Page 24 of Out of Office Nights
The cynical glint in his eyes intensified. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘Someone else would’ve fired me by now. So…’
‘You believe there’s an ulterior motive?’
She bit the inside of her cheek. Held her silence. But the truth was a writhing current between them.
After a tense beat he set down his cup with a sharp clip. ‘My reasons are my own.’
‘That’s not—’
‘Fair?’ he bit out when she trailed off, then more shadows chased across his hauntingly captivating face. ‘Perhaps I’m stubborn enough to chase after an illusion. I won’t be dictated to over my ultimate goals. Or maybe I see something I’m not willing to let go. Yet. Including you.’
Her inner turmoil escalated, her breath whooping out softly. With relief? With gratitude? With unwarranted excitement? With deep curiosity, because she wondered if that had been aimed at something besides his next collection? But even if she’d been inclined to give in to curiosity, the subtle but imperious gesture to one of his bodyguards signalled the end of their meal.
A beaming Farah pleaded for them to return soon as she pocketed an astronomical tip. And when the older woman winked broadly and whispered in Arabic for Sabeen tohang onto this one, she smiled her way through the heat engulfing her whole body, her feet hurrying to the waiting car.
She was aware of Teo’s penetrating gaze on the ride back.
‘I would’ve thought you’d hurry to correct her.’ His voice was desert-dry.
Surprise snapped her head in his direction. ‘You speak Arabic?’
‘Enough not to be hoodwinked by market vendors.’
She felt her eyes widen further. ‘Market vendors?’
‘You’d be surprised what inspiration can be found in the colourful alleys of Marrakesh.’
She knew that. Of course she did.
She’d frequently lost herself in the fabric stalls of Jemaa el-Fnaa market and the smaller, out-of-the-way ones as a young girl dreaming of a life in fashion design. It was at one of these very stalls that she’d been talent-spotted.
Somehow, though, she hadn’t pictured Teo in that setting. It made him too familiar. Too accessible. She didn’t want that because…
Aware of his keen stare she struggled to retain her composure. ‘There was no point responding to Farah. She’s an incurable romantic. She’ll see what she wants to see.’
His mouth twisted again, eyes staying on her. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss that illusion.’
‘Meaning?’
‘If that is what she wants to see, create it for her.’ A handful of words, tossed out with bold challenge.
Her breath caught. Possibilities rose sluggishly from an ashen landscape. Hazy then slowly taking form. The earthy, vibrant colours Farah loved, the loud jewellery that announced her arrival long before she appeared, like a percussive soundtrack to her existence.
For the rest of the journey and after they’d returned to her house, Sabeen scrambled to gather drips of inspiration. After examining her sketches one more time, he turned and leaned against the dining table.
‘Tell me about your grandmother,’ he prompted.
Sabeen swallowed. Shook her head. ‘Not tonight.’ The reply held faint pleading. One she hoped he’d miss or, if not, heed.
He stunned her by nodding and heading to the door.
‘You’re leaving?’
‘Get a good night’s sleep. Your taskmaster will return early. And Sabeen?’
Her belly performed yet another unhinged flip. The way he said her name was positively sinful. ‘Hmm?’
