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“You know what I mean! I’m going to be late to tennis, and I’ll be damned if I let the sheikha of Oman beat me this month. Now, think over what I’ve said,” she said as she left.
She was a whirlwind, but he couldn’t ignore her advice.
Amir didn’t have much time to focus on his mother’s words and unsolicited advice, because almost as soon as she was down the hall, Mafir slipped in the door. That was actually advantageous as he was about to summon his manservant anyway. It didn’t matter that Amanda didn’t want help. She could say anything she wanted, but he’d be a damn fool not to have some of his security team on her. Right now, some of his best agents were determining if the senator currently had her bugged, and learning whatever other information the ass had gathered on her. He’d started with the espionage route, but in a few weeks, he was far from opposed to sending her back to the States with a guard at her disposal.
It was common sense, what was truly safe and smart.
“Sir—”
“Mafir, I’m glad you came. I wanted to talk to you about Miss Sinclair.”
“Then you’ve seen? Good because I think we may have a problem on our hands,” he said, crossing quickly to the television and flicking the machine on.
Amir frowned but watched the image flicker to life. Mafir grabbed the changer and sped through the usual news and finance channels and instead settled on a vacuous entertainment news network. He was about to ask his servant what in the blue hell he thought he was doing, when Amir saw a familiar but blurry image on the screen. Blood boiled in his veins, and he knew that some employees of his were merely going to wish that there were still dungeons and hands being chopped off in this nation. It would be far less painful than the blackballing and lawsuit for breach of privacy he planned to unfurl on them.
“What?” he roared.
“Then you didn’t know,” Mafir said dryly, which galled Amir even further. How could his servant be so calm when the video feed from the gallery—heavily edited for broadcast television but still revealing—was playing on a loop on some gossip channel? “Sir, I think we need to call a press conference as soon as possible. I’ve summoned your press secretary, and she’s already thinking of how to start with damage control.”
“Damage control?”
“Well, some people are scoffing again at the whole project, as if it’s a lark for you or some excuse to seduce women. You need to go into damage control now. You know how important the launch of your property is, how crucial all of it is.”
“I need to talk to her, see how she is.”
“You can, but give it thirty minutes. You need to preserve a billion-dollar casino’s opening first, my sheikh,” Mafir said, shoving the phone into his hand. “Take care of your business dealings first. Never lose sight of what matters.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
***
The phone was blaring in her ear, startling her out of her sleep, and damn it, she needed it after being kept up all night with the best sex of her life. Amanda rose up in bed, pushing herself out of the mountains of silk sheets before she grabbed her cell. Blinking blearily down at it, she noticed that the caller ID said “Margery.” Good, she still had till tomorrow to file her gallery story, and once she prepped that, she’d talk to Harris about taking a bit of time off. Who cared about some gondola attraction opening in Venice? She just wanted to try and assess her life, which seemed to be swept up in a whirlwind.
The fact that doing it in Amir’s bed for a few weeks was merely a bonus.
Of course, that’s not completely true. Last night was the best sex I’ve ever had.
She thought of everything they’d done both in the tub and out of it, the completion she’d felt when he’d fully made love to her. They’d been swept up in a rush, but the passion had carried them through so much in this very bed, and for hours. Her mouth was split open in a wide grin just thinking about it.
“Hello? Hey, Margery, what’s up? Do you know it’s still sort of early here?”
That was a lie. It was close to noon, but she hadn’t fallen asleep before 4 a.m. It still felt early to her.
“Oh my God! You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”
Her heart started thudding, and her mind flashed back to her actual reality and the uphill battle that was facing her once she went back to the States. “Did Senator Jackson try something on you? You’re not blackballed or anything, are you?”
“No, but I mean…when I said that you should have a fun date with Sheikh Bahan, I didn’t mean that you should…oh, Amanda, what have you done?”
What is she even talking about?
Her heart was pumping hard in her chest and she felt beads of sweat collect at her temples. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s everywhere. You and he got up to some very intense things at the gallery opening party. Someone must have snuck footage, or I don’t know what, but it’s been all over the gossip sites on the web and even E! is talking about it.”
Her stomach roiled
, and she wanted to vomit. This wasn’t possible. The security detail had been watching them. Besides, Amir owned everything in Ali Babba’s. Had this all been some sick setup? Was this some game he played? If he owned the cameras and the security stuff, did he save some special footage as a kink?
