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“Perhaps you feel that now, but the arrangement I have come to with your agency is far in excess of what you are used to receiving.”
It was on the tip of Olivia’s tongue to ask just how he knew what her salary was when she realised that this man, this powerful Sheikh Zamir Fayez, probably knew everything about her.
“How far in excess?” She pushed, curiosity getting the better of her.
“I am willing to pay your agency forty thousand dollars per week.”
“Forty … thousand …” She banked her eyes closed with a sense of bewilderment.
He dipped his head forward. “I am in Las Vegas on a matter of extreme personal importance. It is vital that my privacy is protected at this time. You are to arrange it for me.”
“I see.” She nodded. “How?”
His smile now was forced. “That is your job to work out, Miss Henderson.”
She swallowed. “Of course, sir.”
“You will report to my valet. His name is Marook. He has worked for me since I was a teenager. I trust him implicitly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may contact him with any questions.”
“And you will contact me through him?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I will contact you directly if I require your services.”
“Very well.” She stood, pleased to be able to bring herself closer to his eye-level. Though he was still a fair measure taller than she was, it was less of a disadvantage.
Now that he’d dealt with the formalities of her employment, he found that he was no longer able to fight his interest in this woman. Young and glamorous, she was exactly the kind of person who would gravitate to the bright lights and fast lifestyle of a place like Vegas. She had the figure of a stripper, he thought disparagingly, with her enormous breasts and rounded bottom. Her waist was nipped in almost as if she might have been wearing a corset and her skin was tanned like she’d bathed in caramel. Her lips were full and naturally pouted, and he was certain that hers was a mouth that had offered pleasure to many men.
He tamped down on his line of thinking. She was one of his staff now. And to a man like Zamir, who’d been raised with an army of servants from birth, that meant one thing and one thing only. She was dispensable and unimportant. Only the service she could render mattered to him.
“In addition to ensuring my … personal matter … remains that way, I will have various requirements which I will expect you to carry out promptly and without complaint.”
“Such as?” She prompted.
“Nothing illegal,” he reminded her.
She nodded, frustration fraying at the edges of her gut. “It helps me to serve you better if I know what to expect.”
“None of us ever knows what to expect,” he responded quickly, so quickly that she suspected it was something he’d heard from someone else, or perhaps something that he told himself often.
“Very well. I’ll be prepared for everything then, shall I?” With another, less serious client, she might even have joked about donning a superhero costume. This man, though, intimidated her into a form of reverent silence.
“That will be all. Marook will show you your accommodation.”
She nodded, wishing her mouth were a little less dry. “Thank you, sir.”
He allowed her to precede him, telling himself it wasn’t so that he could admire the view of her rear. She paused at the door.
“Will Marook have an itinerary of your schedule?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
She could have kicked herself. The question had been ludicrous and made her seem stupid and inexperienced. Of course Marook would have a copy of the Sheikh’s movements. Just like any of her other clients, they always had a handler who maintained the details of the trip.
She pulled the door open and slipped through it without a backwards glance. But the whole way to the elevators, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingling, as though he was watching her. Once at the polished doors, she allowed herself the luxury of angling her head back to the door. It was shut.
