Page 29 of Royally Promoted

Malik fell silent. His remote parents, who had no highs or lows—or so he’d thought.

Was the road he had embarked upon the right one? He wasn’t marrying in haste, but would he repent at leisure?

In the face of sudden doubts, Malik held steady. If he had underestimated the relationship between his parents, then that was his fault. The fact remained that their successful relationship was based on pragmatism, two young people sharing the same goals because they shared the same background. No room for error. It was what he wanted...wasn’t it?

‘So...what’s the procedure for meeting these suitable women?’

He wondered what Lucy was up to. They had agreed their ‘pretend we never touched’ deal three days ago. Since then, Malik had discovered that some deals were tougher to stick to than others. He’d done deals that had made him a personal fortune but this deal, with no money involved, was crazily difficult to stick to.

She was fine, same as usual, nothing to see there. He’d kept looking. She’d smiled and chatted as she always had. He’d had to fight not to scowl at her continuing good humour. It hadn’t really occurred to him previously, but it hit him now that Lucy would doubtless have to precede him back to London, were he to remain in Sarastan to discuss potential nuptials.

‘I am arranging a ball. Nothing over the top, but a nice venue for you to circulate and meet whoever you wish to meet without the pressure of anything small and formally arranged. How does that sound to you, Malik?’

‘It sounds...fine.’

‘Naturally, Lucy, your secretary, would be invited. Perhaps she might wish to help with the arrangements, if that is what she is skilled at doing? We are more than open to suggestions.’

‘Lucy?’ Malik burst out laughing. ‘No. I can’t see that. She’s more than a secretary, as it happens. She has a brilliant brain, and in fact takes on a lot of complex work more suited to some of my own hedge-fund analysts. She...’ He paused, realising that he was going off-piste with his description. He thought of that kiss, and the feel of her lush body pressed against his, and flushed. ‘No, I don’t see her wanting any input.’

‘As soon as arrangements have been made, I will let you know the date, but certainly it will be within the next three weeks at most. And, son...?’

‘Yes?’ He looked at his strikingly handsome parents, his mother elegant and exquisitely dressed, his father gaunt from his health scare but still a commanding presence. He didn’t see the coldness of an arranged marriage. He saw the warmth of two people who cared deeply for one another. How had he missed so much of that?

‘Should you wish a different road for yourself...’

‘A different road?’ His expression cleared and he looked at them thoughtfully. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘This is the right road for me. It worked for you both. It will likewise work for me.’

‘We are all different, Malik,’ his mother said. ‘Your experiences have shaped you differently.’

He thought of the other road he had almost taken years ago and then the image of his secretary flashed into his head, confusing him. Emotional, big-hearted, exuberant Lucy... If on one side of the scales there was a suitable wife, then Lucy surely weighed on the opposite side of the scales?

All that emotion... The love and respect he had overlooked in his parents was evidence enough that head would always win over everything else. It would always be the trump card in the deck.

‘This is what I want and what’s needed,’ he told them gently. ‘And a ball sounds like an excellent idea. Just let me know that date.’

Lucy was eating in the kitchen when she distantly heard the slam of the front door, a heavy, muffled thud that barely travelled through the vast distance of the palace. She immediately tensed. As far as she’d understood, Malik had gone to his parents and then would be heading out to the city to have dinner with some of his business associates.

The horde of invisible staff had gone for the day and she’d looked forward to having the place to herself, cooking her own food in the kitchen, rather than having exquisite stuff prepared for her, and eating in front of her laptop so that she could catch up on the drama series she was currently binge-watching.

So, when she heard the slam of the front door, she could only hope that Malik would scamper up to his quarters rather than detour via the kitchen.

The kitchen might be the size of a football field but it would still be impossible to miss her at the ten-seater kitchen table, in front of a bowl of pasta with a glass of wine next to her, kitted out in old tracksuit bottoms and a voluminous tee-shirt with a logo of her favourite Disney movie on the front.

Fork hovering mid-air, she watched with a sinking heart as the kitchen door was pushed open and there he was, in all his sinful glory. He was wearing a pair of beige trousers, a black tee-shirt and loafers that would have cost the earth. He hadn’t shaved and there was the darkening of stubble on his chin.

She’d spent the past three days with a smile pinned to her face, making very sure that her eyes didn’t do anything reckless and disobedient—such as linger on him.

They’d kissed and her world had been turned on its axis but she knew that it was vital that she repositioned her skewered world back where it belonged, on the right trajectory, and carried on as normal.

Nothing had been harder.

‘You’re here.’

He was mildly surprised as he strolled into the kitchen, headed for the fridge to grab a beer, opened it and then sauntered towards her to inspect what she was eating, before settling in one of the chairs facing her.

‘So are you,’ Lucy was quick to respond. ‘I thought you were going into the city after your parents’. How is your father doing?’

She self-consciously ate the pasta that had been on the way to her mouth before he’d interrupted her, and felt the flick of some wayward spaghetti and tomato sauce on her chin. She delicately wiped it off and proceeded to look at him with something close to accusation.

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