With butterflies battering her insides, she slipped her shoes on and padded towards the door.
“Good morning, ma’am,” one of the security agents greeted her in heavily accented English. “His highness’s car is ready.”
Olivia was perplexed. “I understood he – his highness – didn’t have plans for several hours.”
The man shrugged and stepped backwards, indicating she should follow him.
“One moment.” She moved back into her room and grabbed her handbag. It was small and she wore it strapped across her chest so that her hands were kept free. Her glasses were a Las Vegas essential, even in winter. She slipped them onto her face, drained her coffee and then moved back to the door.
“Ready,” she smiled tersely, wishing her stomach weren’t squirming with anxious anticipation. So she’d see him again. So what? She worked for the man. She had better get used to the idea of being in his intimate circle.
And then she’d better get used to the fact that she wasn’t.
Because, like all her clients, he would leave and forget all about her. She was a stop-gap measure in his life, as she was in all of their lives. Indispensible – for a time.
The security guard didn’t speak at all. He pressed the button to call the lift, and they rode it to the underground basement in silence.
A small hive of activity awaited them.
And at its centre was Zamir Fayez, tall, confident, regal and commanding. He was casually dressed, in dark denim jeans and a black shirt. He looked every bit as delectable as the Hollywood celebrities she’d handled, if not more so. He spoke with Marook, and though he perhaps knew she’d arrived, he didn’t look in her direction.
“I want only you and her,” he said stiffly, in his own language. To Olivia’s ears, it was an intriguing sound. Deep and husky, with a musical tone.
“Two or three men is the established protocol, sir.”
Zamir shook his head. “One man. The driver. You. Her. That is all.”
Marook nodded. He would have preferred to maintain their usual security standards but the Sheikh was determined to avoid word leaking to the press, and Marook understood that.
“Alisan,” he nodded to the car, and the man beside Olivia moved forward swiftly. “You will accompany us.” Marook’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Miss Henderson.”
And now Zamir did look in her direction. His amber eyes locked to hers for a full three seconds; her stomach knotted and her throat worked overtime to swallow. Their eyes were locked in an electrifying battle; brimming with energy and sparking off one another.
It was over as quickly as it had started. He broke the intense stare, calm and unaffected, as though he hadn’t felt the same bone-weakening throb of awareness.
Behind them was a black range rover with heavily tinted windows. Two of the henchmen opened the doors and the Sheikh moved easily into the front passenger seat. The driver took up his position, leaving Marook and Olivia to sit in the back of the luxury vehicle.
Of course, there was an equal probability she would be behind him as not, and it just so happened that Marook moved to sit behind the driver. It became apparent almost immediately that it was so he could speak more easily to Zamir.
But it left Olivia free to observe him in the side mirror of the car. His face was clearly visible to her, and she couldn’t help but look. It was a fascinating face. Hard planes and angles and a cleft in his chin. A firm brow and thick, lustrous hair.
They spoke in their language, effectively boxing Olivia out of any conversation. She barely minded.
If anything, it helped to underscore the difference between them. And there was a difference. In wealth, position, power; everything. It had been so easy to forget that the night before! Just the two of him, alone in his hotel room, she’d looked on him not as a prince, but as a man.
And she’d wanted him as a man.
Her heart turned over at the frank admission she could no longer deny. Desire was one thing. A crush another. But this was a rush of need the likes of which she’d never experienced before.
She closed her eyes behind the dark frames of her sunglasses and let out a breath.
When she opened them again, her gaze was drawn to t
he side mirror.
And he was looking at her.
Unapologetically, his golden eyes were considering her face, studying her, as she’d done to him. And her heart galloped accordingly in her chest. She looked away quickly, focussing on the streetscape beyond the car.