It wasn't a terribly long drive from the wealthy suburb where the Sheikh kept his estate to the city—only a little longer than an hour. They crawled downtown through the late morning traffic, to the financial district. The firm handling the Sheikh's project had a massive high-rise in the crowded business sector, and it towered regally above the buildings around it, the glass and steel glittering in the sunlight.
"You're really sure this is a good idea, right?" Tracey asked as they left the car. Staring up at the imposing building, she felt some of her confidence evaporate.
"Everything will be fine," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder to urge her forward. "The worst that will happen is you will spend a few hours being very bored; I promise. I believe in you."
Tracey smiled, encouraged, and took a deep breath before moving forward, following him into the building. The silent vast bulk of Andre followed behind them, nearly unnoticed as always.
The meeting was set to run for about two hours, and then there’d be a break for lunch followed by another two hours, during which the Sheikh and other investors would hear presentations from each of the franchise representatives and eventually reach a consensus on which to include and which to refuse. Four hours, Tracey told herself. Five with lunch. She could do that. She could handle that.
The conference room was near the top of the building, the decor stark and minimalist in the way of the modern and wealthy. The right-hand wall was entirely glass, affording a striking view of the city skyline and filling the room with clear morning light that shone on the crystal ashtrays and steel accents. Tracey felt at once out of place and outclassed. She pushed the feeling away as she looked out at the sprawling city. She'd scrubbed toilets for years to keep herself and her son fed. She could stand in a boardroom serving coffee for a few hours.
They'd arrived just in time, ten minutes before the meeting was due to start. Most of the other investors and representatives were already there, and they greeted the Sheikh enthusiastically
"As-Salaam-Alaikum," he said, shaking their hands warmly. A few shook Tracey's hand as well, but most ignored her, allowing her to watch Adil. As soon as they'd entered the building, he'd seemed to subtly change. His posture was straighter, less relaxed, his smile more fixed and remote. Even the way he held himself was different. He’d become the picture of the Saudi prince stereotypes said he must be. It was strange to see him change so easily and so convincingly.
The Sheikh took a seat near the head of the table, and for a moment Tracey was unsure whether she should stand behind him or sit next to him, or sit farther down the table out of the way. But he cast a small, sideways smile at her and nodded to the chair next to him discreetly. She sat down with relief. At least she wouldn't have to spend the entire meeting on her feet.
The meeting started and Tracey watched as the franchise representatives began giving their presentations. At the beginning of each one, she would hand Adil the brief on the business and any other relevant documents as they came up. There were other personal assistants at the table doing similarly for their own employers. She watched them for reference, quickly picking up on how they kept their papers neat and organized.
During the breaks between presentations, the investors shuffled papers and conferred briefly while the next representative prepared, some taking from the small plate of pastries on the table or the pitcher of ice water melting near the end. Tracey, out of habit more than conscious thought, cleared away wrappers and used paper water cups as soon as they appeared.
A few presentations in, the Sheikh handed Tracey money and coffee orders from himself and the men near him, and Tracey hurried downstairs, following a few other PAs on similar errands, to find a coffee place. Most headed for the expensive coffee bar down the street, but Tracey hesitated, knowing how long the line there would be.
She stood on the sun-warmed sidewalk outside the building, wondering if it was a good idea. But she'd lived and worked in this city all her life; she knew it like the back of her hand. And she knew the hotel a block down had far better coffee in their lobby than the franchise coffee house, and it would be faster. Realizing she was probably making a mistake but deciding to risk it anyway, she hurried across the street in the opposite direction of the other PAs.
She hurried into the lobby of the hotel, the air conditioning refreshing after even the quick walk on the warm day, and headed straight for the breakfast cafe, which was almost empty given how close it was to lunch. She smiled with relief when she recognized the barista on duty at the expresso bar.
"Marta!" she called, hurrying closer. The tall, dark-skinned woman looked up in surprise at the sound of her name. For a moment she looked confused, but then her eyes widened with recognition.
"Tracey? Is that you?" she asked. "You look great! Did you finally go back to school?"
"No. Just a temporary personal assistant thing," Tracey said. "I need a favor. Do you mind filling a coffee order for me? You still make the best coffee in the city."
Tracey had, before being assigned to the Sheikh's manor, cleaned at this hotel for a few months. Marta had been the angel of all the maids working in the hotel, bringing them free coffee on their breaks.
"I could never say no to you," Marta said with a laugh. "Let me see it."
Tracey handed over the list of orders and Marta got to work in a haze of grounds and espresso foam, handing over the tray full of drinks just a few minutes later.
"You're a lifesaver, Marta," Tracey said, handing over the money.
"Just come back and visit me again soon," Marta said, smiling. "And whatever this temporary job is, keep it! I haven't seen you this happy in ages."
Tracey rushed back to the meeting and wasn't surprised to find she was back before any of the other PAs. This close to lunch, they were probably still in line and would be for a while. Adil looked briefly, earnestly impressed as she handed out the coffees, careful to remember who had ordered what.
"Good job," he whispered as she sat down next to him, and her heart glowed with pride, a feeling that only grew as the other investors remarked on how good the coffee was.
The meeting continued and Tracey resumed her work with renewed vigor, tidying up when she wasn't searching out the right documents for Adil. She was glad she'd taken the time to actually read through them, as it made it much easier to find the information relevant to what the presenters were talking about.
One of the presenters, a representative of a high-end grocery chain, had run well over his allotted time and was still going. He was spending more time heaping praise on his brand than presenting an actual plan. He seemed determined to filibuster the meeting. Was his plan to exhaust them all until they agreed to accept his offer? Several of the investors were openly leaning on the table, their attention wandering in disinterest. It was past time for lunch, and everyone was waiting for this presentation to finish so they could leave.
Tracey flipped through her file to entertain herself, half listening as the man blathered on about independent studies showing his franchise's positive impact on local economies. That caught her attention, reminding her of something in the file.
"Um…" She'd spoken and raised her hand before she realized what she was doing. She immediately froze in horror, but it was too late now.
"I'll be answering questions after the presentation," the man said quickly, eager to dismiss her and continue.
"Sorry." Tracey pushed on, her heart hammering. "It's just a quibble with your facts. You said that study was independent, but I have it here. It was done by United Bearing Metrics, who list you as a major contributor to their funding. I would say that's a significant bias."
The man's face turned red, then purple, and then he forced a smile, looking at Adil.
"Sheikh Adil, your assistant certainly is enthusiastic," he said with a forced laugh.
"Yes, she is," Adil replied without humor. "She's also correct."
The man cleared his throat and tried to continue.
"Regardless, the data is sound," the man said. "Multiple other studies confirm we outstrip all our peers in this."
"Actually"—Tracey interrupted again, emboldened by Adil's support—"I only have one study here by a nominally unbiased source, according to which you aren't significantly better or worse than any of your nearest competitors."
"Maybe you should stick to fetching coffee, miss," the man replied, ice in his tone.
"Maybe you should wrap up this farce so we can eat," the Sheikh countered, and if the man was ice, then Adil was fire. There was a murmur of irritable agreement from the rest of the table. The man, cowed, finished his presentation in fewer sentences than your average picture book contained and retreated. With clear relief, the meeting broke for lunch.
Tracey took lunch orders from the Sheikh and a few other men at the table, surprised to find that her time spent waitressing was coming in handy. After what had happened with the coffee, several of the other PAs followed her this time, and she was happy to lead them to a local place, of quality but relatively unknown, that she knew could use the business. The Sheikh and the other investors were clearly pleased with the choice when she returned, first again.
"You have a talent for this," Adil said as they ate around the conference table. "I might have to hire you permanently."
Tracey chuckled. "It's not talent. Just practice. I didn't expect being a personal assistant to be so similar to being a maid."
"I'm inclined to think you are just far smarter and more competent than you think you are," Adil replied, smiling at her. "You should give yourself more credit."
Tracey felt nearly dizzy with his praise. Why was it that everything he said affected her so strongly?
As lunch wrapped up, Tracey gathered take-out containers and other trash and disposed of it, tidying up before things resumed. One of the investors, an older man with a meticulously manicured goatee, raised his coffee to her gratefully as she took his leftovers.
"Thank you," he said. "I don't know what the Sheikh is paying you, but he should give you a raise. You're miles better than his last PA. I swear that girl spent the entire time on her phone."
"I'm just temporary," Tracey said with a modest shrug. "I don't really know what I'm doing, to be honest."
"What you're doing is a fantastic job," the man said. "It's a rare assistant who is so quick with paperwork and errands but keeps things neat as well."
"Ah, well, that's just habit," Tracey said with an embarrassed laugh. Then she realized she'd slipped up.
"Habit?" the man repeated, confused. Tracey scrambled for an excuse but couldn't think of one. She'd always been terrible at lying.
"I'm..." She hesitated, flustered. "I'm actually the Sheikh's maid. His real PA quit last minute, and I was the only person available."
The man laughed, amused, and shook his head.
"Well, then he should hire you full time!"
"You don't think it's weird?" Tracey asked, self-conscious.
"Not at all." The man stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "In fact, if all maids make as good assistants as you, I might have to invite my own next time."
Tracey, baffled but delighted, couldn't stop smiling as the meeting resumed. She continued working hard the next two hours, through multiple coffee runs and a papercut for every finger. By the end of the pitches, she was as exhausted as she'd ever been from housekeeping, but proud.
The meeting ran long, the Sheikh and the other investors debating which franchises should be included. Adil ferociously defended his anti-gentrification position against the others, who tended to be concerned with profit first. Tracey, frantically reading through the materials in her file, backed him up with relevant data about the benefits of raising the income and quality of life of the existing population instead of displacing it and taking the gamble of bringing in a whole new demographic. It was a hard-fought argument, but by the end, Tracey felt like they'd won. The building project was moving forward, and it looked like the Sheikh's insistence on responsible building would be listened to.
When the meeting ended, the Sheikh shook hands and personally thanked the investors as they left, until it was only him and Tracey left in the boardroom. As the door closed behind the last investor, he turned to her with a grin. She yelped in delighted surprise when he swooped down on her, picking her up by the waist and spinning her around.
"You were fantastic!" he declared. "This is going to work, finally! And it's thanks to you!"
Tracey was still laughing joyously when he put her down. He set her on her feet in front of him, and then he hesitated, his hands still on her waist, as their eyes met.
There was a moment, suspended almost forever like dew on spider silk, where they looked at one another, their emotions rushing in the excitement and their hearts racing. Then Adil pulled her close and kissed her. Tracey didn't think before she threw her arms around him and kissed him back, their lips moving together in tender warmth that left Tracey shivering.
His hand slid down her back, leaving tingles in the wake of his fingers. She felt the muscles of his shoulders through his robe, the way they tensed and relaxed as he pulled her against him and held her, the kiss slowly softening from exuberant joy to patient, passionate recognition. This wasn't a momentary whim, but something far more significant.
Slowly, they separated to breathe, and Tracey opened her eyes to see him staring at her, wonder and desire and trepidation in his eyes. His arms loosened around her and she stepped back, anxiety and embarrassment beginning to creep back in. Had she made a mistake? This shouldn't be happening. She should have just stayed at the mansion and cleaned today. But as she stepped back, Adil caught her hand. He raised it to press a gentle kiss to the backs of her fingers, gazing at her with a patient smile. He didn't push her any further.
He offered his arm as they left the building. Tracey took it, her heart still beating like a hummingbird's wings in her chest. As hard as she'd railed against the thought of giving in to her crush on him, knowing he might feel the same way felt like winning the lottery on Christmas. She felt less like she was walking and more like she was floating as they descended the stairs, gliding down from heaven on cloud-bound feet. Had it not been for Adil's arm in hers, she probably would have drifted right out into traffic. All at once, anything and everything seemed not just possible, but within reach.
Her only reservation, and it didn't even occur to her until later that night as she lay in bed, playing the events of the day over and over in her mind, was how little she really knew about Adil. She knew he was kind, generous, handsome, patient. Silly sometimes, occasionally forgetful. He loved swimming and good Greek food. But beyond that? He intentionally dodged all questions about his past and his family. She remembered the way he had stiffened during dinner the other night when she'd asked about his childhood. Despite all his warmth and genuine kindness, he was closed off. She knew nothing deeper than his base personality and his favorite food, and that worried her.
After what had happened with Derrek, she couldn't afford to fall for another man with secrets. Her ex-husband had hidden his gambling all through the time they'd dated and well after, until they were in enough debt to ruin their lives.
Still, she thought, rolling over in bed and pulling her blankets up to her chin with a giddy smile. To feel romance again was wonderful. She wouldn't dare call it love yet, but that there was anything there at all was cause for celebration.