Modern Romance April 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн книгу.
opened the door to the limo and Gracie slid inside, revelling in the soft leather seats, the unabashed luxury. There was a coffee table between the sofa-like seats, along with a huge bouquet of flowers.
‘You could practically live in here,’ she said as she noted the mini-fridge. ‘All you need is a bed.’ Immediately she wished she hadn’t said that.
‘And champagne,’ Malik returned smoothly, magicking a bottle out of seemingly nowhere. Gracie stared at it, transfixed by the memory of another bottle of champagne, another lifetime.
‘What are we celebrating?’ she’d asked.
And he’d replied, ‘Meeting.’
‘Why are you pulling out all the stops like this?’ she asked after Malik had popped the cork and poured two foaming glasses of champagne. ‘Last night you were Mr. Hard-Nosed and now...’
‘I was shocked last night,’ Malik admitted as he handed her a glass. ‘So much of this has caught me by surprise. Discovering I had a son, seeing you again.’ His gaze lingered on her for one sizzling moment before he looked away. ‘I was not at my best. I apologise.’
The words sounded stilted, but the sentiment seemed sincere. Maybe. Surely she’d learned not to trust this man? ‘Well.’ She had no idea how to respond to any of it. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ Malik answered, and lifted his glass in a toast before taking a sip, his silvery gaze over the rim of the glass not leaving hers. Gracie had to force herself not to look away. She could feel her composure slipping, notch by notch. She’d wanted this meeting to be brisk and businesslike with her firmly in control, but a couple sips of champagne and she knew it was already spinning away from her.
‘Where are we going to eat?’ she asked. The limo was speeding down the road out of Addison Heights, which only offered a couple of diners and all-you-can-eat buffets. She couldn’t picture Malik at either.
‘Oriole, in Chicago.’
‘What?’ Gracie nearly dropped her champagne. ‘That’s an hour away.’
Malik’s smile gleamed. ‘I could not find a suitable place closer by.’
‘And Oriole...’ The name rang a bell. She’d read about it in a magazine, Chicago’s newest and most exclusive Michelin-starred restaurant. ‘How did you even get a reservation? I read that it’s booked weeks and even months in advance.’
Malik gave a negligible shrug. ‘Such things are not difficult.’
For a sultan. She finished the sentence herself silently. Despite the luxury and his obvious wealth, it was still hard to believe Malik was actually the heir to an entire country. That night in Rome he’d only been a boy, a wonderful boy she’d been head over heels for. The memory made her sad, somehow. Everything had changed.
She glanced out of the window at the road speeding by, the champagne sending pleasant bubbles zinging through her system. She felt weirdly tongue-tied, having no idea how to bridge the chasm of the last ten years. How have you been? seemed an absurd question at the moment.
‘Tell me about our son,’ Malik commanded in a low voice. Gracie tensed.
‘Last night you didn’t even want to know his name.’
‘Peace, Grace. I already told you I wasn’t at my best last night.’
And she hadn’t been, either, spinning with shock from it all. She was still spinning. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘I do want to know his name,’ Malik said, and she heard the barest hint of apology in his voice. She knew instinctively that she wouldn’t get any more than that.
‘It’s Sam.’
Malik was silent, and Gracie turned from the window, risking another glance at his stern, autocratic profile. His mouth was compressed, his gaze shuttered. She had no idea what he was thinking.
‘Sam,’ he finally said. His voice sounded a little hoarse. ‘It is a good name.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ She was torn between gratitude and irritation, an unsettling mix. Just being with Malik was sending her emotions into a complete tailspin.
She took another sip of champagne, needing the distraction. Malik shifted in his seat, and Gracie was conscious of even that, the stretch of expensive fabric across his powerful thighs, the faint waft of exotic, citrusy cologne when he moved. More memories assailed her, sharp and sweet and so unbearably poignant.
For a second she could feel Malik’s weight above her, his forearms braced by her head, his gaze intense and fiery as he’d moved inside her.
Prickly, shaming heat spread through her whole body. Why was she thinking this way, simply because of a whiff of cologne? But it was the same scent she remembered from a decade ago, and it flooded her senses.
‘So,’ she asked, her voice unnaturally loud and bright. ‘How have you been?’
A faint smile flickered across Malik’s face and was gone. ‘Busy. How have you been, Grace?’
The question seemed loaded with some hidden meaning, as if he suspected she hadn’t been all that well. He clearly hadn’t been impressed by her apartment last night, and why should he have? Judging by this limo, Malik was used to unbelievable luxury.
‘I’ve been fine,’ she said firmly.
So that was pleasantries out of the way. Gracie’s stomach swam with both nerves and champagne. She knew she should ask Malik what his intentions were, what he wanted for Sam, but she was too nervous to prod that sleeping dragon.
He leaned back in the seat, a relaxed and elegant sprawl, his finger and thumb braced against his temple. The gold and silver links of an expensive watch gleamed against one bronzed wrist. ‘What have you been doing for the last ten years?’
‘Besides raising our child?’ she retorted, and then wished she hadn’t. The word our suggested a reality that didn’t exist. Except perhaps now it did.
‘Besides that,’ he agreed, unfazed by her sniping. ‘Which of course is the most important job of all.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed, annoyed even by that. Malik no doubt had very traditional ideas about men’s and women’s roles. ‘I stayed home with Sam while he was young. That cheque helped with that,’ she added pointedly, but Malik remained unmoved. ‘When Sam started school, I began working as a teaching assistant. I’ve been hoping to get certified for full-time teaching, maybe in special needs like I wanted to.’ But she hadn’t started yet because she hadn’t saved up enough money for the course.
* * *
‘And you’ve been living...’ He trailed off, eyebrows raised expectantly.
‘Above my parents’ garage, yes,’ Gracie finished with a touch of defensive ire. ‘I like being near family and the price is right.’ Why, she wondered, did she feel she had to defend herself?
‘I’m glad you’ve had help,’ Malik returned, and leaned forward to place a hand on her knee. Gracie felt as if she’d just deliberately stuck her finger in an electric socket. Her whole body jolted and she stared down at Malik’s large brown hand, the fingers long and tapered, his palm seeming to burn through the fabric of her trousers. Did he realise how he was affecting her? Had that gesture been unthinking or calculated? What did Malik want?
With what felt like superhuman effort, Gracie pulled her leg away and angled her body towards the window. Her whole body still tingled from his touch. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered, and Malik just smiled.
‘Tell me more about Sam,’ he said after a moment, when Gracie’s heart rate had finally started to slow. It kicked right up again. ‘What is he like? Do you have a picture of him?’
‘Yes...’ With a weird mix of reluctance and anticipation, Gracie dug her phone out of her