I’msonot a morning person or a great fan of breakfast in general, but someone has gone to the effort of ordering enough food for a large family. So my mouth says fruit while my stomach acknowledges the basket of pastries set in the table’s centre.
‘Rashid.’ Kai addresses a man just entering the room, switching to Arabic and rattling off words I don’t understand. Moments later, a small dish is placed before me, laden with berries and three colours of melon; it looks like something you’d get on a flight. And not economy.
‘Qahwa law samaht.’ Kai speaks without looking up and a cup is placed in front of me.
‘Coffee,’ the strange looking waiter murmurs, placing the cup down, to which Kai responds,
‘Shukran.’
‘Is that how you order coffee?’ Kai nods. ‘How do you saynon-fat venté cappuccino with no foam?’ He chuckles and I tell him I’ll get him to write it down as I bring the cup to my lips, anticipating the much-needed caffeine hit. ‘Who’s the guy?’ I add, keeping my voice low.
Kai’s eyes reflect surprise for a beat before he speaks. ‘Of course, forgive me. Rashid, please come and meet my friend.’
I don’t think this is the usual order of things.
Rashid has a soldier’s build and carriage; a ramrod-straight back under his pale cotton shirt. Skin the colour of the coffee I’m drinking shows the beginnings of fine lines around dark, shrewd eyes. He looks decidedly unlike a waiter and more like a bodyguard. Obviously I have an overactive imagination.
‘Rashid, this is Kate Saunders. Kate, Rashid. My driver and right-hand man.’
‘Sabah al khair. Good morning, madam.’ His voice is as deep as it is heavily accented.
Returning his greeting, I keep my hands around the cup. It’s clear from his body language—and the hands held at his back—that he has no intention of shaking my hand. I think it’s a cultural thing, not touching women you’re unrelated to. Kai doesn’t seem to hold to that.At all.
‘Will there be anything else?’
‘No. Thank you. Take the Escalade. I’ll meet you at the office later this afternoon.’
Kai’s attention returns to his abandoned newspaper as Rashid leaves and silence descends. I wonder where he’d materialised from, and more to the point, how long he’s been here in the suite.
‘Rashid must work long hours,’ I comment circuitously, my not so iron will caving as I reach for a croissant.I’m pleased Matt didn’t vomit in his car or meeting Rashid would’ve been more awkward still.
‘Sometimes.’
‘He’s here pretty early. Drives you around late at night...’
‘The suite has staff quarters.’
He answers without raising his head, which is just as well as I’ve just about swallowed my tongue. Staff quarters? The things he could have stumbled in on—heard!
‘I... I saw you speaking to him last night at the bar, before your dad arrived.’
The soft skin between Kai’s eyes furrow, his gaze now level with mine. ‘My father came to the suite first, my phone was switched off. Rashid came to let me know.’ Exhaling a harsh breath, his eyes move to a point over my left shoulder. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’
‘He makes you angry.’ I keep my tone neutral, my fingers curling around the handle of the cup.
‘That’s the general effect.’ His brow furrows further.
‘But won’t he find out where I’m working? ConsideringwhereI work, or am I to hide in plain sight; buy a fake moustache? Hang on, that won’t work because—’
‘I don’t intend you hide at all. As he has little to do with the school, it’s unlikely he’ll see you there.’ His gaze, dark and astute, never moves from my own. ‘And as for lying, necessary I think. If he decides to pursue you, he’ll find it very difficult.’
‘Pursue me?’ I squeak, cup clattering against the saucer.
‘It would be less about you and more about me,’ he says raising a casual hand. ‘If I’d told him you worked at Al Mishael, he could make it an issue, give him leverage.’
‘L—what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I should imagine in Australian English it means the same. My father likes to assert what he sees as his parental right. Don’t be fooled by the velvet veneer, his attitude hasn’t moved on much from living in a goat hair tent. Parochial doesn’t begin to cover it. He likes to be in control.’
