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The Sheikh’s Stubborn Assistant: The Sharif Sheikhs Series Book 3 by Leslie North (1)

1

Impressive.”

The man’s eyes swept over her body, and Kadija bit her tongue. Even though the massive desk between them blocked the view of her long legs, his eyes settled at the small hint of cleavage that showed beneath her purple blouse. She was certain that he wasn’t admiring the small emerald around her neck. Kadija’d had such high hopes this morning as she got ready for her interview at the Abu Dhabi museum, but it was obvious that if the man did happen to call her, it wouldn’t be for the job.

“I assume that you’re speaking about my file, but of course, you haven’t even glanced at it,” Kadija said coldly.

The man didn’t even bother to hide his lust. “Kadija—although I heard you introduce yourself to my secretary as Katie. May I call you Katie?”

“No. You may not.”

He ignored her. “Katie. It’s not often that we get women of your caliber in our museum. I had doubts that someone as young as yourself would have the necessary credentials to curate our art museum, but then I saw a very impressive article about the tour you arranged several years ago. You were as beautiful as the pieces you displayed.”

Katie tried not to roll her eyes.

She considered her options. If there was even a shred of a chance that she could get this job, she’d need to remain professional. “I was responsible for seventy-five artworks—paintings and statues—totaling more than three million dollars. The tour exceeded all of our expectations in terms of both profit and coverage

He interrupted, his irrelevant question making it clear that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “This is your first time in Dubai, correct? Are you staying with family?”

Narrowing her eyes, Katie took a slow, deep breath. She hated it when men interrupted her. “I am not.”

“I imagine that getting a job quickly is part of your agenda. You’ll want some connections. Some protection.” A lewd smile crossed his face. “Some company.”

Abruptly, Katie stood. “I would very much love a job here in the city, but I’m afraid the quality of the museum and the people behind it are more important to me than how quickly I am employed. I can already see that this is not going to work out.”

Without bothering to hear any answer he might muster, she let herself out of the office. She tried not to let her disappointment show. All her life, her beauty had been more of a hindrance than a help. People took one look at her unique combination of dark auburn hair, naturally tanned skin, and emerald-green eyes and didn’t even bother to attempt to get to know the women beneath. Her long legs and curves were no help.

She waved down a taxi and settled into her seat, too immersed in gloomy thoughts to appreciate the passing scenery that had seemed so enticingly exotic on her arrival. She had hoped that things would be different in Dubai, but apparently, men were the same all over the world.

Even the taxi driver was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the road.

She’d only been in Dubai a month, and while the job interview offers poured in, the outcome was always the same. The representatives for the museums and private galleries were far more interested in her beauty than her brains. They didn’t care about her impressive academic background or the projects she’d coordinated as an intern. At best, they appeared to think she would be a better fit stationed at the door or acting as an escort to museum parties for some of the more prominent artists. At worst . . .

An escort, for God’s sake. Seriously?

The taxi pulled up in front of her home. Thanking the driver, she paid and climbed out.

The past few weeks had been a little surreal. Sahaar, her exchange-host, was warm and welcoming. The older woman had hovered in the beginning and practically pushed her toward Mila and Liyah, the other two young women she’d formally hosted.

They were now both married to sheikh brothers. Katie couldn’t believe both women had come to Dubai and ended up married. Katie barely had time to figure out her professional life, let alone worry about her personal life. To appease Sahaar, she had lunch at least once a week with Mila and Liyah, and she was surprised to find that she enjoyed their company—but she wasn’t here to make friends.

Katie needed money. She was up to her eyeballs in student loans, and her father wasn’t coming through on his promises. He’d withdrawn his support when she’d dropped out of business school and had decided to pursue her art history degree. When she’d gone back to school for her master’s degree, he’d stopped talking to her altogether.

Pushing the negative thoughts out of her head, she focused instead on the immediate problem as she pulled out her key.

Maybe she’d started too big. It might be far better if she took a gallery job and worked her way up rather than focusing on a curator position.

Maybe even an assistant position.

“Katie! How did it go?”

Katie gasped and jumped, startled, as Mila came barreling down the hall into the foyer, immediately wrapped her arms around Katie, and pulled her into a big hug.

“Mila,” Katie cleared her throat and awkwardly returned her new friend’s hug. “Are you talking about the interview? How did you know about that?”

“Sahaar told us. She keeps Liyah and me apprised of your interviews. She’s very proud of you!” Mila gushed.

With no idea how to respond, Katie focused instead on the question. “I’m afraid I’m back to square one—but that’s okay. I still have some leads to follow.”

“Or you need to take a break. All you’ve done since you’ve gotten here is job hunt! This is Dubai. There is so much fun to be had! Come to the palace with me, and have some dinner with us.”

“I don’t know. My main purpose is to get a job, so I think that I really need to focus on that first before I relax and

“No.” Mila shook her head and planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve let you put me off for a month, but no more. You are going to take an evening to relax and have fun! Besides, there is plenty of artwork for you to admire in the palace if you’re interested. I’m told that some of the paintings are from very famous artists and that they have been in the Sharif family for generations and haven’t been shown to the public. Ever.”

Unable to help herself, Katie smiled. “Are you bribing me?”

Though she was obviously trying to keep a straight face, a mischievous smile quirked Mila’s lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

Katie could see that there would be no denying Mila. “All right. Just let me change.”

She headed toward the stairs before stopping suddenly. “Wait—what are you doing here?”

The smile on her friend’s face widened. “I came to have lunch with Sahaar, and I stayed to drag you back with me. Car should be picking me up in about thirty minutes.”

“I underestimated you, Mila. I thought Liyah was the devious one.”

Mila winked. “She is.”

Is this . . .?” Katie glanced over her shoulder at the two handsome men surveying her and swallowed hard. “I mean, the shaded strokes look an awful lot like . . . and the subject is definitely in his wheelhouse . . . and even without an appraiser, I can tell you that this painting is from the Qing dynasty . . .”

“It’s an original,” Rashid finally said with a laugh.

“Bada Shanren,” Katie breathed as she turned back to admire the gorgeous painting featuring a flock of birds and a single butterfly. “I’ve focused most of my studies on contemporary artwork, but I took quite a few elective classes on the Chinese culture. I just love the simplicity and the reflected beauty.”

As the two couples flanking her chuckled, Katie marveled at the hall of paintings. Mila wasn’t wrong. There was a mind-boggling amount of money invested in the art and sculptures that decorated the walls and corners. The focus was on Middle Eastern artists including two Reza Abbasi works and a Kamal-ol-molk that she’d never seen before, but there were also heavy Asian influences as well.

“Khalid would be impressed,” Asad said with a shake of his head. “He swears that we don’t appreciate beauty. You’d think he’d never laid eyes on our wives.”

Liyah rolled her eyes and slapped at her husband’s arm. “Ignore him. Khalid is nothing like his brothers, so they tease him relentlessly. Katie, I’m so glad that Mila finally convinced you to join us for dinner. Sahaar told me the other day that you took a class on medieval manuscripts, and I desperately want to pick your brain.”

“No,” Mila moaned. “No academic talk. Just some wine and good food, okay?”

Liyah winked at Katie. “Mila is allergic to all things relating to school. We’ll have to schedule lunch.”

“I would love to talk about medieval manuscripts,” Katie said as she took another sip of wine. Her heels made no sound on the plush dark-maroon patterned rug. “In fact, I’d heard that the library you opened has a room for ancient manuscripts. I’d love a tour!”

Liyah’s eyes lit up in delight. “And I would love to give you a tour!”

“All right, ladies. Let’s go eat before I starve to death. I know how distracted my wife can get when it comes to books,” Asad grumbled, sweeping one hand forward to encourage them to resume their progress toward the dining room.

Katie was more than a little overwhelmed as she followed them. She had been so focused in school that she’d never really had friends, and she had been worried that she’d feel like a fifth wheel, but Asad and Rashid had been just as welcoming as Mila and Liyah. It was clear that the men were desperately in love with their wives and would do anything for them, even open up their home to a stranger.

Not that opening up their home to a stranger was all that intimate of a move. The palace was so large that Katie had a feeling she could roam it for a week and still not see everything.

The spread on the long table featured platters of mouth-watering seafood. Smoked salmon, seared scallops . . . Lobster, oysters, crab legs, and grilled and fried shrimp. The dinner was delicious, the wine flowed freely, and the conversation between the couples was lively.

Katie quietly watched as the brothers challenged each other on everything, only to be reeled in gently by Mila and Liyah. The two friends acted more like sisters, and for a moment, Katie wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of relationship with someone.

“So Katie, Mila tells me that you’re looking for a curator position,” Rashid said finally when all the dishes had been taken away. “Why Dubai?”

“My mother came from here. Most of her family is gone now, but the culture has always called to me. Everything made here is done with such care and beauty. I love the colors and the music.” Katie swallowed hard, but managed to continue, “She passed away four years ago, and I guess I wanted to feel close to her again,” she sighed and returned to practicalities, “but I need a job in order to keep my work visa current.”

“There are plenty of museum-related jobs available in Dubai,” Asad said casually. “We’d be happy to call around for you.”

“No, thank you,” Katie said firmly. “My previous experience should speak for itself, and I’d like for that to be the reason that I get a job.”

The eldest brother lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “A woman of principle. I can respect that.”

Rashid snapped his fingers. “There was a curator position that opened up a couple of weeks ago at that private art history museum.”

“Yes, I interviewed for that today, but the owner was more interested in a personal connection than a professional one,” Katie muttered, looking down into her wineglass as she swirled her wine.

“Gross!” Mila wrinkled her nose. “I hope you don’t judge Dubai by that experience. This is the kind of city where dreams come true.”

“My father definitely calls me a dreamer,” Katie said and smiled weakly. The endearment wasn’t meant to be a compliment, but despite everything, she wasn’t willing to let go of those dreams. “I am hoping that Dubai will be the answer.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone. The professional world, even the art world, is all about connections, and we have plenty.” Liyah winked, and Katie had a feeling that the royal family was going to insinuate themselves into her life whether she wanted them to or not.

It was a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

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