Page 13 of Royally Promoted

Every piece of literature had said that it was hot, yet nothing quite prepared her for the sauna intensity of the sun beating down on her as she screeched to a stop outside the glass doors and looked around her. The long, wide strip of road outside was lined with palm trees and, beyond the airport bustle, a distant vision of desert brought home to her just how far out of her comfort zone she was going to be here.

Lucy had done some travelling in her life: family holidays to Europe. With so many of them, money had been stretched. They had rented houses in France and been to more camp sites than she could shake a stick at.

But this felt wildly different.

Thankfully, the flowery dress she had chosen to wear for the flight, sticking to her like glue as it was, seemed acceptable. Tourists, pink-faced and sheltering under hats, were climbing into black taxis or else looking around them for their lifts, and there were locals, some in Western clothing, some in traditional robes.

Excitement momentarily displaced nerves until she spotted the Bentley and, as she hurried towards it, pulling both her cases, a driver leapt out of the car to relieve her of them. Her instinct was to launch into polite chatter, but it was clear that he was there to do a job and, after greeting her, he stepped back and spun round to head for the door.

From behind privacy glass in the splendid luxury of his car, Malik watched Lucy as she tripped behind his driver, head swinging left and right as she did her best to take everything in.

He originally hadn’t planned to meet her at the airport. With his father back from hospital, and a million things to do with the various family business concerns which had practically gone into panicked meltdown at his father’s sudden health shock, time was in short supply.

The ship had to be steadied. Many thousands depended on the stability of the Al-Rashid family, which was involved in every part of the country’s economic infrastructure. His father was an expert when it came to handling the complex network of companies. Malik handled much of the family billions, but from the London hub. Returning to Sarastan, he had quickly realised that there would be a lot of ground to cover to get up to speed with the way the vast machinery of his family’s businesses were handled here.

The thorny business of ship-steadying was going to take time. Yet, he had thought about Lucy arriving and had suddenly become restless to see her.

He’d missed her. He’d missed her input. Missed her being his right-hand helper. God knew he’d needed it over here, where rules of engagement weren’t quite the same as they were in his well-oiled set-up in London.

He opened the door and vaulted out, leaning against the car as the heat struck him with the force of a sledgehammer.

He smiled. She was wearing a flowing, bright, flowery dress buttoned all the way up. The flowers were huge and in wildly energetic colours and the dress was cinched in at the waist with a matching cloth belt. Lifting his reflective sunglasses to look at her, he absently wondered how it was that he had never noticed quite what an hourglass figure she had.

But, then again, this dress seemed designed to show it off, even though the actual style was really quite modest: below the knee, sleeves, little dainty collar...

The smile turned to a grin. For the first time in a week, he felt some of the tension oozing out of him.

‘Lucy,’ he drawled as she slowed her pace and looked at him from the opposite side of the car as his driver rushed to open the door for her. ‘Good flight? You look hot.’

Lucy hadn’t expected him.

Her mind had been drifting this way and that as she’d followed the driver. Her eyes, likewise, had been taking everything in. She’d also been sweltering and idly wondering what would happen if she fainted from the heat.

So she had the shock of her life when Malik stepped out of the car. In the space of a week, she’d somehow managed to forget just how beautiful he was. His raven-black hair was swept back and curled slightly at the collar of his shirt, a white short-sleeved shirt with an almost invisible white embroidered monogram on the front pocket. Maybe it was being out here in the blazing sun for a week, but he seemed a shade more bronzed.

And taller—which she knew was an optical illusion. Baking heat didn’t make a person grow a couple of inches. Still, she stopped dead in her tracks and, for a few seconds, her heart slowed, the heat was forgotten and breath caught in her throat.

He had shoved his sunglasses up and was looking at her with lazy amusement.

‘What are you doing here, Malik?’

She ducked into the back seat; what bliss...it was cold. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, then turned to look at him as he followed suit, slamming the door after him.

She breathed him in and felt a little unsteady.

‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she tacked on a little lamely. ‘But, now that you’re here, how’s your dad doing? It’s just brilliant that he’s back from hospital, and thanks for filling me in. Hospitals...awful places.’

‘You speak from close personal experience?’

‘Not at all, but I’ve seen enough hospital dramas.’

‘Which makes perfect sense.’

Hell, he’d missed this. There was a lot to be said for her conversational twists and turns, excellent distraction. Only now did he truly realise just how much stress he’d been under since he’d returned.

‘And how is your mother dealing with it? I know you said she’s fine, but I’ll bet she’s not. Probably making sure to keep a stiff upper lip because she doesn’t want you to get too worried. My mother is very much like that. My father, come to think of it, not at all. He’s excellent at feeling sorry for himself when he’s under the weather.’

‘It’s all under control, Lucy. Best team of medics, best consultant, best after-care.’

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