Léo got up and went to the drinks cart to pour a hefty slug of brandy into a glass. He brought it to Malik. “Drink this, you idiot. And while your mouth is full, maybe think about what you want to say next.”
Malik ignored everything he’d ever been taught about drinking brandy and tossed back the contents of the glass, only feeling a tiny pang of regret for having treated such an excellent brandy so poorly.
“Wow,” Ben said. “Someone needs to teach me how to do that. I can manage shots, but if I tried with that much, I’d probably spit it at someone. Or spend twenty minutes coughing and spluttering.”
Malik sucked in a breath and laughed, because how could he not?
“Are you okay?” Dani asked, and he met her gaze and let his laugh die down to a smile.
“Yes. Apologies. I suppose I surprised myself.”
“You don’t need to tell us anything else,” Ben said, surprising them all—especially Léo, who fumbled with the drink he was pouring and nearly dropped the glass.
For a moment, Malik considered taking him up on that. He could go back to pretending he was purely the idle rich. Maybe he’d hire an assistant, but it would be one who didn’t know his friends and only knew him on a strictly professional basis. His life would continue in the same way, and he’d just go on keeping a huge part of himself secret from most of his closest friends.
“That’s okay,” he found himself saying. “I think it’s time I told more people than just Léo. I’m an author.” The words felt strange on his tongue, and he realized he’d never actually said them before. When he’d first told Léo, it had been, “I’m writing a book,” and then “I finished the book.” Similar for his agent when he’d first submitted a query, and his lawyer and accountant when they’d begun sorting out legal and financial details. Never had he actually said to anyone that he was an author.
Regret burned through him. He was proud of his achievements, of his writing career, and yet he’d never shared them with the world. He still didn’t want to go public with his identity, but it was definitely time to tell a few select people—Lucien and Simon, his aunt and uncle…, his mother and siblings. And if he had to deal with fallout from his father, well, what else was new?
“That’s so cool!” Ben declared.
“What do you write?” Dani asked, leaning forward.
“Suspense thrillers,” he told her, and she grinned and whipped out her phone.
“That’s my genre,” she said, tapping at the screen. “Can I get your books on Amazon? You don’t write under your own name, do you? Because I feel like that’s something that would have come up on your Wikipedia page.”
“Yes, they’re on Amazon,” he told her. “I write as Raphael Martin.”
She froze, and Ben gasped.
“Shut up,” she whispered. “You’re joking. I’ve read your books! I love them—I preorder every one.”
Something warm unfurled inside Malik. This was something else he’d been deprived of—the opportunity to interact with fans without the protective, distancing barrier of the internet.
“Thank you,” he said solemnly.
“I need signed paperbacks,” she demanded. “I’m going to order them right now, and you can sign them to me when they arrive. I always wanted to get signed copies, but the only stores that do them are in Europe and the US, and the shipping was ridiculous—more than the cost of the book.”
“You don’t need to order them,” he told her. “I have copies at home—I’ll bring them for you.”
Dani looked unsure. “You don’t need to do that,” she protested, but he waved it away. He quite liked the idea of having more people than just Léo to give his author copies to.
“Ohmigod,” Ben said suddenly from where he’d perched on Léo’s lap. “Dani, Malik needs an assistant.”
Oh. Yes. He’d said that.
And he did need an assistant.
He turned back to Dani. “It wouldn’t be as intense as your previous position,” he warned. He’d heard enough from Ben about Dani’s job to know that she’d been responsible for the management of a medium-sized office of nearly two hundred people.
“What exactly would the job entail?” she asked. “I may not be the right fit for it—I’ve never worked in the book industry.”
Malik explained briefly about his current social media setup, finishing with, “I’m sure they’d be happy to arrange a handover period, so you’d have time to find your feet. I also want someone to take over organizing the virtual signings—if you wanted, you could expand those, look at arranging some with bookstores in more countries. Manage my email. Maybe do some research, or at least fact-checking. Give me some feedback while I’m writing, and beta read for me. That sort of thing. I’m sure there will be more, but I’ve never had an assistant before, so I haven’t really thought this through.”
“That sounds perfect for you, Dan,” Ben said. “A change of pace from your last job, but pretty much complete autonomy. You’re awesome at social media stuff, too. And you could stay here in Monaco.”
Dani looked torn. “It does sound good,” she conceded. “I’ve gotta say, I’m really interested. But it doesn’t change the fact that I would still have to find somewhere over the border to live.”
“You could live with me,” Malik suggested, and instantly wanted to kick himself. It had to be the brandy this time, because there was no other reason he would say something so completely asinine.
“What?”
“What?”
“What a great idea!” Ben pronounced gleefully, and Dani stood, walked around the coffee table to stand beside him, and smacked him across the back of the head.
“Excuse him,” she said sweetly to Malik. “He’s suffering from intense moron-itis.”
“Hey!” Ben rubbed his head and glared at her. “Why am I a moron? It is a great idea.”
Dani lifted her hand again, and Ben curled against Léo for protection.
“It is,” he insisted, his voice muffled against Léo’s neck. “Think about it—Malik has three bedrooms in his apartment, plus the room with the door that’s always closed, which I’m now guessing is your office?” He lifted his head and shot an inquiring glance at Malik, who just nodded. He was almost afraid to open his mouth to speak; who knew what might come out next? “Right, so there’s plenty of room. You probably don’t work set hours, so working out a flexible schedule for your assistant would be more convenient—if you need research or something at eight at night, Dani can put in the time because she’ll be right there, and then start work later or finish earlier the next day or something. The room can be part of her salary package.”
“Perhaps Dani does not want to live and work in the same place,” Malik ventured, although it sounded pretty convenient for him. It would also mean he needed to kill any last, lingering thought of taking their personal relationship to a romantic level, because seducing the live-in help was reprehensible, the kind of thing that happened in bad gothic novels and porn movies. “Dani, the offer is open. If you like, we can discuss responsibilities and salary, both with and without a live-in component.”
Dani nodded slowly. “I’d like to do some research,” she said. “Find out what other author assistant jobs entail, maybe talk to the person handling your social media now, if you can arrange that. It sounds great, and definitely within my range of abilities, but I want to make certain first. It won’t do either of us any good if I take the job and it turns out to be a wrong fit.”
It was probably wrong that her sensible side turned him on so much, Malik decided. “That’s not a problem,” he assured her. “I’ll get in touch with my agent and have her call you. Take your time thinking about it—as I said, I’ve never had an assistant before, and although I need one now, I’m not rushing to fill the job.”
She smiled. “Okay. That sounds good.”
He smiled too. “Good.”
They sat there in awkward silence until Ben burst into chatter.
What have I done?
Chapter Eight
What am I doing?
Dani wondered for the millionth time if she’d been possessed by a mischievous spirit of some kind. What else would have caused her to accept a job and a place to live from the man she was desperately crushing on?
The whole situation just reeked of impending disaster.
Sighing, she sank down on the edge of her bed in Ben and Léo’s apartment. At her side, her open suitcase mocked her. She was supposed to be packing for her move to Malik’s place, was actually half done, but negative thoughts were delaying her.
Workplace relationships were possible. She knew they were, had been witness to several successful ones. They could also be disastrous. She’d been witness to several of those too. Like many things in life, it came down to a case-by-case situation. But, a live-in workplace relationship? That ramped up the pressure from the get-go. And add to that a preexisting friendship group….
There were so many ways for things to go wrong—or just be plain icky—that Dani really thought it would be best to completely let go of any notion of a romantic, sexual, or otherwise more than friends and colleagues relationship with Malik.
So. Her heart might be slightly bruised, and her girly bits might be crying out from neglect, but she was still going to take the path that promised a sensible long-term result. Besides, sleeping with the guy who literally paid your salary was a bit creepy. Especially when you also lived in his house.
What the fuck am I doing?
Shaking off the little voice that suggested she buy a ticket back to Australia, she got up and finished her packing. It was too late to change her mind now—her cousin was already ensconced in her house, several boxes of her things currently in transit to Monaco—and anyway, why would she want to? This was literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She had a cushy job working for one of her favorite authors, living in the kind of apartment she would never be able to afford, in Monaco, of all places, with her bestie just a few minutes away and tons of opportunity to explore Europe laid out before her. What was the downside? That she had to get over a crush? She’d done that before, and it wouldn’t kill her to do it again.
Big girl undies, Dan.
She’d just zipped her bag when someone knocked on the doorjamb, and she turned her head to see Malik there, smiling at her.
It would be so much easier to get over this crush if he was less… him.
Some men really did have it all. Good looks, charisma, wealth, sense of humor, a winning personality… surely the man had some flaws?
“Are you ready?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Yep!” The cheerful note sounded a little forced, so she tried to cover it by adding, “Thanks for coming to pick me up, but you didn’t have to.” She could have quite easily walked the distance between his building and Léo’s, even if her suitcase hadn’t had wheels. It constantly surprised her how small Monaco really was.
“It’s no trouble,” he assured her, “and it gives me the opportunity to show you how to access the garage. I’ve added you to the insurance policy in case you need to drive one of the cars.”
The breath stalled in Dani’s chest, and she had to force her question out on a wheeze. “Do you… uh, have a little runabout I can use?” They hadn’t actually discussed her having access to his cars, but it was a nice thought and would certainly be convenient if she needed to go further afield. The thing was, so far the only cars she’d seen him drive had all been waaaaaaaay out of her comfort zone—high-end, high-performance sports cars, the kind she was excited to be a passenger in, but kind of nervous to drive, even if she was insured.
“A… runabout?” Malik sounded uncertain as he stepped into the room and lifted her suitcase off the bed.
“I can take that; it has wheels,” she protested, but he shot her a look that had her rolling her eyes and conceding. She would never understand the obsession men had with carrying a woman’s luggage, but hey, if he really wanted to do it, it was no skin off her nose. Instead, she scooped up her phone and sunglasses and gave the room a quick once-over for anything she may have forgotten before following him into the hallway.
“Yeah, a runabout,” she said, picking up their previous conversation. “Like, a small, inexpensive car that can be used for errands.”
Malik laughed.
Stopped in the middle of the hall and flat-out laughed.
“I guess that’s a no,” she murmured as Ben came to see what was going on.
“Funny joke?” he asked, gaze on Malik, who was still chuckling.
“He offered to let me use his cars and I asked if he had a runabout,” Dani explained. To Ben’s credit, he managed to restrict himself to a single snort of laughter before he turned to Malik and said, “You’ve got bigger balls than me.”
Dani smacked his arm, indignation stabbing in her chest. She was a good driver, damn him! Definitely better than he was—Ben tended to get distracted behind the wheel.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” her bestie protested, something that he’d been doing a lot of lately, she realized. “I meant that if my car—cars—cost what Malik’s do, there’s no way I’d let anyone else drive them.”
With a sinking feeling, Dani remembered several conversations with Ben about Malik’s cars—she’d googled them and knew exactly what they’d cost, and that was before the upgrades Malik had ordered.
There was no way she could drive a car that cost as much as the mortgage on her home.
Rather than start a discussion on that now, she pasted a pleasant smile on her face and said, “We can sort it all out another time. I probably won’t need to use a car, anyway—everything’s so close here.”
Ben’s knowing smirk told her he wasn’t fooled, but he obligingly led the way to the front door, and then caught her up in a tight hug.
“Oooof! Loosen your grip, Benji,” she gasped, and he huffed and let her go.
“Don’t call me Benji,” he said, pouting, and she planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Relax. I’m not going far, yeah? And I’ll call you later.” She understood his insecurity. For so many years, they’d been inseparable—at one stage they’d even been roommates. Then he’d moved to Europe and they’d had to get used to a new routine in their relationship. The past six weeks had felt normal, right, and even so minor a change as her moving a few blocks away threatened that.
She was pretty sure there were people who would call that codependent. Lucky for her, she didn’t care what they thought.
Taking a deep breath, she followed Malik out of the apartment and into the next phase of her life.
Looking at the sheer amount of space left in the walk-in robe-slash-dressing room after she finished unpacking, Dani decided that she really had no choice but to fill it all. All. Every last centimeter. Preferably with things that were wildly impractical. She could keep a drawer or two and maybe a couple feet of hanging space for the practical, everyday things, and then the rest would be a tribute to all the clothes and shoes and accessories that she would rarely wear because they were too unique or impractical or uncomfortable.
Sighing, she reined in her imagination and conceded that the space would stay empty. It might be the kind of room that called out for the wildly unnecessary, but aside from the occasional whimsical splurge, she wasn’t that kind of woman. Besides, the dresses she’d bought since arriving were a nod in that direction.
Stepping back into the amazing bedroom, she decided she might as well get to work. Malik had made a point of saying that she should take time to settle in, but now that she was unpacked, the only things she really wanted to do were to explore the apartment or explore her new job, and she’d feel weird snooping through his home while he was there. He’d surely go out and leave her there alone sooner or later, and there would be plenty of time to poke around then. The “basic tour” he’d given her was enough for now.
When she and Malik had been negotiating her duties and salary, he’d asked her if she preferred to have a desk se
t up in his office or elsewhere. “I can convert the third bedroom to an office for you,” he’d offered, and while she’d considered it, ultimately she’d refused. They’d decided to have a small desk for her use added to his office, but she’d requested that he buy her a laptop rather than a desktop computer so she could be mobile. He’d been a little vague on his work patterns when she’d asked, and if it turned out that he needed complete quiet and no distractions, she could easily work from the dining room or the terrace, while still having a dedicated work space in the office.
That was where she went now. Several days earlier, she and Malik had gone shopping for her laptop. He’d been keen to get her something top of the range, while she’d already done research and knew that kind of computing power was unnecessary for her job. In the end they’d compromised, finding something that they were both happy with. Dani smirked as she remembered the dazed expression on the salesman’s face by the time they were done arguing over it.
Malik had left a piece of notepaper with the Wi-Fi password and all the account log-ins and passwords that she was likely to need sitting on top of the laptop box. She laid it carefully on the desk, and then tore into the box. The benefit of modern computers and internet was that it really didn’t take that long to get things set up, and in less than an hour, she’d installed all the apps she’d need and logged in to all the accounts to get the lay of the land.
She would definitely need to spend some time organizing his cloud backup—it looked like he mostly just saved files randomly, with no folders or filing system at all. How did he find anything? More importantly, how the heck was she supposed to find anything? Everything else was pretty much in order. She’d had a good chat with Aimee, the assistant who’d been managing his social media, so she knew what had been done and what Aimee would have liked to do if she’d had the time. Dani had also made contact with several author assistants online and spoken with them about the general duties they performed. There would still be a learning curve, of course, but she was confident that she could manage without causing any catastrophes. And this job would definitely be lower pressure than her last one.
Between the Covers Page 9