The Sheikh’s Stubborn Assistant

by Leslie North

  “She’s a female looking to break into the art world, Khalid,” Amira said sharply from behind him. “So far, the only jobs she’s been offered are from managers who want to sleep with her.”

  Khalid immediately clenched his jaw. The thought of someone taking advantage of Katie, someone putting hands on her, filled him with a strange sense of rage.

  Amira was right, of course. The men in the art world loved to collect beautiful things, and even in a country with gorgeous women, Katie was an exotic beauty. He’d never seen anyone like her.

  But she was more than just beautiful. She was . . . unique.

  Intimacy implies passion.

  She was dangerous.

  “Fine. I’ll hire her. As an assistant in the gallery. She’ll take my direction, Amira, or she won’t last long.”

  “Yay!” As Khalid turned around, his sister launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a big hug. “I think you two are going to be great together.”

  “I’m her boss, Amira. Don’t get any ideas.”

  His sister snorted as she pulled away. “Please. I know you too well to have any expectations.”

  As she walked away, he wanted to ask what that meant, but he was almost too afraid of the answer.

  The call from Khalid’s secretary came first thing in the morning and shook Katie to the core. She fumbled as she got ready and was thankful to find that Sahaar had gotten up earlier and was already at the market. She’d just try to push breakfast on Katie, and Katie was too nervous to eat.

  Pulling her portfolio together, she left early and headed to the gallery. Heart beating rapidly, she walked through the glass doors and swallowed hard. As her heels clicked on the tiled floor, she wondered if she shouldn’t have just turned him down flat. It was obvious that he had no interest in hiring her. Was he just calling her back to see her face when he told her he didn’t think she was good enough?

  “Collect your things. You’re done.”

  His cold voice filtered through the opened door of his office, and a moment later, a young woman rushed out into the anteroom with tears in her eyes. Katie frowned. He hadn’t just fired someone to make room for her, had he?

  The pretty woman sitting at the receptionist desk—Nadira, Katie remembered—cleared her throat. “Katie? The sheikh will see you now.”

  Great. Couldn’t there be a buffer? Taking a deep breath, Katie mentally reminded herself that she was good. She deserved this job.

  Khalid sat at his desk, head bent over some paperwork.

  When he didn’t lift his head, she cleared her throat.

  “Close the door,” he said gruffly without looking up.

  Annoyed, she quietly closed the door behind her. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

  Khalid finally looked up and studied her. “Why? Do you not think you’re qualified?”

  “I’m very qualified. I just got the feeling that I wasn’t what you were looking for when you kicked me out of the studio.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, and she mentally berated herself. Talking too much was what had gotten her in trouble the last time. “Just tell me that you aren’t hiring me because your sister and sisters-in-law begged you,” she said quietly.

  “I’m not in the habit of letting my family make decisions about my business,” he said shortly. “I’m offering you the assistant position in the gallery. I don’t have a curating position—but just so we’re clear, even if I did, you do not have the necessary experience to curate in a place like this. Dubai is still Old World, and traditions are important. It takes years of experience to make a dent in this city.”

  “And a penis?” she asked without thinking. “Sorry. Slipped out.”

  She could have sworn she saw his lips twitch, but it didn’t quite turn into a smile. “Nadira will show you your duties.” Opening a drawer, he pulled out a large booklet. Locking gazes with her, he slammed it down on the desk, and she jumped. “Your handbook. Have it read tonight.”

  “Sure.” Shaking her head, she reached out and grabbed the manual. “It’s not like I had any other plans tonight.”

  “Good. Nadira will give you a tour and an overview of what you’ll be dealing with. Be prepared for paperwork tomorrow, and you’ll get started on your duties.”

  “Sounds good.” Folding her arms over the manual, she waited expectantly.

  He looked at her, annoyance plain. “You may go.”

  “Right. Thanks,” she muttered as she turned to leave the office. Was she expecting a welcome to the team or glad to have you on board?

  Yes, but she really should have known better.

  “Katie, one last thing.”

  Ah. Here it is. A warm welcome. “Yes?”

  “I am now your boss. Please remember that. Even in social situations, I will ask that you conduct yourself accordingly. That is all.”

  Her jaw dropped, but it didn’t matter. His attention was already elsewhere.

  Nadira was waiting outside the office to escort her around the building. The art museum was impressively large and filled with contemporary and historical masterpieces. Many of the exhibits were on loan from private collectors, some were property of the museum itself, and there were two touring exhibits in the gallery.

  “The sheikh handles the collectors, donors, and exclusive members of the museum. You’ll be responsible for most of the paperwork and will help with hosting events, but the planning and curation will be done by him.”

  A man’s privilege. Katie didn’t roll her eyes, but the urge was hard to resist. She knew that Khalid had been right. Although she was trained and ready, she didn’t have the experience, and it looked like it would be a long time before she could prove herself.

  She’d have to make the best of things. At least she was starting off somewhere, but she had a feeling that working for Khalid was going to be an adventure, all in itself.

  6

  The first couple of weeks were beyond boring. Katie printed out tickets every day and ended up recycling most of them when the museum closed. It was a waste of paper, but when she tried to point out that getting a stamp would be cheaper than printing the dates on the tickets, Khalid just gave her a frosty look.

  She answered the phones, filed paperwork, and sketched out a marketing plan with a newsletter, but Khalid shut it down without even hearing it.

  “This is ridiculous,” she grumbled. The museum was raking in money from donors, but they weren’t averaging more than ten visitors a week. They weren’t reaching the masses. They were targeting the same circles, keeping it exclusive and in the hands of the rich.

  Hadn’t Khalid talked about sharing her views?

  So why wasn’t he taking more action in that direction?

  At the close of business, once she had finished cleaning the windows, she pulled out her notebook of ideas. She really wanted to push her newsletter and host a few events that would interest families—not just the wealthy—and local artists.

  Knocking softly on his office door, she waited for his gruff invitation before she turned the knob.

  As usual, he didn’t even look up. “If you’ve finished, you can go home.”

  “I am finished, but I wanted to speak to you,” she said quietly as she walked in. “I have the numbers for this week, and I thought of a few ways we might improve them. I put a suggestion box on the desk.”

  “You did what?” He looked up sharply as he spoke, and there was ice in his eyes. “You did something without my approval?”

  “It’s a suggestion box,” Katie pointed out dryly. “It’s not like I rearranged a gallery, but speaking of rearranging, I really do think . . .”

  “Get rid of it,” he snapped. “Now.”

  “What?”

  “The suggestion box. Get rid of it. I don’t recall giving you permission to add things to the desk. Throw it away and go home.”

  Hurt, she worked her jaw back and forth before whirling around and stalking out. She didn’t bother to hide her frustration as s
he slammed the office door behind her.

  She left without tossing the suggestion box. If he hated the box so damned much, he could throw it away himself.

  With the work day over, she accepted an open invitation to the palace to join the girls for a drink. She hadn’t been back to the palace since she’d started working with Khalid for fear she might run into him, but that night, she didn’t care.

  She needed to vent.

  Of course, venting to his family wasn’t exactly a professional move. Still, a drink and some light conversation would do her wonders.

  “There she is! I’ve complained to Khalid that he’s been working you too hard!” Amira crowed when Katie finally showed up.

  Katie took one look at the three ladies and laughed. They were all dressed in pajamas—expensive silk pajamas—and there were two large pizzas and some exclusive imported microbrews on the ottoman in front of them. “Pizza and beer! And from the look of things, ya’ll have already enjoyed plenty of beer.”

  “We expected you an hour ago,” Mila complained. “I love that you convinced Amira to have a pizza and beer night. It’s been forever since I’ve had a casual night, although I’m pretty sure that Amira literally just bought those pajamas for this occasion.”

  “I sleep in the nude,” Amira said with a shrug. “I didn’t think that’s what you had in mind.”

  “No.” Liyah shook her head vehemently. “Nobody needs to see your perfect body.”

  “Well, I am way overdressed,” Katie announced as she dropped her purse and leaned over to snag a bottle of beer.

  Amira bent over the arm of the couch and pulled up a double handful of satiny fabric. “That is why I purchased you a pair of pajamas, as well. I thought black would look sexy against your hair and skin tone, although, to be fair, you’re so gorgeous that any color would look great on you.”

  Katie chuckled as she accepted the clothes. “First dresses and now sleepwear. Maybe I should just leave a suitcase with clothes over here.”

  “Or you could just move in,” Mila suggested.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’ll go change. Do not eat all the pizza while I’m gone!”

  Hurrying to the restroom, Katie stripped out of her work clothes and held up the pajamas that Amira had bought her. Rather than a plain pair of silk pajamas, Amira had gotten her a low-cut tank top and a pair of hip-hugging yoga pants that said Tasty on the back.

  Really? Katie couldn’t help but laugh as she dressed. The girls would get a kick out of it.

  The top swooped low and showed off way too much cleavage, and the pants clung low on her hips. She hadn’t worn anything so scandalous since she was in college, and even then, she had been too focused on her studies to enjoy a night out with friends.

  Shaking her head at her reflection, she gathered her clothes and hurried out of the bathroom—only to run smack into a hard body. Apologizing, she bent down to pick up her clothes, and then she looked up . . .

  Khalid glared at her with his hands balled up in fists. “Katie,” he said coldly. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “Pajamas,” she said, a little too breathlessly. “The girls and I are having a pajama party.”

  “And that’s what you sleep in?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Your sister bought these for me. I sleep naked.”

  Was it her imagination, or did his breath just get a little more shallow? All he said, however, was, “You didn’t throw the suggestion box away.”

  “If you’d like to reprimand me, I suggest that you wait until work tomorrow. You may fancy yourself my boss both in and out of work, but I am not your employee right now. I’m a guest in your home, and if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some pizza before your sisters eat it all.”

  Brushing past him, she headed down the hall, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. There was no doubt in her mind that he was staring at her ass.

  Tasty.

  The fundraiser was in full swing. Khalid walked around and greeted all the guests. Most of them were men with beautiful women on their arms. The place reeked of old money and even older traditions.

  “Khalid.” An older woman stepped into his path with a stern look on her face. In her heyday, she had been beautiful, but she hadn’t aged gracefully, and the plastic surgery had only made things worse. Too many tucks and lifts had left a permanently disapproving look on her face.

  Of course, that also reflected her disposition.

  Ziva was the matriarch of a wealthy family with a vast collection of artwork. She was a frequent donor to the museum, and she believed that her generosity gave her grounds to act as boss and curator as well.

  “Ziva.” Khalid nodded his head in a show of respect. “Lovely that you could join us this evening.”

  “I was informed that you fired the girl I personally vetted as the assistant. Care to explain yourself?” She fingered the huge diamonds that hung around her neck as if to remind him of the kind of weight that she carried.

  Khalid wasn’t in the mood to be pushed around. “My employees are none of your business, Ziva.”

  “I saw the girl that you hired in her place. An American.” Ziva looked beyond him to the podium where Katie stood. “Beautiful woman. I can see the appeal, but she is a stranger. She is not one of us.”

  Khalid struggled to hold on to his temper. What Ziva was conveniently leaving out was that Thalia was Ziva’s niece. She had no experience in galleries or art, and she also had no interest in the topic. Ziva had hoped that the arrangement would lead to a wedding and combine their two powerful families.

  Taking a deep breath, he plowed on. “Your girl was late nearly every day that she worked for me. She had no interest in her duties, and she didn’t take direction well.”

  He started to walk around the older woman, but she stopped him again. “I heard a rumor that you were interested in dedicating a wing to street art.”

  “Indie artists are not street art, Ziva. I opened this gallery to support the Dubai art culture.”

  Ziva rolled her eyes. “That’s what fundraisers are for, Khalid. I would highly suggest that you not be rash about any changes. Your donors are pleased with your museum as it is. I can’t imagine you’ll get too many collectors who will be eager to share their prized possessions among pages of coloring books and Play-Doh sculptures.”

  Khalid had a scalding response ready to deliver, but someone else lightly touched his arm and interrupted them.

  “Ziva,” Amira said with a fake smile. “Lovely to see you.”

  If possible, Ziva’s frown deepened. “Amira. I see that your father has yet to find you a suitable husband.”

  Amira wasn’t at all offended. “He’s certainly been trying, but apparently there are no men who can handle me. It appears that those of my generation of sheikhs no longer have a backbone. How’s that son of yours?”

  It was well known that Ziva’s son had publicly announced his intentions to wed Amira, and had been single-minded in his pursuit—until the girl’s father gave Amira the freedom to choose her own husband. She had turned Ziva’s son down immediately, and Ziva had never forgiven her for it. “Happily married to a woman from a reputable family.”

  “Really? Because I saw him just last week, and he had a . . .”

  Khalid cleared his throat before Amira could tell Ziva that her son had been parading his new girlfriend around town. “Ziva, please excuse us. I see someone I need to speak to.” Grabbing Amira’s arm, he steered her away.

  “I hate that woman,” Amira growled. “I do not understand why you accept her donations.”

  “Her connections and donations keep the gallery open. I don’t like her, either, but I don’t need you insulting her.”

  “You think that she’s going to keep donating money now that you’ve fired her niece? Speaking of that position, why is Katie glued to the podium? She’s meant to walk with you, flirt, and turn the heads of the men here, to help them open their wallets.” She reached out and grabb
ed two glasses of champagne from a server.

  Khalid accepted his glass. “This is her first fundraiser event. I would prefer that she observe before she engages.”

  His sister gave him a withering look. “She told me just a few nights ago that she’s been looking forward to this event because charming old men is her forté. She dealt with many different events at her last job.”

  “A few nights ago? She was at the palace a few nights ago?” It was starting to feel like every time he turned around, the gorgeous woman was in his home.

  With Tasty written across her ass.

  He hadn’t slept in weeks.

  Amira didn’t seem to pick up on the annoyance in his tone. “She has three friends in the city, and we all spend quite a bit of time at the palace. So yes, she was there a few nights ago. Does that bother you, brother dearest?”

  Yes. “She is my employee. I’d like it if I could maintain a respectable distance from the people who work for me.”

  He saw the sly look that Amira gave him as they moved through the crowd. Finally, when they reached a private corner, she turned to face him. “You’ve grown cold these past few years, Khalid. And cynical. You’re always surrounded by beauty and culture, but it no longer has an effect on you. I worry about you, Khalid.”

  “Amira . . .”

  “I didn’t push Katie on you because I felt bad for her. I think she’ll be good for you. She’s warm where you’re cold. Use her, Khalid. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  “Remember your place, sister,” he said harshly. “I am neither Asad nor Rashid. I do not need you meddling in my life.”

  There was a flash of pain in her eyes before she turned and walked away.

  Cursing under his breath, he made his way through the crowd to apologize to her, but she had disappeared. When he reached the edge, his gaze automatically moved to the podium, and he found Katie staring at him.

  There was hurt written all over her face as well. He knew she was pissed at being chained to the podium, but he wasn’t ready to give her freedom just yet. He expected her to swallow her anger like she’d been doing for the past couple of weeks . . . but there were tears gathering in her eyes.