Page 65 of Bred By the Sheikh

“Because hospitality is power used well.”

Chrissy’s brows rose.

“That sounds very sheikh-like.”

“It’s also true.”

“Explain.”

“If someone enters one of my properties, they have placed part of their day in my hands. Sometimes it’s an important part of their life—a wedding, a funeral, a business deal, the first night in a country they’ve never seen before. If we do our work properly, we remove problems they shouldn’t have to carry.”

She held my gaze for a long moment.

“You really believe that.”

“I do.”

Her gaze moved back to the view.

“That’s why my complaint about the campaign bothered you.”

“It interested me.”

“It bothered you first.”

“It may have.”

I reached across the seat and took her hand again.

She let me.

The estate appeared beyond a long pale wall, low against the desert rather than rising out of it.

Chrissy straightened as the car turned through the gates.

The main house was built from pale stone and warm wood, with broad shaded terraces and long horizontal lines that seemed to follow the land. A narrow sheet of water ran beside the entrance courtyard, catching white light and breaking it into movement.

No ceremonial line of staff waited for us.

One attendant met the car.

Another opened the door.

Chrissy stepped out and scanned the courtyard.

“This is your version of understated.”

“It is.”

She gave me a look.

“I need to recalibrate.”

We walked through the shaded entrance.

The temperature dropped several degrees beneath the deep overhang.

A glass of cold water waited on a small table near the sitting area.