The Sheikh's Tamed Bride (The Sharif Sheikhs 2)

Rashid groaned. While it was legal in Dubai to bet on games, the bets had to be placed in proper venues, and since the sports complex was so new, Rashid was still in the process of cutting through the red tape to set up legal outlets. “I have no knowledge of any betting at the complex, but I’ll be happy to give you complete access to the venue as you investigate.”

With everything that was happening in his personal life, he couldn’t afford to take any hits on his professional life as well. He needed to keep this as quiet as possible and shut it down.

Hamad nodded. “I appreciate that, Sheikh. The attackers indicated that the bets were placed at an online site, but the site had been shut down when we went to investigate it. We currently have no leads, but we will pursue this aggressively until we figure it out. I’d like to leave my card. If you hear or see anything, please let me know.”

“Of course. And if you would please let me know if anyone in my employment is being uncooperative . . .”

Hamad nodded his head and let himself out of the offic

e. Rashid tossed the officer’s card on the desk before balling his fists in anger. It pissed him off to think that someone might be using his venue illegally to make money, but unfortunately, illegal betting sites were common. Still, it was dangerous to have one attached to his complex. The emirates could shut him down.

Back in his office, he made a call to Taysir, the head of his security team. He didn’t trust that the police would keep him apprised of the investigation, and he wanted his own team to look into the matter.

That evening, when he went home, he was bone-tired and a little on edge. So when his driver pulled into the palace, he was surprised to see a taxi outside the gates.

He was even more surprised when he saw Mila get out of the car.

“Stop,” he ordered Ori as he rolled the window down. “Mila.”

“Rashid.” She looked disappointed to see him. “I need to speak to Liyah. I thought she was coming back today.”

So she wasn’t here to see him. He felt his mood sour even more. “There was a delay in their travel plans. They won’t be getting back until the morning.”

To his surprise, he saw tears fill Mila’s eyes.

Trying to blink them away, she said, “Okay, thank you.” Her voice trembled. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Cursing, Rashid opened the door. “Get in,” he demanded harshly. For a moment, he thought that she might refuse him, but it was clear that something was upsetting her.

“Okay. I need to pay the driver,” she whispered.

Rashid grabbed his card from his wallet and handed it up front. “Ori, take care of the driver for me.”

Mila’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Oh, no. Please don’t do that.”

“Mila, get in the car. I’ve had a bad day, and it’s not going to help if you make me get out.”

She bit her bottom lip, but Ori was already out of the car and paying the taxi driver. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she slid into the back seat.

Rashid put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Whatever was going on with her, he would make sure to make it right again.

He couldn’t have anything distracting her from his courtship.

Once his driver had taken care of the taxi, Rashid’s car pulled through the gate and around to the private entrance to his wing.

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked her in a low voice as they got out.

She shook her head.

Rashid pulled out his phone and made arrangements for dinner for two on his patio.

By the time he had Mila in his suite, she had composed herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to turn into a blubbering mess right outside the gates.”

“You really would do my reputation harm if the press had caught a picture of you crying outside the palace,” he teased with a smile. She paled, and he cursed himself. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t mean it like that. Tell me what happened.”

Mila wandered aimlessly around the main part of the suite, examining the lavishly decorated room. Rashid wished that he could hear what she was thinking. While Khalid, ever the artistic painter, used items that inspired him to decorate his space, Rashid bathed his suite in luxury. Priceless paintings and risqué statues decorated the walls of his living area, and he had signed sports paraphernalia in his bedroom. Every single photo in the suite was of him and some athlete, celebrity, or dignitary.

“Mila,” he prompted.