Rafiq froze on instant recognition of that deep country burr. ‘No,’ was all he could manage to utter.
‘Oh…’ Jamie Sangster sounded momentarily nonplussed. ‘Who are you?’ he then asked curiously.
‘A—friend,’ Rafiq gritted.
Another ‘Oh’ raked his eardrum, followed by, ‘Will you give her a message for me, then? Tell her that Jamie will be in town on Saturday and could she give me a ring so we can arrange dinner or something to talk about her proposition?’
Rafiq replaced the receiver without replying. He then carefully removed it from its rest. Beyond the study door he could hear Ethan Hayes moving about the hallway. In William Portreath’s study the only sound was the buzzing taking place inside his own head.
Melanie signed all the papers Rafiq set in front of her without bothering to look at them. She was so tired she knew she couldn’t see straight to read them anyway.
‘Randal tells me you have decided to set a separate fund aside,’ Rafiq murmured levelly. ‘Is it for anything special?’
‘Is Randal supposed to pass on to you every decision I make?’ She frowned.
‘Taking care of your money is what you signed me up to do for you.’
Shame this relationship hadn’t stayed that simple, Melanie thought heavily and got up from the desk with the grim intention of taking herself off to bed. She was exhausted beyond anything—stress and tension—tension and stress…
‘So, what is the money set aside for?’ Rafiq prompted an answer.
‘Personal stuff,’ she said.
‘A million pounds of it?’
His sarcasm showed. Melanie turned to look at him. There was something different about him tonight. He?
?d been quiet and withdrawn, even with Robbie. And he looked paler than he usually did. Was the stress of it all getting to him also?
‘I might want to go on a spending binge.’ She attempted to make light of a tricky subject. ‘Your know, retail therapy and all that.’
He didn’t even try to smile. ‘You believe you may require such therapy once married to me?’
She glanced at him, standing there in so-called casual clothes that had clearly cost the earth. ‘Well, my one good suit doesn’t look much next to the dozen or so suits you have hanging in my wardrobe,’ she pointed out wryly.
‘It will not cost a million to replenish your wardrobe.’
‘I might decide I want to by loads of things—like a new car or two,’ she suggested. ‘Why, is there a ceiling on how much I am allowed to stash on one side?’
‘No,’ he answered quietly. ‘But I think you have overdone it a little. Why not allow me to place, say—one hundred thousand in your account to be going on with?’ he suggested. ‘You need only say when you require more.’
Melanie shifted tensely; she did not want to talk about this. ‘Don’t talk down to me just because you know more about money than I do, Rafiq,’ she told him crossly. ‘If I’d wanted only one hundred thousand I would have made it only one hundred thousand.’
With that she went to leave the room.
‘Where are you going?’ His dark voice came after her.
‘I’m tired. It’s been a—long day. I want a nice soak in a warm bath, then just to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.’
‘What—again?’ he drawled lazily.
It was like a red rag to a bull. She whipped around to look at him. It was a terrible—terrible mistake. He was leaning against the edge of William’s desk with his arms loosely folded and eyes slightly hooded by long black lashes, as usual.
Why? Because he was trying to impose another woman’s image over her image. He wanted that other woman so badly that sometimes she could actually feel him ache.
‘We aren’t even married yet and you sound like a husband,’ she lashed out. ‘There has to be more to this relationship than just sex, or we are about to make a big mistake.’
The light from the desk lamp was playing across his bold dark features. She thought she saw a different kind of light glint in his eyes and stiffened her shoulders in readiness for him to throw something really nasty back at her like, Be grateful we have sex!