by Alam, Donna
‘What are you doing here?’ His words are loaded with a quiet menace, much more threatening than a whisper should ever seem.
‘I like art,’ she simpers coquettishly. ‘And you forgot our Friday.’ Her eyes touch mine like lightening as she exhales a brittle laugh. ‘Did I really mean so little to you?’ With a seductive sway, she draws nearer. ‘Habibi, you expect me to just step aside, pretend we meant nothing at all?’
‘Yes, because that’s exactly what it was, Sofia. Nothing. You need to leave.’ A harsh and intractable order she ignores, as like a cat, she slinks closer still.
‘Introduce me to your little friend,’ she purrs, her tone winding around us like a tiger’s tail, her hand sliding around his arm. ‘I’ve missed you, and you know I don’t mind sharing. Three has never been a crowd in your bed.’
‘This is over,’ he growls, untangling himself without even a glance in my direction. ‘If you answered your phone, or spoke to your assistant, you would have saved us this scene.’
‘You can’t mean that.’ Her eyes are venomous. ‘Darling, not for . . . for . . . vanille!’
‘This never should have begun.’
‘But . . . you need me. When you have family in Riyadh—’ The look on her face morphs instantly, from panic to knowledge, or possibly power. Her demeanour altered, the tension in her posture seems to fall away. ‘This is a secret, no?’
Kai’s shoulders rise and relax as he exhales a disinterested sigh. ‘If I weren’t already ignoring what you were saying out of a sense of deep repulsion, I might actually give a fuck.’ He sounds almost bored. A tactic he uses well.
‘Tu récoltes ce que tu sèmes—’
‘Ta Gueule!’ he yells, startling us both. ‘Je m’en fous!’ The noise reverberates around the stark hall, echoing off the bare wattle walls. I don’t know what it means but by the look on her face, it’s not something you’d say to your mother. Curious eyes turn to our trio, eyebrows raised at the vulgar scene. ‘Rashid will help you find your driver.’ His tone returns to boredom as the taciturn man appears at her side.
‘Va te faire foutre,’ she snarls, her accent more pronounced. Her eyes shine with fury, as with one last penetrating look in my direction, she storms away, Rashid following at a distance.
‘Well, that was—’ I raise my chin aiming for disdain but as my mouth wobbles, I give in. ‘I think I’ll go home.’
‘Of course,’ Kai murmurs, reaching for my hand as I snatch it away, bringing it to my chest.
‘You probably need to stay. I’ll get a cab.’ Choose me, my mind chants the unspoken request.
‘No.’ He grips my forearms tightly, causing me to start. ‘No,’ he repeats softer. ‘Please. Let me take you home.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
The journey home is an uncomfortable one, a ribbon of melancholy weaving through the silence of the car. I want to hear him deny her, need his reassurance, but the questions remain balled in my throat.
‘I’ll call when I’m ready,’ he directs Rashid as we pull alongside my building. I open the door without waiting. I want to get this over with, a quick escape to lick my wounds, but his hand is on my arm before I can step out.
‘Wait, please.’
‘Just let me go.’ I won’t look at him, won’t let the straining tears fall.
‘You don’t want me to come in?’
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ My head is rigid, eyes unseeing beyond the window. As he murmurs something low in Arabic, Rashid steps from the car without a word.
‘Please.’ His voice is as soft and compelling as his hand on my arm. I lean back against the seat, eyes closed in a moment of tear taming. ‘She and I . . .’
His hand hovers over my own in indecision as a traitorous drop rolls down my cheek.
‘I don’t want to know,’ I lie, biting my lip, determined not to do this, to not let him see me cry. I want to appear grown up, like a sophisticated woman of the world, or at least what I think this mythical creature looks like.
No promises were made so why does this hurt?
‘Sof—it means nothing. It meant nothing. I thought we were both on the same page.
I’ve heard this line before. Why do they think it’ll help? Blood pounds in my ears as I open my eyes. He rubs a rough hand through his hair but doesn’t look at me. Instead, resting his elbows on his knees, he drags a hand down his face. ‘It was never serious. She has a husband and that suited me fine.’
‘You’re not doing yourself any favours here,’ I whisper. Fuck, adultery.
‘You don’t understand.’
‘I think that’s supposed to be her line.’
Determined not to look at him, I shake my head, irritated with myself, trying hard to refuse to acknowledge my sadistic curiosity. The craving to hear every dirty, sordid detail to torture myself with. I close my eyes and screw them tight against the imagining, desperate to resist the images flooding my brain.
I have an odd and sudden sense of dislocation as his hand touches mine, opening my eyes to his long, elegant fingers resting over mine. Fingers that know the ways of my body. Fingers that have stroked my insides.
‘If it’s over, why was she there?’
‘Playing games, curiosity, I don’t know. I called her house, went to her office but she refused to see me, didn’t return my calls. She knew, Kate. She had to know. I haven’t seen her or, since you and I . . . I was supposed to be meeting her . . . our first night at the hotel—’
‘That I don’t want to hear.’ Acid rises, squalid fingertips pulling at my throat. I snatch the handle of the door. He was on his way to see her, fresh from the shower, damp and smelling fantastic. I let him fuck me, allowed myself to be used. Was I just more convenient?
‘No—I was going to end it that night—I was on my way. Then I saw you.’ His hands grasp my shoulders, words a fervent plea. ‘I couldn’t believe it. I was so happy to see you, ecstatic that you trusted enough to come back to the room. Don’t punish me for something that happened before you.’
‘I have to go.’ Out of the car, my steps falter at his next words.
‘Kate, the things I feel for you, I have no name for.’
‘Just . . . just . . . give me some time.’ I half turn my head over my shoulder. I should hate myself but instead, I’m numb. And what? Want him still.
‘I have to go away for a few days, for business. Riyadh. Will you see me when I get back?’ His voice is soft and hesitant, his eyes unreadable in the dark interior of the car.
‘Maybe,’ I whisper.
I take another step and refuse to look back.
Dropping my purse to the floor, I kick off my shoes with a savageness they don’t deserve, throwing myself across the bed fully clothed. Words and insinuations whirl through my head. My god, wasn’t learning this lesson once painful enough?
Moving to Dubai was supposed to be an escape from humiliation and heartache, a chance to be made over. A fresh start, not a repeat. But I couldn’t have anticipated Kai, six feet plus of hot, gorgeous and filthy, twisting my mind and body into complicated knots. Around him, my willpower, good sense and defences seem to turn to dust. And, against all my good intentions, and no matter what I tell myself, I think I’ve fallen in love.
But can I—should I—trust him? And why would I risk putting myself through this again? Unfinished and dislocated words swirl around me, my head a riot of conflicting thought. That he says he feels for me, but can’t give those emotions a name, no matter how many times I try, I can’t put a positive spin on that.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I begin to sob.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The dark-tinted window accentuates the smear of tiredness beneath my eyes, my reflection staring back at me, weary and morose.
The intercom had sounded as normal this morning, alerting me to the arrival of my cab. Only, on reaching the door of the building, Kai’s high-end Mercedes was parked in its place. For one mad moment, my heart swelled. Fleeting glimpses o
f his taking me in his arms, images disappearing in an instant as Rashid stepped from the car.
‘Mr Khalfan’s instructions,’ he’d said quietly, opening the rear passenger door. ‘I’ve cancelled your cab, madam. I am to be at your service until his return.’
‘How kind.’ The words sounded more like a retort, my heart aching at the mention of his name. Nonetheless, I’d slid inside.
As always, I have to clock-in at school but this morning I take exception. This is supposed to be a place of learning, not a place of keeping tabs. Arab time may be pretty relaxed, but we’re all grownups here, responsible for children as well as ourselves. It’s not even a digital clock but a huge metal monstrosity, a primitive machine branding cards and sometimes fingers. It does so today, the icing on my black day.
Huda’s head doesn’t rise as I walk by her open office door, even the usually affable Baby avoids my eye. I don’t have time to wonder why as Arwa calls me into her room.
‘Please sit down.’ She gestures me to the chair opposite hers, her massive desk in between.
My words are delivered with a half-held breath. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Perhaps you can answer that better than I.’
I make a gesture of bewilderment as the air-conditioning turns over, a susurrus of air moving wisps of her untucked hair. She slides both hands around her face, tucking away the stray curls with a sigh.
‘I don’t wish to pry but try to understand my position, if you will. I have a school full of impressionable young girls and parents to placate.’ My eyes find hers wary as she inhales a deep breath, straightening in her chair. ‘It has been brought to my attention that you have arrived at school several times in a car, in fact, several different cars. Now, what you do outside of school hours is none of my business, but this school and its teachers, as guardians, have a reputation to uphold.’
I almost want to laugh, my eyebrows taking up residence in my hairline. ‘I’m not allowed to travel to school in multiple cars? Most of those cars are taxis by the way . . .’ My words trail off as I realise where this is going. ‘But we’re not talking about taxis, are we?’
Her hands open for a brief moment, as though holding an invisible book. ‘Let’s be frank. Kais Al Khalfan is responsible for your transport to school. His cars have very distinctive number plates, it’s hard not to notice. The higher a person’s stature, the smaller and more memorable the plate, it seems. This . . . relationship is a terrible idea. I’m sorry, but I can’t say more than that.’
In the absence of knowing how I should react, I ask, ‘Is this an official warning?’
She shakes her head but doesn’t speak, relying on an eloquent look instead.
‘Then I have nothing to say beyond I agree. You shouldn’t pry.’
I’m rising with the desire of appearing an island of dignity and calm, until I inadvertently hook the handle of my purse around the arm of the chair. Its contents careen through the air; diary, phone, loose change and a neon-pink feather-topped pen scatter across her desk.
Arwa stands quite suddenly, laying her hand over mine as I lean across the desk, scrambling to gather my stuff. ‘It’s not just the school I’m concerned about, my dear.’
Turning over my hand, she folds the filigree nipple clamp into my fingers.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘Here’s to seeing double, living single and testing negative!’ With an impish grin, Niamh tips the liquid down the back of her throat.
‘Amen to that.’ I sip the froth from my own freshly poured glass, bubbles tickling the inside of my nose.
I’m in the mood to get absolutely hammered after the day I’ve had. Schools are always a hotbed of gossip, but it’s no fun when you’re the topic. Hushed voices as I’d passed in the corridor, funny looks and words whispered behind hands. Yep, I’m glad today is done. Plus, a bit of Dutch courage might also aid my resolve to keep ignoring Kai’s calls. I have no desire to repeat to him my earlier words to Rashid. Collect me in the morning? Fuck that.
My iPod plays an eclectic mix as Niamh lowers herself across my bed. She’d arrived earlier toting a bottle of bubbles, almost as though possessing a sixth sense. The bottle, now nearly empty, stands on the dresser as she rummages through a pile of clean laundry dumped on the bed.
‘Do you fancy a drink down at the marina?’
‘One drink, bucket-sized, please.’
‘Like that, is it? You didn’t happen to find my purple top, did you? Take it by accident when you were staying at mine?’
‘Purple brings out the veins in my eyes.’
‘Only when you’ve been drinking,’ she quips. ‘What the feck are these?’
With an expression best described as devilish and not at all confused, she holds up my satin bow-peeping bra, the slightly kinky gift from Kai. I make to grab it from her as she jumps from the bed, holding it against her chest as she begins mouthing a cheesy porn-style soundtrack while gyrating her hips.
‘You little fecking deviant! What happened to knickers with Monday through Sunday printed on the front?’ Flicking the bra onto the bed, she throws her arms around my shoulders. ‘I’m guessing a certain tall, dark and smokin’ bought you these?’ Grabbing the matching knickers from the pile, she begins to turn them in the air above my head in an attempt to make sense of the design. ‘Where the feck do you put your legs?’
‘How about I pour you a nice glass of piss off?’ Lifting the near empty bottle, I top up her glass and hand it to her.
She drops the underwear back to the bed with a snigger. ‘You’re so easy to wind up. In knickers, too, by the look of things.’ Transferring her attention to the hair straighteners on my nightstand, she touches the end tentatively. ‘Ow, shit! Do I sense trouble in paradise?’
‘Hello? Heating for a half hour? And we had a bit of a row.’ I mutter the latter, embarrassment retracting from my cheeks as I shove the offending underwear under a pile of t-shirts. ‘The woman at brunch I told you about? I met her. Seems they had a . . . thing.’
One hand on her hip, the other jabs the straighteners in my direction. ‘That’s brutal, babes. You think he’s been stringing you along? He’d better not have, or I’ll—’
‘No.’ I sigh, discerning at this moment that’s exactly what I think. So far I haven’t proved myself to be a great judge of character, but I can’t believe that he’s had the time, let alone the desire, to screw someone else. But I’ve been wrong before. ‘Not really,’ I add, ‘but I’m still pretty pissed off. She said I was vanilla. D’you suppose she meant tasteless?’ I flip my hand, making light of the comment. ‘I mean, it was definitely an insult, but I think I’m probably something more with nuts.’
Niamh’s mouth drops open before she closes it with a snap, her neck flushing red.
‘What did Kai say?’
‘I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think I’m bland. He seemed cut-up about it all, but not like he’d been caught out or anything. And to guild my day, someone at work seems to have found out. About Kai, I mean. I was hauled into the office. It felt like I’d been caught pashing behind the bike sheds.’
‘Pashing?’ she asks, momentarily confused. ‘Oh, you mean snogging. Yeah, they’re funny like that out here. Big on morality. No nooky before marriage and all that.’
‘Can we not talk about it for at least, I don’t know, say several more drinks?’
‘Sure, but just give me the word and I’ll go stamp on his head if need be.’
I smile half-heartedly and reach for my glass. ‘And in other developments . . .’
‘Christ, what else?’
‘My mum called to pass on Shane’s profuse apology a few days ago.’
Releasing the section of hair in her fingers, she lays the straighteners down, coming to sit next to me on the bed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
I knew that’d get her attention.
‘She apologized for him. Said he’s only human.’
‘Sub-human, you mean. What kind of fucker ch
eats on the woman he’s supposed to be marrying? Of all the . . . he got your ma to call with an apology?’
‘Yeah. And she did.’
Astounded, she slowly shakes her head. She really never understood the relationship I have with my mum. Must be nice to be loved unconditionally.
‘Well, hun, it’s a good job you’ve got good taste in friends. And shoes,’ she says, pointing down to my Vampanado’s.
Yeah, I’ve got them on again. I think it’s called shoe lust. I glance down at my bondage high heels. They do look fab with these black cigarette pants, if I do say so myself.
‘I do hope I picked a good one this time, bloke I mean.’
‘A good looking one, for sure. Speaking of that spectacular looking specimen, where did you say he’s gone?’ She turns her attention back to her hair.
‘Riyadh.’ I sigh, readjusting the straps on my vertiginous shoes.
‘You don’t have to worry about him there. Pulling in Saudi must be like a lucky dip. For blokes, anyway. What do you think?’ She stands, smoothing the hem of her dress against her long thighs.
‘You mean ‘cos the women all cover?’
‘That’s just the start of it. Well?’
‘What?’
‘Focus, hun.’ She indicates her dress with a hand. ‘Does this say sophisticated and flirty or for fifty Euro’s y’can come in my bum?’
I’m just gobsmacked. Or maybe her gob just needs a smack.
‘Grab seats at the bar?’ Niamh suggests as we enter the darkened area and sitting would be fantastic. These shoes weren’t really made for walking, and the further away I am from the dance floor, the better as far as I’m concerned. Dancing is bad enough, but dancing in these shoes? Not if I can help it.
‘Yeah, I’m easy.’
‘That’s how you bag a rich man, is it?’ she guffaws, her hand on my shoulder. ‘Spread your love around!