by Sophia Lynn
"Surely you didn't expect to be able to come to this party in one of your deplorable rags?" he said archly, and she shot him an irritated look.
"Honestly, I wasn't sure why I was going to be at this party at all," she retorted. "I'm your treasure hunter, remember? I'm really not one for big public functions."
Farnsworth smiled at her with a distinct lack of sympathy. "Right now, treasure hunter or not, you are the only one in my employ that I can force to go to this event with me. Consider yourself lucky, I'm not asking for the dress back."
The dress in question was not something that Berry expected to wear—ever. It was a stunning sky blue number with a long beaded sheath and jeweled straps. Unlike other fancy dresses she had tentatively tried on in the past, it clung to her slim figure, rather than bagging unattractively at the bust and making her look as if she were a child wearing her mother's formal wear.
"I still don't see why you couldn't just get your wife to come with you," she said with a sigh.
"Well, I don't pay her, for one thing, and these things are deadly dull until they're not. And now look alive, things are getting started."
They had been milling around in the public area of the hall, but now the staff was guiding everyone towards the tables surrounding the stage. For a moment, Berry had a pang of sympathy for one of the ushers, who was trying to guide a guest who did not care for their seating arrangements. Despite her position at Farnsworth and her currently fancy outfit, she was much more at home with the staff than she was with the guests.
The topic of the evening was an ultramodern mall that was being built at the center of Alamun. It had been a hot topic of debate for the past few years; some felt that it would be the perfect injection of money and elegance to the emirate, while others saw it as an eyesore and an affront to the same.
Farnsworth, who had spent a great deal of his career working in the Middle East, was heavily invested in making the idea take off, and he refused to miss a single meeting where it was discussed.
He guided her to their table, which they shared with some Saudi and some Swiss investors. There were a few tedious speeches, and then a murmur swept the crowd.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
"Supposedly, the Sheikh is going to be here," he replied. "Both sides have been courting him for some time, but so far, he has shown neither side any favor at all. Hopefully, someone changes his mind for him tonight."
"And now, presenting Sheikh Rasul ibn Ahmed Sardan, to address the distinguished company …"
The name was certainly familiar enough. Alamun was one of the richest emirates of the UAE, and most of it was due to the fierce independence of the royal family. The Sardan Dynasty were known for being iconoclasts who knew very well how to keep their wealth for their people, and the most recent Sheikh Rasul was known to be good at it.
What Berry hadn't expected was to recognize the Sheikh's face as well. He had been wearing sunglasses at the time, but she thought his lips and jaw looked surprisingly familiar. When he spoke, she froze, because now there could be no doubt. The last time she had heard that voice, it was speaking to her about worship and things that certainly could not be mentioned in polite company.
Now it was talking to her about the future and the past, and the need to pay honor to both, and she felt as if the world were falling out from underneath her.
"How soon can I get out of here?" she asked Farnsworth, her voice low.
He never even looked at her, keeping his eyes and his smile focused on the speaker at the podium.
"Unless you have literally broken a leg, I expect you to stay for at least three hours," he said through gritted teeth. "There is a meet and mingle after dinner and by the love of God, I will not be seen without an escort."
Berry swore softly under her breath, but there was really no arguing with the man who signed her checks. Instead, she listened as best she could to the speech the Sheikh gave, which was surprisingly forward thinking, and clapped with the rest.
It'll be fine, Berry thought to herself. There is absolutely no reason to get freaked out or upset. Chances are that had been a stunningly normal day for him. He probably doesn't remember me at all, and God knows I look different enough …
She told herself that often enough that she started to believe it, and when a waiter poured her some champagne for a toast, she felt even better. There was no way the Sheikh was going to come speak to her anyway. Her boss was the one who held all the cards, she was just a pretty piece of arm candy, even if the job was as dumb as hell.
After the speeches dinner was served, which was amazing, and after that, Berry realized that her boss was wrong. It wasn't a meet and greet; instead the floor was cleared for some dancing.
Berry and Farnsworth toured the group for a short time, but when he got involved in speaking with some men who were heading up the mall proposal, she felt comfortable doing a bit of wandering on her own. She wondered how solid that deadline was and whether there was any getting out of it any time soon. After all, it looked like Farnsworth had things fairly well in hand.
Berry was just congratulating herself on getting out of a potentially risky situation with a fairly small amount of fuss when she heard a soft laugh that was absolutely far too unfamiliar.
"So when it comes to worshipers, do you prefer them old and rich?" he asked, a slight bit of acid in his voice.
Berry spun around to find Rasul standing behind her. In his tuxedo, he looked even handsomer than he had at the souk. This time, though, his smile was definitely a little less friendly.
"I beg your pardon?" she said, slightly bewildered.
"I saw who you came in with, and I saw you whispering to each other at the table," he said, stepping a little closer. "With your ideals, and that clear sense of right and wrong that you had, I'm a little shocked at who you are with."
"Who, Michael?" she asked. She was starting to get an idea of what he was hinting at, and it was ugly.
"Yes, Farnsworth. Does he please you well? I would have thought that if you were someone who would balk at having money spent on you that perhaps you would draw the line at marrying old and rich …"
For a moment, she was so stunned at what he was saying that she couldn't think of a response. Then, when the shock blew away, it left behind it a clear rage that made her smile. "Oh, well, the truth is that I was just unimpressed," she cooed. "I mean, five thousand? I don't get out of bed for that."
Something strange crossed his face then. She couldn't tell whether it was sadness or fury or some strange mix of the two.
"Ah, well, I suppose I was more curious about what it might take to get you into bed, not what it takes to get you out of it …"
"Sorry, that's for my husband to know and you to find out …"
He studied her for a moment, and for the first time, he merely looked baffled instead of contemptuous. "Really, what is it? Why are you together?"
"Well, it could be that I love him no matter what he looks like, but the truth is that he's just great in bed," Berry snapped. For a heartbeat, she had no idea what she had just said, but then it crashed down on her.
Oh my God, she thought distantly. I just told the Sheikh of Alamun that I'm a gold digger …
Thankfully, at that point, Farnsworth, who had always said that he had a sense for things going south, hurried over.
"Sheikh Rasul," he said. "I see you've met my assistant."
To her relief, Rasul only raised his eyebrows. She wasn't sure exactly what kind of black mark baiting the head of a country was, but she couldn't really assume that it would be less than getting fired.
"Your … assistant?" he asked.
"Yes. Berry is one of my most trusted agents," he said rather fondly. "Tonight she's acting as my assistant and my escort, but most of the time, she's a bit of a treasure hunter. There is no one I trust more in this part of the world; she has an amazing eye for real art and history."
"Well, what a coincidence," Rasul said smoothly. "You know, I just found this piece in t
he marketplace, a stunning piece that I think might be two centuries old or more. Do you think there is a chance I could borrow her from you?"
Farnsworth's eyes shone as if someone had lit him up from inside. With a wince, Berry could almost hear the old-fashioned cash registers going off in his head.
"Well, of course! One of the great things that having a truly international shopping center would do is bring along professionals of all kinds and put them right at your disposal."
Berry couldn't stop herself from staring at Rasul, who for his part continued chatting amicably with her boss. He couldn't be serious, could he? This was ridiculous...
"And of course, Berry would be happy to help you date the piece that you have in mind, as well as any other items you might need her to examine. Isn't that right, Berry?"
Berry couldn't bring herself to agree enthusiastically, especially when she had just gotten caught lying to the Sheikh himself. Instead she nodded with a smile that looked more sick than anything else. The men were happy to keep on chatting, however.
"A woman of such skill and ambition would be a welcome addition to the efforts that we are trying to make currently," he said with a smile. "Thank you so much for your generosity, Mr. Farnsworth, and for you as well, Miss …?"
"Berry is fine," she said weakly. Some part of her still couldn't believe that this was happening. "Um, if you will excuse me, it's a little close in here. I need to step out for a moment."
Without waiting to see if they had acknowledged her, she turned and headed for the bathroom. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, she splashed a bit of cold water on her face, still stunned.
This is not good, she thought. I need to find a way to get out of this.
When she met Farnsworth in the cab ride going back to the hotel they were both staying at, however, he was adamant.
"Are you mad, girl?" he snorted. "This is exactly the best thing that could have happened. If you think I am going to change this around for anything short of you actually growing another head out of your neck, you're wrong."
"I just don't think that I'm the best person for this job," she said lamely. "Why not ask Brooke to come in from Brussels, or heck, William's really close, he's just in Dubai."
"Apparently I have not made myself clear," he said sharply. "You were the one at the dinner with me tonight, and you were the one who caught the Sheikh's attention. Because of that, you have a responsibility to your job to see this through. He wanted your expertise, and he is going to get it."
When Berry saw that there was no talking her boss out of it, she sighed, slumping back against the seat.
"Anyway, what's the matter?" Farnsworth asked crossly. "You're getting paid to appraise a few small items that are either going to be inoffensive or outright amazing. You are doing it on the company dime, and you are spending time with the head of the country. Surely your standards are a bit high?"
"You wouldn't understand," she said, and it was true. There was no way that she could explain the mess, first at the souk, and then at the dinner.
At the heart of it, her fast mouth had got her into this, and at the end of it, she hoped that her fast mouth could get her out of it as well.
***
That night in his penthouse apartment, Rasul wondered what the hell he was doing. He stripped to his skin, stretching out on his wide empty bed.
It usually wasn't this empty. There was a time not all that long ago when he would have had a different woman in it every week, gorgeous blondes, sultry redheads, wide-eyed brunettes. Then at some point in the last year, it had all gone dull. Nothing was exciting anymore, and he wondered, more bored than anything else, if it was time to give in and settle down.
Just a few weeks ago, Rasul had started to consider what he might look for in a suitable sheikha, a woman to be both his wife and the lady of his country, as he was the lord. He considered qualities like birth, wealth, biddable temperament, things that would make for a stable and uneventful partnership.
None of those qualities would have led him to the woman that he now knew was called Berry. He would never have thought that he wanted a woman so tall or slender, with hair that picked up points of brown fire and whose clear green eyes could snap with rage.
He couldn't explain it to himself, not really. When he had a free day, Rasul sometimes liked to go down into the souk. It was something his father had done, and his grandfather as well. The men of his dynasty had always kept a close ear on what was going on among their people, and he suspected that this was the tradition that had aided them in that goal.
He had been wandering around, thinking of nothing much, when he heard a spirited bidding war going on. Rasul stopped to casually see what the fuss was about, and he was surprised to see that the woman who was coming out on top was a foreigner. For some reason, when she glanced over at him, he could feel his heart beat faster in his chest, as if something subtle but real had changed his world forever.
That was when he decided that he had to get involved, though afterward, he had realized he might have done so in a rather foolish way.
When he bought the statue for her, he expected her to be pleased. In his experience, women loved gifts, though he had to admit that a camel statue was hardly the most romantic thing in the world. He had vaguely thought that the statue would be a jumping off point, where he could take her to dinner, and then perhaps more if they were both suited.
Of course it hadn't turned out that way. Instead of an assignation with a striking woman, he had ended up sitting on a bench discussing relationships with her. Rasul couldn't remember the last time he had spent so much time with a woman, speaking to her about something so placid.
Before he was even vaguely ready for her to go, she had ducked through the crowd, leaving him holding a camel statue that he had not wanted in the first place. As rejections went, it was a mild one, but he felt a pang at never seeing her again.
He had thought about her every day for the last few weeks, and when he saw her in the crowd, his heart had skipped a beat. Had he finally lost his mind and ended up hallucinating the beautiful foreigner?
Then his eyes took in the expensive dress that seemed to skim her elegant curves, and he took in the silver-haired man that she whispered so insistently to.
Rasul had nearly skipped giving his speech altogether. He wasn't sure that he could go out onto the stage and see such a beautiful woman chained to such an old man. Despite her cutting words, he had admired her independence at the souk, and to see her turn out to be such a hypocrite stung in a way he didn't like.
Rasul had been planning to avoid her when the mingling and dancing started, but something drew him to her like a nail to a magnet. He had told himself that he knew better to go confront a woman who boiled his blood like this one did, but it was inevitable.
At first he had been furious, and then when he found out about her deception, that fury had spiked and then finally faded to confusion. He was a man who was well used to women falling down at his feet. If his looks didn't convince them, oftentimes simply his fame or his wealth would do it. He had never been in a situation where they didn't.
And yet … and yet there was Berry.
She was as gorgeous in a simple dusty dress at the souk as she was in a sparkling cocktail dress, and no matter where she was, she wasn't afraid to let those gorgeous eyes spit fire at anyone who displeased her. That alone would have drawn his attention, but some part of him was becoming convinced that there was more to it than that.
As he drifted off to sleep that night, he found himself dreaming of her lush mouth. Could it curve into a smile as well as it could curve into a sneer? What would she look like when that same mouth had been freshly kissed?
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