His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,32
bloody bonkers,” she chided, walking around the room as he turned to track her.
He took two furious steps towards her before he caught himself. “Who. Is. He. Pippa?” he growled, his jaw tight.
“I’ve just met him. Okay,” she declared frostily, twirling around to face him and was startled by his closeness. “He’s just started working here as a trader at Goldbergs. It wasn’t him!” she said emphatically.
“What’s his surname?” Jumal continued to demand, ignoring her defence of him.
“I—er, I don’t know,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I never asked him. Like I said, we only just met. I don’t usually ask for a full CV and biography until the second date,” she snapped back, hands on her hips.
“But you’d sleep with him after the first date,” he accused, his voice full of scorn, the nerve in his jaw still twitching.
“Wh—” She appeared lost for words. Her face was flushed and she was no doubt shocked that he was privy to such intimate, personal knowledge.
“Anyway I came to check on you and also to tell you that I need you to accompany me to Dubai tomorrow. We leave at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and you’ll need to pack something for a formal dinner.” He stalked past her towards the door, his body as intimidating as ever; she backed away automatically. “Oh and wear something conservative,” he added.
“Conservative,” she repeated slowly, trying to keep up with the turn in conversation and the shattering news that she had likely been a victim of drugging at her own birthday party.
“Yes. Dubai still isn’t as liberal as we are. Coverage is required—” he narrowed his eyes “—so no orange bikinis.”
“Wait,” she pleaded, reaching for his arm. “I’m going to Dubai with you. Me?” She let go of his arm quickly as she no doubt clocked his gaze as it dropped to where she’d touched him. Her hand moved to her chest to clutch the lapels of the robe.
“Yes. I assume that’s not a problem,” he checked, brow arched.
“Erm, no, but what about Faridah? Won’t she be going with you?”
“No,” he replied in a hard voice, leaving through the door. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow,” he called back from the hallway.
Jumal wasn’t sure how long he sat astride his motorbike after leaving Pippa’s apartment but judging by the amount of emails and missed calls on his phone, it was quite a while. His mind churned with a plethora of emotions he fought to control before he even attempted to start riding his latest temperamental Italian machine. The bike was the most responsive he’d ever ridden, but she was unforgiving if the rider wasn’t giving her his full attention.
Okay, so James was just a friend. Good. That pleased him immensely, but Malik would no doubt have a thing or two to say to Melina, who remained completely unaware of his friend’s own interest in her. So, one potential love interest down; one to go. Jake.
He finally relaxed his shoulders, unclenched his fists and spread his fingers. Someone had tried to hurt Pippa—someone she likely knew. He felt his shoulders tense again and he cursed.
He arranged for his security team to contact the hotel’s security and obtain a copy of the CCTV from last night and to let him know if they encountered any red tape. He was quite sure the flagship hotel would co-operate to avoid any unsavoury publicity or police involvement.
Not that he planned to involve the police at all once he found the culprit. He would deal personally with whoever had hurt Pippa.
With that in mind, he placed another call to a local private detective he’d used in the past on sensitive matters. The man was dependable, discreet and thorough, and Jumal would soon know everything there was to know about the newest recruit at Goldbergs.
Feeling the need to release some of his pent-up aggression he called Malik next. “I feel the need to punch something—hard. Fancy keeping me company? Great. See you there in twenty.”
Jumal pummelled the punchbag with quick jabs, moving his feet lightly as Malik struggled to maintain his hold on it under the force of the repetitive, bone-jarring impacts. They’d drawn the attention of the men sparring in the rings. Eventually he felt the lactic acid build up in his muscles; his legs were getting sloppy and loose and the need for him to cause grievous bodily harm to Pippa’s new American friend had waned. Somewhat.
“Feel better?” Malik inquired, rubbing at his own chest.