Of course, since he was the oldest of his brothers and the legitimate heir to the throne, it wasn’t just his family that was interested in him having children. There was a whole country waiting with bated breath for the next sheikh in line.
“Mother doesn’t need to deputize you to do her dirty work, Mafir.”
He shrugged and suppressed a smile. “My sheikh, between you and Sheikha Bahan, I’m going to listen to her. She’s far scarier than you’ll ever be.”
“That’s seriously undercutting my mystique.”
“No, it’s not. I know the sheikha is a hair puller and fights dirty. You would engage me in a duel with honor. She’s definitely the person to be more wary of,” Mafir continued. “I only suggest from her, ahem, ‘advice’ that you think less of one-night stands and jewelry as signs of insincere gratitude.”
“Even if they’re not the best or most enthusiastic partners, I appreciate every woman who shares my bed,” Amir objected, folding his hands behind his head and leaning even further back. “I just have a tier system.”
“And the sheikha thinks that you should, perhaps, engage in that final top tier and, as the Americans say, put a ring on it.”
“Well, I can’t wait to speak more to Mother when she’s here for the opening gala this week. I’m sure she’ll talk my ear off about how I’m ruining the family, breaking her heart, and being an utter cad about town.”
“Oh she used a far more colorful word for you, my sheikh,” Mafir said with a smirk.
“Quite. Just get Svetlana up and thank her kindly. Also, what’s the next thing on my schedule? I’ve been slammed going over the final plans and financials for the art gallery opening—”
“Let it never be said that your luxury resort doesn’t have a bit of everything,” Mafir conceded.
“Exactly, but what’s next on the docket? I know that the sous chef at Sayonara has been clashing with Yoshi. Also, I’m still not sure I’m happy with the Gucci display in our retail venue. I think it could do better, be more eye catching.”
“Sir, you can exercise your micromanaging tendencies soon enough. Right now there’s a reporter from the Style section of, I believe, the Washington Sentinel here to interview you.”
“Can’t Kantaya do another one? That’s what the press secretary is for.”
Mafir shook his head. “Market research indicated that at least twenty percent of interviews should be done with you directly. Since this is an American outlet, and we’re trying to make sure the whale gamblers from the United States feel safe and secure here, you know that speaking with Miss Sinclair will be best.”
“You say that now, but I find those interviews mind-numbingly boring.”
“Yes, but unfortunately, the property won’t sell itself,” he said, bowing low again. “I’ll take care of, uh, Svetlana and see Miss Sinclair in. Be nice, my sheikh.”
“I’m always nice. I’m practically a teddy bear,” he replied gruffly.
“Quite, how could I have ever been mistaken?” Mafir said before disappearing out the door.
He really had to find a way to get his assistant squarely on his team. He’d be damned if he’d be getting the responsibility spiel forever from every corner—even from his freaking manservant! Shaking his head, Amir rose and came to stand at the huge bank of windows that were the main focal feature of his office. The casino was a massive structure, standing as the tallest high-rise in Abu Dhabi. It wasn’t just a casino; it was an entire compound of fine dining, shopping, and entertainment. Ali Babba Casino’s boasted three separate concert and entertainment halls, as well as a gallery featuring a collection showcasing the most beautiful art from the ancient world and his own personal favorites. It was a huge gamble—something bigger than any of his father’s or grandfather’s holdings—but if it all worked, it would put the Bahan family on the map in the same way that the American casinos were so closely tied to the Maloofs.
Of course, if it failed, he’d be the laughingstock of Middle Eastern business.
He wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Ahem, are you going to stand there all day?” a clipped voice rang out.
He turned and was about to send the reporter away for being so rude when his breath caught in his throat. The woman before him was not traditionally beautiful. While she did have long, blond hair that was the color of spun gold and blue eyes that reminded him of cut sapphires, she was barely five feet tall and curvier than he usually liked. Yet, there was something about her that stirred him deeply. Perhaps it was those soul-searching eyes or the amused quirk of her lips, but he was pretty sure the thing that drew him most was the defiant jut of her chin, the way she seemed to be daring him to cross her. It didn’t seem to make her pause in the least that she was standing before both a billionaire and royalty.
And that was a damn sexy turn-on.
“Excuse my manners then, Miss Sinclair.”
“Just call me Amanda,” she said, sitting down in a chair and pulling out her recorder. “I’ve given up on any pretense of formality.”
He arched his eyebrow back at her, intrigued again by her flippancy. After all, it was so rare for him to feel amused by anything. Women could be alluring…for a time. It was just that so few ever held his attention. Even if she were just here on business, Miss Sinclair was off to a promising start.
“Would the Sentinel be happy with that, Miss Sinclair?”
“I told you we could be informal.”