CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVEN
THIS WAS FUN .
In the shower, Val dropped her sponge three times before she gave up and let hot water cascade down on her back and shoulders. She was tired—every bone in her body ached, it seemed—but she’d also never felt so alive. Her body thrummed with a lot of things, but none of it was regret.
Yes, she’d been impulsive, immature, unprofessional even, but it had been nearly a decade since she’d done something for herself in this way. Since she’d given in to what she wanted without considering the consequences. Had it been worth it?
The tingle between her legs suggested that it had been very much worth it. Val began to scrub herself vigorously in small circles on her smooth brown skin. It was startling to feel so different and yet look exactly the same. But she was the same, she told herself sternly. She would emerge from the bathroom. She would put on one of her plain work outfits and do her job. Desmond would do his and there would likely never be any reason for them to interact again.
She’d be safe . And if she had been as prudent with her husband as she was being today, she’d have saved herself a whole lifetime of hurt.
Val watched grimly as the bubbles slid toward the drain, then stepped out of the shower. She dried herself, hung the towel up and went through her usual routine—a generous slathering of baby oil, a generous spritz of apple-vanilla perfume, and as if to make up for her behavior the night before, she dragged on the most forbidding of her wool work dresses, one with long tight sleeves and a stiff linen collar. A glance at the clock told her she’d barely taken fifteen minutes to get ready. She wouldn’t even be late to see Hind this morning. She shouldered her bag, making a point of not looking at the disheveled bed behind her, and opened the door. What she saw turned her blood to ice.
There was Desmond, talking animatedly and Hind, with a silver tray in her hands.
And Sheikh Rashid, looking angrier than she’d ever seen him.
No, not angry. The man’s face was florid with rage. She registered dimly that Desmond was trying to placate the older man, but she was too shocked to pick up more than a word or two. The few she did register landed like lead weights in her brain.
Appalling. Unprofessional. Disgrace.
What did he think happened? Well, that much was clear. He’d likely seen a very disheveled-looking Desmond Tesfay emerge from her room this morning, and his daughter—who in his eyes was young and impressionable and innocent—had spent the day with him.
Val didn’t have a single word with which to defend herself.
“Val,” Hind was saying, and the girl tugged her hand. Val meekly allowed herself to be steered back into her room, and Hind shut the door on the two men. The sheikh’s voice faded away, and Hind, her eyes as round and glistening as the enormous diamond solitaires she wore, thrust the tray in her direction.
“Baba marched me down here to apologize for ditching you last night,” she said. “Apparently someone saw me coming in and snitched, but we saw Desmond coming out of your room. What…?”
At the confirmation of her worst fears, Val covered her burning face. She would not give in to the final humiliation of crying in front of her charge, however desperately she wanted to.
“You and Desmond Tesfay ?” Hind’s voice was high with incredulity. “But you’re so—”
Proper? Boring? Old? They were all possibilities, and each one was worse than the last, as well as being completely true. “That’s enough, Hind,” Val said sharply, somehow summoning her professional tone even though her body was hot with embarrassment. “You did plenty yourself last night.”
“And it’s all forgotten now, thanks to you!” the girl said almost gleefully. “Baba’s going to kill you. But Desmond Tesfay, Val. I mean, really .”
Val closed her eyes, willing Hind out of the room. The girl had no idea.
“I wonder what they’re saying,” Hind said. Val opened her eyes in time to see Hind pressing an ear on the door. A hard knock nearly made her tumble to the ground, and she scrambled backward as the sheikh and Desmond entered the room. The man’s face was as hard and cold as granite.
Val bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to show no emotion. He would fire her and cancel her visa. Her years of careful client cultivation in the Gulf would be lost with this death blow to her reputation. And her debt… What about her debt?
“I am extremely disappointed in you, Val,” said Sheikh Rashid.
Of course he was. “Sir—”
The sheikh held up one hand to silence her, his expression darkening. “You not only carried on a relationship behind my back, but you went as far as to marry—”
A marriage? What?
“—without my knowledge!”
Her eyes darted to Desmond; he was looking at her steadily.
Don’t say anything , his expression seemed to command.
“At the very least I would have expected you to tell me that your circumstances were likely to change. I consider you a part of my household, Val. And you not only carried on with this relationship behind my back, but you didn’t allow me to celebrate you as I should have!”
Val was dimly aware of Desmond coming to her side, his hand seeking hers. “I told her not to, Your Excellency. I felt it would be a conflict of interest, given I was actively seeking your business.”
Sheikh Rashid’s eyes were darting back and forth between their faces. “How did you even meet ?”
“You and I have been in talks for over a year, Sheikh Rashid,” Desmond said blandly. “In the early days I spent quite a bit of time in your magnificent waiting rooms. She came in with Hind one day and was kind enough to direct me through the labyrinth of rooms, and by the time I emerged I was so enchanted that I invented a cousin in need of her tutoring services. By the time she’d figured out my ruse…”
Val closed her eyes. She was going to be struck dead at any second, she was sure, because this story was growing more outrageous by the moment. She would even welcome it, at this point; at least it would make him stop talking!
“…and that’s it. We got married in the courts about a month ago. We’d planned the white wedding for sometime next year, or even later, and we were going to announce it officially, then. Val is so dedicated to her duties and she didn’t want to abandon Hind until she was ready to leave for university.”
“I had no idea. She gives nothing away, I swear.”
“Can I be a bridal attendant?”
“I flew to New Orleans to meet her parents, and if you think it’s hot in the Gulf …”
The conversations were melding into one. Val was having an out-of-body experience and watched herself accept hearty congratulations from Sheikh Rashid and soft but effusive kisses from Hind. She saw herself give her arm to Desmond and allowed herself to be steered away from Hind and her father, who was smiling now. Desmond ushered her further back into her room and whispered rapidly in her ear.
“Sorry to spring that on you,” he said, his English accent growing crisper with every word. “But you know how particular they are in Bahr Al-Dahab about contact between unmarried men and women, and too much was at risk. Your job, my deal…”
“And this was the best way to handle with it?” Val countered. She groped behind her until she found the single guest chair in the room, and sank into it. “I’m— But— What— You did it so easily ! That outrageous story!”
“Yes,” said Desmond. Something hardened in his face, something that took away the youthfulness completely, something that made ice creep up Val’s spine. Ambition. She’d seen that look before and knew what it meant to have her life—her happiness—be dependent upon it.
There was nothing more ruthless than an ambitious man. You’d always come second to it.
That was what had got her into the biggest trouble of her life in the first place, and here she was again, swept away by passion, then trapped in a web of her own impulsive foolishness.
“I’m not going to apologize for lying,” Desmond said. He lifted his broad shoulders and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. That beautiful, lush mouth of his had tightened into a line. “Not when it could lose me everything I’ve been working to achieve. I’ve been trying to break into the Middle East market for years. This has more far-reaching effects than you could possibly imagine, Val. And this way you get to keep your job and your reputation.”
His patronizing words were more than she could take. She stood abruptly and crossed to the wide windows overlooking Mayfair, pressing her forehead against the glass. The Sheikh and Hind were still talking rapidly together by the door to the hotel room and the tiny room was suddenly stifling in its opulence.
“It doesn’t have to be for long, Val,” he said quietly as he came over and joined her. “A few parties, a few dinners, a handful of social events. Once the contract is signed, we’ll go our separate ways. Discreetly.”
Yes, everything had an easy answer when you were young and handsome and had nothing to think about but your deals. She felt her shoulders drooping, forfeiting the posture she usually fought so hard to maintain.
Desmond drew close and placed a hand on her lower back. “You look tired.”
“Well, I didn’t sleep much, and I have to admit to my employer that this whole fairy tale you concocted is a scam and I will lose my job and my visa—.”
“What? No, Val. I thought we talked about this!”
“No. You talked about it, and decided that you’d fixed everything,” Val responded hotly. Desmond looked up at her harsh tone, so her next words were softer, though no less forceful in their intent. “Well, you don’t know anything. And even if I wanted to go along with this madness, Desmond, I couldn’t.”
“Because you’re so moral ,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes.
“No, Desmond.” Val’s mouth curved, ironically, even as her stomach twisted so much it hurt. “Because I’m already married !”
* * *
“I can’t imagine what you have to tell me that would justify making me a co-adulterer without my consent!” Desmond hissed.
Val was sitting across from him in a ludicrously powder-pink chair, and the two of them were speaking in hushed, rather vicious whispers across the round marble table, where an opulent spread for afternoon tea in a private room at Claridge’s sat untouched between them. It was the first moment they’d had alone since she’d dropped her bomb earlier in the day. Right after she’d said it, Hind had come in and dragged Val off to work, and Desmond realized belatedly that he didn’t even have the woman’s number .
His next opportunity to speak to Val came that afternoon. Hind, who’d arranged this happy little gathering to toast the couple, was on a video call in the lobby that certainly wouldn’t last forever. They were utilizing this opportunity to row very well, though. In the time he’d known her—which, granted, had been less than twenty-four hours—he’d never seen her so enraged.
“You never said a word!” Desmond continued. “Not one word!”
“ It just—never seemed like the right time! I was in the moment,” she defended herself.
“You certainly were,” he muttered, then gritted his teeth. The conversation was growing more ridiculous by the moment, and he just couldn’t reconcile the soft, yielding woman who’d kissed him and looked at him with such wonder the night before with the type of person that would sleep with him, knowing she was married .
“If you’d get off your moral high horse for just a moment, I could explain.” Val’s voice had grown frayed.
Moral high horse? Ha!
“I haven’t seen him in over eight years. And no, I don’t know where he is. We were living in Dubai at the time, and he…left me.”
“Left you,” Desmond repeated, looking keenly into her face. It was tight and very carefully controlled and there was a pinched line between her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“He left me,” she repeated. “Technically I could file for divorce on the grounds of desertion. No, I haven’t talked to him since then, and yes, he’s still alive. His family confirmed that much, although they won’t say a word about where he is. And frankly, I don’t want to find him. Not at this point.”
The words hung between them for a long moment then Desmond sank back into his chair, his fury spent. “Huh.”
Val pressed her knees together and leaned forward, decanting steaming amber tea into both their cups. Her hand was shaking. “Lemon? Milk?”
“Neither.” He winced when she picked up her cup and took a long sip; she didn’t seem to notice the heat that probably would have burned off the tip of his tongue. “Val.”
She said nothing and didn’t look up. Her lashes cast shadows over her soft brown cheeks; he forced himself not to notice. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you have known?” she said. Desmond was struck with a sudden urge to hold her; to comfort her. There was some element in her that roused his protectiveness—maybe he’d sensed the sadness in her.
“Would you do me the honor of letting me sympathize with you, at least?” he said after a moment. He picked up his own tea and took a less aggressive sip.
“First of all, you’re about eight years too late. And second of all, no sympathy’s needed. It was a long time ago,” she said. “And it’s irrelevant, anyway. What’s relevant is that you’ve put me in the most appalling position, Desmond Tesfay. I can’t make this much money anywhere else in the world, and I… I need it.”
Her voice broke a little over that last hesitation. Desmond wanted to find out why, but she continued before he could open his mouth.
“I have…debts to pay. Lots of them. Financially I’ll be where I need to be in about three years, if I keep working for the sheikh. He’s got cash to burn. But if I lose my job… Everyone knows everyone in these circles, Desmond, and if I mess up with one employer then I’ve lost them all.”
The despair in her voice pricked at a soft place inside that he thought impenetrable by any entreaty; he’d been so hyperfocused on his own troubles for such a long time that he’d long since pushed aside close relationships. How could he share in another’s burdens, when his own were crushing him?
“I cannot lose Sheikh Rashid’s good opinion,” she said. “He’s done so much for me already.”
There it was again, that regard for the older man that niggled at him in ways he had no right to feel. Desmond took a long, calming breath, one that allowed him to regain full control over his faculties, then leaned forward, picked up a pair of silver tongs, and began loading a fine china plate with some of the more mouth-watering titbits on the table. “I bet you haven’t eaten since this morning.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m here to listen. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’d like to help. If I can.”
There. He’d said it.
It was the first time in ten years he’d offered to help anyone when there was nothing in it for him. First, he’d asked the woman to let him stay with her, and now this?
What the hell was Valentina Montgomery doing to him?
He dropped his eyes to the plate he was arranging and discovered he’d piled enough sandwiches on it to feed a small horse. Hurriedly he decanted half back onto the serving tray and handed her the plate.
“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”
She shook her head quickly to cut him off. “No. It’s fine. I want to.”