Royally Promoted

Chapter Three

BETWEENPACKING,PANICKING, texting loads of people and conference-calling her entire family—each of whom had way too much to contribute on her sudden departure—plus sorting out stuff with the flat, Lucy still managed to devour everything she could get hold of on the Internet about Sarastan.

True to his word, Malik had personally emailed her a PDF with facts and figures about his country, and had listed things that she might like to do while she was there. She did a lot of hectic cross-checking and decided that, yes, there would be a lot to do while she was there, which helped eradicate fears about rattling around in a palace like a spare part the second her work duties were done for the day.

She realised that she had managed to omit quite a number of practical questions, but she reckoned she could sort that all out once she reached the place. In the meantime, she spent a busy week tying up all manner of loose ends in the office, and co-ordinating files that needed to be accessible should the need arise for one of the partners, whilst deciding what to pack.

Malik had opened an account for her and deposited a vast sum of money which he told her was to ‘equip herself with suitable clothing’. She had taken that to mean ‘suitable clothing’ for a very hot country, and hopefully not suitable clothing designed to ensure she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. She liked bright colours and felt that, under hot, sunny skies, bright colours would be just the ticket. If it turned out that she stood out too much, then she would revisit her choices.

For the moment...nerves decided to put in a long-overdue appearance. The novelty of her upcoming adventure had sunk in, as had the guilty pleasure of her spending spree accompanied by two of her sisters, Alice and Jess.

She would have been anxious at the airport, with a wildly different future only a matter of hours away, but she was distracted by the novelty of flying first class and luxuriated in a couple of glasses of champagne before promptly nodding off.

It wasn’t a long flight. Now, here she was with the plane descending, and suddenly it was all too real. Her stomach knotted as she strapped her seat belt, and she closed her eyes as the plane screeched to a shuddering stop on the Tarmac.

A driver would be waiting for her. She should exit the terminal and look for a long, sleek black Bentley. The journey to where they were staying would take under an hour. Malik would meet her at the house. Those were his instructions. He had also given her the registration number, although he had said Bentleys were few and far between. In fact, his family owned all five of them.

Lucy emerged from the uber-modern, crazily clean terminal in record time. Her case looked mournfully inadequate, hobnobbing with far more expensive luggage on the carousel, and she trolleyed it out into blistering early evening heat.

Every piece of literature had said that it was hot, yet nothing quite prepared her for the sauna intensity of the sun beating down on her as she screeched to a stop outside the glass doors and looked around her. The long, wide strip of road outside was lined with palm trees and, beyond the airport bustle, a distant vision of desert brought home to her just how far out of her comfort zone she was going to be here.

Lucy had done some travelling in her life: family holidays to Europe. With so many of them, money had been stretched. They had rented houses in France and been to more camp sites than she could shake a stick at.

But this felt wildly different.

Thankfully, the flowery dress she had chosen to wear for the flight, sticking to her like glue as it was, seemed acceptable. Tourists, pink-faced and sheltering under hats, were climbing into black taxis or else looking around them for their lifts, and there were locals, some in Western clothing, some in traditional robes.

Excitement momentarily displaced nerves until she spotted the Bentley and, as she hurried towards it, pulling both her cases, a driver leapt out of the car to relieve her of them. Her instinct was to launch into polite chatter, but it was clear that he was there to do a job and, after greeting her, he stepped back and spun round to head for the door.

From behind privacy glass in the splendid luxury of his car, Malik watched Lucy as she tripped behind his driver, head swinging left and right as she did her best to take everything in.

He originally hadn’t planned to meet her at the airport. With his father back from hospital, and a million things to do with the various family business concerns which had practically gone into panicked meltdown at his father’s sudden health shock, time was in short supply.

The ship had to be steadied. Many thousands depended on the stability of the Al-Rashid family, which was involved in every part of the country’s economic infrastructure. His father was an expert when it came to handling the complex network of companies. Malik handled much of the family billions, but from the London hub. Returning to Sarastan, he had quickly realised that there would be a lot of ground to cover to get up to speed with the way the vast machinery of his family’s businesses were handled here.

The thorny business of ship-steadying was going to take time. Yet, he had thought about Lucy arriving and had suddenly become restless to see her.

He’d missed her. He’d missed her input. Missed her being his right-hand helper. God knew he’d needed it over here, where rules of engagement weren’t quite the same as they were in his well-oiled set-up in London.

He opened the door and vaulted out, leaning against the car as the heat struck him with the force of a sledgehammer.

He smiled. She was wearing a flowing, bright, flowery dress buttoned all the way up. The flowers were huge and in wildly energetic colours and the dress was cinched in at the waist with a matching cloth belt. Lifting his reflective sunglasses to look at her, he absently wondered how it was that he had never noticed quite what an hourglass figure she had.

But, then again, this dress seemed designed to show it off, even though the actual style was really quite modest: below the knee, sleeves, little dainty collar...

The smile turned to a grin. For the first time in a week, he felt some of the tension oozing out of him.

‘Lucy,’ he drawled as she slowed her pace and looked at him from the opposite side of the car as his driver rushed to open the door for her. ‘Good flight? You look hot.’

Lucy hadn’t expected him.

Her mind had been drifting this way and that as she’d followed the driver. Her eyes, likewise, had been taking everything in. She’d also been sweltering and idly wondering what would happen if she fainted from the heat.

So she had the shock of her life when Malik stepped out of the car. In the space of a week, she’d somehow managed to forget just how beautiful he was. His raven-black hair was swept back and curled slightly at the collar of his shirt, a white short-sleeved shirt with an almost invisible white embroidered monogram on the front pocket. Maybe it was being out here in the blazing sun for a week, but he seemed a shade more bronzed.

And taller—which she knew was an optical illusion. Baking heat didn’t make a person grow a couple of inches. Still, she stopped dead in her tracks and, for a few seconds, her heart slowed, the heat was forgotten and breath caught in her throat.

He had shoved his sunglasses up and was looking at her with lazy amusement.

‘What are you doing here, Malik?’

She ducked into the back seat; what bliss...it was cold. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, then turned to look at him as he followed suit, slamming the door after him.

She breathed him in and felt a little unsteady.

‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she tacked on a little lamely. ‘But, now that you’re here, how’s your dad doing? It’s just brilliant that he’s back from hospital, and thanks for filling me in. Hospitals...awful places.’

‘You speak from close personal experience?’

‘Not at all, but I’ve seen enough hospital dramas.’

‘Which makes perfect sense.’

Hell, he’d missed this. There was a lot to be said for her conversational twists and turns, excellent distraction. Only now did he truly realise just how much stress he’d been under since he’d returned.

‘And how is your mother dealing with it? I know you said she’s fine, but I’ll bet she’s not. Probably making sure to keep a stiff upper lip because she doesn’t want you to get too worried. My mother is very much like that. My father, come to think of it, not at all. He’s excellent at feeling sorry for himself when he’s under the weather.’

‘It’s all under control, Lucy. Best team of medics, best consultant, best after-care.’

‘Best of everything—I’m getting the message. But still...there’s more to recuperation than the best of everything.’

‘Indeed there is,’ he replied gravely, dark eyes flicking across her face, still flushed from the heat outside.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, which had a perfect Cupid’s bow. And then drifted lower, to the cling of her dress across her full breasts. Something kicked in and his mouth tightened as he quickly looked away from a sight that was suddenly a little too tempting for his own good.

‘Sticking to business, however...part of the reason I came here is to fill you in on anything you might want to find out now that you’re actually here.’

Lucy would rather have delved into a few more questions about his family. It had been such a huge and presumably traumatic event and she marvelled that he could remain as cool as a cucumber. One of her sisters had broken her leg three years previously and Lucy had been distraught. She paled when she thought of either of her parents going into hospital.

‘It’s hotter than I expected,’ she said, focusing on the guy looking at her with brooding attention.

‘It shouldn’t be. I sent an encyclopaedia worth of information, including details about the weather.’

‘And that was extremely helpful.’ She’d tied her hair back into something that should have been a bun, but it had gradually unravelled over the course of the day, and she helped things along now by yanking off the elastic tie and shaking her head.

The car was beautifully cool and her hair wasn’t accustomed to being restricted. She failed to notice the sudden tension that rippled through Malik’s body as he took in her carefree gesture. Failed to notice the way his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared before he controlled his expression.

‘Questions?’ he reminded her, voice terser than intended.

‘Here’s one. Should I have my hair chopped off? I’m not sure this heat is going to agree with it. English heat is very different to this.’

‘Up to you. Not the sort of question I had in mind, however.’

Lucy rested her head back, half-closed her eyes and dimpled at him.

‘I know. I was just thinking out loud.’

‘Well?’

‘Are you happy to be back here?’

‘Yet another question I didn’t have in mind.’

Lucy half-opened her eyes and looked at him in silence for a few seconds.

She was tempted to probe. He was a very private guy. She knew that: knew it from the way he never, ever gave any hint of a life outside the walls of his very expensive office in London. The place was stuffed with other super-bright, highly ambitious and driven individuals, and yet even these bright and driven men occasionally talked about their partners. Some even went so far as to daringly have a few photos on their desks, which always made her smile.

But Malik was a closed book and now, out here in these circumstances, she realised that he was even more closed a book than she had imagined.

What stirred under that ridiculously gorgeous, utterly impenetrable exterior? she wondered. And not for the first time. Although sitting in this car, with him so close to her, her curiosity felt sharper. Was it because just being here, in the place where he’d been born, opened a door to the background she knew nothing about?

‘Questions, questions, questions...’ she mused, while her mind threatened to break its leash and run off.

‘Focus, Lucy,’ Malik said drily. ‘You look as though you’re a million miles away.’

‘It’s been a long day,’ she said, not untruthfully. ‘If I think about practical stuff, Malik, I do have a few questions, as it happens.’

‘Spit them out.’

‘Eating.’

‘Come again?’

‘I know my working hours are going to be the same as they are in London, but I’m not going to be heading back on the Tube for dinner in my box.’

‘Your box?’

Malik frowned and inclined his head.

‘That’s where I live. It’s a nice enough box. But, now that I’m here, what happens about breakfast and lunch and dinner...?’ Her mind played with the alarming thought of sharing those times with him then she told herself that that would actually be the last thing he would want. That dinner he had taken her to before he’d left had been a one-off for purely practical reasons. Making a habit of it wasn’t going be on the agenda—thank goodness.

‘They’ll be provided for.’ His voice bordered on bewildered. ‘My place isn’t in the centre of the city. Of course, I have a suite of rooms there, but where we’ll be staying is on the outskirts. You won’t be able to stroll in for a baguette every lunchtime.’

‘I wouldn’t expect there to be baguettes for lunch, Malik.’

‘I have staff. They’ll be in charge of everything. They take care of everything to do with the palace and personal chefs handle the food. Some work will be done on the premises, of course, and as I’ve said everything is in place in that regard.’

Outside, the car was eating up the miles. Questions could wait a while. He nodded to the city as they approached it and began giving her some historic information about it. Lucy listened and stared out at a flashing panorama of soaring glass skyscrapers and pavements so clean she could probably have eaten her dinner off them.

‘I know a bit about the history of the area,’ she said, more to herself than to him, because she was squinting outside into fast-fading light.

‘You do?’

‘One of my sisters studied history at university, and Sarastan was one of the countries she focused on.’

Silence fell, which Lucy only noticed as they city began disappearing behind them, consumed by vast open space and the darkness of dunes as mysterious as the ocean.

‘What does said sister do now?’ Malik asked mildly. ‘Lecturer?’

‘Gosh, no. That’s my mum. Jess became a lawyer.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘I’m beginning to feel the toll all this travel has taken,’ she murmured, closing her eyes. ‘I’m not accustomed to this. All far too exciting for me.’

‘And what about your other sisters?’

‘Law, accountancy, medicine... My dad’s a doctor.’

Lucy was barely paying attention to what she was saying. Exhaustion was settling over her like a cloud, stifling her thoughts and making her limbs heavy and lazy.

Her sharp consciousness of him next to her was fading under the weight of her own tiredness.

‘And you?’ Malik asked softly. ‘Never tempted by university?’

Lucy’s eyes flew open. She straightened and looked at him.

Just like that, the sun seemed to explode into sunset and then disappear into darkness. She was gazing out of the window, and his dark, deep voice was actually quite lulling as he told her about his country. Her body felt slack and the coolness inside the car was making her drowsy.

When he began to explain about his centuries-old culture, it was natural to confide that her sister had mentioned some of it to her on their shopping spree. Jess had been fascinated and envious and had asked her to try and get hold of some souvenirs. She was half-smiling at the memory of the conversation as she chatted to him. But his question shook her right out of her drowsiness. ‘Sorry?’

‘All your sisters went to university, so why not you? I don’t believe you ever told me.’

His dark eyes glittered, and Lucy could feel hot colour creep into her cheeks.

She thought about her broken heart. She thought about the pain of everything that had happened that had made her walk away from the life that had been set in stone for her.

‘Well?’ Malik prompted. ‘Don’t tell me it’s because you’re not as clever as the rest of your family. I know what you’re capable of.’

‘I don’t have to tell you anything, Malik.’ Lucy’s voice was sharp and cold.

Even in the dark, she could see his astonishment at the sharpness of her voice. It was so uncharacteristic of her. For once, she felt the true gaping differences between them. She might joke but she worked hard. She might challenge him but always within limits, and she was always ready to back away should she, as he sometimes told her, ‘go beyond her brief’.

This tone of voice was a first. She had no idea how to break the impasse as the silence stretched between them to breaking point. One thing was for sure—she wasn’t going to delve into this slice of her past. Not with him, not with anyone. It was her dark, sad secret and not one to be shared.

Would she ever share it? Maybe one day. Maybe if she found someone she could trust.

‘You...you never said...’ She cleared her throat and gathered her scattered wits. ‘How does your father feel about returning to...er...work? Is he as much of a workaholic as you are? You, well, you never said...’

For a few seconds, she wondered whether he was going to answer. She could feel his lazy, intent stare burning a hole through her composure. She had to fight the urge to babble on about something and nothing just to put an end to the charge that had suddenly gathered in the space between them.

He did her a favour when he lowered his eyes.

‘Nothing has been determined on that front,’ he murmured. ‘Early days, as you must know, having seen so many hospital dramas. The consultant, the recuperation, the bracing words of advice...you’re probably better equipped than I am to predict what’s going to happen next.’

The mood suitably lightened, Lucy relaxed and burst out laughing. ‘I am quite knowledgeable on a range of various situations and their outcomes.’ She grinned.

‘I’m sure you are.’

They chatted. Questions of a practical nature were temporarily put on hold. However, Malik’s antennae were on red-alert: so open, so transparent...a woman with nothing to hide. Or so he had thought.

But he’d hit a nerve and, having hit that nerve, he was suddenly keen to discover more.

This time, when he looked at her from under thoughtful, brooding lashes, his gaze was laser-sharp. She had the body of a siren. A guy would have to be blind not to notice lush curves like the ones she had. Something about that dress had managed to reveal just enough to tease—enough for distant alarm bells to start ringing.

And now...there was a story lurking behind the fact that she’d not been to university. What?

Malik had never indulged in curiosity when it came to women. That was a road that either led to exploring a past they might wish to share in which he had little interest, or to a future about which they might wish to conjecture but in which he had even less interest. He was a guy who preferred the enjoyable business of living in the present when it came to his relationships. Back in that distant time when reason had been lost to insanity, in the first flush of love and lust he’d actually contemplated what a future with Sylvie might look like, fool that he’d been then.

Never again. But now...he wondered.

‘There.’

He pointed ahead of them and Lucy blinked at the impressive spectre of a palace slowly materialising in the distance. Darkness had fallen and out here, with the city lights behind them, it was deep and velvety, blanketing everything. The rolling sand dunes were interspersed with patches of trees but, as they drew closer to the palace, those dunes were replaced by carpets of grass, and the palm trees that clustered here and there were planted in rigid lines to form an avenue through which they now drove.

She fell back and stared. When he had told her that he lived in a palace, she had instantly conjured up something reasonably contained with multiple turrets. She could distinctly remember something of the sort in the cartoons she used to watch as a kid: tall and ivory-pale with small windows and lots and lots of turrets, often containing witches.

This was on a different scale altogether. It was illuminated and, against a backdrop of utter darkness, there was something ethereal about the sight. It sprawled, embracing a courtyard in front which was as vast as a park. Pillars and columns dissected a procession of windows, and gracing the centre of the structure was a multiple-domed rotunda. It was a thing of elegance and beauty.

‘That’s yours?’

‘It belongs to the Al-Rashid family. I did tell you that there was no risk of us crowding one another. Now you can see how it can be used for accommodation and workspace for a substantial amount of people.’

‘It’s huge, Malik.’

‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve never done a room count, but I’d say a minimum of twenty-five bedrooms, excluding various suites. So, yes...substantial.’

‘Well, that’s an understatement if ever there was one.’

She dragged awe-struck eyes away to look at him. Maybe for the first time she truly appreciated the depth of his wealth and the extreme privilege in which he had been raised. For the first time, she could see why he would consider an arranged marriage to a woman of equally noble standing.

‘I get it,’ she said quietly.

Leaning against the seat, legs spread, hands resting loosely on his thighs, Malik returned that pensive gaze with a speculative one of his own.

‘Tell me what you get.’

‘I get why you would want an arranged marriage,’ she said slowly. ‘All of this...’ she gestured to the magnificent, pale spectacle nearing them ‘...would be too much for anyone ordinary. You would have to marry a woman who was accustomed to it.’

‘You think so?’ Malik murmured. ‘Point of order, I agree with you, but even so...you don’t think an ordinary woman would be able to cope?’

‘I don’t think any ordinary woman would want to!’ She broke the sudden serious silence with a burst of laughter. ‘Personally? Give me a two-up, two-down any day of the week!’

She looked away, just in time to see the imposing front door opened by a man in uniform and from behind him came more of the same.

When her cornflower-blue eyes briefly turned to meet his, they confirmed what she had just said: no ordinary woman would want this.