Sheikh's Scandalous Mistress Read Free Page A

a way to get his assistant squarely on his team. He’d be damned if he’d be getting the responsibility spiel forever from every corner—even from his freaking manservant! Shaking his head, Amir rose and came to stand at the huge bank of windows that were the main focal feature of his office. The casino was a massive structure, standing as the tallest high-rise in Abu Dhabi. It wasn’t just a casino; it was an entire compound of fine dining, shopping, and entertainment. Ali Babba Casino’s boasted three separate concert and entertainment halls, as well as a gallery featuring a collection showcasing the most beautiful art from the ancient world and his own personal favorites. It was a huge gamble—something bigger than any of his father’s or grandfather’s holdings—but if it all worked, it would put the Bahan family on the map in the same way that the American casinos were so closely tied to the Maloofs.
    Of course, if it failed, he’d be the laughingstock of Middle Eastern business.
    He wasn’t about to let that happen.
    “Ahem, are you going to stand there all day?” a clipped voice rang out.
    He turned and was about to send the reporter away for being so rude when his breath caught in his throat. The woman before him was not traditionally beautiful. While she did have long, blond hair that was the color of spun gold and blue eyes that reminded him of cut sapphires, she was barely five feet tall and curvier than he usually liked. Yet, there was something about her that stirred him deeply. Perhaps it was those soul-searching eyes or the amused quirk of her lips, but he was pretty sure the thing that drew him most was the defiant jut of her chin, the way she seemed to be daring him to cross her. It didn’t seem to make her pause in the least that she was standing before both a billionaire and royalty.
    And that was a damn sexy turn-on.
    “Excuse my manners then, Miss Sinclair.”
    “Just call me Amanda,” she said, sitting down in a chair and pulling out her recorder. “I’ve given up on any pretense of formality.”
    He arched his eyebrow back at her, intrigued again by her flippancy. After all, it was so rare for him to feel amused by anything. Women could be alluring…for a time. It was just that so few ever held his attention. Even if she were just here on business, Miss Sinclair was off to a promising start.
    “Would the Sentinel be happy with that, Miss Sinclair?”
    “I told you we could be informal.”
    “Then if we’re being informal, I have to confess that I love the way your last name rolls off my tongue, Miss Sinclair ,” he said, enunciating each syllable slowly to help convey his point. “Still, I’ve rarely had a reporter come and question where I was even standing in the interview. What’s your story?”
    “That’s not part of the interview,” she said, her tone clipped. “I think the only thing that is would be a plethora of airhead questions about what the best sushi dish will be and how you were able to get Lagerfeld to set up a store for you. I have that all prepped. You give me the pat answers, and I can be out of here in five.”
    “Where would the fun in that be?” he purred, as he circled her chair. She sat up straighter, and the way he was clearly getting under her skin only encouraged him. “Let’s do a bit more quid pro quo.”
    “Well, I’m not Clarice Starling, and you’re not Hannibal Lecter, so I’m not sure that’s what I want to do,” she said.
    “You know some actual honesty would be more interesting than ‘puff-piece bullshit,’ as you put it.”
    “I didn’t say that,” she said, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. That hint of pink only served to make his heart race and push blood to places farther south.
    “But you were thinking it,” he added as he passed behind her again. Reaching out, he swept her hair back from off her shoulder. Dear Allah, it felt like silk against his skin. “I’m thinking it too. I’ve done at least two dozen of