Top 20 Richest Faces in Hollywood You Won’t Recognize. Riley frowned and clicked on the link, skimming down the article until she came to the section on Mansour. “If you saw Sheikh Mansour bin Shariq on the street, you’d never guess that he’s one of the wealthiest men in Hollywood—even beyond the money an executive producer makes. Family money gave him the means to start his own animation company at the age of twenty-one. He sold his company to Wonder Studios when he was barely out of film school…”
Riley shook her head and re-read the section. She had reasoned that Mansour was a bit young for the power and prestige that came along with being an executive producer, but the extent of Mansour’s success was still amazing to her. She sat back, staring at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Okay, so he’s a big deal, a sheikh no less,” Riley said, struggling to keep her voice calm as she talked to herself. “That’s…that really is something.” She glanced at the clock on her screen and realized that she would have to hurry to get ready by the time Mansour had said he’d pick her up. Riley went back into the bathroom and pulled her hair back into a simple, clean bun; the bobby pins nearly slipped out of her trembling hands as the shock of what she’d learned deepened.
Glancing in the mirror, her dress looked a hundred times shabbier than it had when she’d picked it out, but Riley knew that she had nothing better to wear. At least I waited until after I put makeup on to check on who he is, Riley thought, fumbling with the latch on her necklace. I might have poked my eye out with the mascara if I’d found out before.
Somehow, Riley managed to finish getting ready with only minutes to spare. She slipped her feet into a pair of modest heels and checked the time. Her heart fluttered and skipped in her chest as she realized that—provided he was on time—Mansour would be at her door in five minutes.
TEN
No sooner had she got her shoes on, Riley heard a knock at the door. “A guy doesn’t get to be that successful without being punctual,” she muttered lowly to herself.
Mansour was standing on the other side of her door, dressed in a new pair of jeans and a tee shirt, with a sharp blazer over the shirt. Riley wondered irrelevantly if the shirt was a regular brand, or some kind of designer tee shirt, made from Egyptian cotton or some other expensive material.
“Right on time,” she said, smiling nervously.
“My father always used to tell me that if I didn’t show up five minutes early, I was already late,” Mansour told her. He looked her up and down slowly, his hazel eyes warm, his lips curving up into a slow, appreciative smile. “Are you ready? You look stunning.”
“I just finished,” Riley admitted. She picked up her purse and glanced around her apartment, at a loss for what she was looking for. “I guess let’s go.”
Mansour stayed one step behind her as they walked down the hall; he invited her to step onto the elevator first and his hand brushed her elbow, sending a little tingle through Riley’s body.
“I hope I didn’t park illegally,” Mansour said as they rode down together. “Wouldn’t that be a great first date? Getting my car out of the impound yard together?”
Riley chuckled. “I think it would create a bond,” she pointed out.
Mansour laughed, and in a moment they were stepping out of the elevator together, walking across the ground floor lobby. Mansour opened the door for her, and Riley reflected that if nothing else, he clearly had lovely manners.
“I’m parked right over here,” Mansour said, pointing.
Riley followed the gesture, and her eyes widened as she took in the sight of a sleek-looking sports car. It wasn’t the flashiest car she’d seen, with a straightforward black exterior and clean chrome fixtures, but Riley caught sight of the hood ornament quietly proclaiming the car to be a Jaguar. While she wasn’t sure exactly what Mansour had spent on the car, she thought that it was probably more than she earned in four years or more.
“Let me get the door for you.”
“I think this is probably the nicest car I’ve ever had the chance to ride in,” Riley said, breathing in the smell of clean leather as she slid onto the seat. She looked up to see Mansour smiling faintly. He waited for her to settle and reach for the seatbelt, and closed the door behind her, walking around the front of the car to the driver’s side.
As Mansour pulled out of the parking spot and navigated onto the street, Riley remained silent, racking her brain for topics of conversation.
“So where were you planning on taking me?”
Right, start with the most boring subject possible, she thought ruefully.
“I was thinking that Le Roi would be great—have you ever been there before?”
Riley felt the blood rush into her face. “Actually I have,” she said, struggling to keep her voice normal. “In fact, I used to work there.”
“Really?” Mansour gasped and shot a startled glance in her direction.
“I quit right when the filming started,” she admitted. “So please—I beg of you, anywhere but there.” She laughed, hoping that Mansour wouldn’t think very much of her reasons for not wanting to go; the thought of all of her former coworkers watching her on her first date with Mansour—a power player in Hollywood—filled her with dread.“I’ve eaten a lot of meals there; the food is wonderful, but I think by now I’ve had my fill of it for a while.”
Mansour nodded slowly. “That’s what it was,” he said, more to himself than to Riley.
“Sorry?” Riley frowned in confusion.
Mansour brightened, smiling at her once more. “At the audition,” he explained, changing lanes with brisk efficiency. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere—it must have been the restaurant. I have business lunches there all the time.”
Riley’s blush deepened and she struggled to keep an amused smile on her face.
“You didn’t just give me the part because I served you lobster or something, did you?”
Mansour glanced at her quickly and shook his head, smiling again. “No,” he said reassuringly. “I noticed you when you walked into the audition because I knew I recognized you from somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where.” He licked his lips briefly. “And then your reading just blew me away—that was why I was staring at you when you left: I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
Riley closed her eyes for a moment, willing the burning in her cheeks to subside. The compliment left her almost speechless. A moment later, she heard Mansour chuckle and opened her eyes.
“I have an idea,” he said, glancing at her. “Instead of taking you to your former place of employment, what would you think about going to one of my favorite restaurants? It’s a Persian place downtown—amazing food. It’s a real taste of home.”
“I’ll admit I haven’t had much Persian food,” Riley said, recovering from her embarrassment. “That sounds like fun!”
“That’s what we’ll do then,” Mansour said, smiling.
He cut across traffic deftly, and came to an intersection; as soon as the light changed to green, Mansour made a U-turn and started off in the opposite direction, heading downtown. Riley assumed that the restaurant that Mansour wanted to take her to would be of the same caliber and style of Le Roi; that it would be a stuffy, high-class place. As Mansour navigated the LA streets, making small talk about the weather and observations about the other drivers on the road, Riley wondered if even her best dress would be good enough.