Hired: The Sheikh's Secretary Mistress. Lucy Monroe
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eyes growing. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”
“That’s why I asked you.”
“But Amir, this is your wife we’re talking about. I can’t just make a list of candidates and ask you to choose.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to tell me what you want first!” For some reason, her agitation made him feel better.
“You know what I want.” Probably better than he did.
“You were happy with your father’s choice.”
“All but the fact that it was his choice, that is true.” Was that pain that chased so quickly across her features? She had no reason to be hurt. It must be the subdued lighting in the limo playing tricks on him. “I prefer to pick out my own wife,” he said when she did not respond.
“Then why are you demanding I do it?”
“It’s different, and you know it. Now stop being difficult.”
“I’m not the difficult one. How can you possibly expect me to do what you ask without giving me some guidelines in which to work?”
“Fine. She needs to be physically attractive.”
“Is that all?” Grace asked with a sarcasm few could match.
“No. She has to be cultured and diplomatic.”
“I see.” Her formerly animated attitude had become subdued.
Was his lack of helpfulness bothering her that much? “I want to marry a woman who will complement me and my position, both in the business world and within the political realm when I am operating within my role as sheikh-slash-prince.”
“I got that.”
“Oh.”
She sighed.
“I’m not sure what you mean by attractive.”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” He would not put it past her. His PA could be very stubborn and going passive-aggressive was not outside of her repertoire.
“You think so? You once said you did not see what made Jade so special for Khalil. Obviously, you two have differing tastes. Most people do.”
“But you know the type of woman that attracts me. You’ve seen and spoken with—hell, you’ve shopped for—the women I’ve dated.”
“But one must assume these women lack something, or you would have married one of them by now.”
“I am ready to marry. Perhaps if I had been before, I would be married to one of my former companions.”
“But you never loved any of them.”
“I don’t plan to love my wife, either. This is a marriage of convenience.”
“So, then what difference does it make if your future wife is attractive, or not?”
“Now you are being naive. A beautiful wife can only benefit me.”
“You mean like a trophy wife.”
“I mean like a feminine companion that will add to my éclat, not detract from it.”
“That is so shallow.”
“It is realistic.”
“Whatever.”
He had disappointed her…again. She was very good at her job, but still very innocent to the ways of the world. He decided to explain in a way that might embarrass her, but would not offend her sense of fairness.
“I do not wish the need to remain faithful to become a purgatory for me, either.”
“So, you plan to be?”
“Faithful? Yes, of course. The men in my family are not philanderers.”
“Everything you have listed up to now is superficial…what about you and she having interests, likes and dislikes in common?”
“Not necessary. It’s not even preferred. As long as we are compatible in bed, we can lead totally separate lives.”
She looked at him as if she questioned his sanity, which was frankly a marginal improvement over her doubting his integrity.
“That’s not the best environment to raise children in, or didn’t you plan to be a father?”
“I do not have to be a besotted fool to be a good father.”
“Your parents love each other.”
“So?”
“Are you saying you don’t want that for yourself and your family? Not even a little?”
Thoughts of the only time he had ever known anything close bombarded his brain, leading to memories of Yasmine.
During the time right after Yasmine died, his mind shied away from those images, and the pain and weakness they represented. “Not everyone craves that kind of relationship. I definitely do not.”
Her frown was back full force. “With an attitude like that, it would serve you right if I did it.”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping.”
But she wasn’t listening, or at least she wasn’t looking at him. She was too busy glaring out the window again. What was her problem?
Was it possible his ultra-efficient secretary who dressed dowdily and never dated had a severely hidden but equally deep romantic streak? It would certainly explain her negative reaction to his proposed marriage of convenience…both the one his father had decreed and the one Amir himself was trying to facilitate with her help.
It would also explain why she never dated. Because no matter how dowdily she dressed, he knew other men had to have noticed the latent sensuality in his Grace. But apparently she was waiting for Mr. Right…the knight in shining armor to come along and sweep her off her feet. In a way, he was glad she had this hidden streak of romanticism. It kept her working by his side rather than off dating and/or married to another man.
“Will you just think about it, Grace?” He played the card she’d never been able to ignore in the past. “Please.”
Her gaze slid to him, another expression he could not read settled in her hazel eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
Victory was his, if he just waited.
Something of his certainty must have shown on his face because she pursed her lips with affront. “Don’t look so smug. I may yet say no.”
It was so unlikely as to be an impossibility, but he was savvy enough to her ways not to say so.
CHAPTER TWO
GRACE CURLED UP on the sofa in the living area of the two-bedroom suite she and Amir shared, pretending to watch an old Hepburn-Tracy movie on low volume. But all she was really doing was thinking about Amir.
He’d once told her that if his family knew of their traveling arrangements, it would upset his mother. In the next breath, he had laughed as if the idea of anything inappropriate happening between them was too funny for words.
And wasn’t it?
She’d asked him what constituted attractive to him and he had pointed her to his former playmates after agreeing he had been perfectly happy with his father’s choice for his future wife. Every one of those women fell in the realm of near physical perfection. He dated models, but usually stuck to women within his social set, women who dressed like they should be on the cover of a fashion magazine even if they weren’t. And Princess Lina. She was a pocket Venus if there ever was one. Grace’s hands went to her own small breasts and she frowned.
If she had to be as tall as a lot of men, couldn’t she have gotten the voluptuous curves to go with her height? Instead