Page 25 of Bred By the Sheikh

That thought made the rest of the meeting difficult.

When the team finally dispersed, I turned to Chrissy.

“Do you have another hour?”

She glanced at her itinerary.

“Is this for work?”

“We can start with work.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

There was a pause.

Then she smiled.

“I probably should’ve asked for clarification before agreeing.”

“You haven’t agreed yet.”

“All right. I’ll give you an hour.”

I led her upstairs.

I didn’t take her to my private rooms.

We went to one of the smaller sitting rooms in the residence, where the staff had already placed the revised creative boards, coffee, tea, water, and a light plate of food on the low table.

Chrissy tipped her chin toward the food.

“Your household has decided I’m in danger of starvation.”

“You barely touched the food they brought during yesterday’s meeting.”

“I made up for it at breakfast.”

“You launched part of breakfast at me.”

“That melon acted alone.”

I sat opposite her.

“I’m sure it did.”

She opened the campaign deck.

We worked for another forty minutes.

She pointed to one line of copy.

“This promises too much.”

“It promises personalization.”

“It promises mind reading.”

I reread the line.