Christ, how long had she been staring at him? And why was he now swaying around? In and out of focus—blurry?
Pip felt her heart rate quicken further and her pulse spike, a sweat developing on her brow that had nothing to with her dancing. She blinked furiously, trying desperately to focus on Jumal, hell, anything, but it was impossible. It felt like she’d put two sets of contact lenses in and her panic escalated. What the hell was going on? Something wasn’t right and she was scared.
She leaned into Jumal and pulled him down towards her lips. “Jumal,” she whispered into his ear. “I don’t feel…right, something…”
He pulled away from her, concern now etched on his face. “What?” he demanded, his hands now clasped tightly around her upper arms. “What’s the matter?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel right. My head’s all fuzzy and it’s not alcohol, honest.” She felt her head roll back on her neck before Jumal pulled her closer. “I’ve had diet coke all night up to those shots at the bar with Jake—oohhhh.” She felt her head wobble again before feeling it resting against Jumal’s firm chest as he guided her off the dance floor towards the bar.
Moments later she felt a cold bottle being pushed gently into her hand. “Here drink this,” he said handing her a bottle of water and seating her in a nearby chair. “I’m taking you home. Did you have a coat and bag?”
“Erm, no I didn’t think of a coat. James has my keys,” she mumbled, sipping the water gingerly and slumping involuntarily in the chair.
She was vaguely aware of Jumal saying. “Wait here.” Unnecessary order. She didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.
“Hey honey, you okay? Are you off home?” Melina asked next, concerned as she knelt down in front of her and brushed Pip’s hair back over her shoulders.
“Hi, erm yes. Embarrassingly I think I’ve had too much to drink and Jumal’s offered to take me home. Would you say my thank yous and goodbyes to everyone for me?” She hugged Melina tightly.
“Sure thing. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Birthday girl going home so soon?” Jake now asked, approaching and taking a swig on his beer. “Shots too much for you to handle, Pip?”
“It would appear so,” she grumbled as she dropped her head into her hands for support, unable to keep it up any longer.
She felt Jumal’s undeniable presence again in front of her before he lowered himself on his haunches to her eye level. “Here you go,” he said gruffly, holding out his hand and helping her stand before handing her a jacket she’d seen Malik wearing earlier and taking the half empty water bottle from her hand. “I’ve told James that I am taking you home and that he should say here with Melina. I told him you wouldn’t want him to leave early and I’d look after you.”
“Thank you.” She attempted a grateful smile at him whilst putting the jacket on. “From Bond girl to American President all in one evening… What a night.” What nonsense was she spouting now? She should really learn to just keep her mouth shut.
“Do you need any help with her?” she heard Jake ask Jumal.
She couldn’t catch his gruff reply but the tone of his voice told her he was unimpressed with the offer.
Good grief! How embarrassing. On the plus side at least she might not remember it tomorrow…
***
Pip came awake slowly, blinking against the bright sunshine pouring into her bedroom. She turned to her bedside table and quickly realised her huge mistake in moving her head. Her brain seemed to wallow around from side to side before finally catching up with the movement of her head. She closed her eyes and moaned into the soft pillow. Eventually she managed to work up to trying to open her eyes again but didn’t make the mistake of moving her head this time.
Twelve o’clock? Yikes, she’d slept till twelve o’clock…
She spied her glasses folded neatly on a note next to the clock and, wincing against the pain in her head, carefully moved her hands to pick it up.
Drink the water and take the tablets. Don’t go out. Ring me.
Jumal
Typical Jumal. Do this; don’t do that. Yes, sir. But for once she was in total agreement with his orders. Well, apart from the calling him part; she had no intention of doing that. She didn’t need to have him lecture her for drinking too much. Wait—why the hell had Jumal left her a note anyway? Had he brought her home? She turned onto her back gently and put her hand to her head, distressed at not being able to remember much of her birthday party. Had she even said goodbye and thank you to everyone? Oh the shame. She took the tablets and water he’d left as ordered and curled back up in bed, only then realising that she was still wearing her bikini.
***
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Hello Pippa, how are you? Glad you’re a little better. Oh thanks for inviting me in but no, I won’t stay,” She mimicked his voice but quickly winced at his icy stare. Perhaps she should go easy on him after all. It appeared that he had gotten her home safely and at least she hadn’t thrown up on him. Had she? She drew in a sharp breath as her hand covered her mouth.
“What?” Jumal asked, reaching for her arm, concerned.
“Oh God, I didn’t throw up on you did I?” she asked urgently, holding open her front door begrudgingly when all she wanted to do was crawl back into her bed and feel sorry for herself.
“No,” he replied, breezing past her into her lounge like he was perfectly at home. “You passed out in the car and stayed that way. It was…” She watched his back closely while he paused as if looking for the right word before he turned back towards her, smiled boyishly and said, “…peaceful.”
“Great. Thanks,” she mumbled, closing the door. He’d carried her in his arms…and she’d missed it?!
“So, I ask again, why didn’t you call me? I specifically told you to call me.”
“Well, I just got up and I didn’t feel like having you lecture me like my father over my drunken antics. I’m already embarrassed beyond belief.”
She saw him recoil like she’d hit him. He closed his eyes and his body seemed to shudder before he turned away from her again.
“I wouldn’t have lectured,” he said, in a low voice, staring out of her window.
“Ha.”
He stared back at her over his shoulder. “I was concerned about you and I told your brother I would look out for you at the party,” he justified.
Shamed, she hung her head. “Sorry. I er, well, thanks for bringing me home and all. I’m embarrassed that I can’t remember anything. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself?”
Again, she sucked in a breath and her hand flew to her mouth. “James?” she asked, mortified that she hadn’t thought of him or where he was.
“With Melina,” Jumal informed her, turning to face her again, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Ah right.”
“That doesn’t bother you?” he spat, apparently sceptical of her nonchalant response. He shot her a challenging stare.
She shifted awkwardly under his direct focus, hating the fact that he could make her feel self-conscious, causing her to fidget nervously and tug tighter on the belt on her bathrobe. She lifted her eyes and caught the flash of something in his eyes as they followed the movement of her hands at her waist. His stare seemed to intensify further. She swallowed and inwardly cursed as her body heated in response. Traitor.
“Oh hell no, Melina was always going to make a play for him and James is on holiday. Coffee?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders and walking towards her kitchen to put the kettle on.
She heard Jumal mumble something about a spotty kid but she couldn’t quite hear him over the running water as she filled the kettle.
“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you,” she called out over her shoulder.
“Never mind,” he mumbled as she walked back into her front room. “So, you don’t remember anything?” Jumal probed, his voice now gentle, and it felt like he was talking to
her like a child. She decided she preferred grumpy, challenging Jumal.
“I remember everything up until we started dancing and then nothing,” she conceded, her brows puckered as she ran her hand through her hair and pushed her glasses back up on her nose before rubbing at her temples. “I can’t believe I got so drunk. I only had a couple of tequila shots and I’ve drunk way more than that before and been fine.”
“I don’t think you were drunk,” he stated, shaking his head.
Okay so now she was confused, “You don’t?” she tested.
“No. I think your drink was spiked.”
Chapter Five
“What!?” Pippa gasped, her hand lifting to her throat. “Why would anyone do that? It was my birthday party for God’s sake.”
“Because there was the opportunity and you were careless.”
Her mouth dropped open but as words seemed to fail her, he took the opportunity to continue his rant at her.
“You left your drinks unattended at your table. You gave him the perfect opportunity. As I said, you were careless and stupid!” he shouted, exasperated. “You should never have put yourself in that position.” He knew he was upsetting her and that reason had gone out of the window. He was angry with her, angry that she’d nearly come to harm, angry with himself for not being there early enough. He ignored the little white lie he’d told her about her brother asking him to keep an eye on her at the party. Her brother had made no such specific request but it provided him with the excuse for his turning up without having to be subjected to her scrutiny about his unexpected attendance.
“Him?” she queried, in a soft voice. Jumal shrugged his shoulders and popped his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep him from reaching out, grabbing the ties on her robe, dragging her into his arms and telling her not to worry and he’d look after her.
“Most likely,” he confirmed. “Someone who could take advantage of the situation—and you. A boyfriend perhaps,” he taunted and raised a brow at her.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she mumbled, apparently still shocked by the theory.
“Lover, whatever,” he snarled back and waved his arm in dismissal as he turned away from her so she couldn’t see the fury in his eyes.
“This is ridiculous, I—” she shouted back at him, contemporaneously shaking her head.
“Agreed,” he interrupted. “What about the kid at the bar with you doing shots?” he demanded, unable to remember his name, if he’d been told it.
“Kid?” she asked softly. “What, you mean Jake? You think it was Jake?” she blurted out, her eyes wide with shock. “Christ you’ve gone nuts, completely bloody bonkers,” she chided, walking around the room as he turned to track her.
He took two furious steps towards her before he caught himself. “Who. Is. He. Pippa?” he growled, his jaw tight.
“I’ve just met him. Okay,” she declared frostily, twirling around to face him and was startled by his closeness. “He’s just started working here as a trader at Goldbergs. It wasn’t him!” she said emphatically.
“What’s his surname?” Jumal continued to demand, ignoring her defence of him.
“I—er, I don’t know,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I never asked him. Like I said, we only just met. I don’t usually ask for a full CV and biography until the second date,” she snapped back, hands on her hips.
“But you’d sleep with him after the first date,” he accused, his voice full of scorn, the nerve in his jaw still twitching.
“Wh—” She appeared lost for words. Her face was flushed and she was no doubt shocked that he was privy to such intimate, personal knowledge.
“Anyway I came to check on you and also to tell you that I need you to accompany me to Dubai tomorrow. We leave at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and you’ll need to pack something for a formal dinner.” He stalked past her towards the door, his body as intimidating as ever; she backed away automatically. “Oh and wear something conservative,” he added.
“Conservative,” she repeated slowly, trying to keep up with the turn in conversation and the shattering news that she had likely been a victim of drugging at her own birthday party.
“Yes. Dubai still isn’t as liberal as we are. Coverage is required—” he narrowed his eyes “—so no orange bikinis.”
“Wait,” she pleaded, reaching for his arm. “I’m going to Dubai with you. Me?” She let go of his arm quickly as she no doubt clocked his gaze as it dropped to where she’d touched him. Her hand moved to her chest to clutch the lapels of the robe.
“Yes. I assume that’s not a problem,” he checked, brow arched.
“Erm, no, but what about Faridah? Won’t she be going with you?”
“No,” he replied in a hard voice, leaving through the door. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow,” he called back from the hallway.
***
Jumal wasn’t sure how long he sat astride his motorbike after leaving Pippa’s apartment but judging by the amount of emails and missed calls on his phone, it was quite a while. His mind churned with a plethora of emotions he fought to control before he even attempted to start riding his latest temperamental Italian machine. The bike was the most responsive he’d ever ridden, but she was unforgiving if the rider wasn’t giving her his full attention.
Okay, so James was just a friend. Good. That pleased him immensely, but Malik would no doubt have a thing or two to say to Melina, who remained completely unaware of his friend’s own interest in her. So, one potential love interest down; one to go. Jake.
He finally relaxed his shoulders, unclenched his fists and spread his fingers. Someone had tried to hurt Pippa—someone she likely knew. He felt his shoulders tense again and he cursed.
He arranged for his security team to contact the hotel’s security and obtain a copy of the CCTV from last night and to let him know if they encountered any red tape. He was quite sure the flagship hotel would co-operate to avoid any unsavoury publicity or police involvement.
Not that he planned to involve the police at all once he found the culprit. He would deal personally with whoever had hurt Pippa.
With that in mind, he placed another call to a local private detective he’d used in the past on sensitive matters. The man was dependable, discreet and thorough, and Jumal would soon know everything there was to know about the newest recruit at Goldbergs.
Feeling the need to release some of his pent-up aggression he called Malik next. “I feel the need to punch something—hard. Fancy keeping me company? Great. See you there in twenty.”
***
Jumal pummelled the punchbag with quick jabs, moving his feet lightly as Malik struggled to maintain his hold on it under the force of the repetitive, bone-jarring impacts. They’d drawn the attention of the men sparring in the rings. Eventually he felt the lactic acid build up in his muscles; his legs were getting sloppy and loose and the need for him to cause grievous bodily harm to Pippa’s new American friend had waned. Somewhat.
“Feel better?” Malik inquired, rubbing at his own chest.
Jumal collapsed down onto a nearby wooden bench, pulling off the gloves and using his teeth to tear at the boxing gauze wrapped around his hands. Freed, he wiped at the sweat dripping from his brow into his eyes with his towel and hung his head. Once he’d forced enough oxygen into his lungs for communication, he replied, “Much. I owe you one. You want me to spot you whilst you do some bench work?”
“Nah,” Malik said, rubbing a towel over his own face. “I feel like I’ve just gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson; let’s hit the hammam,” he suggested, pulling himself to his feet and offering his hand to Jumal.
Jumal thought breathing in the thick humidity in the dimly lit traditional steam room was like trying to inhale soup, but it was a part and parcel of Middle Eastern culture and multimillion-pound deals were agreed on in here over a handshake between heads of families who were wearing little more than a hand towel. Jumal looked around at the candles burning in the small alcoves set into the
sandstone walls. Perhaps that’s why they keep it so dark in here, he mused.
It wasn’t his idea of doing business, much to his father’s dismay.
“So my mother called me and told me to invite you over for dinner once you get back from Dubai, to celebrate. You know how she worries when she hasn’t seen you and fed you up for a couple of weeks. Can I tell her you’ll come?” Malik asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Great, I didn’t even have to tell you that she’s planning on making your favourite.”
Jumal rubbed at his rumbling stomach. “Barbequed lamb skewers with pitta, hummus and chickpeas?”
“You got it. So, did that investigator manage to come back to you with any more information?” Malik asked from beneath his own towel-covered head as he sat across from Jumal. He’d brought Malik up to speed with the events at the party and what happened afterwards when they were getting changed. Jumal had to explain the reason for his sour mood, which his friend had mistakenly assumed lay with the ending of his engagement to Faridah.
“I got a surname and an address for him here and back in the states. I know the MD over at Goldbergs and I’ve put in a call to him,” he explained, but he needed to get off topic before his aggressive side decided to reappear.
He re-secured the small towel around his hips. “So I’ve asked Pippa to accompany me over to Dubai.”
“And how did she take that?” Malik asked, walking over to ladle more water onto the white-hot rocks.
“In her usual gracious and unique style.”
“Well, no doubt you’ll have an interesting trip. So er, who exactly was that other guy who came to the party with Melina and Pippa? You know the over-friendly tall blond bastard?”
Jumal forced himself not to look up and raise a brow at his friend’s enquiry. “James. He’s a vet back in the village where Matt and Pippa live.”
His Irresistible Darling Page 8