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“Yes.” She swallowed.
“And you are used to carrying out unusual requests with discretion?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he took a moment to study this woman who had been sent to him. She had arrived punctually, and she was dressed impeccably, in a pair of black trousers and a pale cream sweater that fitted her curvaceous figure like a second skin. It was entirely appropriate for the desert winter of Nevada; yet Zamir instinctively disapproved.
“Such as?” He prompted curiously. She must have only been twenty years old. Her hair was so blonde it reminded him of the sands of his land, and her eyes were wide like a fawn in spring.
“That would be missing the point of discretion, wouldn’t it?”
His lip twisted in a half smile; it was the closest he’d come to the expression in over a month.
“I am not asking you to reveal identities. Only to give me an idea of what you can do for me.”
If she had been prone to blushing, she might have felt a hint of pink creep along her cheek. But her sister Sophie was the blusher in their family. Olivia and Ava were far better at masking their feelings.
What could she do for him? She thought back over the last four months. Since arriving in Vegas and landing the thrilling job as a celebrity concierge, what hadn’t she done? She’d organised wild parties and kept them just inside the line of legal. She’d parlayed entry for large groups into some of the hottest nightclubs in town and ensured her clients weren’t bothered by anyone they didn’t wish to be bothered by. She’d pulled together fashion shows at the last minute. She’d walked dogs. Minded babies. Toured the casinos endlessly, showing her clients with an interest in gambling the best establishments in town, including those not featured on any of the maps. She’d tipped off the paparazzi when her celebrities sought greater attention and she’d blocked the paparazzi when her clients sought privacy. She’d driven clients around from boutique to boutique, and she’d covered up – many times – for various faux pas and indiscretions.
“I can do anything for you. Anything that’s legal, that is.”
Another flicker of amusement. “You know who I am.”
“Yes, sir.” She regarded him from half-shuttered eyes. He was her first royal client, and definitely her most offputtingly attractive.
“Do you think it’s likely I am here on illegal business?” He pushed with a wry sarcasm.
It was on the tip of Olivia’s tongue to ask just what he was doing in Vegas, but she pulled herself up. After all, curiosity was not part of her job description. And so she said nothing, but just stared at him with her huge green eyes and clear expression, waiting for him to continue.
He was grudgingly impressed by her steadfast calmness. Unflappability was a trait he needed to be surrounded by. “I am here on a private matter. I require you to shield me from any speculation or interest.”
“I see,” she nodded, and though there were many gaps in his request, she understood his essential, underlying requirement.
His eyes narrowed further, and he took a step closer, as if he was trying to understand something about her that she couldn’t put into words.
“You have a confidentiality agreement?”
“Yes, of course. By engaging the agency, you are covered by that.”
“Excellent.” He waved a hand towards one of the seats.
Olivia moved with an economy of movement and settled on the edge of it.
“I will expect complete discretion. I do not want my name to be mentioned by you. It is not only my movements that must be protected.” He paused, as though he was weighing up his words. “I will be your most demanding client.” He strode to the seat opposite but he didn’t sit down. Instead, he thrust his hands onto his hips and stared beyond her, to the sparkling view of Vegas. Olivia felt at an immediate disadvantage, and wished she hadn’t sat.
“How can you be sure?” She said, trying to smooth the droll sarcasm from her voice and failing.
He shifted his gaze to her. “I have been raised to expect those in my employ to work almost slavishly for me. While I appreciate this is not your culture, I expect it while I am here.”
Olivia cracked her mouth open and made a small noise of amusement. “You’re right,” she said with a small nod. “Being slavishly devoted to anyone isn’t my caper.” She tilted her head to one side to study him thoughtfully. “But I am a perfectionist, and anticipating my clients’ needs has sort of become a matter of personal pride.”
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “There is a hotel room downstairs, with my staff. It is for your use.”
“That’s not necessary,” she demurred instantly. “I have an apartment that’s very central.”
His eyes bore into hers. “It is a pre-requisite. You will be called upon at all hours of the day. There will be high expectations and little rest. In return, you will be more handsomely remunerated than you have been in your life.”
“My salary is excellent.”
