Chapter Two
“Here you go.”
Pip yelped and jumped in surprise as the large file of papers landed squarely on her desk and scattered her yellow paper notes. She shot a glance up at Jumal’s dark eyes. “Some light bedtime reading. Enough to keep even you out of trouble.”
“What is it?” she asked, looking back briefly at the ominous large file.
“The Dubai contract. Faridah dropped it in earlier and she’ll be contacting you tomorrow to set up the meetings.”
“Joy,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Sorry, what was that?” Jumal pressed.
“Nothing,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “So what do you need me to do?”
He paused briefly as if considering his next words. “I want a summary of the salient points on my desk tomorrow morning.”
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop her mouth from dropping open goldfish style as she discreetly tried to glance at her watch. It was already ten o’clock at night.
“Wha—” She shut her mouth—even she knew when to quit and this was clearly punishment for her earlier joke. The man obviously had no sense of humour. In fact, come to think of it, she hadn’t even seen him crack a smile with a colleague in the few months she’d been here. He was so serious—a prime candidate for a stress-induced heart attack.
“Fine,” she said, putting her hands up as she accepted defeat. “I always struggle to get to sleep. This is just the ticket.”
“Good. You ready to go home? I think we’ve worked late enough. Looks like we’re the last ones here,” he noticed, glancing around the empty office. “I’ll drop you at home on the way.”
“Oh, don’t put yourself out,” she mumbled not even trying to hide her sarcasm but then winced at his ice-cold stare.
“Okay, okay, thanks,” she conceded shutting down her laptop.
“Here.” She was startled as Jumal took hold of her jacket and held it open for her arms. She quickly grabbed her bag and the file.
“Lead on, chauffeur,” she added, mischievously.
He simply shook his head at her and headed over to the lifts to press the call button. She finally joined him, muttering under her breath about his lack of a sense of humour but trying to keep her distance and stare down at the floor. Hmm, funny she’d never really noticed the colour of the flooring before and she’d never been more grateful for the soft ping announcing the arrival of the lift.
“After you,” Jumal said, standing back and holding out his arm before following her in and pressing the button for the underground car park.
Pip huddled up against the mirrored wall at the back of the lift and took a deep breath. She hated lifts—hated being enclosed anywhere she couldn’t easily get out of but especially when said enclosed coffin was fifty floors up.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up at Jumal’s question, momentarily surprised by his concern.
“Yeah. I just don’t like small, enclosed places. Childhood trauma caused entirely by your friend aka my brother.” She dropped her head to stare again at the floor.
“Why, what—?” Jumal’s query was suddenly interrupted by the lift plunging into darkness and coming to an abrupt halt.
“Jumal!?” She couldn’t hide the distress from her voice as she fumbled in the dark and dropped her bag and the file to the floor; her hands reached out desperately towards him.
She suddenly felt his hand clasp hers and pull her body towards him.
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re fine. The emergency lighting will—ah, there you go. See?” he assured her as the dim overhead emergency lighting came on.
“Look at me,” he demanded, still holding one of her hands and reaching for her chin with his other, gently raising it to meet his eyes.
“Really, we’re fine. They’ll have us out of here in no time,” he said, clearly trying to calm his hysterical employee and rubbing her hand, which she knew was shaking.
She nodded but couldn’t speak or bring herself to let go of his hand as he reached over with his other hand to push the emergency contact button on the brass panel. She looked down at his hand holding hers; she’d never touched his hand so intimately and was surprised at the hard feel of his hands. Where would a man who spent his life in offices and meetings manage to get calluses?
A few moments later a male voice acknowledged their call and assured them that the engineer would be dispatched immediately.
“I guess we wait then.” Her voice still trembled slightly.
“Hmm, better make ourselves comfortable.”
She gulped as he dropped her hand and pulled off his suit jacket to spread it out onto the floor and gestured for her to sit.
He joined her on the floor of the lift and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tanned, toned forearms and a vintage watch with a black alligator leather strap.
She’d often wondered how he managed to have such a trim, highly toned body. Even through his custom-made designer suits she couldn’t help but notice his fine physique. No woman could and she’d been aware of it since she was twelve and hormones had flooded her body. But Jumal always seemed to be at work, never taking much time off save for his passion for riding his horses and horse racing. Surely you couldn’t get a body like his from just riding horses? Did that have something to do with the calluses on his hands?
Good, she decided, this was a great distraction—thinking about his magnificent body stopped her from focusing on how completely freaked out she was being stuck in here. In this dark, windowless coffin. She swallowed again nervously and shook her head to clear her thoughts. On the downside it was making her rather hot and bothered and she was already starting to notice how warm the small, enclosed space was getting before thinking about her boss.
Oh crap, how long would the air last?
Her dive into a full-blown panic attack was postponed as she became acutely aware that Jumal’s forearm was now brushing up against hers. Had she ever been more aware of another person’s body innocently touching hers and causing shivers? If she had she couldn’t recall and damn it but he was most likely completely unaware of the effect he was having on her—unless of course he could hear how fast her heart was suddenly racing…
“How are you?” he asked, nudging her arm gently.
She blushed and answered somewhat unconvincingly, “What, oh er yeah I’ll be fine.” As soon as I stop thinking about your hot bod.
***
He wasn’t fooled by her response. He knew she was distressed and needed a distraction.
“So what did Matt do to you exactly?” Hmm, he chastised himself silently, great distraction there, Jumal—make her talk about the reason she’s claustrophobic—genius. You should think about running your own international company.
“We were playing hide-and-seek—or rather I’d nagged him to play with me and he eventually gave up and told me to go and hide. I had the perfect spot all picked out in the attic, an old wardrobe that hadn’t been used for years. You know, like something from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; anyway he knew exactly where I’d gone and locked me in using a brush through the handles. I screamed for him to let me out but he’d gotten distracted when some girl had called round for him and he went out. Forgot about me. It was hours before they finally found me.” She rubbed her arms in comfort.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“Five.”
“Jesus.” He clenched his fists at his sides.
She offered a tight-lipped smile and tsked. “Well you can imagine how that went down. I know he meant to let me out after a while. He was so upset but since then…” she paused and he sensed a cold shiver reverberate through her body “…I’ve never liked confined spaces, but fifty floors up is fifty floors up and I’m not that much of a fitness freak so…” He felt her shrug her shoulders.
Jumal quickly calculated that Matt would have been about eighteen. The same age as you’d have been, he reminded himself needlessly. Next time he saw
his friend, he’d have a thing or two to tell the fool, but she interrupted his thoughts.
She chuckled softly and he glanced over to watch her face. “You should have seen Mrs H chasing him around the house with her broomstick. It was hilarious and I’m sure she only did it to make me giggle. The woman was a lot faster on her feet back then, nearly caught him a couple of times.” She chuckled again to herself, no doubt at the memory. “He made it up to me though—took me out for ice cream and let me buy a toy I wanted.”
He let his head fall back against the wall. “No change there then,” he joked.
“Hey,” she said nudging him back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh nothing,” he said turning his head again to meet hers. “Just that he still adores you and you have him wrapped around your little finger. You and Ana now. Poor misguided fool.”
She shrugged her shoulders innocently. “What can I say?” A cheeky smile adorned her face. “I’m adorable and he clearly loves being wrapped around Ana,” she said, wiggling her brows comically.
Jumal tipped his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. You certainly are, he thought.
“I’ve heard a lot about Mrs Henderson from Matt over the years, met her a couple of times but just briefly. She sounds quite a formidable woman and not someone to have as an enemy.”
Pippa let out a short laugh. “You got that right. I’m sure the best way to sort out any warring factions around the world would be to send her in with a plate of her home-made scones. She’d either bang their heads together until they saw sense or feed them so much they wouldn’t remember what they were arguing about.” She shifted around, presumably trying to get comfortable. “So do you like being an only child?” she asked changing the subject.
“Sure, there was no one to argue with and I was spoilt by my mother but, on the other hand, being the only son of a sheik comes with certain expectations and responsibilities. It might have been nice to share the burden of expectation with a brother but my mother didn’t get pregnant again. So it was always just me.”
And his father had never let him forget the burden of carrying on his family tradition.
“Are you talking about carrying on the family name?” she pressed.
“Not just that, although that’s certainly a major factor,” he admitted tilting his head slightly. “It’s just that it would have been good to have had the option of doing something else with my life—you know, it was always expected that I would be a business entrepreneur, have social standing in our community and take on the title of sheik. I had to fight tooth and nail to keep my interest in horse breeding and racing alive when I was younger. Plus, I kind of felt the pressure to make them proud, seeing as though I was their only child. I carried around a lot of pressure from expectation growing up. I didn’t really have much of what you would call a normal childhood.”
Important decisions about his future such as his education had been made for him by his father, without recourse to him. It was the way it had always been. Jumal’s pleas to stay in the Middle East and attend the same further education establishments as Malik fell on deaf ears. It was simply good fortune that his father’s unilateral decision to send his only son off to England at the age of eighteen for his university education had worked out so well. Jumal had made lifelong friends and finally asserted some degree of independence before the demand for his return to Dubain was issued. Of course that friendship with Matt had led to him meeting Pippa, which had led to his life being turned upside down…
***
Pip had never heard him speak so openly or frankly, and she was intrigued to hear so much about his personal life and decided to press the advantage. A full account of his prolific business achievements could be easily accessed on the Internet but his private life—nada. The little she did know about him had come via her brother who seemed keen to respect and guard his friend’s privacy.
“Still, I bet your parents are proud of you,” she pushed on. “When I spoke to your mother a few weeks ago she was gushing about your future bride and you giving her grandchildren.” A particular conversation that had made her nauseous and want to smash the phone handset on the desk at the same time.
Jumal reached out and grabbed hold of her forearm. “She said that?” But he quickly dropped his grip, no doubt having noticed her startled expression.
“Hmm-hm,” she replied, still shocked by the contact as he dropped his head and brushed imaginary lint from his suit trousers. She subconsciously ran her hand over where he’d just touched her. Other than a polite handshake here and there, this was the first time that he had ever really touched her…
“So tell me more about your role as a sheik. It’s fascinating and so different from anything in my country.”
“Hm, well it’s varied and actually, thinking about it, it’s not too dissimilar to your Mrs H acting as confidante and peacemaker or mediator back in your own Yorkshire village. On a practical level, which is where I prefer to focus, I give advice to the elders on business trading, the economy and how we can make sure that Dubain continues to thrive and develop for the benefit of all our people.” He crossed his ankles before continuing, “Much as it pains me to say, my father was actually quite unique in passing over the title to me whilst he was still alive. Usually, sheiks hold on to the position until their death, unwilling to give up the power even if they are hospital-bound and senile.”
“You don’t get on with your father?” It was a statement but she phrased it as a question, still spurred on for more information from him.
“No. But I don’t want to talk any more about him. Anyway, there’s still plenty of work to do but we’re getting there slowly and the foundations have been laid for Dubain’s future. We’ve come a long way from a small shack as our airport and one hotel to what we’ve got now.”
She tried to hide the disappointment at his decision to put the barriers back up. “Yeah, you can say that again. I saw the framed pictures at the airport when I was waiting to get through passport control. It’s amazing to see the pictures when this was all just desert with small tent villages and fantastic beaches. I can’t believe how much you’ve already achieved in just ten years or so.”
“The villagers are called Bedouins and there are still a few in the desert a couple of hours north of here. When I go there it’s like stepping back in time. The pace of life is slower and their priorities are so different; family is everything. There, you can just draw breath and relax.”
“Doesn’t it all get too much? I mean your work here and then being pulled all over to sort other things out as sheik?”
“No. I find it relaxing. It helps me focus my mind on what I’m trying to achieve for Dubain. We have an increasingly young working population choosing to stay here and raise families now that we can provide work in the shipbuilding yards and ancillary companies—rather than leaving for the usual ports of Dubai or Qatar—and we need to make sure we provide them with a progressive country.” Pip was enthralled as he spoke with such passion. “But I don’t want to achieve it at the cost of our history and tradition. Did you know that the archaeologists have discovered over twenty sites on the island dating back to the late Stone Age?” he asked rhetorically. “We can have both and I’ve put plans in motion to make sure we do.”
“You put so much pressure on yourself, Jumal,” she said quietly.
She watched closely as he dropped his eyes and replied quite as a matter of fact, “It’s all I’ve ever known.”
She felt the need to lighten the mood. “So do you have the costume?”
As she’d hoped, his eyes darted up and she saw the glint of amusement she’d hoped for. “Costume? I take it you mean my dress robes. They’re called dishdash, Pip, and yes, I have them,” he confirmed but at her chuckle he asked, “What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing, you reminded me of my brother just then. ‘It’s not a baby horse, Pip. It’s called a foal.’ ” she imitated, and pretty well judging by his chu
ckle. “So, can I see them sometime?”
At his shocked expression she quickly clarified. “I mean, you should wear them for work sometime. Not that I was going to—oh never mind.” She felt her cheeks redden.
“I was very sorry to hear about your parents’ deaths,” he said grimly, bowing his head. “I spoke to Matt at the time but I couldn’t get back for their funerals. They were both lovely people.” Okay, seemed he’d had enough of talking about himself—damn it. Still, she thought she knew a little more about the elusive man who’d been her boss for the last few months and would remain so until June and the end of her final academic year.
She bit her lip. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I miss them both very much,” she swallowed and bit her lip again to make sure tears weren’t going to fall this time. “Sometimes,” she continued, “I still wake up in the morning and I know there’s something bad hanging over me that I’ve forgotten, you know, something just on the tip that you can’t quite remember—did I drink too much last night? Did I lock my car up? Did I turn off the cooker?” She took a deep breath. “And then it hits me again; they aren’t here any more. It’s horrible.” Her voice was now barely a whisper. “I was in the central bazaar the other day, you know the one I mean?” She checked and at his nod she continued, “Well, I was just mooching around, taking it all in: the smells of the spices, fruit and vegetables, the hustle and bustle, the crazy bartering, and I actually got my phone out to call my mum to share it with her.” Her voice cracked and he caught the shimmer of unfallen tears in her eyes before she swallowed deeply. “She used to love it when I called her whenever I was off travelling because I just had to tell her what I was seeing—let her experience it with me too. She loved that,” she added in a low voice as she sniffed and quickly turned her head to the side to swipe away the traitorous tears that had escaped.
***
Jumal clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching out and pulling her to his body, stroking his hand over her hair as he held her to his chest and comforted her.
He’d witnessed the colour drain from her cheeks as grief swamped her eyes before she tried composed herself. His stomach dropped like they’d hurtled straight down the fifty floors below them and he chastised himself again. He hadn’t meant to make her unhappy. In fact, he thought, raking through their recent interactions, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her unhappy. Teasing, sarcastic, cheerful, infuriating in buckets—but sorrowful? No. Pippa’s whole approach to life and the world generally was completely uninhibited and happy-go-lucky and when she loved, even in the brief time he’d gotten to know her, it seemed to him entirely unreserved and all-encompassing. She was fiercely protective of her family and close friends. Jumal hadn’t been able to comprehend her desire to make herself so vulnerable.
His Irresistible Darling Page 3