The Sheikh's Illicit Affair Read Online Free PDF Page B

raised an eyebrow at him. The woman walked away before Megan could say anything and Zaakir held out his arm, indicating she should follow.
     
    The hostess led them to a small table near the edge of the building. It sat under a glittering chandelier and at the center of the table was a thin vase that held a single rose.
     
    Zaakir held out her chair and Megan slid into it. He took the seat across from her and leaned in. “So, how do you like it?”
     
    “You must come here a lot,” she said. “They all know you.”
     
    He shrugged. “The staff are paid to remember the names of those who spend the most money. Or who hold any sort of title they deem important.”
     
    “And you’re both?”
     
    “I suppose.”
     
    “Well, it’s a very nice place. I’m glad I had something to wear besides sneakers and a T-shirt.”
     
    “I would have never put you in a position to feel uncomfortable.”
     
    Did that mean they would have gone somewhere else if she had no choice but to wear her street clothes?
     
    Another woman came to the table, this one tall and pale, with dark hair that hung to her shoulders. “It’s good to see you again, Sheikh Al-Hosseini. What can I get for you tonight?”
     
    Zaakir looked to Megan. “Order anything you’d like.”
     
    “Oh, just a glass of wine. Red, please.”
     
    “Bring us something from my private collection,” Zaakir said to the waitress. “We’ll take the bottle.”
     
    The woman nodded and walked away.
     
    “Your private collection?”
     
    He shrugged again. “It sounds so much fancier than it really is. I have my own wines shipped in and they keep them in the cellar for me. It’s simpler that way; I don’t have to look at a wine list and wonder about authenticity, or if a certain vintage will work with the food. I have my personal collection available at a few places in the city. It just makes things easier.”
     
    The waitress brought the bottle of wine and uncorked it at the table, then poured two glasses. Megan looked at the dark bottle. It wasn’t a label she recognized, but usually she drank bottom-shelf wine and didn’t give it much thought. She watched Zaakir swirl his wine in his glass and take a long sniff, then a small sip. He nodded at the waitress and she walked away.
     
    Megan sniffed at her glass, but it just smelled like wine to her. She took a sip. It was good – really good - but it didn’t taste obviously expensive. Her mother surely would appreciate it, but Megan had never had much interest in attending the wine tastings her mother frequented. There was always another dance class to take.
     
    “Do you like the wine?” the Sheikh asked.
     
    “Sure. But I’m not much of a connoisseur. Just don’t tell my mother.”
     
    “Never,” he said with a grin.
     
    She looked around at the people seated at nearby tables, all expensively dressed in designer labels. “This seems like the type of place my parents would frequent if they lived in the city.”
     
    “Oh yeah? Where do they live?”
     
    “In New Hampshire. That’s where I grew up. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”
     
    “Why is that?”
     
    “Not enough going on, too much of the high-society life. My family is from old money, so it’s all dinner parties, and teas and luncheons; who is marrying who and who is going to what school. You can bet I’ve been the topic of much gossip over dinner, I’m sure.” She held up her hand and said in a mocking voice, “Oh, those poor Van Liedens, did you hear? Their daughter went to dance school. Can you believe it? And she’s moved to the city to open a dance studio, of all things. I give her a year, tops, before she comes crawling home, begging to be set up with one of the men her parents picked out for her.” Megan let her hand drop and rolled her eyes.
     
    Zaakir chuckled. “An accurate impression, I’m sure. I’ve seen and heard much of the same. Though the arranged marriage part wasn’t something I escaped.