Sheikh's Scandal(6)

“Ah. She assumed he would be bringing a bevy of belly dancers to see to his needs, no doubt.”

“That may have been her understanding, yes.” Liyah herself had assumed something similar, if not quite so fanciful when first told of the harem.

The Zeena Sahran housekeeper laughed softly. “Nothing so dramatic, I am afraid. The emir is ever mindful of his position as a betrothed man.”

Not sure she believed that, but having very little practical experience with men and none at all with their sex drives, Liyah didn’t argue. She did know the rooms she’d prepared had all been for different female staff members of the prince’s entourage.

Most of the rooms that would ultimately be occupied were slated to house the emir’s fiancée and her mostly female traveling companions. Her brother was supposed to be accompanying her, as well, and had booked a suite on the presidential level near the emir’s.

Not quite as grand, it was nevertheless impressive accommodation.

After a surprisingly enjoyable visit with Hasiba—as she insisted on being called—in which the housekeeper managed to convey unspoken but clear reservations toward the future emira of Zeena Sahra, Liyah left for a meeting with the concierge.

He and his staff expected her input on a finalization of entertainment offerings to make to the sheikh over the next two weeks.

* * *

Liyah came out of the royal suite, pleased with the care the chambermaid assigned to the emir’s rooms had taken.

The vases of purple iris―the official flower of Zeena Sahra―Liyah had ordered were fresh and perfectly arranged. The bowls with floating jasmine on either side of the candelabra on the formal dining table did not have a single brown spot on the creamy white blossoms.

The beds were all made without a single wrinkle and the prince’s tea service was prepped for his late-afternoon repast.

She headed for the main elevator. While staff were encouraged to use the service elevator, she was not required to do so. The busiest time of day for housekeeping and maintenance usually coincided with light use on the guest elevators.

So, as she’d done at her hotel in San Francisco, Liyah opted to use them when she wasn’t carrying towels or pushing a cleaning cart. Something she rarely had to do in her position as lead chambermaid, but not outside the realm of possibility.

The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh and Liyah’s gaze was snagged by espresso-brown eyes.

The emir stared back, his expression a strange mixture of surprise and something else she had very little experience interpreting. “Miss Amari?”

“Emir Sayed.” She dipped her head in acknowledgment of his status. “I was just checking on your suite.”

“The service has been impeccable.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’ll be sure and pass your kind words on to your suite’s housekeeping staff.”

He inclined his head in regal agreement she doubted he was even aware of.

She waited for him to step out of the elevator, but he did not move. His security detail had exited first with a smooth precision that came off as a deeply ingrained habit, followed by the emir’s administrative assistant and the junior secretary.


“I’m sure you’re used to women falling all over you,” she offered by way of an explanation.

He frowned. “Is that meant to be a sop to my ego or a slam against it?”

“Neither?”

He shook his head again, as if trying to clear it.

She wondered if it worked. She would be grateful for a technique that brought back her own usual way of thinking, unobscured by this unwelcome and unfamiliar desire.

She did not know what else he might have said or how she would have responded because the telephone inside the elevator car rang. She opened the panel the handset resided behind and answered it.

“Amari here.”

“Is the sheikh with you?” an unfamiliar voice demanded, and she wondered if Christos Giatrakos, the new CEO himself, had been called to deal with the highly unusual situation.

A shiver of apprehension skittered down her spine, until she realized that the tones had that quality that implied a certain age.

“Yes, the emir is here,” she forced out, realizing in kind of a shocked daze that she might well be speaking to her father for the first time.

“Put him on.”

“Yes, sir.”

She reached toward Sayed with the phone, the cord not quite long enough. “Mr. Chatsfield would like to speak with you.”

Sayed came closer and took the handset, careful not to touch her in the process.

She retreated to the other side of the elevator where she was forced to witness the one-sided conversation. Very little was actually said beyond the fact there was no problem and they would be arriving at the lobby level in a moment.

Even with her tendency to shut down, Liyah would have felt the need to explain herself, not so the emir of Zeena Sahra. If she had not witnessed his moment of shocked self-realization, she wouldn’t believe he was discomfited in the least by their situation.

True to his word, the elevator doors were opening on the lobby level seconds later. Both the emir’s personal bodyguard and Liyah’s father were waiting on their arrival.

The conspicuous absence of anyone else to witness their exit from the elevator said more than words would have what everyone thought had been happening in the stopped elevator.