Family friends -
That
was the rumor? I barely kept from laughing. The only connection between my family and Deacon’s was that they were both uniquely messed up.
“Well, fine then,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
We disembarked and went out through the gate, through immigration. The booths were modern and gleaming with white light, but a strange stone and dust smell filled the air. It was a foreign smell, completely unlike Houston, unlike anywhere I'd been in the US.
I was in the Middle East. It finally hit me through my tired haze. I was away from everything I knew.
I glanced around and saw other lines. I fixed on one family: a man, two girls and...a woman entirely shrouded in a black burka. Maybe she could see me, but I stared, completely stunned.
Many other Arab women were not completely covered. Some even wore normal designer clothes, but I could not lift my eyes from the woman in black all through the line.
That’s what I’d be wearing if my family had been Muslim and not Christian. I didn't want to know what the punishment would be here for defying it. I'd gotten it hard, but I'd never feared for my life.
It couldn’t be the law if other woman dressed freely. Someone made her wear it. Maybe that someone even made her think it was her choice. It was probably the man who claimed to love her, who told her it was the right thing.
The guy who would show her no mercy if she didn't give him what he expected.
My anger rose and fell like a flash flood. I couldn’t fix that. I had to save my energy for what I could fix. Spreading solar was at least a noble goal. Maybe by doing that, somehow, some of that sunlight would reach that woman.
A shuttle took us downtown towards our hotel on the corniche - the beachfront part of the city. I'd been on assignment in New York before. The Abu Dhabi skyline gave Manhattan a good run in parts. The waters on our right were turquoise and royal blue, a perfect eighty-five degrees this time of year, our driver said.
The city seemed like a playground. It would be a dream to explore. But I couldn't forget about the woman imprisoned in her own clothing.
The hotel was a beige skyscraper that tore into the sky like a giant anthill. We each had our own rooms.
“Room 2017,” Leo said, handing me the room key and a Habibi Solar business card. “Take a taxi there by eleven. I’ll let them know to have someone waiting to send you up.”
“I appreciate it.” He wouldn’t let go of the card though.
“Sleep. Alright?” he said, finally handing it off.
“The hard part’s going to be not sleeping on the elevator ride up.”
Yet somehow, ten minutes later, I was texting Mira and Antoine my new view. It was amazing looking out on the Persian Gulf, with cars crawling like ants far below. No way I would spend my own money on a place like this, but it must be nothing to a guy like Deacon.
What must it be like to be a billionaire? To fly anywhere you saw fit, to have true mastery over the world? Maybe I
should
have flown here with Deacon.
But I wouldn’t be the master. Just the master’s pet.
I never once get this view,
Mira texted back.
And my family stops by there all the time on the way to India.
Why am I receiving texts from a sheik’s concubine?
Antoine asked.
I tried to snipe him back but thinking used up my last reserve of energy. I’d get him back at his birthday party on Saturday. I had all week to find the right words. Oh, and also a gift, probably.
I flopped back on the bed. One day, I’d be able to rent this place on my own. That’d be the real last laugh.
I passed out.
My alarm woke me on the dime, but after I showered and prepped, I was ten minutes behind schedule. I hurried down and got into one of the silver cabs out front.
The streets whizzed by beautiful as ever, but I scrambled through my presentation a couple more times. By the time I jolted into the lobby of the corporate tower with Habibi Solar, the lines were etched deep into my memory.
“Which floor?” I asked the guard.
“Thirteen,” a familiar voice boomed out behind me. “The Muslims don’t consider it unlucky. Of course they have their own superstitions to make up for it.”
I turned. Deacon strode up in his trademark reluctant formal: sharp blue sports coat, slick tan pants and slip on leather shoes. His smile glowed like the desert sun.
Oh god, that golden face was so hard to stay angry at. I felt a matching smile emerge on my lips. Better not look too long, or I’d get burnt.
“Leo sent
you
down for me?” I asked.
“You think I take orders from a redheaded doughboy like that?”
“Guess we’re just going to be fashionably late then.”
“Late, yes. Fashionable?” His slate eyes scoured my body as if I were wearing an evening gown and not a frumpy dark pantsuit. “That's a calmer word than how I’d describe what you have on, but sure.”
“Miss Martin?” A woman asked as she came over from side lobby. “Ah, Mr. Stone. Perfect. I am Hamida Al Darbi in Human Resources. I was asked to pick up both of you.”
She had a pretty oval face and straight features, but her hair was covered in a sheer checkered scarf. It looked pretty, but it didn’t seem like a simple fashion accessory. She was in one of the most advanced companies in the country, and she still had to hide a bit of her away from the world.
“You two can go up together?” she asked. “You are going to different places.”
“That’s no problem,” Deacon said. “We’ve gone down together, going up should be easier.”
“Oh.” Hamida looked confused. “Then, please come with me.”
Red with embarrassment, I followed. Having something to cover my face with suddenly didn’t sound that bad at all.
****
“Here’s to an amazing first week, guys and gals,” Leo said, holding up a shot glass. “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Our little circle of sofas roared and tossed back the vodka in the glass. I gagged, but held my breath and swallowed the rest.
Warm night air gusted over us, even thirty stories up on the open rooftop bar. Around us, other couples, friends, and co-workers sat in their own squares or loitered by the railing watching the city twinkle for miles around.
“More shots?” Leo asked.
The team pounded the coffee table between us. I really wanted to pass. A couple more and I might end up tipping over the railing by the end of the night.
The bigger worry was about tipping over a more figurative line.
“Listen, guys,” Deacon boomed next to me. “I don’t want to hear the line item description of everything you’re drinking. Just keep the taps flowing until you can’t handle another drop.”
My team whopped and hollered. Yeah, Deacon down-in-the-dirt Stone liked to get cozy with the line workers. And now, that was us.
Deacon reclined and toasted me with an empty glass. “That means you too, sweetheart.” His voice rustled like the breeze.
He had left me on edge the whole week. He hadn’t done anything obvious: no hands on my shoulders, or toes tickling my thighs. But that still left plenty of room for lingering smiles, or pressing in near me during meetings, and shooting little comments here and there. Little things that made me remember all the ways he could cash in on what his swagger promised.
“I already can’t handle another drop,” I whispered back to him, eying my team nervously. Luckily they were taking Deacon’s advice deep to heart and focusing on getting plastered.
“You sure look like you can handle a bit more.” His eyes drifted over me like a fog.
“Are you saying I'm shaped like a barrel?” I said.
“Sure. In the sense that you’re still sitting tall.”
“As opposed to what?”
“Falling all over me.”
“Hah.” I glanced around nervously again. “Easy.”
It was advice for myself. A little flame was in me that hadn’t been there before.
He studied my look, probably reading everything. His hard, chiseled face seemed to sharpen in the moonlight, grow wicked as his lips tugged back into a smile.
“What did I tell you about not worrying about others?”
“Nothing I’m planning on listening to.”
“I know what you want, darlin'.” He leaned in, his deep voice scattering my very breath. “I’d give it to you if you’d just let me.”
This was too much. I grabbed my water and went off to an empty patch of railing to catch my breath. I was wrong, so wrong. That man was not something I could deal with. My father with his fire and brimstone had had less a hold on my mind than Deacon did.
Fear was not enough to hold back lust. No wonder people died having sex in horror movies.
The spires of downtown twinkled in the distance, but below a galaxy of smaller buildings dotted the streets. Houses full of families, not quite poor, but probably conservative compared to the rich.
Down there, the women might have to dress like woman in the airport. But up here, I could literally do anything. Drink, dance, sleep with anyone. Heck, despite the religious laws, apparently this country was full of prostitutes. I hadn’t asked Leo how he had figured this out.
Apparently, everyone was cutting loose here. Why shouldn’t I? It wasn’t so bad to sleep with a client.
I ran a hand through my hair. Was that the only thing holding me back anymore? Had I fallen so deeply under his spell that I couldn’t even hear him casting it anymore?
Someone settled into the railing at my side. Even if I hadn’t known who it would be, the spicy pine scent that mingled with the dust would be a tip off.
“Good call,” Deacon said. “Privacy is more comfortable.”
“Deacon, I told you I don’t want to mix pleasure and work. I thought you understood that.”
“I do.” Ice tinkled as he swirled his glass. “But I also realized that people like you and me don’t get off work much.”
“I’m flying back home tomorrow,” I said.
“Are you propositioning me for the weekend?”
I rolled my eyes at the heavens. “Can’t we just wait to explore this till the project is over?”
“You seemed less eager for space last weekend at the country club.”
“And it got you in trouble.” I turned to him. “See, it’s not safe for either of us.”
Deacon laughed so madly, that half the roof glanced at him. “Darlin’, don’t take it the wrong way but my mother and I have beef stretching back decades. You’re a bit player in that drama.”
“Still…”
“Still what, exactly?” He edged in until his elbow covered mine. “What is it that you fear happening here? I don’t think a few potential slights from your coworkers are all that’s holding you back from an enjoyable night. You do recall how well the last one went?”
I glanced up at his light sharp eyes. Would he understand what I was afraid of with him? I wasn’t even sure of the answer myself, anymore.
The longer I looked, the quicker the doubts vanished. The more his rich lips became the focus of my view.
And that sharp, powerful jaw shadowed with stubble.
Plus, his gorgeous cheeks.
His thick dark hair.
Suddenly, he dipped his hand in water and splashed me.
“What the hell!” I squealed.
“You were looking at me too long.”
“And?”
“Thought this would make us look more like family friends.”
I sputtered and then started laughing. “You heard, too, huh? I guess accountants can be pretty blind at times.”
“Or pretty and blind.” His gaze fell nakedly on my breasts held back by my thin dark blouse. “Sorry, sexy as hell and blind.”
I took in the sight of his muscular form poised over the railing, vast and regal. He was more than just this amazing body.
But god, was it gorgeous. And what was he asking for? Not my life. Just another night.
One plus one equaled two. Two times with Deacon. I’d done second dates before, and they hadn’t led anywhere. I could stop after this one.
Or, at least, after this project.
“Fine,” I whispered, as if betraying myself.
“What?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
We looked at each other, just inches away. His smile shrank into a dim hunger.
“One by one, then?” he said.
I nodded and swayed off towards the elevator. I didn’t stop by our table. Let the others wonder where I went. The parts of me that the vodka had dulled came blaring back to crimson life.
I watched the blurred image of myself in the elevator doors. All the things that my body was about to receive came rushing back to me.
A minute later, Deacon came sauntering down the hall, long and slow.
“Told them the tab was open on everything up to the top shelf,” he said. “That should keep em' busy.”
The elevator came up, and when the doors opened, his hand cupped my rear and guided me in firmly.
I was under his control now.