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Val restrained a snort with some difficulty. While her primary function was “babysitting,” as Desmond had pointed out, she’d worked for the sheikh for over eight years now and had witnessed enough family meals and functions to know that there was little about this man that had made a lasting impression with her boss. Hind’s father was notoriously straitlaced and conservative, and Desmond Tesfay’s flashy persona wouldn’t impress the man at all.
She rearranged her features back into the cool blankness she’d cultivated over the years, but it was too late. Desmond’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled, taking a step backward.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Desmond was stepping closer as she stepped back, that gleam in those brandy-dark eyes darkening them all the more. “You were going to say something. Or you werethinkingsomething, at the very least. Spit it out.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Spit it out, Miss Montgomery.”
Whatwasit about the way the man’s voice wrapped around the vowels of her surname that turned her lower belly to melting honey? Val lifted her hands to pat her cheeks. She took a breath and pictured herself encased in ice, a trick she’d learned from one of her meditation apps and which she put to use on Hind’s particularly bratty days. Snow, mountain peaks glittering white, a pool of still, turquoise-blue water. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Tesfay.”
“Yes, you do.”
Was he going to wrangle with her like a three-year-old? “Mr. Tesfay—”
He had the gall to lift his finger as if to wag it at her, but the reappearance of Hind thankfully interrupted his interrogation.
“I’m ready!”
Flustered, Val turned to her, clearing her throat. Hind thrust her handbag in Val’s direction without a word and set off down the hallway, chattering into her mobile as she went.
Val’s face burned with embarrassment, and Desmond had seen it all. She knew because her skin was tingling where his eyes grazed her.
“She’s normally not…” Val’s voice trailed off. What was the point?
“Miss Montgomery…” he began.
“Dinner!” she said, clapping her hands to break the tension as she skittered forward. She jumped when Desmond slipped up behind her, and a large warm hand hovered over hers, but stopped short of touching her.
“Allow me,” he said, and she nodded. She sincerely hoped her light-headed breathlessness was the result of not drinking enough water today, and not as a result of her proximity to Desmond. His hand closed over the handle of Hind’s behemoth handbag, and his fingers rested on her elbow a fraction of a second before he stepped away.
“My man will take it at the door. Come on, let’s go.” He began striding toward the door, and Val gave herself a good shake, reprimanding herself severely.
Years ago, she’d had an intense physical reaction to a man just as young and just as handsome, if not quite as successful. All she’d gotten from that was a heart that was smashed to bits and a colossal mess she was still cleaning up.
Well, she told herself, this was different; she had about as much chance of starting anything with Desmond Tesfay as she did of flying to the moon. And, frankly, she was grateful for it.
She was content just to look, and comforted to know that no one would ever know how silly she had been.
CHAPTER TWO
HAD TEENAGE GIRLS, Desmond wondered, been this tedious when he was a teen himself? He couldn’t remember that far back. All he knew was that the evening was nearing an end, and he was grateful. He wanted badly to be back home, alone.
He supposed Hind felt the same; she had stopped pretending to be interested in anything he was saying over an hour ago.
“Couldn’t you have got us in at the Soho Club?” she queried, pushing aside her plate.
“You’re underage.”
Hind sighed and rose to her feet, seemingly overcome by the unfairness of it all. “Fine.” She reached for the massive red handbag she’d kept close to her side since they’d entered. “I’m going to the loo,” she said. “And I don’t need you, Val. Be right back!”
She left in a cloud of perfume and that now-familiar clatter of high heels. Desmond was finally able to take a breath. He was going to hear that damnedtap-tapnoise in his sleep.
Her minder, or whoever Miss Montgomery was, was sipping from a little brass-handled pot of Turkish coffee. She hadn’t said a word throughout their meal, aside from gentle reprimands to Hind whenever the latter had been rude, which was more than once. He couldn’t have said a word about the meal if his life depended on it.
But now Hind was gone, and his eyes flicked over to the woman sitting across from him.