Page 7 of Bred By the Sheikh

He followed my glance.

“So the route stays wider?”

“Exactly. It’s fine when nobody is standing there. Once people stop to look at the flowers, it gets tight.”

He nodded immediately and signaled one of the event staff.

Within seconds, two posts moved.

The opening widened.

The woman rolled through without needing anyone to redirect her.

I started walking again.

Tariq fell into step beside me.

I nearly tripped over my own perfectly sensible shoes.

“You saw that quickly,” he said.

“You mean the flowers?”

“I meant the obstruction.”

I glanced back once.

“Oh, right. It was easier to see when someone needed to get through.”

His gaze moved over my face, not my dress or my body.

That should’ve been easier to deal with.

It wasn’t.

“What else have you seen?”

I looked ahead.

“Do you want the diplomatic list or the useful list?”

“Give me the useful one.”

“You’re still the client.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

I bit back a smile.

“All right. The useful list.”

For the next hour, he asked questions.

He didn’t pepper me with them. Each one was specific.

Would the arrival experience feel too formal to a family?

Was the language on the guest-app screen clear to someone who had just landed?