by Zee Monodee
Heat flushed Diya’s cheeks. What a picture they portrayed. She lying there sprawled over this man, who lay flat on his back on the floor ...
She scrambled to her feet and hung her head so the hair on the sides of her face would shield her flaming cheeks.
“Ange, you haven’t interrupted anything,” she started to say, but stopped when Angélique laughed and fled the ballroom.
“You okay, Diya?”
“Uh, yes, I’m fine. Fine,” she said. “You?”
“I’m okay. Sorry I scared you. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.”
She nodded, her back still to him. Mortification solidified every fibre inside her, and she couldn’t bear to face him.
He, however, left her no choice when he moved to settle right in front of her.
“Diya?” His voice rumbled low, his tone husky.
Unable to resist, she slowly lifted her face. She drank in the sight of his jean-clad legs and the wet black T-shirt hugging his broad physique, outlining the muscles in his flat abdomen and chest. The water must’ve fallen on him. She gulped back when she met his eyes. Heat burned in them, and never in her life had she felt so tiny.
In front of this very hot male, she wanted to huddle like the coveted prey of a powerful feline would.
“My shift is over for today. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight. We’re hitting the food court at the shopping mall.”
Dinner? She wanted to spend every minute of her life with him. But she had to push the irrational wish out of her head. He’d never be hers.
“I … I’d love to,” she said in a rush. “But I can’t.”
A shadow fell over his handsome features, and his jaw clenched. His burning eyes kept her captive.
Shoot, if only she didn’t have the date with Gareth. He’d asked her to accompany him to a business cocktail that evening, and she couldn’t bow out. They’d already returned the RSVPs.
“I already have a date tonight.”
She stood rooted to the spot when he lowered his scorching gaze.
When he peered at her again, his eyes had become cold, and she shivered. Tension quivered in his tense body, but he quickly relaxed and smiled.
How strange. The man had another woman he should woo, yet, here he was seeming all angry and commanding with her. Her, the woman he wanted nothing of in a romantic sense. Not even in a trifling liaison ... She shook her head at such a notion. Him being with her would be cheating on his fiancée, and she could reckon of no push that could shove her to seduce a taken man.
“Some other day, maybe,” he said, his gravelly voice interrupting her thoughts.
She nodded.
He glanced around. “This is coming along really well. Thanks.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
He didn’t reply, and said goodbye before he exited the huge room with a few long footsteps.
Diya stood watching his back. She had a clear view of the front door and the veranda, and he walked out without a glance at her. She’d wanted to see if he’d turn around and smile, or wave, but what had she expected? She was nothing to him.
Angélique sprang into the ballroom as soon as Trent disappeared down the front steps.
“Sorry, Dee. I didn’t know I’d walk in at such a delicate time. I’m sure he was gonna kiss you—”
“Stop.” She had no masochistic desire to imagine what would’ve happened had Ange not stumbled in on them. How close had she come to kissing the man who filled all her fantasies? A hairbreadth away … something she shouldn’t ever ponder. He was taken. “Nothing was gonna happen, Ange.”
“Yeah, right.” Sarcasm dripped from the words.
“I swear. I can’t let it happen.”
Angélique came to stand near her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Dee, come on. Face it. You’ve got it bad for him.”
Diya swallowed the lump lodging itself in her throat, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s just it, Ange. I’m doomed.”
“No. It’s not true.”
“Come on, there’s another woman in his life. And there’s another man in mine. Where does this leave us?” She paused to let silence engulf them. “If there even is any us,” she said in a whisper.
“Why don’t you tell him how you feel? This is gonna eat you alive, otherwise.”
“We’ll all lose,” she said in a whisper full of pain and longing.
Strained quiet thrummed between them. For once, even the loud drills and saws in the kitchen had stopped.
Angélique drew her into a hug, and Diya let herself go into her friend’s arms. She dried her tears when they broke free.
“You sure you can manage?” Angélique asked.
“Yeah.” The word came out strangled, and sounded more like a moan.
“I have a meeting I need to go to. I can’t bail out, it’s very important.”
Diya nodded. She wasn’t on top of her game lately, so she left all the business constraints to her partner. A thought flitted in her mind. They had no meeting scheduled for the afternoon.
“You meeting Patrice?” she called out.
Angélique stopped on the threshold, her back to Diya. She remained silent until she finally replied, “Yes.”
Seconds later, she was gone.
Diya frowned. Ange had been getting more and more mysterious lately. She’d seen her friend run to and from meetings whenever her cell phone rang. And most of the time, Angélique gave a vague excuse to cover for her disappearing acts. Could something be wrong?
Diya’s cell phone rang, and she frowned at the caller ID. Patrice, Ange’s husband.
“Hello?”
“Salut, Dee. Is Ange there?”
“Uhm, no. Not right now.”
“Her mobile’s off, and I haven’t spoken to her since this morning. Anyway, can you tell her I’ll be late tonight? I’m at court right now, and later, I’ll head to the office in Grand Baie.”
“Sure.”
“Take care. Bye.”
“Bye.” She cut the call, and her mind went back to her best friend.
How could Ange be meeting her husband if he was pleading a case in the Supreme Court?
Unless she wasn’t meeting her husband ...
Ange kept her private life very secret lately. But some signs betrayed her. Like the new clothes she bought every so often. Or the special attention to her appearance on the days when she’d vanish into thin air when they were at work.
What the hell was her bestie up to?
***
The fourth seat at their table was empty, and it shouldn’t have been, blimey. Diya should’ve been sitting there. Trent couldn’t keep himself from eyeing the vacant chair with a mix of sadness, and distrust, all because of a word she’d said.
Date.
He knew her pretty well after all the time they’d spent together, and she never could lie. So he couldn’t be mistaken that she’d declined his invitation for a business dinner or a family thing. She had gone on a date, with another man.
“Don’t be stupid. Diya likes the chocolate shake.”
Matthew’s voice brought him back to the noisy, bustling food court. He eyed his sons over a table laden with burgers, chips, and milkshake glasses.
“I’m not thtupid. And Diya likth the thrawberry one.”
Both boys glared at each other over their carton of chips. Everything in their lives revolved around Diya, and they always bickered about who knew her best, and whom she loved best.
Trent sighed. He should’ve bought a whistle, so he could proclaim a time-out every time fights broke lately. But unfortunately, he had only his authority as backup.
“Stop this,” he said in a firm voice.
When he got both boys’ attention, he leaned his elbows on the table. “Diya likes the vanilla best. Full stop.”
He took a sip of his Coke as his sons pondered over his reply. They silently munched on their ketchup-drenched chips, until Josh’s face suddenly brightened.
>
“Daddy, Diya told me what my name meanth.”
Trent chuckled. “Really?”
“Yes. The thaid it meanth—” Josh paused as he scrunched his little face in concentration. “Thalvation.” A wide grin accompanied the revelation.
Did it? Trent braced his foot on the floor, to stop himself from reeling.
Though he’d been the one who’d named the boy, he’d never really known what the name ‘Joshua’ meant. He’d liked it, that’s all.
Yet, he had to admit Josh had indeed been his salvation. Caring for this innocent baby after Crystal’s untimely death had given him a new sense of hope and direction in his life. He’d never once thought Josh to be a burden.
A hand clutched his heart and knocked the breath out of him as he watched his children. They really were the best things to have happened to him. A miracle.
And when Diya had come along ...
He shoved the melancholic feeling aside. He wouldn’t think of her tonight.
So, he shifted his attention to Matthew. “Did she tell you what your name meant?”
The older boy nodded. “She said Matthew was the twelfth apostle of Jesus and means ‘Gift of God’ in Hebrew.”
“She’s right,” he said with a smile, and he reached out and ruffled both boys’ head. They groaned, but allowed him the affectionate touch.
“She says your name is that of someone who lived by the Trent River in England, and Garrison used to mean ‘son of Gary’ back in ancient times when people didn’t have a family name,” Matthew said. “Or else, it could mean that our ancestors were soldiers, troops posted in a fortified castle.”
Where and when had she looked all this up? Strange—one of his ancestors had been a knight at Richard the Lionheart’s court.
Curiosity itched inside him to find out what her name meant. Diya. The sound had an exotic air to it. Oriental. Eastern.
What was he thinking? Trent shook his head. He didn’t really believe in all that fate, destiny, and cosmic path stuff.
“Eat your food now, before it gets cold.”
He settled back in his chair and focused on the shopping centre, towards the escalators leading to the posh restaurants on the first floor. The stairs were packed with elegantly dressed women and men in dark evening suits.
A flash of gold caught his attention. The woman in the sheath-like, lamé dress appeared tiny and delicate. She’d swept her hair up, and when she moved, he gasped.
Diya?
She threw her head back and laughed, before she drew close to the man who stood a step behind her.
So, this bloke was her date tonight. A pang of jealousy and hurt sliced through Trent’s chest, and he gritted his teeth. Yet, he struggled to concentrate on the couple. The man with her was tall and broad-shouldered. His dark golden hair gleamed thick and wavy to brush his collar in a heavy mass.
They reached the floor, and the man settled his hand in the small of her back to escort her. Trent winced at the proprietary gesture. The fellow probably took her for a plaything, and not someone who should be respected and revered.
When the couple turned towards the French restaurant on the right, he got his first real glimpse of the bloke’s face, and the blood froze in his veins.
Gareth Clark? What was the swine doing here? And what was Diya doing with him?
He sagged into his seat when the two of them disappeared into the restaurant.
Blimey. Clark was a rat. Always had been, and always would be. He’d known it ever since the day they’d met at Eton. Clark had been new money with spiteful animosity for the old money set, for people like Trent. Since that day, it had always been open competition between them.
And here the bastard would snare Diya.
Not if he could help it. Not where the woman he’d fallen in love with was concerned. He had no intention of letting history repeat itself, as had been the case with Crystal.
He’d have to have a talk with Diya.
***
The occasion arose a few days later. The children were leaving for a camping trip with their school, and they knocked on her door.
She met them in the hallway. Dressed in a black miniskirt and a red tank top, she painted a pretty picture, especially with her fresh-washed hair still in damp locks around her delicate face.
The boys jumped around her, and she reached out and hugged them both.
“You promise to be good boys and not trouble your teachers?” she asked.
Both replied with enthusiastic nods, and she laughed.
“How like you they seem,” she said in his direction.
The three of them had all dressed in jeans and black T-shirts. He’d bought them the same outfit at one of the shops she’d taken him to on their shopping trip. He laughed, and she joined in.
“It’s funny,” she said. “They don’t really look alike, but they both have something of you. Matthew has your eyes, and Josh has your hair.”
The two boys sauntered off to get their things from the flat, and he found himself alone with her.
“You’ll miss them, surely,” she said.
“Yes. But I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I’d refused them this trip. Look how excited they are.”
She smiled softly, and her gaze lost itself upon the door through which the boys had gone.
“You’ll miss them, too, won’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. I will.”
“They’ll be back soon. I’m sure between our jobs, the time will fly.”
“I sure hope so.”
Her voice had come out low and husky, and he didn’t like the wistful note in it. He reached out and ran his fingers on her arm. “Is everything okay?”
She met his touch with wide eyes, and he quickly removed his hand. She appeared crestfallen as she lowered her gaze.
“I have a lot on my mind recently,” she replied.
Now would be the time to talk to her, and warn her about Clark. Trent took a deep breath.
“Diya, listen, I don’t want to pry, but are you going out with Gareth Clark?”
Surprise painted itself on her features. “How do you know that?”
“I saw you together.”
“Oh.”
How could he tell her what he needed to say without hurting her? “Diya, be careful, okay? Clark isn’t what he seems.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s a smooth talker. He’ll promise you the world, but he’ll leave you high and dry. Don’t trust him.”
Heavy silence hung between them, before she faced him with a defiant thrust of her chin.
“And how would you know this?”
He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Only what she needed to know. “We went to school together.”
“And how long has it been since you last met him?”
“A few years now, but—”
“People can change, you know. Who says he can’t be a good person now?”
Despite himself, he snickered. People like Clark didn’t change; they only got worse.
“Diya—”
She stopped him before he could say anything more. “Trent, I don’t tell you how to live your life.”
Recrimination and spite shaded her voice, bringing the tone a notch or two lower. The bitterness stung him, and he flinched.
“I’m only concerned about you.”
“Still doesn’t give you the right to tell me how to live my life, though.”
With that, she spun around and stalked into her flat, closing the door on him.
Bloody hell! He couldn’t have made even more of a mess of this if he’d tried.
She was in danger, though, and come what may, he would do everything in his power to protect her.
Chapter Thirteen
Trent’s words remained in Diya’s head for the following week. He’d annoyed her with his un-asked for counsel, as if he were such a proper gentleman to start with.
But Trent actually was the perfect gentleman. He’d
never promised her anything more than friendship, so she had no right to be pissed off if he was interested in another woman. Who could she be, though? Someone Diya knew? Or was she from England? Expats rarely married locals in the country they had settled in, and when would he have had time to meet someone in such a short time?
She shook her head. Nothing but heartache, and heartburn, would come forth from such considerations. Trent wasn’t hers, and never would be. Full stop. And she also had someone in her life, too ...
A sigh escaped her. Gareth was all she’d ever wanted, wasn’t he? It pained her to imagine she didn’t treat him as he deserved. She stayed aloof and reserved on their dates, only physically present during the movie outing and the couple of dinners they’d been on in the past week. They’d also met every other day for lunch when she went to the hotel to check on the progress of the renovation.
But Trent had planted a niggling doubt in her heart, and consequently, she always remained on the lookout for when Gareth would slip and do her wrong.
So far, he hadn’t done anything improper. He’d only kissed her when he dropped her off, pressed her body to his when he took her in his arms. Yet, she’d never responded with more than a cursory return of his kiss. She’d never travelled her hands—or felt the urge to—farther than his shoulders, ending up barely touching him. Gareth’s kisses couldn’t lift her from the earth, because she wasn’t in love with him.
She loved a dark, handsome foreigner who would be marrying someone else soon.
Shoot and shoot again! When had her impeccable control over her feelings and her life slipped from her grasp? Just what she needed—from Lydia Bennet, she’d become Elizabeth Bennet. Why did her life resemble a sappy book?
A loud, squeaking noise blared through her eardrums, bringing her back into the now. She was supposed to polish the stained glass windowpane in the ballroom, not wear it out with her rubs.
The glass, fragile and ancient, didn’t tolerate solvent too well. They’d left the grime-tarnished windows as the last task in the renovation of the ballroom, and their surprise had been huge when they’d started to clean the panes.
