‘I n-need my papers,’ she stammered, and in a last-ditch attempt to leave with some dignity she forced her stupid legs to carry her weight.
He nodded coolly, and began gathering the papers together. Melanie stood at his side and waited in stiff silence for him to hand them over so that she could get out of here and never, ever come back.
‘Your uncle is still running the farm?’ he asked suddenly.
She frowned at the question, her head still too fluffy to think properly. ‘He died five years ago in a farming accident.’
‘I’m sorry, I had not heard.’
Melanie shrugged away his commiserations. There had never been any affection between her and her uncle. She was sorry he had died so tragically, but other than that, she still could not bring herself to forgive him for the part he had played in trying to ruin her life.
‘And Jamie?’
Ah, he couldn’t resist it, could he? A fresh wave of bitterness welled, putting the light of defiance back in her eyes. Her chin went up and she threw that defiance straight at him. ‘My papers,’ she prompted, holding a hand out.
To Rafiq, this was a challenge and a refusal to make any comment on the person she had betrayed him with. He lowered his gaze to the outstretched hand.
‘You’ve changed,’ he remarked. ‘Grown more assertive.’
‘Life has a habit of changing you.’
‘And money.’
‘And money.’ She nodded in agreement.
‘Which you would like me to invest for you?’
‘Money is a devil to look after if you’re not used to handling it,’ she answered.
‘Why me?’ he asked, suddenly curious when Melanie no longer wanted him to be.
‘Because Randal assured me that you were the best.’ And that’s all you’re getting out of me, she added silently.
‘Liar,’ he drawled. ‘You suggested me to Randal.’
Oh, that shook her. She hadn’t expected Randal to reveal that juicy bit of information. Still, she rallied. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you aren’t the best?’
His smile this time was disturbing. Disturbing because she’d seen Robbie use the exact same expression, but had never connected it with his father before. She knew that physical things, like the colour of eyes and hair and skin, came as part of the genetic package, but she hadn’t realised that smiles did also.
‘There you are, then.’ She tried a smile. ‘I was hoping your business ethic would put you above bearing grudges. It seems I was wrong. My mistake. I’ll find someone else.’
‘To…’ he glanced at the top piece of paper “‘…invest one half of your inheritance in long-term options while the other half is locked into a trust fund,”’ he read out loud.
A frisson of alarm disturbed her breathing. He was beginning to show interest when she no longer wanted him to. ‘Randal is setting the trust fund up for me,’ she said tensely, her eyes fixed on those long brown fingers set against the white paper that held the details of her entire life.
Her life and Robbie’s life.
‘For whom?’ Rafiq questioned.
‘Does it matter?’ she countered stiffly.
‘If you want me to work with you, it does,’ he murmured quietly.
‘But I don’t any longer.’
He ignored that and went to sit down in his chair—taking her papers with him. ‘Sit and explain,’ he smoothly invited, then flipped to the next page.
‘N-no,’ she refused. ‘I’ve changed my mind, Rafiq. I made a mistake to come to y-you. I know that now. You were right. I should leave. I’m s-sorry I intruded.’