The Wedding Countdown (25 page)

‘Oh, right.’ Silly me! Doesn’t everyone have a dressing room and their own master bathroom?

I’ve no idea what to say and for a few contemplative seconds we check each other out. There’s nothing comfortable and familiar about this edgy character like there was when I first met Wish by the photocopier. He makes no effort to put me at my ease; nor does he offer to introduce himself. He only stares at me in such a hungry manner that I’m almost afraid that he might gobble me up. 

‘Nice as it is to look at you,’ says the stranger, ‘I usually like to know the name of any girl who ends up in my bedroom. I’m Raza.’

The penny drops. So this is Wish’s friend and the owner of this incredible pad. 

‘Raza? As in the blade?’

He nods. ‘My friends, and my enemies, like to call me The Razor.’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I hope you come with a warning?’

‘No.’ Raza doesn’t miss a beat. ‘I’m pretty lethal.’ Then he laughs as though this is the funniest joke ever told.

‘Your face! I’ve just realised who you must be.’

Great. Thanks to Wish and his big blabbermouth this guy thinks I’m some desperate man-hunting hick from up north. Wait for it…

‘You’re Mills, aren’t you? The talented journalist who’s travelled all the way to London to pursue her dreams?’

Yes! That’s me.

I think.

‘The one who just threw a drink over Minty?’

‘That was an accident.’

‘Pity,’ says Raza.

Nothing brings people together swifter than a good bitch and I feel myself warm to Raza, clearly a guy who sees beyond a pretty face and endless legs.

‘Wish says you came here to find your destiny?’

‘I suppose I did.’ That sounds more exciting than coming to London to escape a hairy goat-herder, doesn’t it?

Raza steps closer. ‘Maybe you’ve just found it?’

I know that this line is cheesier than a Gorgonzola factory but there’s something about Raza’s intensity that I’m rather impressed with. I’m also pleased, firstly because Raza doesn’t think I’m some desperate husband-seeker and secondly because Wish has made me sound like some hot-shot journalist ready to conquer the world of the media, fitting in a bit of romance between deadlines. Have I jumped to conclusions about what he’s said? Maybe Steve exaggerated? After all he was trashed. I feel dizzy with relief at this idea. Wish’s friendship really is important to me.

‘That made you smile,’ says Raza.

‘Oh!’ I drag my brain back to the here and now. Although it’s very pleasant to be alone with this attractive guy, I’m very aware it isn’t an appropriate situation. If the auntie-
ji
spy squad could see me unchaperoned in Raza’a bedroom the Ali family
izzat
would be toast.

‘Shall we go back to the party?’ Raza suggests. ‘Minty will have calmed down by now and I don’t want any one to gossip about you.’

Sensitive! I’m impressed.

Back in the living area the party is still in full swing. Nish is dancing with the guy she met earlier and I spot Eve chatting to a sophisticated older man with a thick mane of silver hair. 

Raza takes my arm, which shocks me because we shouldn’t touch at all, but then I look around the room at all the gyrating bodies and snogging couples and tell myself not to be such a prude. He’s hardly mauling me, just guiding me through the press of guests.

‘Follow me.’ Raza slides one of the glass windows across and leads me onto a balcony. ‘It’s much cooler out here and quieter too.’

‘This is amazing,’ I gasp, leaning against the wrought-iron balustrade and peering down into the inky Thames. Beyond glitters the city: diamond lights against velvet blackness, with the sparkling ring of the London Eye winking across the water. ‘What a view.’

‘I like it,’ shrugs Raza. ‘There’s always something to see.’ Then he points out lots of London’s landmarks and fills me in about some of the history of my adopted city. Eventually the conversation meanders to ourselves and I find myself telling Raza about my family and my job at
GupShup
. I don’t tell him the personal stuff I find it so easy to tell Wish about but time passes pleasantly enough. I learn that Raza comes from a privileged background, that he went to Eton, read Law at Cambridge and now works for a top city law company.

‘Your folks must be very proud,’ I say.

Raza sighs, and the wind sighs too as though in sympathy, blowing his curls across his eyes.

‘Actually, I think I’ve rather let them down. My father is a neurosurgeon, my mother’s an obstetrician and my sister is a pediatric surgeon, so I’ve broken with tradition by choosing the law. But I’m a bit squeamish and since I faint at the sight of blood a career in medicine was never going to happen. I even feel ill if I cut my finger.’ He grins ruefully. ‘So much for being razor sharp.’

‘Your embarrassing secret’s safe with me.’

‘Thanks.’ He pretends to mop his brow with his sleeve, and then carries on with some tales about his family. I try to listen but my brain is whizzing around, stupidly ahead of itself, imagining just how impressed my family would be with him. OK, so he might not be a doctor but Daddy-
ji
couldn’t fail to be delighted with a whole variety of medical in-laws. It could save a fortune on BUPA!

Raza clicks his fingers under my nose. ‘You’re very quiet. Is it something that I said?’

I wrench myself out from my daydreams. No way am I going to tell him what’s going through my mind, or the
bechara
man will run a mile. I can’t say I’d blame him either; this marriage business kind of takes over your life. I can’t wait to actually be married just so that I don’t have to worry about it any more and can get on with normality. I wonder if it’s the same for Raza?

‘You look worried,’ he says.

I cross my fingers behind my back and tell him about what Steve said to me earlier, and how worried I am about the impression some people may have of me. I also make it clear how I came to be in Wish’s bedroom in case, Allah-
ji
forbid, Raza should think I’m the sort of girl who’s in the habit of frequenting men’s bedrooms.

‘Wish feels sorry for you,’ says Raza. ‘He said he thought it a shame that you had to struggle to find love. I guess it’s been so easy for him and Minty in contrast.’

‘Oh.’ I pretend to be fascinated by a party boat cruising down the Thames. ‘I see.’

That hasn’t really made me feel much better. Wish feels sorry for me. Fan-flipping-tastic. I’m an object of pity. It seems Steve wasn’t so wide of the mark after all. 

‘Hey,’ Raza says gently. ‘Don’t be surprised that Wish doesn’t understand your situation. He may be my best mate but…’

‘What?’

He turns those brooding eyes on me again. ‘Wish isn’t like us, is he? He’s only half Pakistani and he hasn’t had the most conventional upbringing in the world. You can’t really blame the guy for not getting it.’

‘I suppose not,’ I say, but somehow the way Raza says this makes me feel that I can blame Wish.

‘After all, Wish has the kind of freedom most Pakistani kids can only dream of. He doesn’t have any of the pressures you and I face.’

‘No, but he has other pressures,’ I say, recalling how Wish once talked about wanting things that he knew he couldn’t ever have.

Raza’s top lip curls. ‘It must be terrible being him, free to come and go as he pleases with Minty. Neither of them giving a toss about what anyone else thinks. Although Wish is my oldest friend and I love him dearly, I feel I owe it to you to tell you the truth about him.’

All of a sudden I feel very cold out on the balcony.

‘Dear trusting Mills,’ whispers Raza into my ear. ‘Just a few words of advice. Wish is a decent guy but he hasn’t a clue how it is for us, and how much emphasis we lay upon family and tradition. He even has freedom of choice when it comes to dating girls who take their clothes off for a living. Don’t expect a guy like Wish to give you the sympathy that you deserve. Keep your relationship with him strictly professional because, believe me, he doesn’t have any respect for you.’

I watch the churning river and feel a similar churning inside. Surely Raza can’t be right? This doesn’t sound like the Wish that I know. But on the other hand, Steve and Raza do know all my most personal secrets, so somebody isn’t telling the truth. Why on earth would Raza lie?

I shiver.

‘You’re cold; allow me.’ Raza shrugs off his jacket and places it over my shoulders. The heat of his body warms my skin, oddly intimate and not altogether unpleasant.

‘It’s really strange,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘I feel as though I know you really well, Mills. Please don’t get the wrong idea, but ever since Wish first mentioned you and your situation I’ve been intrigued and I’m always asking after you.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ I sense his smile in the darkness. ‘You were just a stranger to me but maybe I yearned to know more about you because it was meant to be that we met tonight? I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. I was meant to be flying out to Rome on business but something stopped me.’ He turns to face me, ‘I truly think it was Fate.’

All this is more corny than the Jolly Green Giant and I should snort with laughter and tell him to get over himself.

That’s what I
should
do. But
sheesh
,
give a girl a break. I’m outside on a balcony with one of the most beautiful men who ever breathed air, looking at a spectacular city view and gazing up at a sky sprinkled with more stars than a child’s glittery Christmas card, so I can be forgiven for indulging myself a little. And although I don’t believe in horoscopes, Raza is certainly tall, dark and handsome…

Could he be the one?

‘Don’t laugh,’ he murmurs, ‘but I was wondering, Mills, bearing in mind that I
am
one hundred percent Pakistani, whether you would consider meeting up some time? Nothing inappropriate, I promise. Maybe a meal out? Or a trip to the opera?’

Now is probably not the time to mention the only Oprah I’m familiar with has a chat show on the telly. Raza obviously comes from a very different background. What on earth would a wealthy, eligible guy like him want with a humble Yorkshire lass like me?

I steal a look at him. He’s certainly handsome with those liquorice black eyes and sharp cheekbones. His lithe body reminds me of a panther with its power and stealthy grace.

And he’s Pakistani and single and solvent. Mummy-
ji
will die of joy.

I turn away from the view and look back into the party. My eyes search out Wish and, of course, there he is bopping away on the dance floor with Minty draped all over him like a green suede rash. I tear my eyes away from them and smile brightly at Raza. It’s time I focused my attention on a decent guy who actually wants to get to know me, rather than my sorry collection of Mickys and Dawuds and… Wishes.

‘I’d love to meet you for dinner.’

‘Phew!’ Raza exhales. ‘You had me worried for a moment. I though I was about to be given the polite brush-off. You won’t regret your decision, I promise.’

He looks so delighted that a corner of my heart starts to thaw.

‘I don’t doubt it for a minute,’ I say.

Seeing Raza could be a whole lot of fun, and fun is exactly what I need after all my disasters.

Suddenly I feel in the mood to join my friends on the dance floor, especially with such a gorgeous man in tow. Never mind Minty’s bitching and Wish’s gossiping.

This is a great party!

Chapter 23

‘Who’s that beeping their bloody horn on a Saturday morning?’ grumbles a hung-over Eve. ‘It’s going right through my head.’

Nish looks up from her tea making. ‘No idea, but it’s a nice car.’

‘Why do wankers always get the nice cars? And,’ Eve’s eyes narrow, ‘how come you’re taking two cups back to your room?’

Nish flushes.

‘You crafty cow!’ cries Eve. ‘You pulled! Who is he? Come on, you old tart, tell me!’

Beep! Beep!

‘Christ almighty, will you shut up!’

Wincing with every blast of the horn Eve shuffles to the window and looks down into the square. ‘Oh! That
is
a nice car!’

I peer over her shoulder. A beautiful Jag has pulled up under the plane trees. My stomach flips. It’s Raza.

‘Wait a minute,’ Eve frowns. ‘Isn’t that the guy from last night’s party?’

Raza swings his long legs from the car and leans against the bonnet. Seeing us at the window he waves.

‘Come on, Mills,’ he calls up. ‘I can’t wait to show you Cliveden!’

Eve’s chin is on the windowsill. Nish seizes her opportunity and scuttles back to the mystery man, sloshing tea in her haste to escape Eve’s inquisition.

‘Bloody Hell,’ breathes Eve. ‘You’ve both pulled!’

‘I haven’t pulled.’ I wave back at Raza and shrug myself into my coat. ‘We’re meeting for lunch, that’s all.’

‘That’s all?’ parrots Eve. ‘Girlfriend, have you any idea at all where he’s taking you?’

I wind a scarf around my neck. ‘We’re just going for lunch somewhere nice. We thought we’d get to know each other a little better.’

‘Cliveden House is one of the most luxurious hotels in the country,’ shrieks Eve. ‘It’s where Steven Gerrard got married! Babes, he must be really keen!’

As I thud down the stairs I smile to myself. I guess you could say he’s keen. We’ve not known each other for twenty-four hours but already Raza’s gone out of his way to make me feel special. 

‘I don’t want to waste a minute,’ he whispered last night as he helped me into the taxi. ‘Can I take you for lunch tomorrow?’

I’d agreed and for the entire journey home I’d felt as though I was zooming down a helter-skelter. I’ve had to tell myself sternly that Raza’s enthusiasm is because he’s met a single Muslim girl without two heads rather than because he’s besotted with me. But I still woke up at four a.m. with a lovely knot of excitement twisting in my tummy.

Well, it was either that or an extreme reaction to the Bacardi!

‘You look beautiful,’ says Raza when I reach the car. ‘Here, these are for you.’ He thrusts a stunning bouquet of cream roses under my nose.

‘
Shukriya.
’ I bury my nose in them but they’re oddly scentless. ‘They’re gorgeous.’