who lived in Qu’ Arim, an Arabic country on the Persian Gulf. Apparently the two men had been corresponding for some time about the feasibility of opening a Bella Lucia restaurant in Qu’ Arim. Sheikh Surim Al-Thani and Max wrote their letters in English. It was the construction firm giving preliminary bids who used French.
Working with the translations, Melissa was learning a great deal about the restaurant business and how Max envisioned the operations to run. She cross-referenced the documents with the correspondence between Max and the sheikh. It was a new venture for the family-owned and -operated restaurants—expanding in a foreign market. She knew Max had mentioned opening a few more worldwide if this one proved successful. Maybe he’d open one in Boston one day—near enough that she could visit while she was employed by the McDonald family.
She picked up her pencil to begin again. Only a few more paragraphs.
The sheikh was building a luxury resort right on the Gulf. The restaurant would be the jewel in the crown of the new holiday destination, he’d said. He had plans to make the entire seaside complex the premier place to visit in that part of the world.
Melissa wished wistfully that she could visit herself. It was rainy and cold in London. Switzerland, where she’d lived the last few years, was buried in snow. How wonderful would it be to visit a tropical resort in January, laze around on the beach, visit souks and find exotic goods at rock-bottom prices?
The McDonald family lived in Massachusetts, which was also under snow. Apparently she was destined to live in cold climes.
Max came up to her desk.
“Got a moment?” he asked.
“Sure, what’s up?” She still wasn’t used to the fact that Max Valentine was her new stepbrother, but already liked him very much. He was tall, dark and handsome, and, though her own feelings toward him were purely platonic, she could see why Max had more than one woman in the office preening every time he walked through.
“Come back into my office if you would.”
Melissa followed him into his office and sat on one of the visitor chairs.
He leaned back in his own chair studying her for a moment, a small smile playing around his mouth. “I have to fly to Qu’ Arim on Sunday as I’m meeting Surim for a final session before we sign all the paperwork. They’ve already started building and I’d like to see the setup. It’s thanks to the translations you’ve done that we’ve got a lot of the preliminary work behind us, so…” he paused “…how would you like to come with me?”
“To Qu’ Arim? I’d love to!” Melissa felt a surge of excitement. Look out beaches, she was on her way! How terrific of Max to offer her the chance. It would be more like a vacation than work. And a fabulous opportunity to see more of the world.
“It will only be for a week and I expect to return home by the following weekend. We’ll stay with Surim.’ Max smiled. “His home is large enough for a battalion.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Several times. He stays with me when he’s in London. He and I went to Eton together. Until our final year.”
“What happened then?” Melissa asked, intrigued to learn she might get to meet a real-live sheikh and that he had actually gone to school in her country.
“His father died and he had to return home and assume the role of leader before we graduated.”
“At sixteen or seventeen? How could anyone that young rule a country?”
“He was young, but had lots of advisors,” said Max. “By diligently working with the various factions in his country over the years, he’s been able to pull the country into a united front. Which probably saved its economy at the same time.”
“Isn’t Qu’ Arim known for oil and pearls?” she asked. She’d read up on the country when she’d first begun the translations.
Max nodded. “And fishing. Their pearl industry used to contribute a bigger percentage to their wealth, but money from oil far outweighs it now. Consequently that industry gets bigger press. But high-quality pearls from Qu’ Arim are well known and sought after by experts.” He stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. “Anyway, plan on staying a week. And you’ll need to bring something dressy—if I know Surim, we’ll attend at least one reception. We’ll leave early Sunday.”
Melissa nodded and rose, almost dancing with delight. “I appreciate this, Max.”
“You’ll be helping me out. If that contractor has anything new to report, I’ll need to have an instant translator. You’re up to speed on where we stand, so you’ll be more valuable than anyone new to the project who could translate,” Max said, grinning at her obvious excitement.
Melissa smiled back and left, and as she tidied her desk her bright smile refused to fade. She was going to Qu’ Arim! She loved to travel and see new sights. She’d visited much of Europe on holidays, but she’d never been to the Middle East with its exotic and mysterious settings. And what better time of year to escape the rain and cold of London?
It was dark by the time she left the building a short time later. She stared at the dreary January weather, wondering if she could catch a cab or was destined to take the underground and then walk the few blocks to the house. She had her umbrella, but the thought of splashing through cold puddles for several blocks held no appeal. Instead, she dwelt on the thought that in only a few days she’d be in sunshine and warmth.
When Melissa reached home, she was disappointed to find it empty. She was anxious to share her good news. Her mother and Robert had probably gone to an afternoon matinee or something. Robert and her mum were in the honeymoon stage, having been married less than a year. While she was glad for her mum—it had been far too long since her own father had died—nevertheless sometimes she felt left out.
Had things gone differently with Paul, Melissa might have been the one in the early stages of marital bliss. She’d been so wrong in her judgement. It made her wary now of trusting her instincts. She refused to think about the man any longer. He was in her past, and she was a wiser woman because of it.
Shaking off gloomy thoughts, she went upstairs to her room. She had time to shower and change before dinner. She wondered if she could find further information about Qu’ Arim on the Internet. It was one thing to read casually about the country for work, something else to learn all she could before actually visiting the place.
Sunday morning, Max and Melissa caught an early flight to Rome where they changed for a plane to Qu’ Arim. It was late afternoon when they landed. Immediately after exiting the plane, Melissa raised her face to the sun. Its warmth felt fabulous! The air was perfumed with the sweet scent of plumeria mixed with that of airplane fuel. The soft breeze that wafted across her skin felt as silky as down. Soon they’d be away from the airport and she could really enjoy scents that vied for identification.
“I already love it here,” she said as they walked across the tarmac.
“Did you say something?” Max asked, a bit distracted. He was in full business mode, having worked on the plane and now carrying his briefcase almost as if it were a part of him. Melissa wasn’t surprised. The man loved his work. He ate, slept and breathed it as far as she could tell. Though, he wasn’t a hermit. He did his fair share of dating, according to her mother.
“It’s nice here,”
