Movie Star Prince - Completed.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dance?

Heather hadn't danced with anyone because he wasn't there. Now he was standing before her. No, he wasn't meant to be here. He had left her, and sent her home, without being able to defend herself.

He stepped closer, his fingers touching her, sending a tingling sensation shooting up her arm, jerking her hand back. She had felt nothing like that in weeks. "Please do not make a scene. I need to talk to you. Explain."

Shapely dark brows furrowed down, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Do you really think I would do that at my brother's wedding?"

Ziyad shook his head. "I know you would not." Noticing the curiosity they were stirring, Heather took hold of his arm and walked away, trying to ignore the awareness of him being so close to his charisma.

"What about that dance?" he teased. Glancing up, she saw something else in his eyes. Uncertainty. Not his usual confident self, his smile overdone, when it came so naturally.

"Not now." She needed to get her equilibrium back. Needing time, relieved when Dale charged across, greeting him warmly. Karla stayed slightly behind, more cautious, eyeing off Heather, who shook her head slightly, soon to be joined by her parents, as well.

Ziyad, as usual, gave his time. Heather eased away, distancing herself, turned and headed for the bar, collected a glass of chilled sparkling water and champagne for her, taking a sip, needing it to get through this. She turned around and, from a distance, she regarded him. 

Yes, he looked the same, yet his features were more defined. Shallow? Darkness under his eyes. The blue suit was unusual for him. No tie, open-top two buttons. Just the way she liked it. Had he done that on purpose? Why would he? Her feelings were all twisted up in a tight ball of uncertainty.

"Are you alright?"

Startled, she blinked up at the one who had joined her side, turning her back on Ziyad and the gathering group. Karla turned, removing a glass of champagne for herself.

"Don't know," she answered honestly. "What's he doing here?" Mainly asking herself.

"Maybe he realised he made a colossal mistake where you're concerned?"

"Maybe," she agreed, yet doubtful and didn't want to talk about it, until she had it clear in processing thoughts. She peered over her shoulder. "You need to join your husband," she suggested, trying to ignore Ziyad's piercing gaze upon her, rippling through her. Lowering her eyes, she took another sip and slowly made her way towards him, where the bridesmaids were swarming around him, without her there, keeping them at bay.

Taking a deep breath, she made a direct beeline for him, Ziyad stood as she approached, where she held out his glass that he took and placed on the table, followed by her own.

"I do believe this is our dance." Holding out his hand that she stared at, feeling all eyes upon her. The air sucked out of her lungs, finding it hard to breathe, taking his offered hand.

Breathing again as he guided her to the dance floor, swung into his arms. Her dress swirled around his pants. She stared at his pristine dress light blue shirt, as his warm, familiar scent wrapped around her. It had been far too long.

"Why?"

"Why, what, Heather-girl?"

"Please don't call me that." Slowly she raised uncertain eyes, unable to keep back the pain, sadness, and loss. His arm tightening around her waist held her against him, pressing his lips against the side of her head.

"Let's just enjoy the wedding, Heather Ann Leigh. If you allow it, after all this, may I speak to you?"

Her breath sucked in sharply. "Like you let me talk to you?" Closing her eyes, shaking her head. "Sorry." That wasn't called for. It wasn't who she was, bitter.