The first couple of weeks were beyond boring. Katie printed out tickets every day and ended up recycling most of them when the museum closed. It was a waste of paper, but when she tried to point out that getting a stamp would be cheaper than printing the dates on the tickets, Khalid just gave her a frosty look.

She answered the phones, filed paperwork, and sketched out a marketing plan with a newsletter, but Khalid shut it down without even hearing it.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled. The museum was raking in money from donors, but they weren’t averaging more than ten visitors a week. They weren’t reaching the masses. They were targeting the same circles, keeping it exclusive and in the hands of the rich.

Hadn’t Khalid talked about sharing her views?

So why wasn’t he taking more action in that direction?

At the close of business, once she had finished cleaning the windows, she pulled out her notebook of ideas. She really wanted to push her newsletter and host a few events that would interest families—not just the wealthy—and local artists.

Knocking softly on his office door, she waited for his gruff invitation before she turned the knob.

As usual, he didn’t even look up. “If you’ve finished, you can go home.”

“I am finished, but I wanted to speak to you,” she said quietly as she walked in. “I have the numbers for this week, and I thought of a few ways we might improve them. I put a suggestion box on the desk.”

“You did what?” He looked up sharply as he spoke, and there was ice in his eyes. “You did something without my approval?”

“It’s a suggestion box,” Katie pointed out dryly. “It’s not like I rearranged a gallery, but speaking of rearranging, I really do think . . .”

“Get rid of it,” he snapped. “Now.”

“What?”

“The suggestion box. Get rid of it. I don’t recall giving you permission to add things to the desk. Throw it away and go home.”

Hurt, she worked her jaw back and forth before whirling around and stalking out. She didn’t bother to hide her frustration as she slammed the office door behind her.

She left without tossing the suggestion box. If he hated the box so damned much, he could throw it away himself.

With the work day over, she accepted an open invitation to the palace to join the girls for a drink. She hadn’t been back to the palace since she’d started working with Khalid for fear she might run into him, but that night, she didn’t care.

She needed to vent.

Of course, venting to his family wasn’t exactly a professional move. Still, a drink and some light conversation would do her wonders.

“There she is! I’ve complained to Khalid that he’s been working you too hard!” Amira crowed when Katie finally showed up.

Katie took one look at the three ladies and laughed. They were all dressed in pajamas—expensive silk pajamas—and there were two large pizzas and some exclusive imported microbrews on the ottoman in front of them. “Pizza and beer! And from the look of things, ya’ll have already enjoyed plenty of beer.”

“We expected you an hour ago,” Mila complained. “I love that you convinced Amira to have a pizza and beer night. It’s been forever since I’ve had a casual night, although I’m pretty sure that Amira literally just bought those pajamas for this occasion.”

“I sleep in the nude,” Amira said with a shrug. “I didn’t think that’s what you had in mind.”

“No.” Liyah shook her head vehemently. “Nobody needs to see your perfect body.”

“Well, I am way overdressed,” Katie announced as she dropped her purse and leaned over to snag a bottle of beer.

Amira bent over the arm of the couch and pulled up a double handful of satiny fabric. “That is why I purchased you a pair of pajamas, as well. I thought black would look sexy against your hair and skin tone, although, to be fair, you’re so gorgeous that any color would look great on you.”

Katie chuckled as she accepted the clothes. “First dresses and now sleepwear. Maybe I should just leave a suitcase with clothes over here.”

“Or you could just move in,” Mila suggested.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’ll go change. Do not eat all the pizza while I’m gone!”

Hurrying to the restroom, Katie stripped out of her work clothes and held up the pajamas that Amira had bought her. Rather than a plain pair of silk pajamas, Amira had gotten her a low-cut tank top and a pair of hip-hugging yoga pants that said Tasty on the back.

Really? Katie couldn’t help but laugh as she dressed. The girls would get a kick out of it.

The top swooped low and showed off way too much cleavage, and the pants clung low on her hips. She hadn’t worn anything so scandalous since she was in college, and even then, she had been too focused on her studies to enjoy a night out with friends.

Shaking her head at her reflection, she gathered her clothes and hurried out of the bathroom—only to run smack into a hard body. Apologizing, she bent down to pick up her clothes, and then she looked up . . .

Khalid glared at her with his hands balled up in fists. “Katie,” he said coldly. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Pajamas,” she said, a little too breathlessly. “The girls and I are having a pajama party.”

“And that’s what you sleep in?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your sister bought these for me. I sleep naked.”

Was it her imagination, or did his breath just get a little more shallow? All he said, however, was, “You didn’t throw the suggestion box away.”

“If you’d like to reprimand me, I suggest that you wait until work tomorrow. You may fancy yourself my boss both in and out of work, but I am not your employee right now. I’m a guest in your home, and if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some pizza before your sisters eat it all.”

Brushing past him, she headed down the hall, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. There was no doubt in her mind that he was staring at her ass.

Tasty.

The fundraiser was in full swing. Khalid walked around and greeted all the guests. Most of them were men with beautiful women on their arms. The place reeked of old money and even older traditions.

“Khalid.” An older woman stepped into his path with a stern look on her face. In her heyday, she had been beautiful, but she hadn’t aged gracefully, and the plastic surgery had only made things worse. Too many tucks and lifts had left a permanently disapproving look on her face.

Of course, that also reflected her disposition.

Ziva was the matriarch of a wealthy family with a vast collection of artwork. She was a frequent donor to the museum, and she believed that her generosity gave her grounds to act as boss and curator as well.

“Ziva.” Khalid nodded his head in a show of respect. “Lovely that you could join us this evening.”

“I was informed that you fired the girl I personally vetted as the assistant. Care to explain yourself?” She fingered the huge diamonds that hung around her neck as if to remind him of the kind of weight that she carried.

Khalid wasn’t in the mood to be pushed around. “My employees are none of your business, Ziva.”

“I saw the girl that you hired in her place. An American.” Ziva looked beyond him to the podium where Katie stood. “Beautiful woman. I can see the appeal, but she is a stranger. She is not one of us.”

Khalid struggled to hold on to his temper. What Ziva was conveniently leaving out was that Thalia was Ziva’s niece. She had no experience in galleries or art, and she also had no interest in the topic. Ziva had hoped that the arrangement would lead to a wedding and combine their two powerful families.

Taking a deep breath, he plowed on. “Your girl was late nearly every day that she worked for me. She had no interest in her duties, and she didn’t take direction well.”

He started to walk around the older woman, but she stopped him again. “I heard a rumor that you were interested in dedicating a wing to street art.”

“Indie artists are not street art, Ziva. I opened this gallery to support the Dubai art culture.”

Ziva rolled her eyes. “That’s what fundraisers are for, Khalid. I would highly suggest that you not be rash about any changes. Your donors are pleased with your museum as it is. I can’t imagine you’ll get too many collectors who will be eager to share their prized possessions among pages of coloring books and Play-Doh sculptures.”

Khalid had a scalding response ready to deliver, but someone else lightly touched his arm and interrupted them.

“Ziva,” Amira said with a fake smile. “Lovely to see you.”

If possible, Ziva’s frown deepened. “Amira. I see that your father has yet to find you a suitable husband.”

Amira wasn’t at all offended. “He’s certainly been trying, but apparently there are no men who can handle me. It appears that those of my generation of sheikhs no longer have a backbone. How’s that son of yours?”

It was well known that Ziva’s son had publicly announced his intentions to wed Amira, and had been single-minded in his pursuit—until the girl’s father gave Amira the freedom to choose her own husband. She had turned Ziva’s son down immediately, and Ziva had never forgiven her for it. “Happily married to a woman from a reputable family.”

“Really? Because I saw him just last week, and he had a . . .”

Khalid cleared his throat before Amira could tell Ziva that her son had been parading his new girlfriend around town. “Ziva, please excuse us. I see someone I need to speak to.” Grabbing Amira’s arm, he steered her away.

“I hate that woman,” Amira growled. “I do not understand why you accept her donations.”

“Her connections and donations keep the gallery open. I don’t like her, either, but I don’t need you insulting her.”

“You think that she’s going to keep donating money now that you’ve fired her niece? Speaking of that position, why is Katie glued to the podium? She’s meant to walk with you, flirt, and turn the heads of the men here, to help them open their wallets.” She reached out and grabbed two glasses of champagne from a server.

Khalid accepted his glass. “This is her first fundraiser event. I would prefer that she observe before she engages.”

His sister gave him a withering look. “She told me just a few nights ago that she’s been looking forward to this event because charming old men is her forté. She dealt with many different events at her last job.”

“A few nights ago? She was at the palace a few nights ago?” It was starting to feel like every time he turned around, the gorgeous woman was in his home.

With Tasty written across her ass.

He hadn’t slept in weeks.

Amira didn’t seem to pick up on the annoyance in his tone. “She has three friends in the city, and we all spend quite a bit of time at the palace. So yes, she was there a few nights ago. Does that bother you, brother dearest?”

Yes. “She is my employee. I’d like it if I could maintain a respectable distance from the people who work for me.”

He saw the sly look that Amira gave him as they moved through the crowd. Finally, when they reached a private corner, she turned to face him. “You’ve grown cold these past few years, Khalid. And cynical. You’re always surrounded by beauty and culture, but it no longer has an effect on you. I worry about you, Khalid.”

“Amira . . .”

“I didn’t push Katie on you because I felt bad for her. I think she’ll be good for you. She’s warm where you’re cold. Use her, Khalid. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Remember your place, sister,” he said harshly. “I am neither Asad nor Rashid. I do not need you meddling in my life.”

There was a flash of pain in her eyes before she turned and walked away.

Cursing under his breath, he made his way through the crowd to apologize to her, but she had disappeared. When he reached the edge, his gaze automatically moved to the podium, and he found Katie staring at him.

There was hurt written all over her face as well. He knew she was pissed at being chained to the podium, but he wasn’t ready to give her freedom just yet. He expected her to swallow her anger like she’d been doing for the past couple of weeks . . . but there were tears gathering in her eyes.

Shaking her head, she pushed away from the podium and walked out of the festivities.

He wanted nothing more than to chase after and demand that she stay, to put his arm around her waist and pull her body up against his, but instead, he did nothing. Indeed, he hoped that maybe she would refuse to return on Monday, and maybe he’d finally be free of the erotic dreams and mental images that constantly danced in his head.

Never in his life had he ever been so dangerously attracted to a woman, but never before did giving in come with so many consequences.

Unlike his two older brothers, he had no responsibility to marry—and no need. He was fine with his quiet flings, but pissing off his sisters-in-law would cause more family drama than he was willing to face.

Even if it did mean he would never get to taste the woman who haunted his dreams.