Читать книгу Hired: The Sheikh's Secretary Mistress - Люси Монро, Lucy Monroe, Люси Монро - Страница 5

“PLEASE, YOUR HIGHNESS, let me alert the sheikh to your presence.” Agitation laced Grace’s usual even tones as the doors to Amir’s inner sanctum opened.

But then his family tended to have that effect on people—though rarely his always efficient and coolly composed personal assistant. Five years of exposure had almost made her immune, but an unexpected visit from a family member they’d both thought in Zorha was enough to unnerve even her.

Amir stood up behind his sleek, glass-topped desk. “I see you are still harrowing the help,” he said to the tall man who’d opened not one, but both of the double doors leading into Amir’s office.

Grace made an offended sound at his use of the word help while his brother simply strode into Amir’s office with a somber air that belied the possibility of a simple family visit.

“To what do I owe the honor of your arrival?” Amir asked.

He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but admitting knowledge was as good as admitting culpability and he was not willing to do that…yet. But he should never have gotten involved with Tisa. The sex kitten had a love affair with the paparazzi that few could rival. However, at the time, Amir had needed a diversion badly and he had seen Tisa as the answer. For a while it had even worked.

Zahir did not answer, but simply stared at Amir for several tense, silent seconds. Being the youngest of three brothers had taught Amir many things, one of which was when it was politic not to talk. Now happened to be one of those times. He would not make the mistake of breaking the silence first.

He traded oblique look for oblique look with the man that could have been his twin but for the seven years that separated their ages.

They shared the same dark hair worn neither too short nor too long. While Zahir’s was styled in a way that reeked businessman, Amir wore his in an artful tousle. They also shared the same square jawline, angular cheek-bones and aquiline nose. All three brothers were tall, but he topped their brother Khalil by an inch, and at six and a half feet tall, Zahir exceeded them both in height. Taking after their father, they all had whipcord-lean bodies. Amir’s muscles bulged slightly more from his time in the gym while Zahir showed the development of a man who spent time several hours a week riding. They were both dressed expensively, but while Amir favored designers like Hugo Boss, his eldest brother wore cool Armani.

Their matching brown-eyed stares did not waver until Grace cleared her throat and their attention swung to Amir’s willowy assistant.

Below her red hair that was pulled back into a severe bun, her perfectly formed nose was wrinkled with displeasure. Full pink lips adorned with nothing but clear balm tilted in a downward curve. Behind the narrow dark frames of her glasses, her hazel eyes shimmered with disapproval at the brothers’ stare down.

“Is this a meeting you need me for?” she asked Amir pointedly.

Bless her. Unquestionably loyal, she was letting his brother know that while Zahir might be in line to their father’s throne, it was Amir who called the shots here in his New York office. She was also subtly encouraging his brother to answer Amir’s initial inquiry without him having to repeat it.

Zahir might ignore him, but he would not show bad manners by dismissing Grace’s question with his silence.

Zahir stepped forward and dropped a tabloid on the desk. It was quickly followed by one after another, each folded open to the page of interest—if the story wasn’t on the cover, which it was with most of them. Every headline screamed some lewd innuendo about The Playboy Prince and his latest conquest.

Amir grimaced.

Grace made another noise of disapproval. And Amir had no way of knowing whether that disapproval was directed at him or his brother for bringing the scandal sheets into his office. Grace didn’t think much of the revolving door in his bedroom, and she’d let him know it on more than one occasion.

Zahir looked at Grace. “You have something you wish to say, Miss Brown?”

Grace might be shy in most circumstances outside her role as his personal assistant, but here, she was in her element. No doubt, he was her employer. However, there was also no question that she reigned supreme in his office. At least in her own mind. They’d had a few discussions about that fact as well over the years.

She gave them both a look of displeasure. “I don’t know which one of you gets the wooden spoon for having the poorest taste—Amir for getting involved with a media hound or you for bringing that trash here into the office, Your Highness.” She straightened her inexpensive and incredibly ordinary suit jacket. “Regardless, I can see this is not a meeting I need to be included in, so I will take my leave.”

With that she left, closing the doors with a definitive double-snick behind her.

Zahir actually smiled. “I thought Mother was a tough audience.”

“Grace keeps me in line,” Amir said with some humor, while he willed his libido back into check.

These moments of attraction for his indispensable assistant were coming too frequently for his comfort. But the spark in her eyes when she chastised his brother and him had lit a fire somewhere else entirely in Amir.

Zahir shook his head. “I only wish that were true.” And just like that, the air of gravity was back.

“Tisa was a mistake,” Amir admitted.

“Yes.”

Amir refused to allow his pride to elicit offense at his brother’s honesty. Tisa had been a mistake. In more ways than one. “Are you here on your own, or did Father send you?”

“Father sent me.”

A cold fist tightened around Amir’s heart. Some might think that King Faruq sending his eldest son in his place was an indication that he did not place as high of an importance on the message as he would one he delivered personally. However, Amir knew that was not true. Sending Zahir said more than Amir wanted to hear about how disappointed in him his father truly was. It implied the king was so angry, he did not even want to see his youngest son.

“You know, I realize that Tisa courts the limelight a bit too much and maybe I showed up in more than one story with her, but damn it…I never moved in with one of my flings like Khalil did with his mistress. He lived with Jade for almost two years before he decided to marry her.”

And in any other universe that would have made Jade untouchable in the marriage stakes for a man in his family, but she had friends in high places. Their uncle had taken an interest in Jade and Khalil’s romance and seen to it that Jade had a place in the royal family of Zorha.

Zahir’s frown said how little he appreciated the reminder that his sister-in-law had been his brother’s live-in lover. “Misdirection will not undo the results of your actions.”

“You can assure the king that his youngest son will be more circumspect in choosing companions in future.” Amir’s jaw tightened against words he wanted to add, but would regret saying later.

“Unfortunately, such an assurance will not be enough. Our father has grown weary of you dragging the family name through camel dung. It is time for you to tame your wild ways permanently.”

Once again, Amir had to bite back words it would be impolite to speak. But his father’s and brother’s attitudes grated.

He was loyal to his family and to his people. He had put the needs of each ahead of his own on more occasions than he could count. He lived away from his desert home to oversee the royal family’s business interests. His position left him little time to himself and if he chose to spend that time with beautiful women in uncomplicated liaisons, how did that make him a bad person?

“I don’t date innocents or married women. My companions are aware of the transitory nature of our association before I ever take them on the first date.”

“So is the rest of the world.”

Amir winced, but he said, “So what?”

“Your lifestyle reflects negatively on our family and our people.”

“There is nothing wrong with my lifestyle.”

“Our father does not agree.”

“What does he want me to do, remain celibate?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

A brief flash of pity flared in his eldest brother’s dark eyes. “The king has decreed that you shall be married.”

The king? So this was coming as a royal command. Camel dung was right. “And has he chosen my future wife?” Amir asked in disbelief.

Zahir had the grace to look at least a little uncomfortable. “Yes.”

“That’s positively medieval.”

Again that short flicker of pity, but then Zahir’s expression hardened. “Are you refusing the king’s command?”

Foreboding skated up Amir’s spine. He knew that to deny his father would come with a very heavy cost, maybe even his position within their family. His father almost never pulled royal rank, so when he did so, his family knew he would not be moved. If Amir refused to marry the woman his father had chosen, he might as well start looking for a new job. One that didn’t have “prince” in its title.

He had been raised to do his duty and could not imagine refusing his father, unless the dictate were so untenable he could not possibly live with it. This one was not.

“I will marry the princess…. I assume the woman he’s chosen is a princess.”

“Actually, yes.” If Zahir was surprised by his youngest brother’s acquiescence, he did not show it.

“Who is it?”

“Princess Lina bin Fahd al Marwan.” Zahir dropped another sheet of paper on the desk.

This one was a single-page dossier on the princess, including a picture of the beautiful woman. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The last thing he wanted was to marry for love and, if he was honest, he would admit that the transitory nature of the women in his life was starting to get old.

He wouldn’t have chosen to marry for some time yet on his own, but he wasn’t completely against the idea.

Besides, he had his own reasons for wanting a more permanent distraction than Tisa and the others like her.

“When’s the wedding?” he asked.