Olivia wasn’t sure if he felt the strange charge in the atmosphere, or if it was just her inexperience muddling things up.
“I don’t usually interact with my clients to this degree. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes sort of person.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” He was appraising her. Olivia had a feeling that she was an object he was holding in both hands, weighing her and sensing her at the same time.
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I couldn’t say.”
The air between them was thick with thoughts and opinions. Lights from the strip barely penetrated the magical-seeming moment.
“How old are you?” He repeated his earlier question with his silent confidence. His accent was thicker at times than others; when he spoke now, it coloured each and every word, rendering them husky and mysterious.
She settled back into the chair with an appearance of relaxation, but her insides were zipping with adrenalin. “I’m twenty four.”
His nod was slow and deliberate. “I had thought you to be younger.”
How many times had she heard that? “Why?”
His eyes sparkled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. Amusement? Mockery? Cynicism? “Are you seeking a compliment?”
“No.” She smiled softly and shook her head. “I didn’t take your comment as flattery so much as an observation.”
“It was intended as both,” he promised with concentration.
She chose to ignore the tingle of interest that his words sparked. She was no fool; getting involved with a man like th
is would be stupidity and career suicide rolled into one deliciously tempting packet.
“And you?” She pushed, endeavouring to change the subject onto safer ground.
“Yes?” He ran a hand over his stubbled chin and Olivia couldn’t help but be distracted by the gesture. Her eyes followed his fingers, then lingered on his mouth.
“You’re young, and yet you have a role that is demanding and unique.”
“Tell me, Olivia Henderson, what it is you know of the demands that are on me?”
She wouldn’t be intimidated by him. Though it was patently obvious he was employing a cold tone of voice in order to dissuade her line of questioning, Olivia was not so easily put off. After all, he’d invited her to entertain him. How could that be anything other than a two way street?
“You’re next in line to one of the most powerful royal families in the world.”
He placed his tea down and stood, walking slowly to the enormous windows and staring down at the strip beneath. What Olivia didn’t say were the questions that peppered her mind.
The same questions that had been printed in the tabloids several months earlier, when Sultan Faisal of Dashan had enacted a law that bypassed his older son Ra’if as heir to the throne, and put the honour onto the shoulders of Zamir instead. Olivia was no expert in international politics, but she’d done a background check of Sheikh Zamir before undertaking this assignment. And there it had been. Headlines that spoke of a dramatic family rift and a sibling rivalry that had resulted in the ousting of the natural born heir.
“True.” It was a single word, spoken so long after her statement that she’d almost forgotten what she’d asked of him. “You know, I suppose, that I was not born to carry this title.”
His shoulders were broad and his waist tapered. Beneath the clothes he wore, she could see that he was firmly muscled and innately powerful. She swallowed and looked away. The zing of attraction was unwelcome.
“Yes,” she said simply.
Zamir didn’t visibly react and Olivia understood. It was a difficult conversation for him. “I am not close to my brother, as you are your sisters.”
She dipped her head forward as a concession. “Sibling relationships can be difficult.”
He spun around and studied her thoughtfully. “Yes. Some more than others.” He moved back towards her and sat down once more. “You said you are close to your sisters, though.”
“Yes.” Her smile was laced with irony. “But that’s not always been the case.”
“Do you have a lover, Olivia?”