Read Online The Sheikh's Triplet Baby Surprise (The Sheikh's Baby Surprise Book 3) by Holly Rayner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Holly Rayner
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having even a moment of fun. Why do you do it?”
Aziz combed his fingers through his dark hair. He was as caught off-guard as she was, it was clear. Around them, the mansion was silent.
“Well,” he murmured. “That’s a good question—one that no one has asked me before.” He began up the steps, but it was clear he wanted Amity to follow him. She did so gladly, slipping her shoes back on as she went.
“I suppose, like most things, it has to do with my father,” Aziz said then. “Bahir was the life of the party, eternally. A grand merrymaker. Always singing and dancing. People loved him for it.”
Amity nodded. Abstractly, she was taking notes on this—trying to comprehend how it could assist in her cause. It was clear, from what she’d heard at the nightclub, that not everyone was buying into his merrymaking—certainly not Aziz himself.
“Ah,” Amity said, her mind zipping back to what her research had told her about Sheikh Bahir. “But wasn’t your father adored because he was always entertaining for a good cause? He held balls and galas for charities, and he didn’t frequent nightclubs. Do you think doing something similar could assist in improving your image?” She blinked, suddenly feeling her PR brain coming back to life. She longed to rush up to her room and start strategizing.
But Aziz seemed to harden at her words. They’d reached his rooms and he leaned against the golden doorframe, a portrait of an oil baron, a billionaire. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to think about work right now,” he said, his voice stern. “I know that might be difficult for you to hear, given that you probably came back here to work the rest of the night,” he teased, and Amity bowed her head.
“But I would be interested in continuing some kind of non-work-based conversation downstairs, if you feel up to it,” he continued. “In the gardens. I can’t sleep when I feel like we have a million things to cover.”
Amity felt her eyes open wide. He wanted to hang out—with just her—even after those women had latched to him and refused to let go?
“Sure, perhaps for a while,” she whispered. Why did she seem so meek?
Aziz led her out through a back staircase, a direct route from his chambers to the outdoor gardens. In the moonlight, the reds, oranges and yellows of the flowers seemed to leap out at them. The large bushes, which lined the walkway, were enormous beasts, their leaves rustling in the breeze.
“Frankly, I’m relieved you agreed to not talk about work,” Aziz said, shaking his head. “I know I seemed all business this morning, in the desert, but it really does scare me—hiring you to work on my image like this. I’ve been this way my entire life. Why do I need a professional to help me show the world who I am? What am I doing wrong?”
Amity had heard these words from other clients before, and already, she felt inclined to protect him from himself. “You know,” she began, searching for the right words, “Image isn’t everything. In my line of work, you start to learn that when you show people who you are, truly, down to your bones, then people begin to trust you and like you. It’s bizarre to hear it, I know, but the way to come out from under your father’s shadow is just to be yourself.”
Aziz looked at her for a long time. She felt vulnerable, waiting for his answer.
“You know, that’s probably the most sense anyone’s ever made to me,” Aziz said, laughing.
“That’s why I make the big bucks,” Amity grinned.
They walked slowly for a while, without words. Amity noted how bright the Sheikh seemed, especially given how somber he had seemed at the nightclub. So fascinating how people can switch on and off like that, she thought.
“Who were those girls?” she teased him after a moment. “They certainly latched onto you.”
“You know, that happens everywhere I go out. It’s like
Aziz combed his fingers through his dark hair. He was as caught off-guard as she was, it was clear. Around them, the mansion was silent.
“Well,” he murmured. “That’s a good question—one that no one has asked me before.” He began up the steps, but it was clear he wanted Amity to follow him. She did so gladly, slipping her shoes back on as she went.
“I suppose, like most things, it has to do with my father,” Aziz said then. “Bahir was the life of the party, eternally. A grand merrymaker. Always singing and dancing. People loved him for it.”
Amity nodded. Abstractly, she was taking notes on this—trying to comprehend how it could assist in her cause. It was clear, from what she’d heard at the nightclub, that not everyone was buying into his merrymaking—certainly not Aziz himself.
“Ah,” Amity said, her mind zipping back to what her research had told her about Sheikh Bahir. “But wasn’t your father adored because he was always entertaining for a good cause? He held balls and galas for charities, and he didn’t frequent nightclubs. Do you think doing something similar could assist in improving your image?” She blinked, suddenly feeling her PR brain coming back to life. She longed to rush up to her room and start strategizing.
But Aziz seemed to harden at her words. They’d reached his rooms and he leaned against the golden doorframe, a portrait of an oil baron, a billionaire. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to think about work right now,” he said, his voice stern. “I know that might be difficult for you to hear, given that you probably came back here to work the rest of the night,” he teased, and Amity bowed her head.
“But I would be interested in continuing some kind of non-work-based conversation downstairs, if you feel up to it,” he continued. “In the gardens. I can’t sleep when I feel like we have a million things to cover.”
Amity felt her eyes open wide. He wanted to hang out—with just her—even after those women had latched to him and refused to let go?
“Sure, perhaps for a while,” she whispered. Why did she seem so meek?
Aziz led her out through a back staircase, a direct route from his chambers to the outdoor gardens. In the moonlight, the reds, oranges and yellows of the flowers seemed to leap out at them. The large bushes, which lined the walkway, were enormous beasts, their leaves rustling in the breeze.
“Frankly, I’m relieved you agreed to not talk about work,” Aziz said, shaking his head. “I know I seemed all business this morning, in the desert, but it really does scare me—hiring you to work on my image like this. I’ve been this way my entire life. Why do I need a professional to help me show the world who I am? What am I doing wrong?”
Amity had heard these words from other clients before, and already, she felt inclined to protect him from himself. “You know,” she began, searching for the right words, “Image isn’t everything. In my line of work, you start to learn that when you show people who you are, truly, down to your bones, then people begin to trust you and like you. It’s bizarre to hear it, I know, but the way to come out from under your father’s shadow is just to be yourself.”
Aziz looked at her for a long time. She felt vulnerable, waiting for his answer.
“You know, that’s probably the most sense anyone’s ever made to me,” Aziz said, laughing.
“That’s why I make the big bucks,” Amity grinned.
They walked slowly for a while, without words. Amity noted how bright the Sheikh seemed, especially given how somber he had seemed at the nightclub. So fascinating how people can switch on and off like that, she thought.
“Who were those girls?” she teased him after a moment. “They certainly latched onto you.”
“You know, that happens everywhere I go out. It’s like
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