Page 4 of Bred By the Sheikh

A laugh escaped me, too.

He was funny.

That seemed unnecessary.

“I’m here to cover StayWell’s portion of the review,” I said. “I have Amanda’s brief, the partnership history, and the North American research. Anything outside my authority goes back through her.”

Tariq watched me for another second.

“Then we understand each other.”

The presentation began.

For the first twenty minutes, I mostly listened.

The new campaign was beautiful.

Of course it was beautiful.

There were aerial shots of the property at sunset, private suites with floor-to-ceiling glass, marble, water, linen, and food plated so perfectly I suspected eating it might constitute vandalism.

Every image said expensive, exclusive, immaculate.

It was the sort of campaign that made a person want to own a yacht despite having no idea what to do with one.

The Al-Hadid marketing lead moved through the deck while I made notes.

Tariq interrupted twice.

Both times with questions sharp enough to change the direction of the discussion without embarrassing the person answering.

I’d expected someone with his wealth and title to dominate the room through volume.

He didn’t.

He barely moved.

Everyone else adjusted around him.

Then the final concept slide disappeared.

Tariq leaned back in his chair.

He looked at me.

“Ms. Campbell.”

My pulse gave a hard kick.

“Yes?”

“You’ve been taking notes for forty-three minutes.”

I glanced down at my notebook.

“That sounds slightly accusatory.”

A couple of people laughed again.