waited until they were in the limo before broaching the subject on his mind and in the end, she made it easy for him.
She settled back against the leather seat facing him. “Okay, what gives? As if I didn’t know.”
He poured her a glass of lime Perrier and himself a finger of vodka. Too bad she did not drink. Enhancing her malleability right now could only improve his cause. “If you already know, there’s no point in me saying it.”
She took the sparkling water. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head.
She took a sip, regarding him over the rim of her crystal tumbler.
“Thank you also for not denying that tonight has all been about buttering me up.”
Now that stung. “Do you really think so?”
She just shrugged, her hair for once not pulled up in a tight bun, but barely confined in a wild ponytail that made her look younger than her twenty-five years. She was dressed in a Red Sox T-shirt he’d bought her the year before and a pair of jeans that made her legs look a mile long. Thank goodness they were in her typical baggy style.
He gave her a chiding look. “You’re not being fair, Gracey. And that’s not like you.”
She pouted, her lip protruding adorably, and he had to slam down on the urge to kiss her.
“Oh, all right…it’s not all about buttering me up. Even if you didn’t have something you wanted, you probably would have arranged tickets for the game.” She rolled her eyes. “And bought me the jersey, which I’m sleeping in for the foreseeable future…so, thank you.”
The image of Grace in bed was not one he could afford, so he thrust it from his mind with ruthless precision.
“I might have gotten regular box seats.” Though he wasn’t stingy with her and she knew it.
Grace had few passions and baseball was one of them. He indulged her as much as possible. An excellent PA like her deserved a few perks.
“Maybe…but regardless, I know you aren’t above using my good mood and sense of gratitude toward you for your own ends right now.”
“If I were above it as you say, I wouldn’t be a very good negotiator, would I?”
“I suppose not.” She bit her bottom lip and looked out the window for several seconds of silence.
“What is holding your interest? It is simply the clogged traffic we encounter after every one of these events I’ve taken you to.”
She sighed and turned her attention back to him, her hazel eyes troubled. “You want me to find you a wife.”
“Yes.” He had her, he knew it. And no, he didn’t feel the least guilty for getting her in a moment of weakness.
She glared at him. “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t.”
“I will.”
Her frown grew more fierce, but she didn’t deny it.
“If you really wanted my cooperation, you should have arranged for me to meet Big Papi.” Her eyes glowed with something that disturbed him on many levels.
“I have no desire to introduce you to your hero. Sports stars like him could benefit from having a good personal assistant, too. I will not lose you so easily.” He said the words as a joke, but felt them deeply.
“You think so? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“I am not amused.” The idea of her leaving him to work for the Red Sox’s lauded designated hitter filled him with annoyance, even though he knew it was in no way possible.
She laughed, but then sobered almost instantly.
“I’m not saying I’m going to do it, but if I did, what are you looking for in a wife?”
The question caught him unaware, though it shouldn’t have. He opened his mouth and closed it again immediately. Nothing came instantly to his normally agile brain.
She stared at him, the knowledge in her 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
