couture outfits, and then thereâd been a mix-up with Libbyâs suitcase, which had gone ahead with Lucinda and the rest of the oddly named âharemâ. The hen party group for this most high-profile of weddings thought it was hysterically funny to call themselves this, simply because the now scandalously missing groom, was a sheikh.
Lucinda was a close friend of the bride Tahara â also scandalously missing â so there would be no meeting up in London for some girly time as previously planned, before returning to Sheikh Sayedâs fabulous desert kingdom of Zeena Sara. And now the hens had moved on again, from the Chatsfield, where the wedding was to have been held, to Monte Carlo where, according to the latest text from Lucinda who needed her new couture outfits NOW, the brideâs friends were drowning their sorrows over the cancellation of the wedding in pink champagne.
The desk staff had been open-mouthed when Libby had politely explained who she was. âBut we thought weâd got rid of the harem,â a smartly dressed girl behind the front desk had whispered, not so discreetly to her friend. âWhat are we going to do with her?â
A muttered discussion had followed. Apparently, only the hotelâs âemergency roomâ was free. Covert glances at Libby suggested the desk clerks thought that would soon put her off, but Libby had stood her ground. She had to sleep somewhere tonight, and the emergency room sounded fine to her. It would be cheap, at least â cheaper, anyway â so she could afford it. It soon became obvious that the staff at the Chatsfield had assumed that âthe haremâ was part of the sheikhâs pick ânâ mix selection, and Libby was the penny sweet that got left behind.