Monitoring all that negativity was taking a toll and he really wanted pancakes. Diabetes or not, Brandon Cates didn’t indulge in white carbs, in sugary snacks. They were unhealthy and he’d learned to stop craving them. If only Marj were something he could train himself to stop craving.
He tied a flawless bow tie and surveyed his tuxedo in the mirror. The restaurant had a formal dress code. The meeting itself was so pivotal that he set his phone to silent. All those heinous insults would have to wait, piling up on his bride’s name until after his dinner was over. Dinner promised to be many things—elaborate, lengthy, and utterly without pancakes. The zoning commissioner and the head of his legal team in the Middle East were meeting him at the restaurant. The very dining room itself was something worthy of a magazine cover, all muted gold and sea views. His party was already waiting, the grim Tariq looking out the window, avoiding conversation with Gemma, the stunning blond attorney.
Brandon shook hands with them both, and they ordered the tasting menu, a six-course extravaganza that started with a beef tartare wrapped in nori. He winced, refusing to let himself pick the seaweed off his meat. Tariq seemed to enjoy the food at least. Perhaps an innovative meal would mellow the man who had made this trip a burdensome necessity. As they ate, Gemma kept the conversation going, talking about how stunning the city was, how much she’d enjoyed the opportunity to explore it. If one listened to her, one might think she was there on a pleasure trip, and not stuck in the Emirates because of the recalcitrant zoning commissioner.
“Of course, I adore Egypt. I’ve lived there four years and it’s ideal, so vibrant. Nevertheless, it lacks the sophistication of Dubai. Coming from London as I do, I miss a bit of refinement at times.”
“We’re glad to provide an elegant change of pace for you, Miss Randall,” Tariq said.
“It would be ideal, in fact, if we could resolve our zoning issues and let Miss Randall complete her sightseeing and get home to her fiancé,” Brandon said a little tightly.
“Ah, we finished, Dalton and I, alas,” she said.
“I apologize,” Brandon said.
“See, there is no hurry,” Tariq said with cheerful malice.
“I’m sure Mr. Cates is in a rush to get home to his new bride. Haven’t you seen her in the papers?”
“Hardly,” Tariq said.
“Here,” Brandon said, showing a photo from his phone, “this is Marjorie.”
“Such a nice name. I thought all Americans were called Brittany or Lindsey,” Gemma said with a laugh.
“Not all of us. I’d look a bit foolish being called Brittany,” Brandon returned, and again she laughed. She had a lovely, musical laugh. Tariq glanced at the picture with a nod and returned to his leek puree with caviar, which was rather as dreadful as it sounded. After two more courses, and no progress whatsoever on the zoning, Tariq excused himself to attend his daughter’s dance recital and left Brandon alone with Gemma.
“I suggest a bottle of champagne. Our friend Tariq made a rather crucial mistake, and I intend to use it to clear up our zoning issues.”
“Impossible. I was here the entire time eating this wretched food and waiting for him to be the least bit receptive to reason. What did he do?”
“He slipped me a hotel room key card. Where I come from that’s an invitation to infidelity, and I’m not at all sure he realizes that I know his wife. He is, however, about to find that out. Because she and I attended the same fundraising luncheon today to increase awareness of childhood diabetes. Tariq is about to receive a photo of the two of us together at the lunch. I messaged him that I look forward to resolving our zoning difficulties so I can leave the country and go back home. I also suggested he tell Radma that I said hello and if I’m still in town at the weekend, I’d love to have lunch, just the three of us.” She smiled mischievously.
“Well, I should say you have him under control then. Well done, Gemma. I’ll drink to that.”
“Your plans in Dubai are so ambitious, and it’s the least I could do to help them along in some small way.”
“Some small way? You head up my international legal team in the Middle East, Gemma. Your contribution is very significant.”
“I’m honored that you feel that way. Thank you.”
“I should think my regard for your work is rather obvious. If not I will have to consider writing personal thank you notes.”
“You could always slip me a hotel key,” she said archly.
“Ah, I’ve seen what you do with those. Some very clever extortionate tactics. I hope I’m not careless enough to put myself in that position,” he said rather uncomfortably, trying to make it seem a joke. Gemma ran her stockinged foot up the hem of his trousers and stroked his leg.