The man with the golden eyes had turned back and was staring at her, and Lara felt as though she was helpless, caught in the honeyed intensity of that gaze. Like a rabbit hypnotised and blinded by the glaring headlights of a car, or a snake lured and seduced by the sound of the charmer’s pipe.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked softly.
Lara took a deep breath. She just knew that he was going to offer her the job! This couldn’t really be happening. It shouldn’t be happening. She had turned up late, looking scruffy, and been rude to him—he should be sending her packing, not seriously entertaining the thought of employing her! But she kept her voice steady—as steady as his golden stare. ‘Lara. Lara Black.’
‘Lara Black,’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘Yes.’ He gave the room a cool smile. ‘Well, I’ll leave you all in the capable hands of Scott.’
He moved away, and Lara watched him as he placed one foot on the staircase. He glanced up at that moment and their eyes met, and she was suddenly filled with an inexplicable feeling of disappointment and stupidity.
Was that it, then? She bit her lip distractedly. What had she expected? That he would suddenly announce to everyone that she had got the job without bothering to test the others? As if that would happen! Especially to someone who had behaved with such utter disregard for professionalism.
She felt a stupid sense of loss as she watched his dark, lustrous head disappear from view. He had gone and she had blown any chance of getting to know him better. But she knew one thing for sure.
He was Khalim’s brother. The resemblance was unmistakable.
So what was she going to do about it?
CHAPTER THREE
LARA put the phone down and stared at Jake. ‘I’ve got it,’ she said slowly.
Jake looked up from the script he was studying. ‘Got what?’
‘That job I went for. You know—I told you.’
Jake frowned. ‘Something about a mobile phone company? You turned up late, looking ghastly, and the owner was there and subjected you to a grilling?’
It was still taking a moment or two to sink in. ‘That’s right.’
Jake elevated one brow in a manner which would have caused almost any other woman in the country to swoon, but not Lara.
‘Does this guy have a death wish?’ he joked. ‘Or does he just like a challenge?’
Lara didn’t say anything. She suspected that Darian Wildman did like a challenge, and something about that worried her—though it now appeared that her gut reaction had been the correct one, after all. She had thought that he was going to offer her the job, but then he had just disappeared and left them all to be photographed. Still, when she mulled it over now, he couldn’t possibly have done otherwise, could he? Not employed her without testing her and, more importantly, without testing all the others—otherwise he would have had a small riot on his hands.
Yet she had sensed that he was about to do so. He looked like the kind of man who broke all the rules and made his own up. The word autocratic might have been invented with him in mind. It had probably been the other man with him, she reasoned, who had persuaded him to adopt the usual method of casting.
She should have been overjoyed. This was work, after all, and she needed to work—especially as the person she’d been covering for at the Embassy was now much better and ready to go back to her job. And she was supposed to be finding out more about Darian Wildman—so wasn’t this a heaven-sent opportunity to do just that? To work for his company and to become the face which sym-bolised that company.
Except it didn’t feel like that. It felt uncomfortable. Wrong. As if she was doing something that she shouldn’t be doing. And coupled with that was the burden of the knowledge she possessed.
Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Darian had excited her in a way that no man had excited her for longer than she could remember. And that in itself was a bad sign. One which made her feel gloomy about him in general. If she was attracted to him then he was bound to be trouble, because Lara’s track record with men was nothing short of abysmal.
She didn’t fall for men very often, but when she did it was always for the kind of man your mother warned you to stay away from. Philanderers and cheats. Good-looking, weak, shallow men. The sort who promised you the earth and a little bit more besides, and then were busy glancing over your shoulder to see if someone more attractive had just walked in. In fact, she had sworn off men altogether—at least until she had worked out what was the basic flaw in her character which attracted her to the wrong type of man.
Her friend Rose had a few theories of her own. She said that it was because Lara yearned for excitement and was looking for it in the wrong places—but how on earth could you go looking for it in the right places if solid and decent men—the kind your mother would approve of—left you cold?
‘Oh, you need a sheikh, like Khalim,’ Rose had laughed on the eve of her wedding.
At the time Lara had been struggling into a dress which weighed almost as much as she did. ‘Don’t be so smug!’
‘But I’m not,’ Rose had protested, and had laid her hand on Lara’s shoulder, her voice gentling. ‘I’m serious. It’s just a pity that Khalim hasn’t got any brothers.’
Lara chewed on her lip. Oh, Lord—she had completely forgotten that conversation until now! But that was the cleverness of the mind, wasn’t it?—It dragged things up from the hidden corners of your subconscious when it thought they might come in useful. If only Rose had known how eerily prescient her words had been.
If it had been anyone other than Khalim then it might have been easy to pick up the phone and say, Hi, guess what? I’ve discovered you have a secret half-brother! But Khalim was no normal man. He was Sheikh of a vast kingdom, and if another man was related to him by blood, then couldn’t he lay claim to that kingdom and jeopardise the livelihood of all of them? His and Rose’s and their son’s, and the child soon to be born? How could she knowingly endanger all that unti
l she knew something of the man himself?