Rosanna tilted her jaw, her gaze locking with his. This wasn’t about her. It was about her work, andnothing, she vowed, would stand in the way of her delivering what she’d promised.
Not even a client who refused to see her.
Every meeting she’d tried to organise had been cancelled except for a brief quarter of an hour with his assistant present. It was as if Salim didn’t want to deal with her.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Indeed?’
His expression didn’t change, yet the look in his eyes reminded her that she spoke to an absolute ruler. A man used to instant and complete acquiescence.
‘If you please, Your Majesty.’ Rosanna made her voice soft and coaxing but she was damned if she’d bow her head or break eye contact now she finally had his attention. ‘I need to update you and I can’t proceed without your guidance.’
Because, despite producing a selection of gorgeous, talented women, Salim didn’t seem interested in any of them. Not even Ingrid, the Scandinavian medico with the grace of a queen and the looks of a film star.
At this rate Rosanna would be here for months.
She shuddered. She had to pin him down and get him to spend more time with the ones he liked best.
Was he deliberately sabotaging her work?
But that made no sense. Salim had made it clear he needed a wife quickly, even if he acted like a man who would prefer not to marry.
‘I’m sure my assistant will be able to—’
‘With all due respect, Your Majesty, it’s you I need to speak with, not your assistant.’
If Salim had looked proud before, now he was positively imperious, staring down that aristocratic nose as if she were the first person who had ever interrupted him.
Perhaps she was. Anxiety curdled her stomach as she thought of the consequences of displeasing this powerful client.
‘I was about to say—’ he paused as if challenging her to interrupt again ‘—that my assistant will make an appointment.’
He looked up and instantly Taqi hurried towards them.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll look forward to it.’
Rosanna suspected her smile was more like a baring of teeth, but her patience was fraying, especially with Marian calling regularly from London asking for progress and Salim refusing to give enough useful feedback.
‘Excellent.’ He was already turning away with Taqi in tow, leaving Rosanna to wonder what she’d done to earn his displeasure.
But she’d had difficult clients before. She vowed that not even the Sheikh of Dhalkur at his most regal and uppity would get the better of her.
‘Ms MacIain, Your Majesty.’
Late that same afternoon Salim watched Taqi usher Rosanna into his sitting room then leave, closing the door behind him.
Salim rose from the sofa where he’d been reviewing a report, silently cursing his earlier distraction.
He’d come to his private apartments to search for notes he’d made last night on a new project and become absorbed comparing them with the progress report he’d received. When he hadn’t returned to the office, Taqi must have assumed he was happy to meet Rosanna here.
Notwhat Salim had intended. It felt safer meeting her in the administrative wing, with his staff nearby.
But surely such a precaution wasn’t necessary. He could hear her out and send her on her way.
‘Please, come in.’
His voice was half an octave lower than usual and seemed to rumble from somewhere far deeper than his larynx.