Heart rendered

Two

SOPHIE

I took a step back and began to move away from him. I would have the bartender take the group to dinner, then figure out a way to avoid the prince for the rest of the evening in order to focus on my business. Saman's presence would only be a distraction if I allowed it.

"Sophie," I was propelled back toward the hearth by the telecommunications CEO, Immanuel who I had been speaking with earlier. "Have you got the chance to meet one of my very important guest?" Without waiting for Ann answer from me, Immanuel continued. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure he was here." "You know these types," Immanuel said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's not always possible to rely on them to show up when they say they will."

Before I could object, the group separated in front of me to expose a broad-shouldered man sitting on the far side of the cocktail table, his face was turned away from mine as he chuckled at a remark made by a statuesque, cat-eyed brunette dressed in the most stunning crimson gown I had ever set my eyes on.

Immanuel swallowed and cleared his throat. "May I introduce Sophie Amor , the Pacifica's director of commercial development, to Prince Saman?" His baritone voice made Saman twitch and I swear to God, my soul left me for a moment. " And Sophie, this is Prince Saman Ashgari of Zahir." Immanuel then looked down at me and whispered, " I wanted Saman to view the Pacifica's new facilities because his father and I had held a number of charity events together over the years. I'm confident he'll offer King Bijan a glowing recommendation for the hotel's suitability for our upcoming events."

Saman whirled around and stood in one fluid motion as the brunette close to him struggled to disguise her dismay at the interruption. My mouth had dried out like sand. I hadn't realized how tall he was or how swiftly he moved. As Saman approached me, the memory of our first meeting came flooding back, threatening to crush me. He had approached me a decade earlier with the same easy demeanor, offering to carry a bag of heavy groceries for me as I struggled to maneuver it down an alley in the packed Sudanic village where we both volunteered. When he hefted it onto one shoulder as if it were no heavier than a loaf of bread, I had joked that he was my hero.

But he, too, had undergone transformations. While celebrity gossips gushed about Saman's athleticism, his playful attitude, and even his dimples, no story could capture the ways he'd evolved in the years since I last set my eyes on him. The manly form of his shoulders as they filled his tuxedo jacket, the texture of the skin along his sunkissed cheeks and the total charisma he emanated were all lost on television and magazines. I fought the urge to cringe as he approached within arm's reach. I had not expected his physical look to improve with time, but it had. He'd grown in size, strength, and confidence, and he'd become more of himself.

Of course, his most distinguishing physical feature could never be altered. His eyes were a clear dark silver with a distinct ring around each iris as if Da Vinci had used a small paintbrush to outline the grey in gold. I remembered the last time I had looked into those eyes all too well. Saman and I were both twenty-two years old. We were both dressed in our worst that evening, having worked all day to complete the installation of a water system, but we had refused to waste a single precious moment changing, knowing it was our final night together before returning to our separate lives. The real world and real-life situations.

As we stood on a one-to-one basis, he had run his long fingers through my hair. I had seen the deep desire in those grey eyes even in the failing light of the setting sun. He'd muttered, "I'll never, ever forget you," before luring me into a heart-stopping, explosive kiss. "These have been some of the most memorable days of my life."

Looking into those same eyes suddenly felt bizarre, knowing I would be forgotten in weeks, if not days, and relegated to what would become a long, long line of throwaway women. A decade of women, starting with the one he had proposed to. The one to whom he'd ran across the palace courtyard barefoot in a shot that went viral, captivating even people who'd never heard of the Ashgari royal family.

Even if I had wanted to forget about Saman Ashgari, I couldn't. As he stood before me, reaching out to grasp the hand I extended as if on autopilot, emotion threatened to overtake me. I managed a calm, collected demeanor before he could start ruining me with his whiskey-rich voice.

"It's an honor to have you here at the Pacifica, Prince Saman I hope you are having a wonderful time in the hotel."

He curled his huge fingers around mine, shaking me from the inside out. Looking for any excuse to go out, I looked at Immanuel and thanked him for the introduction to avoid eye contact. Saman could see into my soul, revealing both the wild lust coursing through me and the secret I had kept hidden for so long. It was an act of pure self-preservation out of fear that I looked at a table afar and observed a little girl dressed in a baby pink fluff gown with silver-grey eyes and dark long and wavy hair. She reminded me of a similar looking little girl whom I left seated at a desk, under the supervision of my parents, twenty floors above us, in the enormous suite that served as my house while I worked on the hotel's revival, as she finished up her homework.

Hope was the young girl I had conceived that very night I spent with Saman on the beach.