“Ah, okay!” They shared a smile. Amy smoothed down the dress at the front. The material was soft and of an exquisite quality. “Preti, do you think I’m stupid?”
“Why?”
“Well, because I slept with Adam last night. I mean, not all the way. But he… um… we did things.”
“Oh. Did you enjoy it?”
“Very much.”
“That seems pretty sensible to me. Try not to overthink things; life’s too short.”
“True.”
Amy allowed her feelings of contentment to whirl up inside. Preti was so cool – she was amiable and easy to talk to. If Adam had friends like these, surely that meant something about him as a person. There was definitely more to him than just his gorgeous looks and overflowing bank account. Amy opened her mouth to ask Preti more questions about him, but the bell above the stained-glass door tinkled, and a
tall man strode in. Amy hoped it might be George Clooney looking for his latest tux, but actually it was someone Amy had already met.
Tariq Shard.
He closed the door behind him and smothered Amy with his intense gaze. Amy swallowed, trying to keep calm. Tariq was dangerous and threatening, but also good-looking. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, like gangsters at a standoff. Amy steeled herself, refusing to be intimidated by his macho stance or handsome face. She was in deep enough with ‘alpha’ Adam already; she didn’t need to allow this six-foot, shaven-headed, muscle-laden criminal into her heart and mind.
Amy fixed her eyes on the scar running down Tariq’s cheek. Maybe that was what made him look so hard. But she detected pain behind those dark eyes.
The breezy atmosphere in the boutique had shifted now, eclipsed by the menace that Tariq seemed to bring with him. He folded his arms across his chest like a bouncer refusing entry to a high-class nightclub; blocking the door. Outside, Amy could see wealthy shoppers promenading up and down the street, oblivious to the drastic fear that was rattling around her ribcage.
Preti broke the silence. “Tariq, what do you want? If you’re here for trouble, we’ll call the cops.”
He spoke with a mild New York accent. “I can assure you, Ms Ahmed, there’s no need to get upset. I just wish to speak to Ms Carter.”
“Well, you can’t,” Preti said. “What kind of a man are you? Waiting for us to be alone, innocently shopping? Who stalks two women into a boutique, other than a coward?”
Tariq ignored her. “Ms Carter, I’m sorry about the commotion I caused yesterday at the Quinlan office. It’s been a very trying month. But I’d very much like to talk to you about Quinlan Brothers and their intentions towards your company. Let me warn you, they’re up to no good.”
Amy’s ribs filled with apprehension. Should she believe him? He actually seemed rather gentle and kind; he spoke softly, with grace. Was she allowing Adam’s charms – and orgasmic flair – to blind her professional judgement? But – her personal feeling aside – at the meeting earlier, the Quinlans had agreed to Grafton Techs’ terms. So what ill intentions was Tariq talking about?
Amy stood tall, feeling foolish in her slinky dress. “How did you know I was here?”
“I have my ways of finding people. How are you enjoying New York so far?”
“It’s okay. Very big.”
He chuckled. “Yes, so they say. I hope you don’t feel too out of place. I know how it feels to feel out of place in a place.”
Amy frowned. “I don’t feel out of place. Everyone’s making me feel welcome. Apart from you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m just trying to buy a dress.”
“It’s a very pretty dress. Where are you wearing it to?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“I’m just making polite conversation.”
Amy wished he’d get to the point. This bizarre encounter felt strained and sluggish. Was he planning to hold her hostage and demand that Adam come and rescue her? It was like making conversation with someone who didn’t fully understand how small talk went. Like struggling through quicksand. Amy shook herself out of it. Stop being so bloody British! You don’t have to make small talk with him – he came here to talk to you!
“What is it that you want, Mr Shard?”
“Just the chance to meet with you later. Without the enemy spies eavesdropping.”
Preti scoffed. “I hardly think we’re the enemy, Tariq.”