When would you be mine? - Completed

Chapter one

Fingers pressed against his lips, Malik stared at his old time school friend from Oxford. Finally, he dropped his hands onto his raised leg, ankle resting across his knee. "So what you're saying is I need to find a woman who is demure, classy, who isn't looking for the spotlight, though attractive, and would be willing to let go when she's no longer needed?"

Thomas Wakefield nodded. Malik burst out laughing, dropping his leg and rolled closer to his desk. "You're a card, Thomas, really you are."

A blond brow arched at his scepticism. "I do have someone in mind."

"I have met your women," Malik growled in this throat, finding it hard to keep his disgust out of his voice. All money-grabbing, gold-digging, harlots in his eyes. He had ignored all offers of joining his friend on his sexual exploits with the opposite sex. "Yes," he answered at a knock on the door.

A familiar face popped around the door. His ever so efficient personal secretary, Helena Foster. "Sorry to disturb you, Malik, however, your father's on the line, and insists you speak to him now. He's in one of his moods, sorry to say."

"Thank you for the heads up Helena," he waved her away. He reached for the receiver to frown at Thomas, who stared at the now closed door. "What?" he mouthed. Thomas pointed at the door again with his blue eyes. Malik shook is head and went to answer. "Hello father, what can I do for you," he asked politely, knowing exactly what he wanted, him home, and marrying a woman of his choosing. It wasn't going to happen, if he could help it.

"Just letting you know the jet would be ready for you next week, Friday." He hung up before Malik could comment on that. His father was determined. He just wished he knew what had set him on this path of destruction of his life. He wasn't ready to marry and especially to someone of his father choosing. Slowly he replaced the receiver. His time had just run out. He pushed down on the intercom.

"Helena could you bring in some coffee and cancel the afternoon, called away on an emergency." He released the button and leaned back into his seat, fingers back on his lips to move to his temple, rubbing. "Now what's this ridiculous idea about Helena Foster?"

Thomas leaned forward, his blue eyes eager. "She'd be perfect. She would know it's only a job, no romantic notions, okay, probably not your best choice. She's demure and obedient to your every wish. Classy, so-so, and, I suppose to someone, she would be attractive."

"Obviously not someone you know then?" Helena asked sweetly as she entered taking them by surprise. Malik bit back a smile while Thomas leaned back in the seat, his back to her, unimpressed.

"Maybe not so demure," Thomas grumbled.

"Only around you," Malik stated dryly dropping his hand. "Yes?" He looked across to the young woman hovering near the doorway, dressed immaculately as always in a navy blue sheath dress, belted, high necked, modest. Dark chestnut hair pulled back in a braid, minimal makeup. Understated, yet classy. She was demure and always did as he asked without complaint, without a murmur, just went about her work. He frowned perplexed; surely he couldn't seriously be thinking what he was thinking. Damn Thomas, and his stupid ideas.

"Just opening the door," she offered then darted out to come back carrying a tray with coffee and rich dark fruit cake to place on his table between them.

"Did you cancel everything?"

She nodded with a smile. "As asked, anything else?" He glanced at his watch. She sighed. "You only had one appointment," she explained her efficacy.

"No, go to lunch. I won't need you for a while." Nodding, she departed, closing the door behind.

"I tell you she's perfect and all you'd have to do is offer her a bonus. Money always talks."