Royally Promoted

Chapter Two

WHAT? A WIFE? You’re going to be finding a wife? Wait! What?

In receipt of that shocking postscript casually tacked on to the end of the conversation, Lucy’s jaw dropped to the ground.

She had a million and one questions to ask him but, before she could get the first one out, he held up his hand, turned his attention to his computer and informed her that there was a hell of a lot to get through before he left, and three hours of valuable working time had already been squandered because of her late arrival.

‘Yes, but...’

‘But...?’

‘You have to find a wife, Malik? As in, see what’s available at the nearest department store? Maybe have a look in the cosmetics department? Who does that?’

In response, his eyebrows had shot up and he had said, wryly, ‘Actually, Lucy, that aspect of my trip back to Sarastan will be the one that affects you the least. I only mentioned it because you’ll obviously be around and there’s no point having you indulge in colourful guessing games, should you be confronted with the situation as it unfolds.’

‘The situation as it unfolds? Will you be conducting interviews for the post?’

‘I haven’t given much thought to the how the process will be negotiated. Now...back to those reports on Thompson and the bio-fuel company I have my eyes on...’

And that was that.

She spent the remainder of the day eaten up with curiosity.

Why was he looking for a wife? He could have anyone he wanted. One snap of his fingers, and there would be a queue of eligible women forming down the road. So, why go to the trouble of practically interviewing, for want of a better word, for the role? Whatever had happened to love?

It occurred to her that she knew precious little about Malik’s family and personal life. While she made a habit of saying exactly what was in her head, he was careful with what he revealed, which, when she thought about it, was precious little.

By the end of the very long day, during which she barely had time to break for lunch, Lucy was spent, partly from working non-stop and partly because being eaten up with curiosity was an exhausting business and took a lot of energy.

‘Right; enough. I think we’ve covered all we’re going to be able to cover for the day.’ This from Malik as he appeared at her desk to stare down at her as she furiously flicked through various open screens on her laptop, linking multiple reports and working at breakneck speed to cover the workload he had left her to get through in record time.

Lucy sat back and looked up and up and up at him.

‘Very good.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ She arched her eyebrows and looked directly into amused dark eyes.

‘You’ve done very well today. One hundred percent focus, even though I know you must have many questions to ask.’

‘I hardly know where to begin with them, now that you mention it.’

‘I’m sure, and they’ll all be answered. It’s...’ he glanced at his watch ‘...a little after six. Why don’t I take you somewhere for an early dinner and you can ask away? It’s a temporary lifestyle change for you but it’s a significant one. You need to get to Sarastan with a clear head and as little apprehension as possible.’

‘Right now?’

Malik frowned. ‘Right now, what?’

‘Dinner.’

Lucy stood up, glanced down at her disorganised desk, stuck a pen in the flowerpot she used as a container and decided that further work to neaten her work area would have to wait for another day.

‘Right now, Lucy.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I hate what I’m wearing and I refuse to be seen in it anywhere, unless it’s on a bus heading back home, preferably behind dark shades and wearing a wig. Remind me to think up something clever to get back at Julia for this little trick of hers.’

Malik shook his head, looked to be on the verge of saying something and then raked his fingers through his hair.

‘Lucy, it’s now or never. I have things to do and I haven’t got time for you to go back to wherever you live and change into something you feel more comfortable wearing. Besides, those colours... Believe it or not, those are the colours largely worn by the working population in the City.’

‘All very dismal, boring people.’ She grinned. ‘With the exception of everyone working in these offices. Okay, could you at least give me ten minutes to freshen up? And it’s in Swiss Cottage, by the way.’

‘What is?’

‘Where I rent.’

‘Ten minutes. I’ll meet you in the foyer on the ground floor.’

Malik watched as she began gathering her various belongings. She was right. There was a vibrancy about her that didn’t work well with greys, blacks and navy-blues although, in fairness, they did work when it came to providing contrast with the bright-vanilla blonde of her hair which had now dried into a waterfall of corkscrew curls falling over her shoulders, almost to her waist.

The women he dated tended to be tall, angular and brunette with controlled hair and, yes, a predilection for all those colours his secretary had scorned. Just for a fleeting moment, he narrowed his gaze to look at her and was caught by the softness of her skin, the way her hair fell in its unruly tangle as she bent to reach for her bag, which had been dumped on the ground next to her chair, and the swing of heavy breasts just about outlined under the top Julia had decided to buy for her colleague, tongue no doubt very firmly in cheek as she’d made her choice.

Then he turned away with a dark flush and began heading for the door that led out to the main open-plan office with its towering greenery, carefully positioned glass partitions, sleek wood and metal desks.

Lucy spotted him as soon as the lift disgorged her and its other eight occupants into the grand marble foyer that housed Malik’s elite, high-powered workforce. They occupied two floors of a towering glass building in the City. Two floors where the elite of the elite handled more billions than anyone would ever come close to guessing.

He was sitting on one of the grey chairs clustered round a circular glass table and was frowning at whatever he was reading on his phone. His long legs were stretched out and he had undone the top three buttons of his white, hand-tailored shirt.

She stopped dead in her tracks and stared for a few seconds. Her heart picked up speed. She had signed up to going away with this guy for weeks and she had no real idea what that was going to entail, aside from the fact that it would, supposedly, work as usual.

With the small technicality of him interviewing a suitable wife. So, in other words, not really working as usual, was it?Because, as he had pointed out, she was going to be around, so whatever fascinating interview techniques he got up to, presumably she would be in the vicinity with a bird’s eye view of what was going on.

Maybe he foresaw these interviews being conducted during working hours. She pictured herself scurrying around with cups of tea and coffee for an array of women sitting outside his office, sprucing up their CVs and anxiously rehearsing answers to possible questions.

He glanced up suddenly and she blushed, fussed with her skirt and made her way over to him as he simultaneously rose to his feet, six foot four of sinful perfection.

‘Right. Ready for me to answer those tons of questions you have?’ He smiled.

‘I should have made a list.’

‘I can’t imagine you need a list to fire away, Lucy. I’ve phoned ahead and there’s a table waiting for us at the French bistro a couple of streets away. I’ve made sure to ask them to sit us somewhere relatively quiet.’

‘Don’t you need to reserve that place months in advance?’ Lucy fell into step, very much aware of him next to her as they left the glass building and emerged onto streets that were busy with after-work crowds keen to make the most of whatever fine weather was left of summer, which wouldn’t be much.

Where was she going to live? Was she even going to like it there? What if she ended up lonely and miserable, hiding away in her bedroom?

‘I can hear you thinking, Lucy,’ Malik murmured with wry amusement, leaning down so that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear which made her shiver.

‘Can you blame me?’

‘I’d be surprised and disappointed if you didn’t have anything to ask.’

Lucy was frowning and going through a veritable hornet’s nest of scenarios which had been noticeably absent when she had airily accepted his offer a few hours ago.

The adventure aspect was beginning to nudge elbows with the fear factor, but she reminded herself that it was hardly going to be a life change set in stone, signed in blood and lasting years. Furthermore if she did end up feeling miserable and lonely—which was highly unlikely, because why would she?—then she could always leave. She wasn’t going to be manacled to the office desk, after all.

The bistro was already heaving by the time they got there but they were ushered to a quiet table at the very back of the room.

‘I’ve never been here before.’ She looked around her appreciatively. It was very modern with clean lines, a black-and-white tiled floor and interesting framed black-and-white photos on the walls of places and people she didn’t recognise but felt she probably should.

Her mind was pleasantly diverted from her rising stress levels until her gaze landed squarely on the guy sitting opposite her, at which point she remembered that this was the very guy she had agreed to accompany abroad for an indefinite period of time.

‘Wine?’

When Lucy looked, it was to find that a bottle of Chablis had been delivered to the table, along with some nibbles in a pewter dish.

‘Sure.’

‘Shall we order before the inquisition begins?’

‘It’s not going to be an inquisition.’

‘I reserve judgement. The fish is extremely good here. How is it you’ve never been when it’s ten minutes away from the office?’

‘Perhaps you haven’t checked the prices,’ Lucy said kindly. ‘Slightly out of my price range for a quick bite after work.’

‘You’re extremely well paid, Lucy. I personally handle all your salary increases and bonuses.’

‘Yes, well...’

‘And, in case I’ve never told you, you deserve every penny of those salary increases and bonuses.’

‘Thank you, Malik. I appreciate that.’

Malik grinned. ‘Now.’ He sat back and flung his arms wide without taking his eyes off her face. ‘Fire away.’

‘What’s it like?’

‘What’s what like?’

‘Sarastan. Where you live. What’s it like?’

‘Relatively small and extremely wealthy.’

‘Is that it?’

‘It’s largely desert, but there is some truly exquisite scenery and the surrounding sea is beautiful. We have breath-taking skyscrapers, world-class restaurants, luxury shopping malls and awe-inspiring houses.’

‘Why did you leave?’

‘Come again?’

‘If it’s so fantastic, why are you living in dreary London with its grey skies and pollution?’

Malik’s gaze cooled. ‘Not pertinent to your temporary posting over there, Lucy. You need to stick to the brief.’

Lucy reddened, a retort springing to her lips, but then it hit her that he was absolutely right.

This was an unusual situation, which didn’t mean that she wasn’t still his employee, paid by him to do a job. She was here to ask practical questions that would be relevant to her life over there, not delve into his personal thoughts on anything. Boundary lines existed between them for a very good reason and she would have to make sure that they didn’t get crossed. What Malik’s private life looked like was none of her business any more than it hers was his business.

‘Where will I be living?’ She changed direction, and then took time out to inspect the menu which had been brought to their table, quickly making a choice, although she hardly paid attention to what was there.

‘I’ll make sure that something very comfortable is sorted out for you.’ He looked at her pensively. ‘I usually stay with my parents when I’m over there,’ he mused, thinking aloud. ‘But, given the circumstances, I think I’ll change that routine. In fact...’

‘In fact...?’ Lucy sat back as a basket of bread was brought to the table along with some very interesting-looking butter. She hesitated and, when she glanced at him, he waved at the bread and told her to tuck in.

‘I won’t, actually,’ Lucy said politely. ‘I’m not a bread person.’ It occurred to her that this was the first time she had ever been to dinner with Malik on a one-to-one basis. Yes, they had shared a meal on the run, something brought to the office when they’d happened to be working late on a deal with a deadline, but dinner at a fancy place like this? Never.

Suddenly self-conscious, she primly placed her hands on her lap and sat back.

‘Really? That flies in the face of the many baguettes you’ve bought from the deli on the corner at lunchtime.’

Lucy was suddenly stung by that remark. What did he really think of her, she wondered, apart from being a whizz at what she did? Did he find her too talkative, too mouthy? An open book without any interesting nooks and crannies? She was hardly an enigma, was she?

Out of nowhere, she thought of her sisters. They’d all followed in the footsteps of their dad, while she never did as she was told, feet firmly planted in the footsteps of their mum. She’d taken that break-up all those years ago so hard, and she had never really forgotten it, had never forgotten the trauma of that early miscarriage and the horror of being ditched like a sack of old junk that had seen better days. It had wreaked havoc with her self-confidence, and at the time had made her look in the mirror and wonder if she was as awful as she felt.

‘You’re upset,’ Malik said quietly. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you with that remark.’

‘Offended? Me?’ Lucy loosed a brittle laugh but she had to desperately blink back the urge to cry. ‘As if. Where are you going to put me when I come over? You still have to answer that.’

Malik looked at her in silence for a few seconds, long enough for her to squirm, but she maintained eye contact, her chin tilted at a defiant angle.

She was saved by the arrival of her fish course, which allowed her to break eye contact and focus on the turbot on her plate. Her heart was thudding inside her. He’d apologised; he had seen the way she had reacted to his perfectly innocent, amusing banter and that, somehow, felt worse than if he hadn’t said anything.

Did he pity her, feel sorry for her? Lucy knew that her imagination was playing tricks on her and she breathed in deeply and began to nibble at the food.

What did it matter what Malik thought of her? The most important thing was that she impressed him with her ability to do the job she was paid to do.

Did it matter whether he saw her as a woman or not? No!

She eyed him surreptitiously from under her lashes and accepted that anyone as beautiful as he was would really be unable to see her as anything other than the woman who worked for him. Guys who could have any woman they desired weren’t the sort of guys who’d give her a second glance.

She forced a smile and made a few noises about the excellent quality of the food.

‘So? You were saying?’

Malik finally picked up the thread of the conversation as he dug into the food on his plate. ‘I think I’ll use one of the family properties to house us.’

‘Sorry?’ Fork on the way to her mouth, Lucy froze as she digested this.

‘It would make sense.’

‘On what planet would it make sense?’ The words were out before she could take time to think about it. ‘Malik, I’m not sharing a house with you!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because...because I’m not!’

‘You shock me,’ Malik murmured, looking down as he calmly carried on eating. ‘What’s there not to like about the idea? We’ll be working together, and it would certainly do away with the aggravating chore of making our way into the capital every day.’

‘That’s not going to work, Malik. No way.’

‘I’m very well trained in all domestic settings,’ Malik told her mildly. ‘Despite my privileged background, I find I’m generally capable of tidying up after myself in the absence of anyone else to do it for me and, at a push, have actually created one or two edible meals for myself.’

‘Forget it!’

Her cheeks were hot and her pulses were racing. Disturbing images were flying through her head at dizzying speed. They involved the two of them in close quarters, bumping into one another in search of the kitchen late at night for a glass of water, sharing dinners, lunches and breakfasts, settling down to watch telly in the living room...

Her heart was on the verge of packing up altogether when she slowly noticed that he was finding it hard to control his laughter.

‘What?’ Lucy snapped, blinking her way back to reality.

‘Calm down, Lucy,’ he said gently. ‘I know what’s going through your head, and there’s nothing to get over-excited about here. The family residence is a palace of quite sizeable proportions. It’ll be convenient, because it’s close enough to my parents’ place for me to visit regularly to check my father’s progress as and when. It’ll also be big enough for you to have your own quarters, which will be in a completely different wing to where I will be staying. You’ll even have your own garden where you can relax any time you want. I already have various rooms kitted out for office purposes, and naturally there will be staff on hand to take care of all our daily requirements. You’ll find that you won’t have to lift a finger.

‘If it’s any consolation, I’ve used the place hundreds of times for conferences that have involved people from different countries having to power-work on something and needing a place to stay for a few days at a time.’

Lucy stared at him and tried to sift through this baffling array of information, finally settling on, ‘Palace? We’ll be staying in a palace? When you say palace...?’

‘You’ll get the picture soon enough.’

‘And when you say staff...?’

‘You won’t have to cook or clean or generally think about doing anything aside from working and relaxing.’

‘I can’t see myself relaxing in a place where I won’t know anyone.’

‘You’ll know me.’

‘You’re my boss, Malik. It’s completely different.’

‘Is this your way of telling me that you’re having second thoughts?’

‘No. I said I’d come and I will. I’m just voicing a few perfectly valid concerns. A girl has to be prepared...’

‘I could introduce you to some of my relatives who are your age.’

‘You have brothers? Sisters?’

‘I have cousins.’

‘But no siblings.’

‘We seem to be going a little off-piste here,’ Malik murmured.

‘No wonder you’re eaten up with anxiety,’ Lucy said sympathetically. ‘Must be awful having to bear the burden of this on your own.’

‘I find I’m managing just fine. Believe it or not, in the absence of siblings you tend to develop quite robust coping mechanisms. Moving on...’

‘You are super self-contained, now that you mention it. Well, I guess when your dad returns home—and return home he will,’ Lucy stressed, ‘it might be a bit frantic and chaotic.’

Malik said nothing.

‘Frantic and chaotic’ were not words he would ever have associated with his highly organised, utterly controlled parents and he was sure that, whatever the circumstances at the moment, nothing at all was going to be frantic or chaotic within those palace walls. His mother had broken the news of his father with her usual cool, emotionless restraint and he was under no illusions that things would be in place at the palace for his father’s eventual return there for recuperation. A calm, well-run, highly efficient household would be on offer, as it always had been from the day he’d been born.

His parents had had an arranged marriage and he had never spied anything within it that could even be loosely described as ‘passion’. Which, he reflected now, mouth tightening, was actually no bad thing. Bitter experience had long taught him that, however stultifying his once-youthful self had found his parents’ marriage, it was a damned sight better than the alternatives that lay out there, like steel traps in wait of the unwary.

‘I’ll naturally make sure that photos of where you’ll be staying are emailed to you and you’ll be given ample opportunity to approve it. You can trust me on this, Lucy—we won’t be under one another’s feet. I will retreat to my own quarters when the working day is done, and you’ll be free to do whatever you want to do in your spare time. I could have arranged for a PA over there, to spare you the ordeal of this situation, but no PA would be able to get up to speed with all the complex deals in progress that you’re currently handling. And also, of course, as you’ve said, you can’t sit in a vacuum for weeks at a stretch.’

‘I get it, Malik, but back to the end of the working day situation... How I can build a personal life for myself over there?’

‘There’s a wealth of very comprehensive tourist blurb on the place. I’ll also make sure you’re emailed with information on things you might be interested in. Obviously, there might be one or two things you’ll simply have to accept as quite different to what you’re accustomed to.’

‘Name a few.’ She relaxed into a smile, mind soothed by what he had said about their living arrangements.

‘Pubs: not really many of those, although there are some magnificent hotels with excellent nightlife. Public transport is sparse.’ He smiled. ‘Your hair might go grey-whilehunting for the nearest Tube. Taxis, however, are cheap and plentiful and, most importantly, air-conditioned. There’s the coast and a wealth of museums and galleries and, of course, it’s a vibrant hub should you want to fly out to visit any of the surrounding cities or countries. The family jet will be on standby, as will any number of drivers. A fleet of cars is always available for use.’

‘A fleet of cars...what luxury.’

Malik remained silent. It would be interesting to see how she dealt with what would await her in his country. She would be exposed to a level of luxury that might come as a shock. How would she react?

He was surprised to feel a certain amount of tension at what could be an unfortunate outcome, but didn’t he have experience in that particular area? And wasn’t it wise to expect nothing and therefore never court disappointment?

He looked at her in brooding silence but his mind was elsewhere, playing with memories of the woman he had foolishly fancied himself in love with at the tender age of eighteen, when he had been at university in London. She had been as bedazzling as any woman he had ever met in his life before.

He had boarded from the age of thirteen, a tremendous place on the outskirts of Paris where he had learned to speak French fluently. But during those years he had spent all his holidays in Sarastan, where he had become accustomed only to meeting girls from the same social circle as his—girls who had been born knowing their place in the world and the extremely privileged status they enjoyed. Most of them had never strayed beyond the confines of a very rarefied social circle.

Sylvie had defied all those stereotypical images he had grown up with. Slight, and as graceful as a ballerina with green eyes and long red hair, he had met her in his first week and it had been lust at first sight. At the age of eighteen, love and lust had been immediate bedfellows and he hadn’t fought any of it. He’d fallen hard for the girl, who’d worked in a hip, vintage record shop. With knowing eyes and raucous laugh, she was a girl with three earrings in each ear and a tiny, interesting tattoo just below her belly button.

She’d known how deep his pockets were. He hadn’t tried to conceal his wealth. She had accepted the gifts with open arms and over the course of time had changed from the carefree girl he’d fallen for to a woman who had begun to see the people around her as less than her. She’d learnt arrogance. She’d felt it her right to complain to the people who served her in restaurants. Petulance had kicked in if she didn’t get her own way. She’d become demanding.

Maybe those traits had always been there, but Malik had been left bitterly disillusioned, and even more so when, at the end of their disastrous relationship, she had laughed in his face and told him that she’d been fooling around behind his back the entire time.

Maybe she had. Maybe she’d concocted something to hurl at him because he had dumped her.

There was no maybe about the fact that he’d been a complete fool. He’d allowed himself to lose control of his emotions and had paid the price. He’d taken lessons with him from that experience. Never again would he trust emotions. They’d let him down once; he wasn’t going to risk them letting him down ever again.

Avoiding those pitfalls? Easy. He dated women who were single-minded in their careers and weren’t interested in long-term relationships. He’d been honest with each and every one of them from the very start; had told them that, if they were in search of Mr Right, then they should look somewhere else. He’d had fun but he’d decided, somewhere deep inside, that when it came to marriage he would choose as his father had—with his head and not with his heart.

It would be an arranged marriage with a woman who came from the same background as his and would be unimpressed with the magnificent riches that accompanied him. She would understand the value of spreading wealth around those less fortunate who lived in the country, and promoting all those causes that furthered infrastructure in Sarastan, as his parents had over the course of their marriage. With money and power came responsibility.

He wondered whether Lucy would have her head turned by the treasures she would find at the end of the rainbow. When he thought of that, something inside him twisted. Time would tell.

‘Actually,’ he surfaced to hear her say, dimpled smile back in place, ‘who needs a fleet of cars? If I had just the one, I would have been in work on time today. No, scratch that—I would still have decided to walk in. Exercise is essential. Although, thinking about it, it was a very ambitious walk. So...well... I probably would have arrived at exactly the same time, because I would have ended up trying to grab a Tube train that was never going to show up.’

‘Thank you for that wealth of information.’ Malik looked at her, still caught up wondering what she would think of what was awaiting her. ‘You should get a car. I have no idea how anyone can survive without one.’

‘You probably have no idea how anyone could survive without lots of things,’ Lucy returned drily. ‘A car being the least of those things.’

‘Maybe you have a point.’

He smiled slowly. Flustered by that lazy smile, Lucy drew in a sharp, unsteady breath. Sprawling palace or no sprawling palace, she felt a shiver of thrill, excitement and quaking panic all rolled into one. The roof might be huge but they were still going to be living together under it.

Her heart sped up. She would be in ‘her own quarters’, whatever that meant, but she would still be aware of him in the same place as her, within the same palace walls. Hardly the same as when she headed off to her box in Swiss Cottage.

‘Are you going to tell me about this interviewing for a bride thing?’ she asked quickly.

‘I’m not sure I specified an interview—and, for the record, there’s nothing much to tell, Lucy. It’s something that will most probably happen while I’m out there. An arrangement will be cemented.’ He shrugged. ‘With my father’s health quite possibly permanently compromised, succession becomes more important. It’s not crucial at this juncture, but it’s desirable.’

‘And...does that mean you get married and live out there?’

‘It means the future holds what the future holds.’

‘And the future holds an arranged marriage...’

‘Like I told you,’ Malik said patiently, ‘this is not something you need to concern yourself with. Your duties over there will be very straightforward.’

‘One last question on the subject...’

Malik called for the bill.

She was curious and, considering she was being asked to put up with what might turn out to be quite a bit of upheaval in her life, she deserved to have some of her questions answered.

Knowing her as well as he did, he would have been shocked if she had accepted his offer without an A4 sheet filled with questions. That said, he would have to curtail her curiosity. Her role would be vital on the work front but negligible everywhere else. She would possibly meet his family now and again—it would be downright bizarre if she didn’t, given the circumstances—but largely she would be invisible.

When Malik thought of her meeting his formidable, cold and ultra-traditional parents, he drew a blank. Best not were the words that sprang to mind.

‘Will I be involved in the interviewing procedures? Not that you want to use the term interviewing, but I can’t think of any other word to use.’

Malik burst out laughing and flashed her a glance as he settled the bill.

‘What’s so funny?’

Malik opened his mouth to quip that involvement from her would probably result in all interviewees fleeing for the hills in terror, but then he remembered the way she had looked at him with huge, hurt eyes when he had teased her about her penchant for baguettes and thought again.

‘You can use whatever word you like,’ he said gently. ‘And, no, Lucy, your talents won’t be called on when it comes to my choosing of a wife. I’ve never involved you in my personal life and I won’t be starting now.’

For a few seconds, their eyes tangled and she was the first to look away.

That’ll teach me, she thought.

They worked well together, and they had the easy familiarity of two people who shared a lot of time on a daily basis. He appreciated her talents and, she liked to think, she had a healthy ability to speak her mind without being cowed or awed.

But that was it.Beyond that, all doors were firmly locked and, if she hadn’t known it before, he had just made very sure to remind her.

All good; no room for annoying, drifting thoughts. She would have a job to do and she would make sure that it would be a job well done.