One Dirty Scot

by Donna Alam

  ‘Sadia, where are the girls?’ The classroom is empty as I return, the hot air from the open door besting the air-conditioning, refusing to help me cool down. ‘Aren’t we due in the library now?’

  ‘You are not at the meeting with Miss Arwa?’ Sadia lifts her head from a pile of books with a frown. ‘She exchanged the lessons with Miss Maha— the library for the PE? You should now go.’ She closes the door she’s manoeuvred me back through, but not before adding, ‘Hurry, you are too much late!’

  But we don’t have a meeting scheduled. Unless . . . no. I suppose you don’t get advance warning of being sacked. God. That must be what this is. But sacked for dating Kai, or not dating him? I wonder which.

  I can’t say she didn’t warn me this would come to no good, but somehow I hadn’t envisioned . . . this. Archaic reasoning, sure. Bizarre even, but what defence do I have? Rules are rules, no matter how ridiculous they sound. Social mores to be abided by in the UAE, almost as though set in stone: no talking to men you aren’t related to; no passionate embraces in public or where people are likely to take offence; no overt clothing; no flashing too much flesh.

  And no dating the boss’s son.

  And I’m still in my probationary period.

  Feckin’ feck. What am I going to do? The only thing I can, I suppose.

  Take a teaspoon of cement and harden the fuck up.

  At Arwa’s office, I knock once and enter, my eyes glued to the floor as I close the door. Leaning back against the handle, I attempt to gather my defence, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to make this easy for her.

  Raising my eyes slowly, the silence in the room makes my ears ring. It stretches out between us and I have no idea what to think, let alone what to do. Right at this moment I want to launch myself at him, but I’m not sure whether that would be to throw my arms or my hands around his neck. Hug or strangle? The desire for each is almost the same until I remember. Sacked for not dating him, it seems. Maybe he’s here to serve his own revenge.

  Of course, in the place of Arwa, Kai leans back in her chair, booted feet propped on her large, black desk. As he examines the fingernails of his left hand, another masculine watch peeks from beneath the cuff of his shirt. Seems an expensive watch is replaceable. As expendable as the girl in his bed. So he gets to sack me. I hope it’s satisfying for him.

  Who am I kidding? I hope he swallows his own tongue.

  I raise my chin, determined to keep these thoughts from playing across my face, hoping to play it cool and aloof.

  ‘Please, sit.’

  It takes me a moment to assemble his words into an invitation, synapses working on other things. Stepping away from the door, I pull out the chair opposite, the mortuary slab of a desk separating us. Watery sunlight filters through the window behind his head, fighting its way through a sky of sandy-brown clouds. I realise I haven’t noticed the weather at all today, beyond the heat, and for the first time since my arrival, the sun isn’t out.

  ‘I thought it best to meet on neutral ground.’

  I don’t agree with neutral, but nod in the absence of words as I’m gripped, viscerally assaulted, by a hand twisting my insides. Fear, but not prompted by his curt turn of phrase. Fear not even of losing my job, but of what he’s about to say. Fear of finding out I’m losing him for good.

  The leather chair creaks as he straightens suddenly, bringing his feet to the floor.

  ‘You weren’t at home this morning.’

  ‘No,’ I agree unnecessarily. ‘I left early.’ My heart rate lifts—he came for me!—but despite my insides being on a spin cycle, my voice is eerily calm.

  ‘To avoid me.’

  It isn’t a question nor something he expands on. For myself, I couldn’t fill the pause even if I wanted to. Time trickles by and he doesn’t move, just watches me through those dark, dark lashes, his gaze watchful, and I realise belatedly, bruised.

  ‘I thought after that night . . .’ I inhale, aiming for dignified, when all I really want to do really is climb onto his lap and have a bloody good sob. ‘I thought we’d said all that was to be said.’ As I say this, a future without Kai is suddenly as miserable as the looming skies.

  Please don’t let me cry.

  I clear my throat, hands sticky-palmed with apprehension and clasped tightly against my knees. ‘I told you how I felt—feel. Then Shane . . . you went behind my back. I don’t understand why.’ My words end in a whisper.

  His return gesture is an uncomfortable one, almost as though his jacket or maybe, his thoughts, are uncomfortable. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet still. ‘You want to know why I know what I do? Why I sought what you wouldn’t tell?’

  Couldn’t bring myself to tell him, more like. If only he knew.

  ‘Because I can.’

  ‘That’s not an acceptable reason, and it isn’t a normal reaction—’

  ‘You’re very preoccupied with normal,’ he interrupts tersely, ‘more than you ought to be. And I didn’t say it was right, but you weren’t going to tell. I knew there had to be more.’

  ‘That’s beyond intrusive,’ I bluster. ‘Why couldn’t you have just taken it as I said?’

  ‘Kate.’ His tone is even but without warmth. ‘Your face is like a mirror into your head. I knew you were hiding something, and in the interests of self-preservation, I sought that information out.’

  ‘Self-preserv—Why? How?’ Hands lying demurely against my legs, my fingernails press into my skirt, digging into my knees.

  ‘Why? Because I don’t date. And you’re a girl who does. A girl who should be dated as opposed to . . . ’

  I help him out, the word propelled from my throat. ‘Fucked?’

  Totally brazen, he shrugs. ‘As to how, money provides access to lots of things.’

  ‘Lots of things it shouldn’t.’ I find I’m on my feet, hands braced against the desk. ‘You sent someone snooping into my past. You had no right, past is what’s . . . behind. Done. The future’s what’s ahead!’

  A patina of impatience clouds his brow, as elbows against the arms of his chair, he opens his hands. ‘Thank you for that astute observation, but in my business, it pays to know as much as you can before making any form of decision.’

  ‘You think you can look at me like I’m some kind of commodity, some sort of deal?’

  At this he stands, his cool facade slipping as he braces his hands opposite mine. ‘Yes, you’re a deal.’ Leaning across the desk, amber embers stare down. ‘A big fucking deal. Don’t you get that? I want to be with you, Kate. Like I’ve wanted nothing else. Right now, you’re feeling vulnerable and just as likely to turn around and leave, go back to Australia. I didn’t want to frighten you off when maybe, just maybe, all you needed was a casual fling.’ Energy seems to drain from his body as he falls back into the chair. ‘Casual when I feel so involved.’

  I feel a little faint suddenly myself and match him, sinking back into my chair. ‘I’ve never done casual. That was your thing.’

  ‘Fuck casual,’ he mutters. ‘I’ve never wanted to be your fucking friend.’

  ‘When were you going to let me know?’ My anger gives way to confusion, things I’d never contemplated as reasonable for him. Men. Why the hell do they have to be so thick, bloody obtuse?

  ‘When I’d come to terms with it myself.’ One hand scrubs the back of his head, his gaze rising to mine. ‘That sounds less positive than I’d like it to. I was building up to it, I think.’

  I smile, sort of watery, but it’s a smile all the same. Ridiculous really. From anger to confusion to feeling that my heart could sprout wings and fly out of my mouth.

  ‘And about Essam.’ My face falls at the mention of his name, Kai holding out a forestalling hand. ‘A conversation for later. I just wanted to say you were right and I . . . wasn’t.’

  ‘It wasn’t about him,’ I whisper, staring at my hands. ‘You confuse the hell out of me. I don’t—I just need you to be sincere, Kai.’

  ‘I am. Absolutely.’ His
eyes are serious and intense. ‘Whole-fucking-heartedly.’

  As he stands, the veins in his hands are taut and prominent as he presses them to the desk, and I’m struck by an almost visceral image of those same hands slipping under the hem of my dress. Lust blooms in the pit of my belly, pushing outwards to between my legs. God, I want him, want to believe him. Need to know he wants me as much as I want him. Want him to take me in his arms and crush his mouth to mine.

  ‘Shane.’ The name rolls off his tongue casually, pouring cold water on my thoughts. His tone is cool, but I can tell it cost him a lot to even mention his name, the mammoth muscle-tic in his jaw a fair indicator of that. ‘I think you ought to see him. Make sure you’re doing what’s best. For you, I mean.’

  ‘Fuck off.’ I look away. It sounds like I’m joking; a throw-away line, but it’s exactly what I mean. No way I believe Kai has become that relaxed all of a sudden. Unless he’s just taken a Xanax. ‘No way in hell. And that’s not something for you to decide. Anyway, you don’t really mean it.’

  My gaze slides away from his dark eyes as he begins to move. I refuse to look, focussing instead on the sound of his shoes against the tiled floor, the air leaking from the unit on the wall; anything but look at him. Voices rise and fall away from the adjoining corridor, as instead of drawing closer, he moves to stand in front of the window, his eyes fixed on the outside.

  ‘You’re right.’ He sighs, the thin light rendering him a silhouette of angles; shoulders and elbows, tapering to slim hips. ‘I wished he didn’t exist.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ I mutter in return. ‘Think his mum would miss him, though.’

  Hands slide from his pockets and hang by his sides. ‘Despite how I feel about you . . . how much I want to be with you, I want you to be happy. Even if you decide your happiness lies with him. Or so I’d convinced myself. Now that those words are out in the open, the thought of you tripping down memory lane together, makes me want to rip off his head.’ He ends his statement in almost a growl.

  ‘Memory lane’s full of road-kill. Dead meat on the roadside you pass without a second glance.’

  Half turning, a rueful smile hovers in the corner of his mouth. ‘Subtle, as always.’

  That’s me. Like a possum wearing gumboots dancing on a tin roof. In a thunderstorm.

  ‘Understated can get stuffed.’ I take a deep breath and say the only thing that means anything to me right now. ‘I would’ve told you about him eventually, but the truth is, I only want you.’

  In a blur of steps, I’m in his arms and lifted from the chair.

  ‘I can’t believe you kicked me out of bed.’ His voice rasps as he locks his arms at my back.

  Relief is a living, breathing thing in his arms, a realisation dawning in his embrace. I’m where I belong.

  ‘You make it sound like it’s the first time it’s ever happened to you.’ Half laughing, half crying, I place my hands on his chest and stare up into his beautiful face. ‘I seem to remember you saying something before, along those lines.’ It’s almost instinctual, this yanking his chain. ‘Something about compelling husbands, I think?’

  One hand pressed on the base of my spine, he pulls me impossibly close. ‘Not the same. I’ve never left something precious behind.’

  ‘Don’t stress. I haven’t had a chance to sell your Breitling yet. I bet the Ferragamo’s are worth a bit, too. Shame you’ve got such big, er . . .’ My eyes flick down, an almost automatic response, as he rocks his hips into mine. Mercury splits and rolls through my insides. ‘Feet,’ I rasp. ‘I was totally going for feet.’

  A sceptical eyebrow rises as his hand moves lightly to my butt. ‘Don’t start something I can’t finish.’

  ‘Why? Is there too much weight bearing on your Achilles heel?’ I smile through my tears, pulling his hands from my arse.

  ‘Do give me some credit. I’m well aware there are impressionable minds filling the halls.’

  ‘Not to mention ears shoved up against walls. But that’s something you’ll have to deal with. I say you start at the top.’ Stepping away to gain a little distance, a chance to disengage my brain’s base emotions, I just look at him.

  Why not—hell, he’s hot—but I also need to check that this is all real.

  His eyes flick to the door and back with a quizzical look. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

  My drifted attention snags as I straighten my clothes; this is a conversation we’ve not yet had. I continue, picking imaginary lint from the buttons of my shirt, now trying not to look at him.

  ‘Oh. I don’t think I mentioned it. Arwa might’ve called me into the office and warned me off you a bit.’ His frown deepens, jaw setting as his expression firms. Back-peddling quickly, I add, ‘Look, that’s just my take on it. She probably didn’t mean—’

  ‘What exactly did she say?’

  I grasp the door handle, intent on an escape. ‘I’ll tell you later, I’ve got to get back to my class. And I don’t really want to give that lot outside anymore to talk about, and the longer we stay locked in here . . .’

  Exhaling slowly through his nose, a smile crawls once more across his lips. ‘Still worrying about others’ opinions? This is something we’ll discuss further tonight.’

  ‘Okay,’ I murmur, biting the insides of my cheeks. ‘If you like.’

  ‘Oh, I do.’ His eyes burn with the weight of something absolutely beguiling. Infinitely hot. Hands loop around my waist and he pulls my hips towards him. God, hot. So hot. And also hard.

  ‘Not in here.’ My tone is half protest; half do that again as he arches into me.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are.’ One hand drifts up the side of my body to cradle my face. Warm lips brush against mine, my objections elusive, slipping away at the skim of his tongue. A Kai flavoured kiss, slow and full of promise, his intent curling my toes.

  ‘But I can wait until later.’ His voice is fiercely low, his thumb following the contours of my jaw as my fingers retract from his shoulders.

  I wonder if these words of reassurance are for me or for him.

  ‘Yeah.’ Knees a little unhinged, I lean against the edge of the desk and straighten my shirt again. ‘Good plan.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Where what? Oh, your place or mine?’ The way I feel now he could probably do me against the check-in desk of his hotel and I wouldn’t complain. But not here, in the school. Because that would be just . . . eww. ‘Yours, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Damn,’ his expression falters. ‘I forgot. I may be late back this evening.’ His hands pat his chest, searchingly. ‘Do you have a pen?’

  ‘I’m a teacher,’ I answer, reaching my hands to the back of my head. ‘That’s like asking a lap dancer if she has a pole.’ I pull a biro from my messy top-knot and hold it out to him.

  ‘Like a magpie’s nest,’ he says, one hand back to cupping my face.

  ‘Is there a compliment in there somewhere?’

  ‘I like you immensely.’ My eyebrows rise at his word usage, my heartbeat faltering as he continues. ‘I adore—’ Halting, he begins to pull away, fingers tugging a loose tendril of my hair. ‘You and your magnificent mane.’ Plucking the pen from my fingers, he begins to write on Arwa’s stationery, set on the desk. ‘Let me give you Rashid’s number. Call when you’re ready to leave here. He’ll take you home to get whatever you need.’

  ‘I’ve got my overnight bag in the classroom,’ I admit, a little shyly. One enquiring brow is raised as he turns his head. ‘I was going to stay with Niamh tonight, not that I’ve asked her yet.’

  ‘Would you care to substitute me for Niamh?’

  ‘I think I could manage.’ I also think he might have two or three extra things that I might like tonight.

  Sliding the folded square of paper into my hand, he raises both to his lips.

  ‘Were you planning on running away? I have to tell you, Kate. I’d have found you anywhere.’

  Chapter Three

  It’s dark out
by the time Kai arrives at the suite, throwing his suit jacket across a chair as he strides confidently into the dimly-lit room. I’m curled at the far end of the sofa, reading my book by the light of a table-lamp, the only light illuminating the room.

  ‘Honey, I’m home,’ he purrs as he leans down to kiss me, a little more chastely than I’d like. Lowering himself to the sofa beside me, he loosens his dark coloured tie, leaning his head back, arms following suit and pulling me into the crook of his arm.

  ‘You look done in.’ He makes a vague sort of sound in answer, mouth twitching and threatening a smile. ‘Hard day at the office, dear?’

  His amused eyes open slowly. Sitting up, he leans his torso over me, reaching for my glass of wine from the side table and taunting me with the scent of his cologne.

  ‘Don’t tell me, the boss has been riding your arse again,’ I say as he brings it to his mouth.

  He laughs a little, coughing as he sips, his eyes sliding to the book in my hands.

  ‘Office erotica? To get you in the mood? Are you’re sure you don’t harbour some dirty delightful fantasy of banging your boss?’

  I smile enigmatically, I hope, in return. I so don’t need to be gotten into the mood. If only he knew how I’ve been on edge and half-horny since I got here. I’d thought an afternoon alone in a five-star hotel would be nice: a light snack and a little sunbaking by the pool, maybe an afternoon siesta and plenty of time to prepare myself, to beautify, to lotion and potion, as girls do.

  I did all that and more, even going as far as to style my hair into effortless waves, if effortless results in arm cramps.

  But the whole time, through the afternoon light, through dusk until now, the darkness of the evening, I’ve been a mess. A yearning, hot mess. Our last time together may have ended awfully, but the lead up? I can’t begin to explain how he made me feel. The glimpse at his dark side, his jealousies. How he said I was his obsession, how he’d never be able to get enough. His spanking me to the edge of orgasm, the agony and the ecstasy, his fucking both my body and head. How can just thinking about it make me feel empty with need?