She’d been told to stay in the chauffeur driven car and he’d disappeared. After ten minutes, he returned with a glossy bag with the name Dairaku embossed on both sides. “What’s…?” He tapped her on the nose. “No. Now. For food.” Leaving the bag to one side, he caught her hand and pulled her out of the car for them to walk to Fortnum and Mason. Behind them, four sleek men followed and as soon as they entered the store, they collected baskets and began filling them once Roshan made his elegant requests in Farsi. Neiri’s word was law. If she asked for something, four packets, tins, jars were placed inside. They were separated into various pastel green bags and carried out to the car for them. The car then took off to Selfridges where the same thing happened, much to Neiri’s confusion. “Extravagant Arab,” she murmured. Roshan grinned. “I want your first stress-free Christmas to be spectacular.” “Thank you,” she muttered, emotion hitching her voice. She cleared her throat.
