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“See, then I should go and make sure we stay professional.”
Margery frowned. “I didn’t exactly say that. I mean, I’m not wrong. Next week he won’t be your assignment. I’ve seen you be a nun for over six months on the trail of that story and working yourself into utter exhaustion. Maybe it’s time you had something for yourself. It was just a kiss. Maybe it’ll lead to something fun. You never know.”
Wait, has my best friend been replaced by a pod person?
“Huh?”
“What? I’m trying to be the best friend, give you the advice you need, and for once, hon, it’s not about your career. You put your career first above everything else, and while that’s truly noble, you also need to take time for yourself. So if your sheikh sets your toes curling, then maybe you need to give it a chance.”
As advice went, that didn’t completely suck.
***
“So you have that American reporter coming as your guest to the gallery opening?” his mother asked.
Amir wanted to groan, but instead he kept his poise and nodded. “Mother, being on the guest list for the grand opening means that I thought you’d stay less underfoot this week. Wouldn’t you like Mafir to take you out to see the shops? Father hasn’t called me to complain yet, so I know you haven’t hit Cartier and Gucci hard enough yet.”
She grinned back at him, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I have time to abuse the discount I ge
t from you later.”
“That’s an employee discount and I need every inch of revenue I can get,” he corrected. “So what if I’ve asked her to come with me for a longer interview. What business is it of yours?”
“Well she was far from kind to you at the press conference. I don’t want you to feel she’s setting you up for an expose you can’t recover from,” his mother said.
“I don’t, and I’ll control things better one on one.”
“I do hope so. I thought your father and I had prepared you better,” she said, clicking her tongue a bit.
“You did. I’ve been as prepared to lead and rule as any sheikh in history. I just had a bad response. It happens.”
His mother’s smile widened and she chuckled to herself. That was a response quirky enough to have all his senses on high alert. Overall, his mother was not a giggler. She was more the type who reveled in schadenfreude or, sometimes, in knowing gossip that no one else did.
“What? I feel as if the Sword of Damocles is about to drop on me,” he said.
“It’s just I saw the exchange. It seemed so familiar.”
“I can’t imagine how. I usually do better at press conferences.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I naturally started to wonder what was throwing you off your stride so badly this time. The girl is beautiful. She’s a bit curvier, but she’s an American after all. They do tend to run large.”
“Mother!”
“Still, I’ve seen those types of sparks before. When I first met your father, we were an arranged marriage, as was far more customary in those days. I started out our first dinner together by insulting his cologne, and he said my makeup made it seem as if a parrot had, and I quote, ‘exploded on my face.’ By the end of the night, we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other.”
Amir shook his head, trying to dispel any images of his parents kissing from his mind. It wasn’t that he was immature or even that he hated the idea of his parents in love. As far as royal couplings went, his parents were successful and actually loved each other. Still, there were only so many ways he wanted to think about his mother or father.
“But it’s not like that,” he rushed to assure her.
His mother shook her head. “Yes, that’s what I used to tell my sisters about your father. I swear the best ones always start out with that kind of passion. It’s all about the foreplay.”
“Mother, really!”
“I’m just saying,” she said, standing up from her sofa and coming over to kiss his cheek. “I can see through you, my son. I know exactly what you want from the reporter, and for once, I’m pleased. I think I see something there—a spark for more.”
She sashayed back out, leaving Amir to try and defend himself to an empty room.
***
