Читать книгу Claimed For The Sheikh's Shock Son - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 11

AUBREY WAS GUIDED to a pew and she smiled at a rather overly made-up woman and took a seat beside her, then sat silently looking at the dark oak coffin covered in a huge spray of deep red roses.

Tears sparkled in Aubrey’s eyes as she thought of a man who really had been one of a kind and very loved. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Aubrey had never seen anything like the turnout for Jobe’s funeral. She looked around at the congregation gathered to say farewell to him. They were an eclectic bunch. From kippahs to hijabs. From military uniforms to medical staff, and alongside New York City’s elite were cops and, she was sure, a few mobsters too.

And then her eyes were drawn to the latest arrival. Well, how could they not be? All eyes were drawn to the woman walking in.

She had legs right up to her neck and wore black, although not an awful lot of it, and there was rather a lot of crêpe décolletage on display. Her bottle-blonde hair was backcombed, and around her shoulders she wore a rather tired feather boa that, like its owner, looked as if it might have seen better days.

Aubrey was rather certain she knew her and tried to place her name. Brandy. That was it. Aubrey couldn’t think of the rest of her name, but knew that she was a bit of a Vegas legend. She didn’t know her directly—Brandy was from before her mom’s time and had been a true ex-Vegas showgirl and ran a dance school now.

The congregation seemed to suck in its collective breath, but it didn’t seem to bother Brandy. She just swanked her way in on those endless legs as she was directed to the pew behind Aubrey, not remotely concerned by the air of disapproval.

As Aubrey glanced behind she blinked, as she recognised another of the women, and then she looked again at the made-up woman next to her.

Was she perhaps another of Jobe’s exes? It dawned on Aubrey that she had been guided to this pew for a reason.

Oh, my, what happened in Vegas wasn’t staying there today!

Aubrey actually had to smother a burst of laughter, but as she put her hand up to cover her mouth, she realised she was being watched, and found herself looking into the narrowed eyes of that stunning stranger.

He really was terribly beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone she had ever seen.

He stood in the pews reserved for family. Exquisitely suited, his glossy dark hair was brushed back from his forehead and Aubrey’s eyes roamed his face, taking in the details.

Just this morning, when Vanda had complimented her on her bone structure, Aubrey had immediately referenced her mother. For the rest of her life, Aubrey knew, she would now reference him, for the blend of his features was unsurpassed. Caramel-skinned with an aquiline nose, his prominent cheekbones were somehow countered by sensual full lips that were not smiling. If anything, the look he gave her was less than friendly, yet Aubrey found that she could not tear her gaze away.

He did.

As someone spoke to him, he looked abruptly away, yet Aubrey remained entranced and could not stop watching him as the family arrived.

Ethan and Abe were accompanied by their gorgeous wives. Aubrey had kept up to date, via the tabloids, on Jobe’s sons.

Aubrey could not though work out the family’s relationship with the handsome stranger. And it wasn’t to do with his dark skin, more that he did not shake hands with the brothers or kiss their wives, he did not greet them warmly and yet they all seemed relieved to see him.

Jobe’s partner, Chantelle, seemed to follow his guidance and slipped into the seat he gestured to and then gave him a nod of thanks. She gleamed with diamonds. Her neat black coat was the perfect canvas for the most amazing golden blonde hair that was so completely perfect that, to Aubrey’s trained eye, it just had to be a wig.

Yes, Aubrey knew rather more about Chantelle than the rest of the Devereux clan.

She had been the reason Jobe had ended things with her mother.

The service soon started and it really was incredibly moving. The readings were beautiful and the eulogy, which was delivered by Abe and followed with a verse from Ethan, had tears welling up in Aubrey’s eyes.

She must not cry here! Aubrey did not want to draw attention to herself and so she swallowed her tears down and watched as the stunning stranger rose.

He was going to speak.

Aubrey glanced down at her order of service.

Thoughts and Poem

Khalid

She turned the page, wondering if his surname was on the next one, but, no, there was nothing more to indicate who he was.

Aubrey watched as he walked up to the lectern. Gosh, he was tall. And his black suit, among hundreds of black suits, stood out—it was just so superbly cut, and sat so well on his broad shoulders. As he moved the microphone up to accommodate his height she saw that he wore cufflinks, and Aubrey wasn’t used to that.

He was just so groomed and polished and, for a short moment, so silent that even a crying baby fell quiet.

Khalid held no notes.

‘Jobe first welcomed me into his home one Thanksgiving,’ Khalid said. ‘I was at school with Ethan, who told me that his father insisted I not spend Thanksgiving alone. We all know the power of Jobe’s warm welcome. He was generous and thoughtful in so many ways, and from the smiles I have seen here today, he brought a lot of happiness to many. Yet Jobe would not forgive me if I failed to mention that he was also cutting, ruthless, arrogant...’

The congregation started to laugh as the mild insults continued and his words were both well delivered and accepted.

Aubrey was more than grateful for the chance to watch this intriguing man.

Khalid made the congregation laugh, yet he, himself, did not smile.

He was completely steady, utterly composed. Detached even? Yet his words felt like a necessary caress at the end of an exhausting day, something to lean on as you fell apart.

‘Jobe helped many people find their light and shine,’ Khalid said, and Aubrey welled up as memories rained down.

Holidays.

Mom, happy and laughing.

The violin that he had bought Aubrey was still her most treasured possession.

Aubrey had been so certain she would not cry that she hadn’t even brought a tissue, but when Khalid read a poem in Arabic she crumpled. She had never meant to draw attention to herself. Had just wanted to pay her last respects to Jobe. But the flowers, the people, the memories of better days... Before Chantelle. Before the fire that had ravaged her mom’s looks. Before, when she’d had dreams.

Before...

And as Khalid translated the poem into English, his eyes drifted to Aubrey.

Her head was down again but there was a frantic edge to her as she used her shawl to wipe her tears, and Khalid found that he wanted to check in on her. To walk over after his reading and see that she was okay. Ridiculous, of course, and not an impulse he would be acting on, but seeing her sitting so alone and distraught, in that moment it was how he felt. Thankfully, one of the women from the Vegas contingent took from her vast cleavage a handkerchief and, having tapped Aubrey on the shoulder, handed it to her and then rested her hand on Aubrey’s shoulder.

As Jobe had once done for him.

Yet his voice did not become husky, neither did it waver as he translated the poem to perfection.

Khalid was, after all, a man of thirty. A man who had, at the age of sixteen, faultlessly delivered a full eulogy at his mother’s funeral in front of world leaders. He had been trained for this sort of thing from the cradle and it came as second nature now.

Stepping back from the lectern, he nodded to the casket and retook his seat with the family.

Seamless.

Faultless.

Closed.

* * *

Khalid was staying at the same hotel where the wake was being held and arriving there after the service he took the elevator up to his suite.

Soon he would head back down and greet the guests, and keep an eye out, as he had promised Ethan he would, but for now he took a moment alone and gazed out at the view.

It was the end of an era.

Not just Jobe’s passing, but his time spent in this amazing city.

It had always galled his father that he’d come here, but his mother had insisted. Khalid used his jet like others might take a cab, yet the time he spent here was already becoming less. He and the Devereux brothers were building a hotel in Al-Zahan, which was consuming. And with Khalid soon to marry and assume more royal duties, there would be fewer trips.

These days he was rarely maudlin but the loss of his mother he felt again as he looked out on New York City in spring. ‘Oh, Khalid,’ his mother had said long ago, ‘there is nothing better than walking through Central Park, holding hands, kissing in the sun...’

‘You held hands and kissed?’ He had been fifteen and stunned by his mother’s revelations. ‘With a man other than my father?’

‘Khalid...’ She’d laughed. ‘I have never held hands with your father, neither do we kiss. Oh, abnay alhabib...’ she implored. ‘Oh, beloved son, I have fought for you to walk in the sun and laugh as I did when I was a young princess. One day you will be King but for now, promise me you will have fun.’

Khalid had tried to.

There was another heir, and two more had been on the way.

He could breathe, his mother had told him, before duty called him home for ever. His cold heart had just started to thaw under the hazy New York sun when she had died.

Khalid missed her very much today.

His phone buzzed and for once it wasn’t the palace but Ethan, asking where he was. Remembering his duties, Khalid peeled some money from a clip to tip the drivers and bar staff and then headed down to the wake.

* * *

In the main, it was a very Upper East Side crowd that had been invited back, but to her great surprise Aubrey had found herself being guided into a black car and driven to a hotel, and now she stood in a plush room labelled ‘Private Function’.

Brandy and the others had commandeered the hotel bar and Aubrey was wondering if it might be better to head out there and join them.

Waiters were doing the rounds with trays of drinks and delectable food, but, though hungry, Aubrey declined to accept as her stomach was too knotted up to accept and her hands were too unsteady to be around glass.

Aubrey could feel the daggers being shot in her direction and felt her cheeks burn amidst curious stares. She had done her absolute best not to stand out, but amongst the elite, of course, she did. Her friend’s dress was just a little too polyester and a little too big, and the same friend’s shoes a touch too long and wide. There were low, polite conversations going on all around but Aubrey stood alone until one portly gentleman came over. He didn’t mince his words. ‘You knew Jobe how?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Aubrey responded. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

He blustered for a moment and then went back to his wife and Aubrey again stood alone.

Chantelle worked the room, thanking the guests for their attendance, presumably accepting condolences while sharing small anecdotes, but she gave Aubrey a wide berth.

Aubrey again declined a drink from a passing waiter and was wondering if it might just be simpler to leave. She was already seriously questioning the wisdom of coming back for the wake when a very elegant woman came over and proffered a kind smile before reducing Aubrey with words—‘I think you’ll find your friends are all at the bar.’

It was the final straw. With her mind made up that she was leaving, Aubrey headed for the doors, but unfortunately, as she did so, the brothers turned from the group they were speaking with and she came face to face with one of the sons that she knew from the tabloids to be Abe.

‘Miss Johnson.’ He offered a thin smile and a vice-like handshake but even if his stance was polite, his black eyes were unfriendly and the message was clear—You are not welcome.

‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ Aubrey offered, surprised that he knew her name and realising it hadn’t been chance that she had been allowed into the service. Perhaps they knew about Jobe and her mom after all. ‘It was a lovely service.’

He didn’t respond.

‘I was actually just leaving,’ Aubrey said.

‘Perhaps that would be for the best.’

Ouch.

Khalid now came and stood at her side, like a security guard, Aubrey thought, and it angered her, for they all clearly thought she was either trouble or not good enough to be here.

Aubrey was actually now tempted to accept a drink from the passing waiter just to throw it in Abe’s face, to tell him that his father had never looked at her or her mother with such contempt. She was suddenly sick of the Devereuxes and their closed ranks and minds, and tired of being looked at as if she’d brought in dirt on her shoe.

Khalid could feel the tension rip through her, and privately he considered it deserved—Aubrey had been nothing but polite and discreet and had clearly been about to leave.

It was too late for that now, though, for Chantelle had arrived.

Ah, Chantelle.

Khalid inwardly sighed.

She had never quite made it to wife and remained bitter about that fact. Her hair was coiffed to perfection as always, yet her face was flushed from champagne and, if there was such a thing as too many diamonds, Chantelle, to Khalid’s mind, was just that.

‘I don’t believe we’ve met,’ she said to Aubrey. ‘I’m Chantelle, Jobe’s partner.’

Khalid felt his jaw grit a little. Chantelle had been Jobe’s date on many an occasion, yes. But the great man himself had kept her at arm’s length before his demise.

‘I’m Aubrey,’ she said, and held out her hand. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’

Aubrey’s hand wasn’t accepted.

‘The correct thing to do, at an occasion such as this,’ Chantelle hissed, ‘is to say who you are and your relationship to the deceased.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Aubrey said, refusing to let on she was terrified. ‘I wasn’t aware of that—it’s my first funeral.’

And Khalid, who rarely smiled, especially on a day like today, found that he was suppressing one, as Aubrey sidestepped the demand for more information as to who she was.

Yet Chantelle, having spent a week locked out of Devereux discussions and attorneys, having spent a week being less than magnanimously told that while she could join the family at the service, the fact was she wasn’t one of them.

The Devereuxes were bastards to those not their own.

And Aubrey, alone, stood in the volatile thick of it.

‘So where have you travelled from?’ Chantelle asked, assuming correctly that Aubrey wasn’t from the East Side.

‘Vegas.’

‘Oh.’

Yes—oh.

Just. How. Old. Is. She? Chantelle’s eyes screamed as she spoke. ‘Do you get to Manhattan much?’

‘It’s my first time here,’ Aubrey answered.

‘And you know Jobe, how?’

He had a long affair with my mother, Aubrey was tempted to sweetly reply. He adored her and treated her like a queen. They used to play strip poker in our trailer. Not while I was there, mind. Jobe was a gentleman like that. He really was. I only found that out the other day when my mom was reminiscing. I was there, though, when he drank cheap whiskey while my mom cooked him spiced chicken wings. They were his favourite, not that you’d know.

He helped with my homework. You’d twist that and make that sound sleazy, but it never, ever was. He took us to Disney and to see the Hoover Dam and we went in a helicopter over the Grand Canyon. Me! A girl from a trailer park who’d never had a daddy, let alone been on a holiday, flew over the Grand Canyon in a helicopter.

They loved each other and my mom never took a single red cent. Not even when she got so burnt, so broken she couldn’t afford her bills, still she didn’t let him know. She wanted him to remember her as the beauty she had been and the love they had once had.

But, of course, Aubrey didn’t say any of that.

She had nothing left in the tank. Fuelled on no sleep and a single granola bar, suddenly she felt a little sick and also terribly close to tears when Chantelle, her eyes bulging, finally snapped. ‘Who exactly are you?’

Aubrey could feel all the eyes on her. She had no idea what to say and was ruing her decision to come. Her heart felt as if it had moved up to her throat and she wanted to turn and run.

Khalid could feel her silent agony as she stood before the inquisition.

While his brief was to protect the Devereux family from Aubrey, his instinct was suddenly to protect her from them. As much as he loved them, Khalid knew their might and, aware of their ruthlessness with outsiders, he stepped in. ‘Aubrey is here with me.’

Aubrey blinked as he spoke and dared not turn to him; instead she watched as Chantelle turned from angry, to confused, to mollified, right before her eyes.

‘Oh...’ Chantelle’s pursed lips parted in surprise. ‘I must apologise. I didn’t realise.’

‘Why would you, Chantelle?’ Khalid responded. ‘I never discuss my private life.’

‘So, how long have you two been—?’ Chantelle persisted, but Khalid would not be interrogated by anyone and interrupting the question he turned to Aubrey. ‘Come on.’

Oh, the blessed relief of walking out of the wake with Khalid by her side where it felt no harm could come to her. She liked it that he did not take her hand or snake an arm around her waist, just because the scenario he’d created possibly meant he could, and in the foyer Aubrey turned and faced him, and was suddenly shy. ‘Thank you for that.’

‘It’s no problem.’

‘I just didn’t know what to say...’

‘You don’t have to explain your dealings with Jobe to me.’

Dealings? Aubrey frowned at his choice of word, unsure quite what he meant. ‘Well, thanks again.’ She offered her hand and perhaps that was the wrong thing to do, for he did not accept it, though for a reason Aubrey hadn’t thought of—‘Isn’t that a little formal when we’re supposed to be a couple? Chantelle is just over there.’

‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded and pulled her hand back, and then nerves caught up and generated the most stupid thing Aubrey could possibly say. ‘Perhaps I should have kissed you instead?’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Khalid responded.

She flushed in embarrassment at her stupid words but then he stepped in and saved her there to. ‘Aubrey, even were you my date there would be no affection between us and Chantelle would know that.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled in relief and even made a little joke. ‘So, no public displays of affection. Noted.’

Khalid was about to correct her—no, no affection. Period.

But that would have led them into dangerous waters indeed, for she might ask him to clarify just what he’d meant by that.

And Khalid would love to clarify.

They stood in a busy foyer, yet it felt as if only they two were there. There was warmth in the air between them and there was an awareness too great to share with a stranger on a funeral type of afternoon.

Khalid realised then that he had been wrong earlier about her wearing too much blusher, for colour now spread on her pale cheeks. He understood the effect was because of him. Or, rather, them. For though Khalid did not blush, of course, there was heat elsewhere. The effect of Aubrey on him had been unexpected, for she was not to his usual, sophisticated, taste.

And, as they stood there, Aubrey found that she wanted to know the name of his scent, and to know how the silk of his suit felt to touch. And she wished now that he had snaked a hand around her waist, just to know brief physical contact with this imposing man. And for Aubrey, those feelings were so unfamiliar that suddenly she had to get away.

He was simply too much.

The whole day had been too much and the antibiotics had made her feel sick. She felt overwhelmed and, not so much dizzy, more that she just had to sit down, so she flicked her eyes from his gaze and thanked him again.

‘My pleasure.’

Such a rare pleasure, Aubrey thought as she went and sat on one of the plush lobby chairs and tried to summon the energy for the journey home.

Well, not home—her night would be spent at the airport. Aubrey was just wondering how long she could stretch out sitting here before being moved on when she saw his dark suited legs and even without looking up she just knew it was him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘I will be.’ She nodded. ‘I just needed to sit down.’

‘Are you staying locally?’

‘No, I’m headed for the airport,’ Aubrey said, a little taken aback when he sat down on one of the plump seats beside her.

‘What time is your flight?’

‘Nine.’ She didn’t add that it was at nine a.m. tomorrow but she could see concern in his eyes. ‘I’m just a bit wiped.’

‘Perhaps because you haven’t eaten?’

‘I have, there was loads of food...’

‘No,’ Khalid said, surprising himself that he had noticed, but he had seen her decline the hors d’oeuvres each time the waiters had come around. ‘You didn’t eat anything.’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘My stomach was in knots.’

‘Would you like me to have something brought to you...?’ He was about to raise his hand and summon someone, but she halted him.

‘Really, I’m fine, just a little tired—I’m getting over an ear infection and I flew through the night to get here.’

Khalid lived a luxurious life, but did understand that not everyone travelled in the style that he did. She was, he guessed, more than a little tired. He watched as she managed to stand and he glanced at her shoes, which were slightly too large, and then up to her face, which was suddenly slightly too pale.

‘Well, it was nice meeting you,’ Aubrey said, and all Khalid knew was that he did not want her walking off, weary, hungry and sad.

‘Wait,’ Khalid said, and of course she swung around. And now he had to think of a reason for calling her back. ‘Aubrey, do you want to go for a lie down?’ He saw the flare in her clear blue eyes and immediately realised she had misinterpreted his words. He didn’t blame her, for even Khalid was having difficulty qualifying what he had just said.

‘Excuse me. What I meant was that my suite will be vacant for a couple of hours.’ She gave an owl-like blink of her huge blue eyes that forced Khalid to explain better. ‘I have to see the family back to the house, then stay for drinks and, no doubt, dissect who was who at the funeral...’

‘Such as me,’ Aubrey said, and for a second she thought she saw a flicker of a smile grace his lips, but then decided that she must have imagined it for that glimmer had gone.

‘I have already explained to them that you are with me.’ Khalid could not quite believe he had offered her the use of his suite. Even his lovers did not get freedom to roam like that. Yet she moved him in unexpected ways. ‘You are more than welcome to use my suite for a couple of hours before you go to the airport.’

God, but a lie down sounded nice, Aubrey thought, and then remembered she hadn’t been born yesterday. ‘I don’t think—’

But he interrupted her. ‘The choice is yours. I doubt I shall be back till late this evening, so there would be plenty of time for a sleep before you head off.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘My role today is to take care of Jobe’s friends and I believe you are one of them.’

‘But why would you trust me?’

‘Trust you?’ he checked.

Aubrey saw his frown and wondered if she had used a word he did not comprehend. ‘I might trash the room, take off with your things,’ she explained further.

But, no, Khalid knew very well what she’d meant. ‘Why would you do that, Aubrey?’

He was so measured.

And so very withheld.

Aubrey didn’t even know what she meant by withheld, except that was the word that sprang to her mind.

He did not jump to provocation.

It was as if nothing could possibly faze him but, most importantly, he did not faze her. Oh, Khalid was overwhelming to her senses, and more male than any man she had ever met, but there was not so much as a flicker of fear making itself known. And while heading up to a stranger’s bed might seem less than wise, it certainly beat lying on the airport floor. As well as that, Aubrey had been born with a radar attached.

It was how she survived.

With Khalid there were no red flags waving and Jobe had clearly thought the world of him.

There was something else, though—this man intrigued her. From the way he had stepped in and saved her from Chantelle’s inquisition. The way he had offered her food.

And now rest.

Aubrey didn’t trust men.

As a little girl her mom had told her to put a chair against her bedroom door at night and as a not much older girl she had stood on a stool to get ice for her mom’s bruises from the freezer.

Khalid, she was aware, brought down her defences, for she wanted to trust this man.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and her voice was a little croaky and the flush was back to her cheeks as she graciously accepted his kind offer. ‘But only if you’re sure?’

‘Of course.’ He handed her a card for the suite and told her the floor. ‘If you’re gone when I get back—’ He was interrupted by the shrill call of his name.

‘Khalid!’

‘Yes, Chantelle.’

And he gave Aubrey the tiniest eye-roll before he turned to the approaching woman; he shared with her his irritation.

It was like being handed the sun.

‘We’re heading back to the house,’ Chantelle said. ‘Aubrey, I do hope you’ll come...’

Best friends now, Aubrey thought, but Khalid swiftly dealt with the invitation.

‘Aubrey shall not be joining us. She has a headache.’ He met her eyes and instead of the sun offered her gold. ‘Rest now.’

As simply as that, Aubrey escaped.