“Yes. Perhaps.” He smiled at her kindly. “Nothing compared to this. It is not the Sheikh who will test you, so much as the pace at which he lives.”
She smiled in what she hoped was a dismissive way and stepped into the hotel room.
“Sleep when you can,” was Marook’s parting advice.
Olivia reached over and flicked the light switch on. The room illuminated with a slightly shuddering electric glow. There was a bathroom to her right, and down the end of a narrow hallway, a bedroom. The balcony overlooked the lights of the strip. Sophie pulled out first one earring and then the next, laying them on her bedside table in what was a routine action at the end of each day. Her shoes followed suit.
She bent down and collected them from the floor and moved towards the wardrobe, intending to place them in the shoe rack. When she slid the mirrored door open, a full selection of clothes stared back at her.
Her clothes.
Her jaw slackened; her mouth dropped. She fingered the outfits with a growing sense of invasion and indignation, then lifted her phone from her pocket. She dialled her boss’s number and waited impatiently for it to connect.
“Liv. How’d you go?”
Johnny Lane spoke with his trademark drawl. He’d tell anyone who’d listen that he was fifth generation Vegas, as though the city itself were a principality, and he at heart of it.
“Well, fine. I got the job.”
Johnny’s smile was broad.
“Something which I suspect you already knew.”
“Yeah. Knew you’d hit it off.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She pictured the Sheikh’s enormous golden eyes and shivered. “Johnny, why the hell are my clothes in this hotel room?”
His laugh was indulgent, not in the least self-conscious. “Thought that’d piss you off.”
“I’m just confused,” she corrected, closing the wardrobe door and easing down onto the bed.
“That Marook fella insisted I get you all set up. Said you’d be starting work immediately an’ that you’d be grateful for the head start.”
“So you went through my stuff?” She demanded, her sense of having been invaded increasing.
“Nah. Ebony did,” he corrected, referring to one of the other concierge staff. Sally was mildly mollified.
“A heads up would have been nice,” she remarked, laying back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, tell me about it. But this whole booking happened pretty darned fast. Look. Liv, I know you’re a pro. Just … take really good care of this guy. The Dashani royal family’s got a lot of princes and princesses in its midst and they’re worth a packet. Wouldn’t mind picking up some future business from them.”
Secure in the knowledge she was unobserved, Olivia rolled her eyes. Johnny thought of two things. Money and women. And the Dashani royal family certainly provided an opportunity for money. “Sure, Johnny.” She rung off as soon as she could and sat back up again.
Her hair had been clipped into a tight bun all day. She removed each and every bobby pin with a grateful sigh. The relief from allowing her hair to flow loosely down her back was immense. She bathed quickly and dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a grey singlet, then climbed between the crisp white sheets.
Olivia drifted off to sleep on a wave of distraction. While she was modest and down to earth, she was not stupid. Olivia knew that something about the way she had been put together made her an object of men’s interest. And while she’d become adept at the game of flirtation, she’d never really met anyone who’d set her heart racing. Until that moment, her interaction with the opposite sex had been more about the effect she had on men.
Being on the flipside of the coin was not an experience she was relishing. Particularly not given that she had to work for the man in question.
Marook had told her to be prepared for anything, but it was still a surprise when the hotel phone began to scream in the middle of the night. She woke with a start, her heart pounding and her breathing ragged, then flicked the light on. It took a moment for her eyes to focus and her mind to catch up with where she was, and on which assignment.
Then, she remembered.
The Sheikh.
She grabbed the phone up quickly. Her voice was husky when she spoke, “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”
“It is morning.”