Sitting in the back of his black Range Rover, Rich pulled out his phone. Without checking the time, he called his secretary and started rapping out orders, "Stacey, clear my morning tomorrow. I have a meeting at 11.00am with a Ms. Farrah Khan. Prior to her arrival, I need a folder of articles written by Ms. Khan on my desk by 10.00am. Highlight any and every article that has any relation to the royal family. Now I also want you to do a sweep on the official Kensington palace accounts; Twitter, Email, Instagram, everything basically for anything to do with Ms. Khan. Ben will be sending you the relevant information in the next," he pauses and locking eyes with Ben in the rearview mirror, "15 minutes."
"Calling in the troops, eh? What are you planning on doing?" Ben asks raising a brow.
Running his hand along his bearded jaw, Rich looked out the window, "Giving her what she wants."
"Which is what exactly?" Ben asks, brows furrowed.
"Depth."
***
Sitting at the back of the cab, Farrah was so tempted to yank on her hair. Her head was throbbing, and she knew she would be getting some relief if she could just tug her hair a little bit. It was an odd practice yes, but her mother used to do it all the time especially when she was little. And just like magic, after laying her head in her mom's lap and having her tug at Farrah's hair, the pain would seem to dull and slowly melt away. The only thing stopping her is the fact that she had spent almost half an hour braiding her hair in a soft side swept fish tail braid.
She had paid extra attention to how she looked today; navy cigarette pants with a light blue pinstripe shirt. She had rolled the sleeves up her forearm, with the usual watch on her left wrist. She wore her favourite nude heels to give her a bit of height and to ensure she was protected from the cold, she wore the same camel colored coat she had on last night. Fingering the button on the coat, Farrah couldn't help but to go back to last night.
She was so sure that she would be able to at least get the prince to consider her proposal, but the dinner turned awkward after her jab at his personal life. If there was a 'biggest idiot in the world' contest, I would win, Farrah huffed. All the flirting and sparring aside, she should have known that she shouldn't have pushed him that much. And calling him shallow and superficial to his face.....idiot, idiot Farrah, she breathed deeply trying to calm her nerves. To keep her hands occupied she quickly pulled out her compact mirror from her oversized leather tote and checked her reflection. Her makeup was still pristine and her red lips still bold. With all the nerves that she was feeling, she needed a boost of confidence and it came in the form of nude heels and her lips painted a deep red.
Arriving 15 minutes early, Farrah stepped out of the cab after having paid the cabbie and tried to compose herself. Her nerves were getting the best of her and now not only was her head throbbing, she felt nauseous too. Oh God, I hope I don't throw up in front of Rich, she thought closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked around. She had always wanted to love the posher parts of London but being in Mayfair just made her feel uncomfortable. There was not a hair out of place, or even a stray piece of lint to her clothes, her make up immaculate and her accessories designer; yet she still felt like an outsider. Like she didn't belong there.
Squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw, Farrah walked up the stairs to the front door and pressed on the buzzer. There was no sign or plaque to mark whose offices these were, all that was there was a number, 28, in cast iron above the buzzer next to the black door. The door opened and she was greeted with a familiar face of Ben. She immediately broke out into a smile, "Good morning," she said softly.
"Good morning," Ben said with a small smile, ushering her in. "Now, walk up the stairs and take a left. You'll see Stacey there, and she'll let Rich know that you're here."
Farrah looked at Ben quizzically, "You're not coming?"
"I don't sit in when it's official meetings, Ms. Khan-
"Farrah."
"-Farrah. Stacey, Richard's personal assistant will be doing that," he said studying her for her reaction.
Nodding her head, Farrah started walking up the stairs. Pausing, she looked back at Ben and said uncertainly, "Wish me luck?"
Laughing, "Break a leg, Farrah," Ben said with a wink.
With her hand holding the banister for support, Farrah walked up the stairs with the rhythmic clip-clopping of her heels as an accompaniment. Following Ben's instructions, Farrah walked into a plushly carpeted foyer and was greeted by who she could only assume to be Stacey.
"Stacey?" Farrah asked tentatively.
"Yes," she said with a winning smile. "Can I take your coat Ms. Khan? I'll just buzz His Highness and let him know that you've arrived.
Watching Stacey murmur into the phone, Farrah removed her coat and handed it into Stacey's outstretched hand. And on that hand Farrah noticed beautiful gold diamond ring and a matching wedding band. It was the observation of little things like that that Farrah thought made her a good journalist. She looked at Stacey again, elegant and poised with her dark blonde hair done in a soft chignon, and wearing a sleek black dress. She would have towered over Farrah if not for the simple kitten-heeled black sling backs that she was wearing. Very simple but oh-so-chic; and nothing like what she expected Richard's secretary to be.
"This way Ms. Khan," Stacey's voice woke her out of her reverie.
They walked towards a set of double doors and Farrah inhaled deeply, the scent of wood polish was lingering in the air. As she walked in and locked eyes with Richard, Farrah stopped short â feeling as though she got the wind knocked out of her.
Richard, now clean shaven and hair neatly trimmed and styled, was standing in front of her in fitted navy trousers and a light blue shirt. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and had left the top two buttons open. He looked every inch the royal that she was familiar with on covers of magazines and tabloids. With his piercing blue eyes, and his soft pouty lips slightly upturned, he was devastatingly handsome. He looked downright dangerous to Farrah, especially with the force of her heart thudding in her chest.
"You shaved," she blurted, thoughtlessly.
Richard's lips quirked up a fraction and he quickly stopped himself. Glancing at Stacey, he quickly rapped out instructions for her to prepare refreshments for himself and Farrah. It removed Stacey from making any sort of unnecessary conclusions to their relationship.
"Have a seat Farrah," Rich said coaxingly and with robotic movements Farrah sat down, across him. Leisurely strolling towards her, he leaned on the table with his hands in his pockets, the picture of elegant relaxation and looked down at Farrah. He could see she was tense.
"You seem surprised," he said in the same soft tone. "I figured, an official meeting warranted an official look."
Pressing her lips together, Farrah nodded silently.
"You look beautiful," he said, letting his words softly settle in the space between them. Removing his hands from his pocket, he clasped it in front of him and said resignedly, "And very uncomfortable."
"Honestly, I am more confused than anything," her words rang through clearly, although her brows were scrunched.
Nodding, Richard said, "Elaborate."
"The last few times, that we've met and talked, you were...well...you were...," she trailed seemingly at a loss for words.
"Yes...?" he said, goading her on.
"Flirty. And now, this-" Farrah waved her hand around, "is apparently a formal meeting."
Smiling, "Well, I do like to keep you on your toes. I've realised, the hard way, that you are too observant and astute."
"So, it that was this is? A distraction, to eventually get what you want from me?" Farrah asked raising a brow. "Well then why don't you enlighten me and tell me what is it that you want?"
"A chance to impress you, a second date?"
"Look Rich, I told you â I don't date. I am not the dating kind."
Arching a brow, he asked more curious than ever; "Then what kind are you?"
"The marrying kind," she snapped, standing up.
"Ah I see, so you must be going through the match-making rounds. Am I right? Must be your father or an aunt or some well-meaning elder thinking they know what's best for you. That's the Pakistani way of life, isn't it?" He drawled, closing in on her.
"Why do you make it sound like I'm being paraded around the bloody neighbourhood, with a sign on my for head that says 'For Sale'?" Farrah said, annoyance seeping into her voice.
"Isn't that what it is?" Richard said, his lips pressed in a thin line. "Women, young girls; forced into a lifetime of sadness just for the family's honor."
"Not all of us are like that," she almost shouted.
"The majority though, they are. Aren't they?" Richard said, his rigid stance betrayed the calmness in his voice.
"If you think you can stand there and berate my culture just because you're the fucking prince you are wrong. I don't need-"
There was a knock on the door and Stacey's voice filtered through the door, "Sir, I've brought the coffee."
By the time Stacey came in, Richard had already sat behind his desk with an expression of polite indifference on his face. Farrah however was still standing rigidly, glaring down at him.
"Please take a seat Farrah," Rich said impassively.
"No, you know what; I think I made a mistake coming here," she said, starting to gather her belongings. As she turned to leave she heard the slap of papers on the wooden desk.
"That's a shame, because after reading 57 emails sent by you in the last four months that goes from requesting to downright begging to meet someone, anyone really, with connections to the royal family; one would think that you would jump at this once in a lifetime chance."
Sparing a quick glance at Stacey, Farrah faced Richard once again.
"Stacey," Richard said gesturing subtly towards the door. With a nod, Stacey left the office.
"I'm sorry," Richard said. "I'm not trying to attack you or your culture. Far from it, I just want to get to know you," before Farrah could utter another word Richard continued, "Yes, I know you don't date. Can we just get to know each other? Without any pressure, any expectations?"
"You mean to say, be friends?" Farrah asked arching a brow.
Sighing, "I honestly hate that word but yes, friends."
"I'll think about it," Farrah said hesitatingly, annoyance flitting all over her skin like ants
"So now, are you going to tell me what it is that you have planned that required sending 57 emails?" Richard asked curiously.
"I want to open all the sealed documents pertaining the conditions to your mother, Her Highness Princess Elizabeth's, suicide," Farrah said boldly looking Richard in the eyes.
*******************
Cliffhangerrrrrrrr.....!!!!!!
We meet again lovely readers! I have a confession to make, I kinda hate how this chapter turned out. Let me know what you think okay?
Also, how delish is Tom Hardy up there? I mean....oh, all the heart eyes in the world for him. So you know I mentioned in the earlier chapters that Prince Richard is based of Prince Harry, buuuuuuut looks wise and style wise totally Tom Hardy. I mean....just look at him! Snack! LOL
If you've liked reading the story so far, please don't forget to comment, vote and shareeeeee. I promise the upcoming chapters will be juicyyyyyy!
12/6/2018 EDIT!!! Alright guys, this chapter has been edited. I still am not 100% satisfied by it but it's getting somewhere. hah.