Pretty Things (The Pretty Trilogy #3) Read online

  ‘It’s going to be fine, I promise you.’

  ‘No, listen to me, please.’ My voice stronger now, I take his hands from my face and hold them between us. ‘I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘Yes, you are. The tests . . .’

  ‘They were Niamh’s.’

  For a fleeting moment Kai’s expression changes from confused to something I can’t quite place, before being replaced by neutral just as quick.

  But it couldn’t—couldn’t have been disappointment . . .

  Could it?

  It sure as hell didn’t look like relief.

  Kai swallows thickly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. It’s more like I’m aware of the change in the air than the movement itself.

  ‘Niamh,’ he repeats evenly.

  ‘Yeah. She’s the one who—who’s pregnant.’ The one who has forbidden all mention of the event. Because she “needed to get my head ‘round it first”.

  ‘Jesus fuck.’

  At the exclamation, I turn my head over my shoulder. Mishael is still ashen and Mum has a hand over her mouth. From the swearing, making JC fornicate or just plain old shock? I’m not bothered which; quiet is quiet as far as I’m concerned. But Niamh. Niamh looks like she’s ready to kill.

  ‘Why don’t you get a loud speaker—announce it to the fucking world!’ Her voice may be loud, but the words are expelled through gritted teeth.

  I open my mouth, but a deeper voice answers, instead.

  ‘Hun?’

  The tiny word is stretched over the length of several syllables; Rob’s southern accent treacle thick. His term of endearment is also pretty apt; her murderous expression would certainly give Atilla a run for his money right now.

  Shell-shocked and unmoving, Rob waits for an answer.

  ‘I . . . I didn’t. I haven’t . . . Fuck, yes. It’s true, but I haven’t had time to decide!’

  As Rob processes that little nugget, Faris cuts in, in Arabic, once more.

  ‘Oh, do be quiet,’ hisses Mishael. ‘I think you’ve done enough damage tonight.’

  All eyes move to Mishael as Rob, in an almost catatonic state of shock, turns on his heel and strides quickly away. Niamh, hitching up her gown and kicking off her shoes, follows him, calling out his name, leaving the remainder of our party left to ask questions, hurl insults, or further fists. I wonder which it’ll be.

  Mishael comes to stand beside us as Faris continues in Arabic, this time for her benefit, it would seem.

  ‘Save your words for someone who cares to listen, my dear.’ An endearment delivered with a side order of enmity, as she lays her hand on our joined ones. ‘I suggest you leave our son and his beloved alone. Perhaps in time they can forgive you enough to allow you to be part of their lives.’ She kisses us both. ‘I think we can safely say your schemes have reached a dead end. Darlings? I’ll see you both inside. Shall we, Cynthia? I feel there’s a bottle of red and a quiet corner calling our names.’ Feeding her arm through the crook of my mum’s, she herds her in the direction of the party.

  With a last expulsion of angry words, I sense rather than see Faris’ exit, my gaze unmoving from Kai’s.

  ‘I think I need to explain.’

  Kai’s smile is small, and if I’m not mistaken, rather sad. ‘I think you already have. It was an invasion of your privacy, and for that I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’

  ‘I rarely do where you’re concerned, habibti.’

  And with that, he stops me speaking, pulling me into his chest and pressing lips to mine.

  That’s one way to shut me up, I suppose.

  Epilogue

  ‘Are you sure there wasn’t a darkly handsome groundsman at the school?’

  Adjusting the soft blanket, I raise my tired head from the pillow, my body experiencing all sorts of aches. ‘What was that?’

  ‘An irresistible gardener. Caretaker? Handyman?’

  ‘No idea,’ I reply, yawning through the words. ‘I’m nucking fackered.’

  ‘It was a hard night.’

  ‘Was it now?’ I purse my lips and raise a brow, quickly abandoning the responses borne both of my husband and Mum.

  ‘But beautiful.’

  ‘Good save,’ I answer with a small smile.

  ‘And a little brutal,’ he adds.

  ‘Sounds exactly like your kind of night.’

  Reminiscent of a question mark, Kai raises a brow of his own.

  ‘Beautiful and brutal. Tire you out, did we?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he says with a sly smile, briefly examining his forearm. ‘I’ll be wearing the bruises for weeks.’

  ‘Strangely enough, so will I.’

  Kai laughs softly, his gaze meeting mine very briefly before lowering again.

  ‘A darkly handsome guard, then? Perhaps hailing from the mysterious subcontinent?’

  At that point, the door clicks quietly behind the woman who spent the night with us in this very room. Walking towards Kai, she holds out sinuous arms. Tall, dark skinned and gorgeous, she’s like some exotic vision. An image that’s unfortunately spoiled when she opens her mouth. As she steps closer, Kai turns his torso away, avoiding her arms.

  It’s with a small shake of her head that she graciously accepts his rebuff; it isn’t the first time she’s been refused by him this morning.

  I’ve known since he walked into my classroom, full of confidence, and exuding his own special blend of sensuality, that Kai is used to getting women to do whatever he wants. This morning, however, it’s quite something to see the heightened effects. I can see I’m going to have to keep a much closer eye on things from here on out. Because, as gorgeous as he is, there’s just something almost primal about a man holding a tiny baby. And a man like Kai? Well, I expect he’ll be sending ovaries within a twenty metre radius into hyper drive.

  I’ll probably need to get my hands on a Taser before I set the pair of them loose.

  ‘Nurse,’ I say this loudly to catch her attention. ‘Please tell my darling husband—again—why my baby is the colour of a cup of tea.’ Builders’ tea. Strong, with just a splash of milk.

  You see, while the pregnancy tests Martha took from the bathroom all those months ago may not have all belonged to me, at least one in the positive pile did. I just didn’t realise it at the time. After peeing on the last stick in a half-joking attempt to test the batch, I’d abandoned it with the others when the control line began to show. After all, I wasn’t expecting to be pregnant, was I? Turns out, time travel—not the DeLorean kind but the kind caused by crossing time zones—plays havoc with your body clock. Meaning deep vein thrombosis isn’t the only risk when flying long haul while taking a contraceptive pill. A screwed up body-clock can mean vastly delayed administering, which can apparently result in the side-effect of giving birth a bit further down the line.

  I’d just started working for Mishael’s orphan foundation a few weeks after our ceremony, when I became aware of that risk. And after Kai’s look of disappointment that day, I had no concerns about telling him. Other concerns? Funnily enough, heaps.

  ‘Tea? You are wanting chai?’ replies the nurse.

  I shake my head, repressing a sigh. ‘Can you give us five minutes, please?’ As she turns to leave, I look once more to Kai. ‘He’s jaundiced—’

  ‘That settles it,’ he says with an audacious grin. ‘He's definitely my son with that view on life.’

  I roll my eyes. Only because I haven’t the energy to get out of bed to punch him.

  The nurse shrugs and makes for the door, pausing once more, but before she can speak, Kai bestows one of his knicker-dropping smiles on her. Even in the cool air conditioned room, I can feel the temperature rise.

  ‘Five more minutes.’ His words are low spoken and throaty, probably the results of being a little hoarse after his role as my cheer-team. ‘Five minutes and I’ll bring Adam to you.’

  ‘Adam?’ I repeat as the nurse leaves, almost post swoon.

  ‘That wa
s one of your choices, wasn’t it?’ he asks softly, still staring at his dark-haired son. ‘I think it suits him. Adam, because of the earthy tone of his skin.’

  ‘I keep telling you it’s temporary!’

  Raising our son in his arms, he kisses his head, pressing Adam’s tiny body to his cheek. ‘And all that's best of dark and bright meets in his aspect and his eyes.’ Coming to sit on the edge of my bed, Kai strokes his index finger against our baby’s chin, his tiny rosebud mouth puckering in response.

  ‘Isn’t he perfect?’ I ask, unable quite to believe we’re responsible for making him. I can’t even make a nice sandwich.

  ‘Like his mother.’ Despite feeling far from perfect right now, I’m not going to argue that point. ‘He has your mouth.’

  The tiny bundle begins to struggle against his blanket bonds, and as the beginning of a scowl forms on his brow, the familiarity of his expression comes as quite a shock. His mouth begins to tremble in a sort of whimpering pre-cry, and somehow I know instinctually what he wants.

  ‘My mouth and your appetites.’ I begin loosening the strings of my silk gown. ‘And you know this isn’t maternity wear, right?’

  Laying Adam gently against me, Kai takes up a position at the opposite end of the bed. ‘You said, “grab nightwear”.’

  ‘I think I might’ve meant those maternity pyjamas, not silk lingerie.’ My stomach flips at the way he looks at me; dark and desirous, and so fricken’ sexy. ‘You know, it’s all kinds of wrong the way you look at me when I’m doing this.’

  ‘It’s not putting him off his food,’ Kai replies, with a nod to the nuzzling bundle. Stretching out his legs, he folds his arms. ‘And I can’t help it. You always have this effect on me.’

  Yeah . . . not so sure that would’ve been the case a few hours ago. Baby’s crowning—well, it certainly felt like he was coming out wearing one. God knows what it looks like down there. I hope Kegel is just another word for miracle.

  ‘Adam.’ My exhalation is more breath than word. Worth it. So worth it. All of it. The pain, the indignity. The making noises like a slutty bovine.

  We made a real live person.

  ‘Like the first man.’ His gaze alters then, to a look of love and wonderment. ‘The first of our little men.’

  ‘Good job Niamh’s baby isn’t named Eve. That would be a cliché too far.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what she’s named, as gorgeous as she is. Our son will marry on his own terms.’

  ‘Nup. We went all Arab on their arses. They were betrothed in utero. I just have to get her to move back here first.’ Niamh and baby Ailish are back in Ireland, and not likely to return to Dubai on the account of her unmarried status. Grounds for big trouble out here. Stupid Rob. He’ll come to his senses, or I’ll crack open his head. Pity Niamh still likes his face the way it is. She said I’m not allowed to rearrange it. ‘And I hate to break it to you, but after last night, I’m not sure I’ll be up for doing this again, for like, a long time.’

  ‘I’m happy enough practising,’ he says with a light shrug.

  ‘I thought I got forty days respite?’ Think I heard that somewhere.

  ‘Respite?’ He says with a wicked gleam. ‘I’m sure I’ll be the one fending you off well before then. And technically, it’s forty days spent at your mother’s house, I believe.’

  ‘Screw that. I’ll come home and try very hard to keep my hands to myself, only you have to tell Martha to stop trying to get me to swallow her voodoo. She put fenugreek in my milo last week.’

  ‘I’m sure it was an improvement on that chocolate sand.’

  ‘It was bloody awful.’

  ‘Not to worry. Cynthia’s arriving tomorrow. You can put her in charge.’

  ‘That’s me moving out, then.’

  ‘Speaking of families, I’ve heard from Faris.’

  ‘Fuc—’ I glance down. ‘Fudge a duck.’

  ‘I don’t think we need to start worrying about swearing in front of him just yet,’ Kai says with a half-smile.

  I ignore him. It’ll probably take me a couple of years to get out of the habit. Best start now. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I dunno, maybe to take my baby because I couldn’t guess his name?’ Kai looks confused. Not a big fan of fairy-tales, then. ‘Then maybe to introduce you to wife number two?’

  ‘I have my hands full with the one I’ve got.’ Despite the serious note in his voice, his eyes fall to my boobs again. Not surprising, they’re so large they’re probably eligible for their own postcode.

  ‘They’ll go back to normal, you know.’

  ‘What will?’ Innocence. I really don’t know why he even tries.

  With a twist of my mouth, I glance down. ‘Porn boobs.’

  ‘According to the multitude of baby books you’ve amassed, they’ll be here for a while yet, so I’ll just be over here waiting my turn.’

  ‘Yes, but Faris. What did he say?’

  ‘He asked to meet his grandson.’

  Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Another one of Niamh’s lines; one she stole from Rob, no doubt. And I really don’t want to know if she has . . . buttered his butt. Metaphorically, or otherwise.

  ‘We haven’t seen him since the wedding, and he rocks up now?’ And what a lovely reason he had for turning up that day, seeing fit to advise Kai he’d found a loophole in our Australian marriage; suggesting he use it once he’d tired of playing house. Quite the charmer.

  ‘I’ve seen him. You know that. We work from the same building, after all.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘Oh, I feel it,’ he says, sounding utterly unconvinced. ‘What would you like me to tell him?’

  ‘Tell him . . .’

  Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm my tits. Figuratively, at least, because physically, there’s no calming these bad boys. Or should that be girls? My gaze moves from Kai’s careful expression to the bundle in my arms.

  Dubai was supposed to my do-over, my chance to start again. And like Niamh says, I don’t seem to do things by halves. Kai, marriage, and Adam apart, it’s amazing what you actually discover when you’re trying to find yourself. Things like it’s okay to admit you like a bit of slap with your tickle, and that it’s not just bad girls who take it up the bum.

  Seriously though, I thought my family was complicated, but I’m beginning to see, although on the spectrum of familial weirdness, my olds are scaled pretty low.

  And now I have my own family: one healthy baby—seal black hair, slightly bruised and battered, but less alien looking than a few hours ago—and one handsome, besotted and, quite frankly, a little kinky, spouse. What else matters? Could I say Faris is to have nothing to do with our son? Absolutely, and I know Kai would allow me to make that call. Kai may see his father in the course of work, but I know that’s the limit of their interactions right now. The man has done nothing to earn the right to be in our lives, but part of me feels in taking that kind of stance, I would be no better than him.

  The sins of the father, and all that.

  Kai’s pocket begins to vibrate.

  ‘Seriously? Your phone is switched on?’ I suppose I’d better check it for unflattering photos at some point.

  ‘Actually, it’s yours.’ Kai brings out the offending item, exchanging it for Adam which isn’t a fair swap, as far as I’m concerned.

  Thankfully, it’s set to silent as I still haven’t worked out how to get rid of that awful song Kai set as my ring tone.

  ‘It’s from Niamh,’ I say sheepishly, as he settles the bundle into the crook of his arm. ‘She says Rob is booking a flight to Dublin.’

  ‘Good. Maybe he’s seen sense,’ he replies without looking up. ‘He’s missing all the fun.’

  ‘She says he’s flying into London, and has asked for the name of a reputable airline for the London-Dublin leg.’

  ‘There are a few,’ Kai says, still studying his son. Besotted is normal, right?

  �
��She’s told him to go to one of the desks and ask for annilingus.’

  ‘Aer Lingus?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Raising his head, a wide smile spreads over his face. ‘That woman is nuts.’

  She’s not the only one, it seems.

  ‘Kai, tell your dad he can visit. Once we’re home.’ After he and I have had a little chat.

  Author’s Note

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  Playing Games.

  Playing Games Sneak Peek

  An erotic standalone novel for November 2015

  Saturday morning hadn’t yet fully broken when Louise’s phone chirped, demanding her attention. Her hand instinctively shot out from under the pillow to grope the nightstand for the offending item, her other held to her head as she quietly cursed. Tequila was the devil’s water and she was never drinking it again. She’d turned twenty-six just a few weeks ago, and despite the year’s relative newness, had lately begun to feel quite middle-aged. If this was what Saturday morning felt like for her age group, she thought she’d stick to knitting socks.

  Eyes almost open, Louise tried to find her phone, patting unfamiliar items under her hand, when the thing finally stopped its impersonation of a bluebottle in the last throes of death. Relieved, she flopped back against the pillow with a quiet sigh.