Page 41 of Bred By the Sheikh

“I’m impressed.”

“You shouldn’t be. The kitchen sent enough food for six.”

“That sounds more familiar.”

He smiled.

Dinner began with small plates: grilled prawns, warm flatbread, vegetables bright with herbs and citrus.

We talked about work first.

“The second campaign direction is stronger,” Tariq said.

“I know.”

His brows lifted.

I took a bite of prawn.

“Sorry. Was I supposed to pretend to be modest?”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Good.”

“I was going to say you were right to defend it.”

“That’s much better.”

He smiled.

“And dangerously close to praise.”

“I can withdraw it.”

“You’re too late.”

I smiled into my water.

The next course arrived.

By the time the plates were cleared, his attention kept catching on my lips, mine kept dropping to his hands, and every silence stretched a beat too long.

Dessert appeared in small glass dishes with cream, pistachio, and jewel-bright pomegranate seeds.

I looked at mine.

“You’ve found a food even more dangerous than melon.”

“You mean pomegranate?”

“It has projectile potential.”

“I’ll alert security.”

I laughed.

Tariq picked up one ruby-red seed between his fingers.