“Can you tell what’s on the trays?” She squinted toward one of the waiters, and Malik smothered a laugh.
“Not from here, but they’ll get to us.” A warm feeling spread through his chest as he looked down at her. He was this close to just throwing logic and reason out the window and making a move on her—a real one, one she couldn’t pretend was something else.
She turned back and met his gaze, and color rose on her cheeks. Perhaps he wasn’t as discreet as he’d thought. For a long, frozen moment, their gazes held. Malik’s chest was tight. He should go for it. He should—
“Why are you two hiding over here?”
The room snapped back to life, and air filled his lungs as the moment passed. Dani smiled at Lucien, and if it was a little shaky, it wasn’t so obvious that he noticed.
“We’re not—” she began.
“We were hiding from Aunt Miryam,” Malik interrupted bluntly, and winked at her. “And now we’re waiting for dessert.”
Lucien chuckled. “Both completely understandable endeavors,” he said blandly. “Are you still dodging your father?”
Malik nodded and left it at that. Lucien had been a friend for long enough to know everything—almost everything about him. As usual, he felt a pang of guilt for keeping such a big secret as his writing career from his friend, but still, something prevented him from sharing.
Making his guilt even worse, Lucien didn’t press him about his father. Instead, he looked around and then said, “Why don’t we sneak away? I’ll send word to the kitchen and have a tray sent to one of the sitting rooms for us, and then I’ll round up Si and Léo and Ben. We can have dessert in private.”
“Will your parents mind?” Dani asked, but Malik could see how much the idea appealed to her. It certainly appealed to him.
“Not at all. It’s possible nobody will even notice we’re gone, but we’ll slip back in before people start leaving.”
She looked up at him. “It would certainly help us to stay out of your aunt’s way.”
Us. Pushing down the urge to whisk her behind one of the window draperies and kiss her senseless, he replied, “It would. Thank you, Lucien, that sounds wonderful.”
In short order, he and Dani were strolling nonchalantly out of the room, headed for the upstairs family parlor, while Lucien went to liberate some dessert and the rest of their friends.
Dani jolted awake—literally. Someone had leaped onto her bed, sending her bouncing. She was an intelligent woman, but it didn’t take much brains to work out who was responsible for her rude awakening.
“Ben, get off! What the hell is wrong with you?” She pulled the sheet up over her head and buried herself in the pillow. She had no idea which manufacturer made the beds in Léo’s apartments, but she highly recommended them.
“Nope! We gotta talk,” Ben insisted, ripping away the sheet—her protective shield. She hissed and swiped a hand in his direction, but the annoyingly cheerful bastard leaned back out of reach.
“Since when are you a morning person?” she groaned. “I’m on holiday, for God’s sake. Let me sleep in.”
The bed bounced again as he flopped down to lie beside her. “You can go back to sleep in a bit,” he promised. “Léo’s gone out, and we need to talk before he gets back.”
Huffing, she rolled onto her back and turned her head to look at him. “Why do we need to talk while he’s out? Are we keeping secrets from him?” Suddenly wide awake, she sat up and studied him with concern. “Is everything okay?”
Ben sat up too and arranged the pillows so he could prop himself against the headboard. He was still in the torn T-shirt and flannel pants he slept in. “It’s all good with me and Léo,” he assured her.
Sighing in relief, she leaned against the pillows. “So why are we talking while he’s out?” she asked, resigned to the fact that she was awake and unlikely to fall back asleep.
“Because I don’t think he knows there’s something going on between you and Malik.”
Oh.
Well, crap.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Malik,” she protested. It was even the truth—sort of.
Ben raised an eyebrow, his expression one of pure disbelief. “You forget, Dani, I was there last night.”
“Nothing happened last night,” she insisted. Damn him and his best friend intuition. “Maybe I wanted it to, but it didn’t.”
“Did he want it to?”
Dani rubbed her forehead. “You’re asking all the hard questions. I don’t know. I think maybe he did, but it’s not like we talked about it. And nothing happened, so…. Really, Ben, you’re blowing this out of proportion. I’d never do anything to cause problems for you here.” It actually kind of hurt a bit that he thought she might. She’d understood his initial concern, but for him to keep harping on it….
She looked up and caught sight of the astonishment on his face. “Is that what you think? That I’m worried something between you and Malik might be a problem for me?”
Er… how was she supposed to respond?
“Well… yes. Ow!” She rubbed her upper arm where he’d pinched her. “Don’t be violent!” It freaking hurt—he’d always been good at pinching.
“That was for thinking I’d care more about a hypothetical problem for myself than about you doing something fun that made you happy.” They both winced as they realized how that sounded. “You know what I mean.”
“I know,” she agreed, although it was true that doing Malik would likely be fun and make her happy. “I’d apologize, but I still don’t know what this is about.”
Rolling his eyes, he said, “I’m trying to matchmake, you doof. You and Malik are two of my favorite people in the world, and you’d be perfect together.”
It was like a punch to the solar plexus. For a moment, Dani just sat there, stunned, unable to react. Then her brain came back online.
“Oh, Ben, that’s….” Fuck. Pretty much the only thing holding her back from making a move on Malik had been concern for Ben’s future, and here he was basically giving her permission—hell, encouraging her. But… it didn’t change the fact that if things didn’t work out, it could get really awkward.
She said as much to Ben, who scoffed. “Were you not listening to me a second ago? You two are perfect for each other. This isn’t something that just occurred to me, Dani—I’ve been thinking about it for over a year. I just needed to see you together to make sure my instincts were right—and they are.”
It really sank in then that Ben meant to play matchmaker, and panic rose. “Don’t meddle,” she warned, trying to sound casual. “If things progress, it will be because Malik and I both want it and are ready, not because of some stupid Parent Trap-style plot you hatched up in that half-grown brain of yours.”
Ben sniffed in mock offense and then smacked her in the face with a pillow. “Fine,” he declared as she clawed it away. “I won’t interfere—yet.”
That didn’t make her feel any better.
In what seemed an incredible stroke of fate, later that day the manager of one of Léo’s estates (because he actually had estates, plural) called to advise of some issue with irrigation or broken pipes or something—Ben hadn’t cared enough about the details to ask for them. After a lengthy phone conversation, Léo decided he needed to go out there. That struck Dani as decidedly weird—wasn’t he supposed to be a billionaire dilettante? Sure, he was a financial wizard, but most people didn’t know that, and most financial advisors weren’t experts in fixing broken pipes or irrigation or whatever. When she said as much to Ben, he just shrugged.
“Mostly I think he’s going because it makes the people working on the estate feel better,” he offered. “He can stride around being all Mr. Important Master of the Manor or whatever, and they’ll breathe easier because the fact that he came all that way means he actually gives a shit about the property and they’re not going to lose their jobs.”
Huh.
“How very insightful of you,” she mocked, cho
pping peppers. He threw a dishcloth at her. “Are you going with him?” Please say no. If Ben went, she’d feel obliged to go too, and although she was sure the Swiss countryside where the property was located was gorgeous, she had too much to see in Europe to disappear off to the backwoods.
Ben shook his head. “No. You and I are going to Italy, and Malik is going with Léo.”
Her heart thumped harder. “Oh.” She couldn’t think of a reason to ask why Malik was going, and that made her feel stupid, especially since Ben already knew she had a thing for Malik.
Luckily, her bestie knew her too well and volunteered the information. “Apparently phone reception is a bit spotty on this property, so if Malik goes with Léo, he has a legit reason for dodging his dad’s calls.”
Dani put down the knife and turned to Ben. “What’s up with that? It came up last night, too—Miryam made a big song and dance about it. Well…” She made a face. “Not a song and dance like we would, but in her way.”
Sighing, Ben snitched a piece of pepper. “It’s complicated. Malik’s sister is getting married, yeah? And he’s expected to go home for the wedding. He doesn’t go back much, but always for big family things, especially when Léo and Charles and Miryam and Gabriel are invited too.”
“Right. That makes sense.” Although it was kind of sad that he needed a buffer to visit his family.
“So, Léo’s always been out, right, but he’s never really been public about it. He’s dated, but not anyone that the paps cared about, so it was always one of those things that everyone knew but nobody really thought about.”
Dani winced. She could see where this was going, and she didn’t like it.
“Then he met me, and I moved in with him, and the paps don’t care about me, but he’s not just dating me; we’re living together. Invitations to social events have to include me—it’s unforgivably rude if they don’t. So the wedding invite has my name on it… but then Malik’s dad, who could ignore Léo being gay when it was a non-issue but is actually a raging homophobe as well as just a general asshole, called Malik and told him he had to convince us to decline the invitation.”
Yep. She didn’t like it.
“What a fucking wanker.”
Ben nodded. “Pretty much. So Malik told Léo that he expects us to be at the wedding or he’s not going. Léo told him not to be an idiot, because his sister, who’s really sweet, would be devastated if he wasn’t there, but if Léo and I go, there’s every likelihood that at some point there will be an ugly scene—”
“Which would upset the bride,” Dani concluded with a sigh. “Benji, this sucks.”
“Yep. They argued about it for a while, and so far no decision has been made, but we need to RSVP soon. In the meantime, Malik’s dad has been hounding him about it, and probably will until Léo and I decline the invitation.”
“You’re definitely going to decline?”
It was Ben’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know what other option we have,” he admitted. “Aside from not wanting to ruin the wedding and upset the bride, I’m not really keen to go somewhere I’m not wanted, where at least one person will be openly hostile. I suggested to Léo that he should go without me, but he refuses to consider it. He’s really pissed about this whole thing but trying not to let Malik see—which is dumb, because Malik knows him better than anyone, and he knows.”
“So the problem is, how do you decline but still get Malik to go? I’ll bet the more douchey his dad is, the more he doesn’t want to go.”
“That’s it in a nutshell. I’m hoping Léo will convince him while they’re gone, because we’ll definitely need to RSVP by the time they get back.”
Dani thought about that for a moment, remembering the carefully blank look on Malik’s face when his aunt had nagged him about returning his dad’s calls. “Let’s open a bottle of wine.”
Chapter Seven
Glaring at his laptop screen, Malik damned social media to hell. Oh, it was all fine to use on a casual, communicate-with-friends basis, but from a business promotional perspective… it was the devil’s work, and there was no way he’d manage it himself.
Not that he’d been seriously considering it. Maybe the thought had crossed his mind, because he’d been procrastinating on the whole assistant decision and if he took over his own social media, the need for that decision would cease to exist. But then he’d have to manage his own social media, and since he hated all the administrative tasks he was already handling, it seemed stupid to add something as monolithic as social media management to them.
Which left him right where he’d been an hour and a half ago, before he’d begun looking at the online presence of other authors. Should he hire a PR firm or an assistant?
Heaving a sigh, he closed the lid of the laptop.
“Problem?” Léo asked as he came into the snug little parlor Malik had been using as an office.
“Not really,” he replied, shaking his head, then changed his mind and nodded. “Actually, yes. You have an assistant. What’s it like?” He couldn’t believe he’d overlooked this before. Léo was the perfect person to ask for advice.
His cousin paused halfway between standing and sitting before settling on the leather Chesterfield in front of the window. “What’s it like? It’s like… having an assistant.”
Malik shot him a dirty look as he stood from the elegant writing desk and joined him on the couch.
“Perhaps if you tell me what you want to know, I can help more,” Léo offered in a conciliatory tone, even as his expression told Malik he was being laughed at.
He sighed again, letting his head drop back against the back of the couch. “There’s going to be a reshuffle at my agent’s office, and they won’t be able to manage my social media anymore,” he explained. “My agent thinks that instead of hiring a PR firm, I should get an assistant and have them take over more of the administrative duties so I can just write.” He repeated her comments on the state of the industry and told Léo about the information he’d found that backed it up. “Eventually, I may want to self-publish,” he admitted. It was a conclusion he’d come to after hours of research, and one he didn’t particularly like. “I’m in a good position for it, with an established readership and no concerns about income or cashflow. But there would be a lot more admin involved in that, and it would take time I don’t want to spend.” Malik was nothing if not honest with himself about his faults. He knew his weaknesses, and there would be no point in committing himself to something that ultimately he wouldn’t want to follow through on. Being financially independent meant that he would feel no pressure to continue publishing if it was no longer enjoyable to him—and although he did get a certain satisfaction from being published, it was writing that he truly loved. His financial position meant he could spend all his days writing as a hobby without ever needing to publish.
His ego, on the other hand, did not like that idea, and neither did his business brain. They both urged him to ensure he was successful and productive in all his endeavors.
“It sounds as though an assistant is the right choice,” Léo said thoughtfully, his brows drawn as he considered all aspects of the issue. “You would need to set things in place to ensure your privacy remains intact, but ultimately, it’s a good idea. Why do you dislike it so?”
“I don’t know,” Malik admitted, trying not to pout like a child. “Logically I can see that it’s the step I need to take, but… I suppose I’ve never employed anyone directly before. It’s always been firms and agencies and management companies.”
Léo frowned. “Neither have I,” he said, in the tone of someone making an unusual discovery. “In fact, Jean is assigned to me by an agency. So there you go. You won’t need to employ your assistant directly, either.”
They looked at each other silently for a long moment.
“Are you thinking that you now want to employ someone directly?” Malik asked finally, and Léo laughed.
“Yes. It seems wrong that I pay the salaries of so many pe
ople, but none of them actually work for me on paper.”
“Good.” It was a relief not to be the only one with such foolish thoughts. “We can both take on the challenge of being employers. You first, so I can learn from your mistakes.”
Léo’s scathing look didn’t dent his sudden good mood.
“How are things with the new irrigation system?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the window that showed beautiful, if bucolic, scenery. He didn’t really care that much, but Léo had spent an hour cursing several evenings earlier as he attempted to learn the ins and outs of irrigation, and he liked riling his cousin.
Unfortunately, Léo merely smiled. “The installation is going well, and the manager seems much more comfortable. In a day or so, he should be confident enough for us to leave.”
“There’s no rush,” Malik assured him. “I’m getting a lot of writing done, and it’s nice not to have the phone ringing.” Not satisfied with Léo’s promise of intermittent reception, he’d just turned the thing off after sending a message to his mother that he was going to be in a remote area and probably noncontactable.
“On that topic,” Léo began, and Malik wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Damn, damn, damn. “Ben asked me to speak to you about the wedding.”
“Ben asked you?” he sniped. “Leaping to do his bidding, are you?” He felt ashamed of himself for saying it even before Léo shot him a level look.
“Ben asked me to speak to you about the wedding because he’s worried about you,” Léo continued calmly. “He doesn’t want to put you in a position where you feel obliged to make a stand on our behalf, and he doesn’t want you to be unhappy. Tell me, Malik, if your father were not a part of this decision at all, how would you feel to miss Houria’s wedding?”
Malik clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Léo always knew exactly where to hit. “Unfortunately, my father is a part of this decision—and that’s of his own choosing.” His father had always been a hard man, set in his ways and determined that his children would measure up to his standards. It was no secret that Aunt Miryam’s request for Malik to move to France to be company for Léo had been a slim cover for his own mother’s desperation to get him away from his father. Not that his father was physically abusive, but Malik had been an inquisitive, active child. He remembered often asking “why” and “how” and wanting to see for himself, and his father, who was of the opinion that children were to be seen upon request, not heard, and always obedient, had responded with harsh words and punishments. Being confined to his bedroom, as luxurious as it was, had been agony to young Malik. More, his enthusiasm and curiosity had engendered an attitude of almost dislike from his father, and Malik had become resentful when his siblings had received praise for things he was also doing, but he had not.
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