Page 43 of Royally Promoted

‘I could help you.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You say you’re not interested in money but who doesn’t want to make the most of their potential? And you’ve got bags of that, Lucy. I would be honoured to fund you for whatever it costs for you to get back into the maths degree you walked away from. That could be returning to university or, more than that, I could easily sponsor you to work in a company while you do it so that you earn as you go with a guarantee of a brilliant job afterwards. What do you say?’

Lucy stuck one hand on her lap, balled it into a fist and focused on the food in front of her while she fought off a tidal wave of hurt. He meant well, and that was the worst of it. He wasn’t going to be happy having her leave, but he’d already resigned himself to it, and was now wiping his conscience clean of any unwelcome post-affair stains by lending her a helping hand financially.

‘What a tempting offer, Malik. I actually haven’t given much thought to what I’ll do once I get back to London, but once I leave here I don’t think we should have any sort of continuing arrangement with one another.’

‘Continuing arrangement?’

‘You sponsor me to do something I’m not interested in doing... I keep in touch to fill you in on how it’s going because you’re the paymaster... You give me pep talks now and again... No; clean break when I leave.’

Malik flushed darkly. ‘I would never want anything back from you. I would never consider myself your “paymaster”.’

‘I’m sorry. That was unfair of me. I guess all I’m saying is I don’t think applying for a university place is going to be on the agenda.’

‘Can I at least ask why?’

Lucy sighed. ‘Those days have come and gone. I’m not bothered by getting a degree. I should be able to get by just fine with a good reference from you and my own ability to work hard. Remind me why we’re wasting time talking about this?’ She tried a wolfish smile of her own, but wasn’t sure she quite managed to pull it off, because he certainly wasn’t looking like a guy on the brink of dragging her off to the nearest secluded spot so that he could have his deliciously wicked way with her.

‘Because it’s something that needs to be discussed.’

‘Why?’

She watched, eyebrows raised, as he raked his fingers through his hair and scowled.

‘This isn’t about lots of chat.’ She purred, giving him a taste of his own medicine and taking perverse pleasure in it. ‘This is about other, more interesting things...’ She sat back and looked around her. ‘Like me enjoying this incredible scenery because I probably will never set eyes on it again...and tasting every morsel of this food, even if it turns me into a beached whale after I’ve eaten the lot... And of course, when we get back to the bedroom, well...’

‘Forgive me for trying to do what’s good for you,’ Malik responded tersely.

‘Don’t you worry your head about what happens to me when I leave Sarastan. What’s good for me is for us to just have some fun with what time we have left.’ There was enough sincerity in that remark for her voice to husk over with genuine emotion, and in return Malik sighed and shook his head, as though fighting against the need to dismiss a conversation he wanted to have.

She was stuffed by the end of the evening. They had enjoyed an array of starters, letting the darkness soak them up, and appreciating the studded starry sky above. For the various desserts and coffee, they retired under an elaborate tent that was complete with all mod cons.

Lucy was beginning to feel tired. It had been a long day, and there was something a little exhausting about being presented with spectacular sights, one on top the other, from the wide-open dunes to the roaring twilight, from the camels and the emptiness to the wonderful finale he had arranged for her. Everything felt like a memory in the making and, as they slowly drifted back to the car, which was to be driven back for them, she suddenly had to know how much time was left to them.

She was determined to enjoy what was left, determined not to let their last few moments be blighted by anxiety and trepidation about a future without him. She wanted to be in charge of her own narrative. Wasn’t it a fact that the only stuff you ever regretted was the stuff you wanted to do but never did? She had embarked on this crazy, whirlwind, beautiful, invigorating affair because she would have regretted having walked away from it.

She wasn’t going to regret a single minute of what they had shared, even if it left her with a broken heart. There was something to be said for that old chestnut about it being better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Which wasn’t to say that a little mental preparation for departure wasn’t going to be in order.

‘So...’

‘I’m beginning to dread when you open a sentence with so...’

Lucy ignored the interruption. It was good that Malik wasn’t doing the driving. She had his full attention.

‘We’ve had our chat,’ she said, ‘about what happens once I return to London—and many thanks, incidentally, for the kind offer of giving me a leg up the career ladder.’

‘You should seriously think about it. A maths degree could open a lot more doors for you.’

‘Like I said, I’m perfectly happy living with those doors shut. But what I’d really like to know now is when I can start planning my return. I want to make sure everything is okay with my place for when I get back. I can arrange for one of my sisters to nip in and have a look and make sure that the fridge is stocked for when I get in.’

‘You need notice to get someone to buy some milk for when you return?’

‘It’s not a joke, Malik. I might want to start arranging interviews for when I’m back in London, and I can’t do that if I have no idea when that’s going to be, can I?’

‘There’s really no need for you to start job-hunting immediately,’ Malik ground out with a sudden, darkening frown. ‘I’m not rushing you out of the door.’

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