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“Faster, Mila. We are at capacity. Feed them and turn tables,” Fatima snapped.
Mila gritted her teeth and tried not to remind the irritating woman that she knew how to do her job. As usual, Fatima was on her high horse, wielding her newfound managerial power. Just a month ago, they had been peers. Now Fatima was in the perfect position to punish Mila for the missed opportunity with Sheikh Asad al Sharif, the one she felt Liyah had stolen right out from under her.
It wasn’t Mila’s fault that Fatima had been late that day, nor did it do any good to point out that Asad would never have gone for someone like Fatima, who batted her eyes at anyone who even smelled of wealth and power.
Normally, Mila enjoyed working at the lounge. She loved meeting new people and socializing, but for the past few weeks, Fatima had been making her life miserable. Liyah and Asad had offered to buy Mila her own lounge, but she’d refused. This wasn’t the type of life she wanted to lead forever. She wanted to travel, not be bogged down. Besides, the new home that they’d bought their exchange-mother, Sahaar, was already gracious enough, not to mention the investment money they’d put up so Sahaar could start her bakery. Mila couldn’t take another thing from them, royalty or not.
Grabbing the plates from the kitchen line, she hurried across the busy lounge to the table in the corner. Two men looked u
p from their conversation and flashed her smiles. Dubai was a hub for international travelers and foreign-exchange students, so an American like herself wasn’t too much of a surprise for the locals. Still, they always asked her a ton of questions when they met her, wanting to know what had led to her decision to visit Dubai.
“Pan-seared scallops and Koshari,” she announced as she set the popular noodle and lentil dish down.
“Would you care to join us?” the younger man asked as he lounged back and appraised her.
Mila would have loved to sit and chat with them, but the lounge was far too busy tonight. Passing along her regrets, she hurried back to the kitchen to suffer further under Fatima’s wrath. Unfortunately, the woman had noticed her brief interlude with the men.
“Mila, your flirting is out of place,” she snapped in front of the rest of the employees. “This is a business, not a chance for you to pick up men.”
Mila wasn’t embarrassed. Everyone knew that Fatima had it out for her. Instead, she barely acknowledged the woman as she grabbed the next set of plates and headed back out to finish up her shift. But by the time the evening was over, her hands were trembling with anger as she clocked out.
She didn’t know how much longer she could take the woman’s misplaced anger.
When the cab dropped her off at the house, she was surprised to see another car there. It looked like one of the cars that Asad’s drivers used. Hoping that Liyah had come to visit, she jumped out of the car.
Unfortunately, a stranger exited the house with a box in his hand. No doubt Sahaar was sending Liyah a treat. Liyah loved Sahaar’s food.
The back door of the sedan opened, and a familiar figure stepped out. Rashid, the middle Sharif brother. Mila had only met him once, at Liyah’s wedding, but she’d been so put off by his arrogant personality that she’d barely spoken to him. In fact, she hadn’t really spoken much to anyone at the wedding because she’d been coming down with a terrible cold.
Her lips thinned at seeing the man. He’d recently been in the news for partying with the daughters of two visiting diplomats.
Instead of ignoring her, he walked right up to her. “Mila, right?” he asked in a silky voice, and then he grabbed her hand and kissed it.
Despite knowing his playboy ways, Mila couldn’t help but catch her breath. He was a gorgeous man with dark and sexy Sharif features and those dazzling green eyes.
“That’s right. Can I help you?”
“I’m just running an errand for my lovely sister-in-law,” he said as he caressed his thumb over her knuckles.
She was surprised by the intimate gesture and tugged her hand back. She didn’t expect that someone like Rashid would go out of his way to do anyone a favor, but for Liyah’s sake, she didn’t voice that opinion. “I see. Well, have a good evening.”
Adjusting the strap of her bag, she headed up the dimly lit walk to the house, only to find Rashid falling into step next to her. Confused, she glanced at him. “I think your driver already picked up the package.”
“I know,” he said easily. “I just wanted to say hello to your exchange-mother. It would be impolite for me not to.”
Mila was about to point out that he hadn’t deemed it necessary to say hello to Sahaar as he’d sent his driver in when the door opened and Sahaar stepped out with a small container in her hand. “Oh! Sheikh Rashid. I didn’t realize that you were also here.” She nodded her head in respect. “I was just about to catch your driver. I forgot to put extra hummus in the box.”
“Kind of you,” Rashid said as he gently took the box from the older woman and nodded his head in respect. “I was just coming in to say hello to you.”
Surprised, Sahaar stepped back and beckoned them in. “Mila, you’re home early. I thought you were going to a friend’s house tonight.”
“I was, until I found out that Fatima was also going. I’ve dealt enough with her already,” Mila grumbled.
“Sweetheart, if you’re so unhappy with your job, why don’t you quit?” Sahaar asked as she reached out and hugged the younger woman.
Glancing at the curious look on Rashid’s face, Mila frowned. “Later. We have company.” She didn’t want to talk about private business in front of a virtual stranger.
Sahaar immediately led them into the sitting area. She’d splurged a little bit in the new house and replaced the old tea-stained couch with a new one with a green print. She’d kept her husband’s old comfortable chair, and while Mila and Liyah had both gently tried to get her have it professionally cleaned, Sahaar always said she preferred the old musk that emanated from it. The same small scratched and chipped coffee table was there, although Mila had helped her repaint it a few weeks ago, and the checkered rug underneath it was faded from the Dubai sun.
