One hundred and thirty-two

Back in the party, Ghita beckoned for Blaine to follow her. Leading the way through into the library, she closed the door firmly and kissed him.

‘Now that you have saved your damsel in distress,’ she said seductively, ‘what are your plans?’

The American bit his lower lip.

‘Well, I guess I could go back to New York and sell drain cleaner for the rest of my life,’ he said with a smile. ‘Or...’

‘Or?’

‘Or I could do this...’

He got down on one knee.

‘Miss Omary, will you spend the rest of your life with a wonderful, silly, funny American angel?’

Ghita screamed, then hugged Blaine so hard that his ribs cracked.

‘Yes, yes, yes!’

The party rolled on and news of the engagement seeped out. It was toasted with Dom Pérignon.

Then the engaged couple danced to Rosario’s music, and laughed like they had never laughed before.

At a quarter to one the butler whispered in Ghita’s ear.

She seemed unhappy and even vexed. And, slipping out to the front of the house, she found a man standing there.

His shoulders were slouched forward. Some distance behind, on the other side of the street, another man was standing.

‘Mustapha?’ said Ghita. ‘What... what are you doing here?’

‘I’m so sorry. I can’t express it,’ he murmured. ‘I had to come to beg your forgiveness.’

Ghita dug her heels into the gravel.

‘You want to be forgiven for the fact your father almost killed me... that he so nearly did away with us all?’

‘I know it’s too much to ask. But I wanted to tell you something.’

‘To tell me what?’

‘That he ruled over me as a tyrant. Yes, I was spoilt rotten, but I was merely following his orders.’

‘And what orders were those?’

‘To get to know you... to marry you.’

‘But why?’

‘So that he could take over Globalcom,’ Mustapha said. ‘After your father’s sudden and mysterious death.’

Ghita cursed loudly, and breathed out hard.

‘Well I heard that it was he who has left us,’ she said without any emotion.

Mustapha touched a hand to his mouth.

‘Believe me, he will not be missed.’

Ghita fell silent. She peered into the darkness across the street.

‘Who’s that – that guy standing back there?’

Mustapha cleared his throat.

‘It’s Karim.’

‘Karim?’

‘He’s... he’s...’ Mustapha faltered. ‘He’s my boyfriend,’ he said.