Chapter 15
DAYNA
Just dinner with a friend. That’s what I’ve agreed to.
Despite the fact I’ve been trying all day to tell myself that last night Clark and I didn’t do something more meaningful than the fuck I asked for.
Something that I felt more than physically.
That has burrowed itself in my heart and seared itself into my memory.
Something more dangerous than even Caspar Kahn.
He was a friend. He supported me, looked out for me, gave me what I asked for. Nothing more. I mean, come on, this is Clark. No matter what I may or may not have felt, it’s… Clark. I need to remember that.
My cab drives the main through-route of downtown Dubai.
The road is flanked by rows of palm trees, each lit up by twinkling lights.
We pull under a sandstone archway and into the forecourt of what looks like a palace.
The driver draws a half-circle around an extravagant six-tier water fountain and pulls up to the entrance.
A doorman helps me out, and I step onto a red carpet that leads me under a trellis roof.
Candle lanterns flicker either side of the walkway.
Fish swim in a small moat beneath my feet, illuminated by floating candles: pink, purple, white.
As grand as the city is, this restaurant is the most majestic place I’ve been in Dubai, possibly in my life.
A waitress greets me at the arched entrance, her black hair twisted into a bun and held by chopsticks, her red dress buttoned high at the neck and fitted to her petite frame.
‘I have a reservation. Under the name of Layton, I think, Clark Layton.’
‘Yes, Mr Layton is here. May I take your shawl?’
‘Please.’ I hand her the chiffon wrap I’d hung over my shoulders, covering the thin straps of my deep-blue dress, to prevent being frowned upon by the cab driver and staff.
If I’d chosen to arrive with Clark, it wouldn’t have been an issue, but I told him I’d meet him here.
I made an excuse about work, hoping he wouldn’t see through the fa?ade.
In reality, I didn’t want to have him collect me from my room at the hotel as if this is a date.
‘I’ll show you to your table. This way.’
I follow, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. I’ve been to Dubai countless times and rarely have I sat outside to dine. But tonight, the early-December air is enough to wrap around me and warm my skin without being unbearable.
‘Mr Layton requested a table by the water,’ the waitress informs me.
I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of him at a table for two on the veranda, the Burj Khalifa towering behind him.
He leans back in his chair, slightly angled towards the view of the world’s tallest building.
The top two buttons of his pale-blue shirt are unbuttoned under his blazer.
My stomach tightens, sick with nerves. This is not a date.
‘Miss, just here.’
Clark sees me, briefly running his eyes from my head to my toes. His lips turn into an earth-shattering smile and I’m cast back to my hotel room, to our eyes locked on each other’s, mouths connected, tongues entwined, swallowing each other’s moans as we orgasmed in sync.
He stands to kiss my cheek, assessing it momentarily, but I’ve covered Kahn’s temper with make-up.
As his lips meet my skin and I breathe him in – clean, spiced, him – I hold his shoulders to steady myself.
Falling in love with him feels like just yesterday.
The first look, the first touch, the first kiss, the first time he made love to me like no other man had ever done.
I knew this was a bad idea.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers.
I’m falling for you all over again.
I clear my throat, hopefully loud enough that he can’t hear my inner dark angel yearning for him, and sit down. A waiter puts two exquisite-looking cocktails down on the table – pale yellow topped with a purple flower.
‘I hope you don’t mind, I ordered you a lychee cocktail,’ Clark says. ‘They’re fantastic here.’
‘You’ve been before?’ I ask, unreasonably wounded and jealous that he might have been here with another woman in the past.
I cringe internally. Two weeks ago, he was supposed to be married.
‘Yes. On business, and I sat inside.’
He’s eyeing me in a way that makes my heart flutter. I break from his stare, taking a sip of my cocktail and scouring my menu, willing the heat in my cheeks to dissipate.
The silence feels awkward. I steal a dangerous glance and run my eyes over the skin between the hollow of his neck and the bottom of the V made by his shirt.
‘Do you mind?’ he asks, holding the lapels of his blazer.
‘No, please, don’t stand to attention for me, take them off, it off, your blazer, take your blazer off.’
Holy mother of fuck. Get a grip, Dayna.
I close my menu and sip my cocktail as he slips out of his blazer, the cotton of his shirt pulling across his firm pecs. I bite my straw without realising and end up slurping my drink.
My apology is met with a smirk.
‘You left,’ I whisper, unsure for a second whether I thought it or said it aloud.
He closes his menu and puts it down in front of him.
‘You left. The next day, the very next day, was one of the worst of my life and I wanted, needed you to hold me and tell me everything would be okay.’
He doesn’t speak, only watches me, expressionless.
‘You can’t tell me you love me now, Clark, and expect that to wipe away the past.’
‘I know.’
‘You were supposed to get married, and I just think you have a lot going on in your head. You must have. It’s not okay for you to mess with my mind and tell me you love me when I know I would be your rebound.
No, don’t speak. That’s how it is, Clark, and I can’t do that.
Even if I could forget, even if I was still… ’
‘Still what?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I won’t let you pick me up and shatter me again.’
The gentle sound of guitar music breaks my train of thought and forces me to look out to the Burj Khalifa Lake. Enrique Iglesias’s ‘Hero’ plays out across the expanse as water rises from multiple fountain heads in the middle, swaying in time to the music.
I walk to the fence, looking out to the dancing fountains. It’s so alluring it brings goose pimples to my skin. He knew about the fountains. He knew how stunning this place is. And I don’t know whether I love him or hate him for bringing me here.
I feel Clark move behind me. His hips press into my back, his hands either side of mine on the wooden rail.
‘Say you love me,’ he whispers into my ear. ‘Say you love me, and I’ll never leave again.’
God, I love him. I love him completely, unequivocally, despite knowing I really shouldn’t.
I refuse to turn and allow him to see my eyes glazed with unshed tears. ‘Why did you bring me here, Clark?’
He moves away from me, leaving my skin chilled in spite of the warm air.
I compose myself until the song ends and the water stops dancing. Then I take my seat and we order food.
‘I asked you to come here because I want one more shot at asking you not to go through with the alternative bid,’ he says, the warmth of his voice gone, as if I imagined him pressed up against me, begging me to love him, just moments ago.
‘Didn’t you hear me last night?’
‘I heard you, Dayna. But nothing is worth putting your life at risk. Nothing.’
It’s not the first time I’ve heard similar sentiment today. I’ve had a verbal bashing from Arthur too. He and Teddy are in Camp Never Going To Make A Profit together. People say like father, like son. It’s definitely true in their case.
‘Caspar is full of empty threats, Clark.’
‘How can you say that?’ His words grind through gritted teeth. He’s all but snarling at me. ‘Last night, the man broke into your room with a knife and hit you.’ He glances at his hand and the way he looks at me right after tells me he didn’t mean to.
‘How did you hurt your hand?’ I ask, rubbing a thumb across his red knuckles. He doesn’t tell me, but I know the answer. He tried to protect me. That knowledge only adds to my turmoil.
A waiter places two plates of softshell crab in front of us. I start eating. Clark doesn’t. He turns his glass in his fingers.
‘I have a proposal for you. Another way to get what you want.’
‘I’m all ears.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘Let’s go in together. You and me. SP, Layton Oil. We could make a joint bid. We’d have more money, and maybe your blending capabilities could turn us a profit.’
A waitress asks if everything is okay with our meals. I barely hear her. My attention is fixed on the man in front of me. ‘I can’t believe I fell for this, for you.’
‘What?’
I snicker, a sound that’s coated in the hurt I feel.
‘You end an engagement, just like that, and suddenly, you’re back on the scene and saying you’re interested in me.
’ I take my napkin from my lap and throw it onto the table as I stand.
‘I’ve been taken for a fool by you far too many times.
This is why you wanted to get close to me again.
You know, Clark, very little surprises me in this industry.
Oil is corrupt, the people are corrupt, but you… ’
‘Dayna, have you lost your mind?’ He stands and takes my wrist. ‘Sit down and hear me out.’
‘Take your hand off me.’
‘I’ve spent the entire day arguing with Ted over this, Dayna. I’m losing friends and hurting people because of you. And I don’t care, not if it means I keep you safe, so can you give me five goddamn minutes? Please?’
I don’t know why but I sit back down and Clark shifts his chair closer to mine.