‘We will stay in touch?’ Her eyes searched his.
‘Of course,’ he answered incredulously. ‘Here,’ he reached for his phone in his back pocket, ‘take my office number.’ They’d already exchanged mobile numbers, but he wanted her to have his work number as back-up. Adira tapped the details into her phone.
Fletcher had witnessed the exchange from the hallway and had kept a discreet distance. He so wanted to go in there and bash their heads together.Definite bloody plans, that’s what Jasper should be insisting on, not ifs, buts and half-hearted ‘keep-in-touch’s! The frustration was killing him. Then, deciding to take matters into his own hands, he marched into the kitchen.
‘Right, tonight we’re having a farewell – no, not farewell,’ he corrected himself swiftly, ‘a bon voyage dinner.’ He turned to Adira, ‘I want you here in your glad rags,’ then looked pointedly at Jasper, ‘and you too, black tie and dinner suit—’
‘I haven’t got—’ Jasper started to say.
‘I’ve one you can wear,’ Fletcher spoke over him. He was on a mission. ‘This is a special occasion,time to make an effort,’ he said with force, looking at them both.
Jasper grinned wryly to himself. The sentiment wasn’t lost on him. He knew what Fletcher was implying and Adira also smiled, knowing Fletcher meant well. Then she suddenly remembered the bedroom she couldn’t gain access to.
‘Oh, Fletcher, I couldn’t clean the bedroom opposite yours. The door’s locked.’
Fletcher’s face turned sombre. ‘Leave that room,’ he answered.
‘But—’
‘I said leave it, Adira,’ he replied sternly, before walking away.
Adira turned to Jasper, with her hands open. ‘What was that about?’
Jasper shook his head frowning. ‘No idea.’
The two exchanged puzzled looks.
Chapter 24
Zara sat back in utter satisfaction with a gleeful smirk spread across her face. At last, the email she had yearned for, telling her Jasper was returning, appeared there on her screen. Albeit the words read concise and business-like, with no warmth whatsoever. Yet still, the message informed her he would very shortly be back in the office. In fact, his plane would be landing at seven p.m. the next evening to be precise, she eagerly thought. Should she offer to meet him at the airport? No, knowing Jasper, he would already have arranged transport.
She knew she’d disturbed him because he had made enquires in his email for any feedback regarding his report. Of course there wasn’t any. Abbas hadn’t even mentioned it since asking for a copy. Still, her phone call had been enough to sow the seed of doubt and get him scuttling back. The corners of her mouth twisted with contentment. Perhaps she could control him after all?
She hummed cheerfully as her hands ran across his now empty desk. Zara had cleared every single piece of paper and item on it, emptied his in-tray and wiped over the keyboard and monitor. There, everything clean and tidy for his return. How he’d realise what a gem he had for a PA, and hopefully more.
She had bought a new outfit to wear for the day of his arrival – a fitted black dress, which enhanced her figure whilst still complying with the professional dress code. Zara had also managed to source the coffee he liked, having seen the brand in his kitchen, and had arranged for his car to be valeted. So yes, she was more than prepared for his return. All she needed was to see those rich brown eyes gaze into hers.
A hot rush flew up her. She’d never experienced such a craving. The sayingabsence makes the heart grow fonderwas an understatement in Zara’s case. Jasper had become an obsession to her. So desperate was she to see his face, she had scoured the company’s website and downloaded any photograph of him. She’d been reduced to printing them out and making a collage of him for her bedroom wall, though she blankly refused to include any photographs of him in that ridiculous massage parlour.
Having reviewed her progress – or rather lack of progress – on the romantic front with Jasper, Zara had decided to up her game. Perhaps he was the type of man that needed a little encouragement? Yes, she convinced herself, that’s where she was going wrong; she hadn’t made her intentions clear. All it required was a touch of support to get the ball rolling. Zara was a master of manipulation, she’d grown up knowing how to wheedle her way round men, how to twist them round her little finger. From an early age, she had seen how her mother had very easily manipulated her father. Good looks counted for a lot, she had discovered. Beautiful people got attention; they also got their own way. Being the youngest, and the only girl at that, had got Zara even more. Look at how her father idolised her. Although she had had a strict upbringing, her father had always had a soft spot for his only daughter. Arun Kassis was born and bred in the UAE, her mother was western, having met her husband in similar circumstances to Zara and Jasper (another fact persuading Zara it was fate). Deborah Mercer had landed a plum job as a personal secretary to the head of a thriving oil business – it was one of the founder groups which had joined forces to form the present company which had provided Zara with a position. There had been a few raised eyebrows within the Kassis family when Arun had announced his engagement to the pretty blonde-haired, blue-eyed secretary from Kensington, London. This wasn’t what his parents had envisaged for their youngest son. Still, as Arun had been forty-five and not showing any sign of a partner so far, they were just relieved that he had finally chosen a woman, even if she was western. Granted, she was extremely attractive, and wasn’t Kensington in the Royal Borough? Well, she was practically regal; that was the party line anyway, trotted out at dinner parties and business events.
When the pretty secretary had provided Arun with four strong boys, all the image of their father, she had exceeded all expectations. Then, a touch later, and to everyone’s surprise, out popped a daughter, still with dark eyes and jet-black hair like her daddy, but every inch as beautiful as her mother. Zara had been the ultimate blessing; the cherry on the cake to her parents, grandparents and brothers. She was adored, pampered by a string of nannies and worshipped by the whole family. Her every whim, wish or desire was granted. Zara had persuaded her father, despite his strong reservations, that working as a PA would be the making of her. To her credit, shewasa good assistant. But her diligence was more due to her attraction to Jasper, than anything else.
In short, Zara had always got what she wanted. And now she wanted Jasper.
Chapter 25
That evening, Adira didn’t have a quandary deciding what to wear. Under strict orders from Fletcher, she pulled out her little black dress from the tiny built-in wardrobe, remembering the last time she had worn it. It had been at the Law Society dinner, full of ambitious social climbers, frantically attempting to rub shoulders with the upper echelons. She pictured the Hooray Henrys in stiff, white shirts and black ties, guffawing with false joviality and the horsey-set women donning flamboyant evening gowns, always with an eye on who to sidle up to, whether their quarry be husband material or a potential rung up the professional ladder. Adira hated it, truly abhorring the whole sorry set-up. She simply didn’t belong and she never had.
‘Fish out of water, eh?’ Rory had nudged her, accurately interpreting the look of despair in her face.
‘You know the feeling then?’ she’d replied, smothering a smile as she saw the Head of Chambers catch their exchange from the corner of her eye. Although she wasn’t happy in her job, it would be foolish to make waves. Career suicide, that was for certain. Adira had seen first-hand the treatment of any barrister refusing to conform. Nigel Kerfoot took it upon himself to scrutinise all the barristers who he deemed fortunate enough to grace his chambers, including both their professional and, inappropriately, personal life. He liked to think it ‘thorough’ and in the chamber’s best interests, when in fact ‘intrusive’ was more the word. His ‘thoroughness’ knew no bounds, often taking to following newly appointed barristers, especially the young, pretty ones, to get a feel for their tastes and whereabouts. Nigel was paranoid about upholding the excellent reputation of Goldgate Chambers, to the point of fixation. It wouldn’t do to have a colleague sully the name in any way, shape or form. Adira had once or twice seen him whilst out and about – always he would make himself known, whether with a cherry hello, or a bottle of wine sent to her table, making sure his presence was acknowledged. She found it creepy. It was creepy.
She shuddered at the memory and thanked her lucky stars she was out of all that. Her black dress was coming out this evening for apositiveevent, she counselled herself. She was spending time with genuine, caring people. Her chin wobbled.
Stop it. She took a shaky breath and willed herself to stay calm.
‘Cool and composed,’ she repeated the words in the mirror, as though saying them out loud would have the desired effect. The sharp, logical side of her brain kicked in, as it often had at work, particularly whilst in court. Any hint of feeling vulnerable or exposed and Adira would retaliate. It was a coping mechanism, self-preservation. As a barrister, she had often come under fire in court and had to retain a hard exterior, ready to retaliate. To show any chink in her armour would be a weakness. Shewouldbe strong. Adira reminded herself of the reason why she was in Lilacwell in the first place; for a new way of life. It wasn’t to feel unsettled or subdued. She couldn’t fall at the first hurdle!
