‘Stay with me,’ he whispers into my hair.
‘I can’t. I have work early and I don’t have my things.’
My mumbled excuses sound hollow against his chest. While his invitation was for dinner, the underwear may have been an invitation I tried to ignore. But doesn’t turning up with an overnight bag and a toothbrush scream presumption? Or slut? Or has that boat already left the dock?
‘I’ll take care of that.’ He dips me slightly and my hair falls from my shoulder, suspended for a moment in the air. ‘And I’ll take you to work in the morning myself.’
Kissing my hand, the song ends as a ripple of applause sounds from nearby tables—bloody voyeurs—but I’m too stunned to mind.
‘You’ll drop me to work?’ I pull at his hand as he leads me back to our table. ‘The tom-toms would go into overdrive! You know I work at the girls’ school, right? And that it’s full of women? I think I’ll pass being labelled the Whore of Babylon. Or the bitch banging the boss, thanks.’
Ever the gentleman, he pulls out my chair, laughing not quite so gallantly. I drop into my seat and he kisses the crown of my head.
‘Careful, you’ll have your feminist membership revoked.’
‘Pretty sure it’d be revoked on the grounds of my wearing these undies,’ I mumble, pulling my dress over my knees.
‘I knew it,’ he says with a sudden grin.
Crap.‘Doesn’t mean—’
Kai shakes his head in a mockingly sternof course notmotion. ‘You know, Babylon was said to be in, what is now, modern day Iraq. Not the UAE. And don’t worry, we can take the town car, travel anonymously. It would look as though you’ve taken a cab.’
Not the cabs I’ve been using. I somehow doubt his town car is a beige Toyota Corolla, circa 2005. I also doubt the back window’s decorated with enough stuffed animals to shame a paedophile.
He takes my hand from the table, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. ‘And as for banging the boss,please stop thinking in those terms. I’ve told you I have little to do with the school.’
‘Other than being the owner’s son?’ I extricate my hand to reach for my glass.
He suddenly closes the small physical space between us, leaning into me. I have an insane urge to reach out, draw him the rest of the way, mash my lips against his.
‘Stay with me.’ His voice is soft and throaty and he’s so close that I can almost feel the stubble on his face.
Who am I kidding? I came dressed in his underwear, would I really go home without letting him get me out of them?
