Page 42 of Waiting for Ru
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JASIM WAS, AS always, a gracious host, though not one who’d ever be called the life and soul of the party. He was there, he wasn’t sulking in a corner, he was managing to smile, speaking when he was addressed, and that was enough. His lounge and patio were full of players, their relatives and friends. He wouldn’t have been surprised if a few people didn’t find their way into the pool at some point. As long as they didn’t behave recklessly, that was fine.
He was happy for his guests to drink their way through the wine and champagne—paid for by Nicolás, and to devour the canapés, prepared by Jasim’s part-time housekeeper, Mary. The guests had drivers to ferry them home. The Devil Riders’ horses were likely already snug in their stalls, cossetted and fed, safely delivered by their grooms. There was a lot to envy about the life of a polo pony.
Nicolás was holding court with his wife. The Eagles’ patron loved this side of the business—the parties, the socialising. Jasim didn’t, but it was a large part of polo so he accepted the necessity. Nicolás had been difficult today, but winning had improved his mood. He had a vibrant and generous personality when he wasn’t in a temper.
In common with most patrons, he was a better businessman than he was player. As well as being a prominent land developer, he owned a chain of sports stores across the UK, Spain and Portugal. An irony that such a successful guy had chosen to throw his money into the money-pit that was polo. He’d bankrolled improvements to the facilities at Benning Park, pursued players recommended by Jasim, flown the team all over the world and bought ponies Jasim had told him to buy. Without world-class mounts, it was impossible to win matches. The best riders were still only as good as the horses they rode. Polo ponies cost a lot of money, and now some riders had started to change their mounts mid-chukka, even more ponies were needed.
No patron was in this to make money. They only cared about winning. When they already had all that money could buy—big houses, planes and yachts and trophy wives, there was no monetary prize that tempted. They wanted the cups of the big competitions, their name in the history books and opportunities to brush with the greats of the polo world, and the side benefits of having the chance to socialise with celebrities and royalty. Even Jasim, in his own modest way, fit that criterion.
Nicolás was reasonably fit, but he was chubby-faced with the beginnings of a paunch and his hair was thinning. His wife was thirty years younger than him. Stunningly beautiful, with flawless skin, legs that went on forever, and glossy hair that fell like a waterfall down her currently bare back. The dress she wore tonight had probably cost thousands and been manufactured from less than a metre of material. She’d met Nicolás while working as a maid on a yacht.Tell me, Francesca, what did you see in the millionaire, Nicolás Andrade?
Jasim smiled to himself.
“What so funny?” One of the women with The Devil Riders sauntered over to stand next to him. Jasim had been wondering when she’d make her move. He’d been aware of her lingering attention.
“I’m happy to see people enjoying themselves.”
“And are you enjoying yourself?” She ran a finger up the arm of his white linen shirt.
Jasim would let her go so far because it suited him to be seen doing so. “We won. That’s enough to make me happy.” He was just as obsessed with winning as Nicolás, though more focused on achieving victory.
“Do you know my name?”
“No, I’m sorry.” He thought about paying her some attention; he knew just how eligible he was perceived to be, but he wasn’t in the mood to play his usual games. Not when he had someone in his head who refused to budge.
“Erin Duchamps. Victor is my cousin.”
Victor was The Devils’ number One.
“Nice to meet you,” Jasim said politely.
Polo players at almost any level were a draw for ambitious women on the hunt for an athletic rich husband. The big names were pursued by leggy supermodels and designer-clad stick-chicks who followed them around the polo circuit, even travelling to matches abroad in search of some particularly desirable conquests. Still unmarried, and a member of Saudi royalty, Jasim was pursued everywhere he went by perfectly made-up women, dressed to display their assets, their fug of expensive perfume arriving with them. Jasim could have impressed Erin by complimenting her on her choice of Christian Dior fragrance, but not tonight.
“Victor admires you,” Erin said. “So do I.”
“Thank you.” Jasim looked across the room, caught Joaquin’s eye and tightened his mouth in a grim line.
Almost as if Joaquin had heard his silent call for help, which he’d certainly seen, his Back pushed to his feet from the sofa where he’d been sandwiched between two leggy blonde colts, twins by the look of them—sorry, friend—and headed for Jasim.
“Excuse me, Erin,” Jasim said as Joaquin reached him. “I have to go and check on something. Have you met Joaquin?”
“She escaped from me earlier,” Joaquin said and clutched his heart. “I thought, how am I to live with this rejection?”
Erin laughed and Jasim performed an escape of his own.
He made his way off the patio, detoured around the thankfully empty pool, and headed into the garden for a moment of peace, only to gasp in astonishment when he saw Ru lying asleep on one of the garden benches. His cock immediately thickened.Oh fuck.It said everything, didn’t it, that he went instantly hard at the sight of him?
It shouldn’t matter that Jasim was gay. There was even a thriving league of gay polo players, though not at his level. Jasim didn’t think his teammates would be bothered if they knew he preferred men, but he’d never give them the chance to react to that because there was no way he was coming out. Jasim kept his private life very private. He knew many thought that he was asexual. It was easier to let them think that, but it wasn’t true.
He suspected that being asexual would be just as unacceptable to his family as being gay, though perhaps not quite as unacceptable. Hard to explain to anyone that if he came out, it would mean the end of everything. It sounded over-dramatic, but it wasn’t. He might be killed or just made to disappear, locked away in some place where he’d never see the light of day again. Heknewthis could happen, because it had happened to others. It was part of the reason for what he’d done a few years ago, finally taking a risk because he neededsomethingin his life. But it had been a mistake and it had come back to bite him, though hopefully, he was safe again now, as long as people kept their mouths shut. Experience told him he should walk away from temptation.
But… he didn’t.
Jasim took a step closer to Ru and saw he’d been drawing. A sketch of Dream in motion.And me on her back.It was good. Ru suddenly blinked, saw him and jumped to his feet. Had that been a grimace of pain? He thought it had.
“I’m sorry,” Ru blurted. “I’m not supposed to be here, am I? It’s your private garden and probably out of bounds though no one told me it was. But then, if I’d appeared in your bathroom, and said that no one had told me I couldn’t use your shower so I thought it was okay, I… Oh for… Listen to me, I’m waffling, sorry. I never waffle. I…” He took a deep breath. “I was looking for somewhere quiet. And it was so quiet I fell asleep.” He gave a short laugh. “Sorry.”
