He stared down at our joined hands, then nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“And when you do find someone special, bring her home. I want to meet her. Maybe when you’re in college. It’s a good time to fall in love.”
He lifted his eyes to mine. “You love Dad.”
“You and your dad are the best things that’ve ever happened to me.”
“Erm, erm.” Alistair fake coughed from the doorway, mocha in one hand, chocolate croissant in the other. “Hungry, Vera?”
I bit back a grin. This man, once a notorious playboy, was now a devoted partner and father.
Miracles really did happen.
Living with Alistair wasn’t just about changing addresses or swapping my old espresso machine for the one his butler swore by. It was learning to share air with a man who could buy a private island but still insisted on reading the business section at the kitchen counter in his pajamas. We didn’t fight over closet space, but I did veto the gold-foil wallpaper his decorator tried to sneak into my office. Alistair’s idea of “making space” wasto hand me the keys to the largest guest suite and say, “Do whatever you want. Knock down a wall if you need to.”
He meant it, too. The suite became my sanctuary—white shelves lined with law books, windows wide open to the city below. He installed a soundproof door after he caught me working late and realized I took client calls at all hours. Sometimes, I’d wake to the scent of coffee and find he’d left a fresh mug on my desk with a note:
Thought you might need this. Love, A.
Privacy was never a problem. When I needed space, he gave it. When I needed him, he was there, sometimes with chocolate, sometimes just holding my hand, wordless. Living with someone wasn’t perfect. There were late-night negotiations about merging our routines, and more than one argument over which side of the bed belonged to whom. But the truth was, we were building something real. Not just sharing a penthouse, but making a home.
Yet, we never really talked about monogamy or if our relationship left space for bold, new adventures.
Thursday evening, November 15
“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my colleague, Vera Richland,” Alistair introduced me to a group of men at an elaborate outdoor lounge in a luxury hotel in Dubai.
We arrived in Dubai after a week in Abu Dhabi for an oil and gas conference. After working at Orion for a year, I’d learned the oil industry was still a lonely place for a woman, no matter how many female leaders made the Forbes list. Evenings with business associates were often male-dominated social events.
“Alistair, when you said you were bringing a colleague with you, you never told us she would be a beautiful woman,” one of the men exclaimed. He grinned, shook my hand, and winked. “I would have worn a better suit. I’m Omar Khan, from Aventure Petroleum.”
Wow. Just wow.The man was strikingly tall and handsome, with gorgeous tawny skin, wavy dark hair, and chocolate eyes that would melt your heart. His designer shirt and slacks accentuated his athletic physique.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mister Khan,” I greeted, moving closer. Feeling confident, I tilted my head and revealed my signature smile of womanly mystery to Aventure Petroleum’s CEO. I already knew about the guy after researching his company, a client of ours. “I hear you want to expand Aventure’s exploration goals.”
“Please, call me Omar,” he said, gesturing amicably with open palms. “Please, I insist.”
“Shukran,” I replied in Arabic, thanking Omar. “You can call me Vera.” I glanced at Alistair, who was on the sofa discussing petroleum business politics with the group. He placed his hands on his knees, observing Omar with a sharp eye.
“Vera, take a seat,” he called out. “Have you tried smokingshisha?”
“What’s that?” I asked, sitting down to face the glittering lights decorating the old town of Dubai across the river.
“It’s a type of tobacco you smoke from ahookah, like the one my colleague, Khalid, has,” Omar explained. He pointed at a thin man puffing out white smoke after inhaling from a pipe connected to an intricately decorated instrument with an hourglass-shaped base.
Half an hour later, I enjoyed the relaxing effect of theshisha, flavored with mint, while discussing a possible merger betweentwo dominant oil service companies, which would likely monopolize the industry’s service segment.
“It’s most unlikely to happen,” Alistair declared, but Omar shook his head.
“Scotty, anything is possible in this industry. It will be the year’s most striking oil merger bid?—”
“It will die a hostile death. The justice department is going to file a lawsuit to stop the deal. I’m telling you, Omar, this merger poses plenty of antitrust problems in many markets,” Alistair argued.
After a long pause, Omar turned to me with his charming grin. “Vera, do you think the merger will happen?”
“No, because it will stagnate competition and innovation,” I began. “You see, both companies have over ninety percent of their respective revenues from products and services in which they compete with one another. The competition in these product lines disappears if they merge, leaving only one major competitor to compete for the big contracts.”
Alistair nodded and took a sip of his Scotch. “The bottom line is our country’s president is objecting to the proposed merger,” he said. “The justice department is filing an antitrust lawsuit, and with the president’s support, the project faces an imminent cancellation.”
