He asked a waiter for a glass of sparkling water, then he began to move through the crowd, Halina pressed to his side.
As the hours wound down and the conversation and speculation swirled, Halina became quieter and quieter. At first she’d tried to enter into the various conversations, smiling and nodding, shyly offering her own opinions, but as time passed Rico sensed her withdrawing into herself.
After a five-course meal where they were seated on opposite sides of a table for twelve, she excused herself, disappearing for over twenty minutes before, both impatient and alarmed, Rico went to find her.
He strode down the hotel’s opulent corridors, annoyed that he’d been compelled to leave the event to find his errant wife-to-be, even as he fought a growing sense of worry that something was really wrong with her. What if she was ill? What if, God forbid, something had happened to their child?
He asked the attentive staff of the hotel if they’d seen her, and finally tracked her down to the opulent women’s powder room down one endless corridor. Not hesitating for a second, Rico rapped on the door.
‘Halina? Halina, are you in there?’ There was no reply, so he cracked open the door a bit and called again. ‘Halina, please answer me if you’re in there. Tell me you’re all right.’
Two women came to the door, sidling past him with amused glances. ‘So attentive,’ one of them drawled, and the other gave an unpleasant cackle of laughter. Rico glared at them both.
‘Is Princess Halina in the powder room?’ he demanded.
One woman, looking spiteful now, shrugged a bony shoulder. ‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’ she called as she walked off with the other woman, their angular bodies and raucous laughter reminding Rico of a pair of glossy, pecking crows.
He pushed open the door to the powder room and strode inside. The place looked empty—a row of gold-plated sinks, a plush settee and several opulent wood-panelled stalls. The room was completely silent, save for the drip of a tap and a sudden, revealing sniff from behind one of the stall doors.
‘Halina,’ Rico called, his voice rough and urgent. Another sniff sounded. ‘Open the door,’ he demanded. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
After an endless moment Halina unlocked the door and stepped out into the bathroom. Rico gaped at her, taking in her dishevelled hair and tear-stained face, his heart lurching at the sight of her obvious distress.
‘Halina,’ he said and reached for her. ‘What has happened? What’s wrong?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RICO’S STRONG, WARM hands encased Halina’s icy ones as he drew her towards him, his brow furrowed, his expression somewhere between thunderous and terrified.
‘Why have you been crying? Has something happened? Is it the baby...?’
‘No, it’s not the baby.’ Halina pulled her hands from his to dash at the tears on her face. She felt embarrassed for falling apart so completely. This evening had been an utter failure, and it was all her fault. She couldn’t handle a party. She couldn’t handle being Rico’s fiancée. ‘At least,’ she amended, taking a steadying breath, ‘it was, in a manner of speaking.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rico’s gaze swept over her, as if looking for open wounds or broken bones. ‘Are you hurt?’
Halina let out a shaky laugh, torn between wry amusement and deep, abiding sorrow. ‘Yes, Rico,’ she managed tartly, ‘I am hurt. But you won’t find any visible wounds so you can stop looking at me as if you want to take me to the hospital’s emergency department.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘You wouldn’t.’ She moved past him to study her reflection. She was even more of a wreck than she’d realised, her supposedly waterproof mascara giving her panda eyes, and her once elegantly styled hair falling about her shoulders in tangled ringlets.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Rico asked, his tone gruff.
Halina sighed and attempted to dab at her mascara even as she recognised a lost cause when she saw one. ‘My feelings are hurt, Rico,’ she said, deciding she needed to speak as plainly as she could. ‘Feelings. You know those things you try not to have?’
Rico’s mouth thinned. Clearly he didn’t appreciate her pathetic attempt at humour. ‘Why were your feelings hurt?’
She hesitated, her gaze still on her unhappy reflection. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does.’ Rico spoke with a force that surprised. ‘Who hurt you? Did someone say something, do something? Because if they did it to you, then they did it to me.’
A feeling bloomed in Halina’s chest, a mixture of surprise and warmth. It spread through her like sunshine or honey, warming her right down to the tips of her fingers and toes. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘Of course I do.’
Was that what marriage was? Maybe not love, but something just as fundamental? The question was, could it be enough?
‘So what happened, Halina? Tell me.’