The Desert Princes. Jackie Braun

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read in the newspaper.’ Out of time sequence, but she was almost telling the truth. ‘It mentioned the price paid for a car’s licence plate…’

      ‘Tell me more,’ he prompted.

      ‘It fetched three million dollars. That’s a lot of money. I just wondered if that was the usual result for an auction in A’Qaban?’

      Something sparked in his eyes. ‘It can be…with the right auctioneer. Why do you ask?’

      There was definitely something more; something Raffa wasn’t telling her. ‘I’m just curious,’ Casey admitted. Curious, and wondering how to turn all the cash sloshing around A’Qaban to the good of the country at large. ‘Are we heading straight to a meeting?’ she asked as the lift slowed, thinking it the perfect opportunity to do some digging.

      ‘We’re going to start with a little more getting to know you time first.’

      ‘We are?’ Her throat constricted at the thought of Raffa getting to know her better.

      ‘After I introduce you to my team.’

      Ah.

      ‘So you can relax now,’ he murmured as the glass and steel doors slid open.

      How could she do that when he appeared to have perfected the technique of reading her mind?

      She slotted in to his team as if she’d been working alongside them for years. They wore Armani, while Casey carried off her pick of chainstore items with effortless grace. She talked the same language, and added some words of her own. This wasn’t the ruffled woman who had landed in A’Qaban, but a competent, capable executive, whom anyone could see was more than ready to make the next move up the ladder. She was handling this first meeting with much more aplomb than he had anticipated. Had he been guilty so far of judging Casey on her fragile self-image rather than on her business acumen?

      He listened intently as she talked his team through her findings at the mall, and watched with interest as she turned in profile to progress her Power Point presentation. The close-fitting trousers she had chosen in the mall hinted at her figure, while the short, red tailored cardigan clung to her slender shoulders, emphasising the femininity she took such pains to disguise. That puzzled him. What was she frightened of?

      By the time he brought the meeting to an end an idea had occurred to him. The successful candidate would be someone who could work as easily outside the office as inside; they must get on confidently with people from all walks of life. And, following on from their earlier conversation, Casey’s next test was obvious.

      ‘WHY are we here?’ she said, leaning forward to peer out of the limousine window as they drew up outside one of his warehouses on the dock.

      ‘To show you some things you have to sell.’

      ‘I have to sell them? What? Where?’

      ‘Why don’t you wait and see?’

      How pretty she was when she did that smile/frown thing. Waving the driver away, he helped her out of the limousine himself. In fact, he was done with drivers.

      ‘Could you have my car delivered?’ he asked discreetly, while Casey stood staring up at the outside of the aircraft-hangar-sized warehouse in awe.

      ‘Certainly, sir. Which car would you like?’

      Casey’s words about excess flew into his mind. She could be his conscience for the day, he decided wryly, asking for the Tesla to be delivered dockside.

      ‘The Tesla? Yes, sir.’

      ‘Come on,’ he said, turning to Casey. ‘Let’s go inside…’

      He took her through a small side door into a yawning space, packed with everything from a stretch Hummer to a side room holding enough cutting-edge carbon technology tack for five teams of polo ponies. There was enough excess inside here to give her a blue fit.

      ‘What on earth is all this?’ she said softly, and he could already hear her mind cogs whirring.

      She was probably imagining a store where she would have to put all these things on sale under the same roof, and wondering how on earth she was going to organise it.

      ‘We’re not finished yet,’ he warned as he led the way down an aisle lined with packing cases stretching high into the silence of the dust-flecked air.

      ‘What is all this?’ she repeated.

      Her voice was tense and excited, though she kept her distance as they walked along.

      ‘You like a challenge, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

      ‘Then let’s move on to the inner sanctum.’

      There were guards on the door, and a number of pass codes had to be inputted before finally iris recognition allowed him entry. Once they were inside he could see she was surprised by the fact that, compared to the rest of the facility, this was a relatively comfortable and ordinary-looking office. Having shut them inside the hermetically sealed space, he touched a hidden lever, and a safe in the floor began to rise.

      ‘Any more surprises?’ she asked him when he glanced at her.

      They shared a moment, and this time he let his gaze linger. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ he teased her gently as she looked away. ‘I’m not wholly sure what surprises you yet.’

      Now she blushed.

      Taking a key fob from his pocket, he approached the safe and keyed in the numbers, changed remotely on the fob every few minutes by satellite signal. He heard her gasp when the door sprang open as if by magic. Withdrawing a small leather suitcase, he suggested she sat down.

      ‘I’ll bring it over to the table,’ he said, ‘so you can take a proper look. There are things in here it would be better not to drop…’

      * * *

      Raffa drew up a chair and sat close by without touching her. It was hard to relax, but she must relax if she were to concentrate. She inhaled deeply, drawing on his delicious scent and warmth, allowing her eyes one last greedy glimpse of his strong, pirate’s face before putting herself on a strict Raffa-free diet.

      She gasped as he showed her the fabulous Fabergé egg. ‘Oh, my…’ Her voice tailed away.

      She had sold many things in her time, but nothing to compare with this. The workmanship was breathtaking in its complexity, and so much more beautiful than any photograph would allow. But she didn’t have the know-how required to sell objets d’art of this quality, Casey realised, wondering if she was destined to fail this test.

      Raffa went on to reveal what amounted to not a king’s ransom in jewels, but a Sheikh’s. Remembering her bemusement at the price paid for one car registration plate, Casey realised she would have to make some serious adjustments to her thinking. And she would have to stop being distracted by Raffa, who right now was handling the various artefacts with reverence

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