Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1) (3 page)

"Of course, my dear." Chloe decided to ignore that one. "And we wouldn't dream of asking you to do anything else, not at all."

Chloe fought hard to avoid rolling her eyes at the size of the man's ego, and how easily she had managed to play him.

"I don't want to take up any more of your time – I'm sure you must be extremely busy with the opening. Could you ask one of your staff to show me around?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes, of course, very busy," he replied, gesturing one of the smartly dressed young women behind the check-in desk over. "Katie, my dear, will you show Miss Rouhani around? Anything she wants."

"Of course, sir," Katie replied. "Miss, how can I help?"

Chloe waited until the overbearing Mr. Dance had left earshot and asked, "Is he always like that?"

"Who, James?" Katie giggled. "He's not so bad once you get to know him, he's quite sweet actually. I think he's a little bit stressed at the moment."

"Perhaps that's it," Chloe agreed. "Could you show me around, Katie? The whole place if you don't mind."

"Of course. Do you want to start with the Presidential Suite?"

"No, let's leave that til the end. Just walk me through like you would any other guest."

Chloe was in fact a guest of the Gloucester Hotel – it was one of the stipulations of Kingsland's contract that a suite was always to be made available for her usage, even if that meant turning away paying guests, so that she could always be on hand to help out clients.

Katie led her through the hotel lobby, and Chloe couldn't help but be impressed by the attention to detail that had been paid by whoever had renovated the large hotel. Even as small a detail as the material of the floor was impeccable – everywhere she looked, Chloe saw the most extraordinary marble she'd ever come across. Instead of going for a more conventional plain black, the designers had chosen a stone that seemed to be flecked with rubies, creating an impression that the floor was consumed with fire every time the light reflected off it.

It was a clever touch, and one that helped create an extremely intimate atmosphere without ever straying too close to being too dark, too morose. As the two women walked through, the sound of their clicking heels drifted into nothingness in an oasis of absolute calm.

"So what do you know about the hotel?" Katie asked.

"Honestly, just the top line details," Chloe replied, ticking them off on her fingers. "Most expensive hotel renovation in the last decade, most expensive Presidential Suite in London, most exclusive clientele in Europe – that's the kind of thing my customers are interested in."

"It wasn't always that way, you know," Katie said. "Before the renovation, this place was getting a bit, well, dated."

"It's got a very good reputation, doesn't it?" Chloe said, surprised – it wasn't often that the Kingsland Group took a chance on a hotel, especially one that was described as
dated
.

"Oh, of course," Katie said airily. "But we were trading off our reputation a bit. A lot… In the fifties and sixties, this was the only hotel worth staying in, in London. Everyone stayed here – the Beatles, the Stones, even President Eisenhower when he flew over to meet with the government."

"So what happened?" Chloe asked, interested.

"Nothing
drastic
. The service here has always been second to none, but the old girl has needed money spent on it for a long time. We were bought out by a consortium of Middle Eastern investors a couple of years ago and, well," she spread out her hands, "you can see how much they've invested."

Chloe certainly could, and the more she walked around the hotel, the more she realized that she hadn't picked up upon a single flaw – very unusual, given how critical she usually was. She had to hand it to the manager, he might be an overbearing old ass, but he knew how to run a hotel. It put her mind at ease.

"Can you show me to the Presidential Suite please, Katie? How close is mine?"

"Your suite?" Katie asked, clearly impressed. "It's on the same floor. If you don't mind me asking…" she began, before falling silent as if worried she was about to broach a topic that she shouldn't.

"Yes?" Chloe prompted, knowing what the question would be.

"Well – you're quite young, aren't you?"

"Twenty-six," Chloe agreed.

"So…" Katie prevaricated, still beating around the bush.

"So, how did I get a job like this?" Chloe asked, smiling and putting the girl out of her misery.

"Exactly," Katie agreed gratefully.

"To be honest, I got lucky. I was doing a job just like yours four years ago, but at the Winchester Hotel. It's another Kingsland hotel, and from time to time I did a favor for the concierge there. I guess I was good at it."

"Do you have to be, you know, pretty?" Katie asked, a little less nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"Well – look at you. If you don't mind me saying, you're gorgeous!" Katie exclaimed excitedly. "Do you think that would be a problem?"

"For you?" Chloe asked, surprised. "Hell no, honey, you're hot!"

"But there must be an element of looks to it?" Katie pressed.

"Perhaps," Chloe allowed. "But let me tell you, Kingsland doesn't just let you stroll into a position like this. I've been training for four years now, and this is the first time I've been given a hotel of my own."

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to imply that you got the job because of the way you look!" Katie apologized, looking mortified.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Chloe hastened to add. "Of course, they train you to do the normal day-to-day activities, but there's a whole lot more than that – they sent me on a three-month course to Switzerland just to learn how to present myself: how do my hair, my makeup, even how to use a fish knife…" She laughed. "It was nuts, but definitely worthwhile."

Katie was looking up at Chloe with a glow of almost unhealthy hero worship, and it made Chloe feel slightly uncomfortable – she clearly had no idea how nervous she was at the prospect of taking on her own hotel. When they'd asked whether she thought she was ready to make the step up, she'd had to say yes – of course she had. Now she was here, it was an entirely different proposition.

The girl opened the door to the Presidential Suite just by laying her hand on it and pushing forward.

"How did you do that?" Chloe asked, intrigued. "Isn't there a key card?"

"Nope!" Katie replied, a smug look on her face. "We're the first hotel in the world to use it – keyless entry. Apparently it's a Japanese technology, but it's pretty cool, right?"

"How does it work?" Chloe asked – she hadn't noticed Katie do anything at all to actually open the door.

"That's the clever bit. There are three sensors – here, here and there." She pointed each out in turn. "The camera up there takes a facial reading that is about 99.8% accurate."

"What about the other 0.2%?" Chloe asked, worried. She couldn't imagine explaining to some of her extremely wealthy clients that they were only 99.8% secure…

"There's a sensor running through the door handle that measures people's individual electric fields and another sensor overhead which takes body temperature readings. It's basically impossible to cheat all three – there's something like a one in fifty trillion chance of something going wrong."

"Great," Chloe said, relieved. "But wouldn't a key have been easier?"

Katie grinned. "You of all people must know how the kind of people who stay in a hotel like this think. It doesn't need to be practical, just exclusive."

"Fair point," Chloe agreed, walking through the door into the suite. "So, tell me about this place."

She could tell that Katie was slightly put out that she wasn't more impressed by the grandeur of the hotel room – but Chloe had seen so many hugely, unbelievably impressive presidential suites over her time working with the super-rich, it took a lot to impress her. That was precisely the thing that made her so well-suited to her job – where most people would simply be overawed, Chloe had a nose for the precise flaws that her clients would pick up on.

"It's five thousand square feet, which makes it the largest Presidential Suite in London, and the real estate alone is worth at least £15 million – though really it's priceless."

Chloe whistled – five thousand square feet was big anywhere, but particularly London, where hotel rooms were known for being
cozy
.

"It's completely resistant to nuclear, chemical and biological attack for up to twenty-four hours – and the door would take at least three hours to break down using a military grade battering ram, so customers should feel pretty safe," Katie continued, a wry smile on her face that Chloe understood well – a silent comment on the absurdity of the requirements of some of their clients. After all, in what world was it likely the police wouldn't show up if someone was using a
military grade battering ram
inside a top London hotel? And how would they even get it in?

"My clients will feel very relieved…" Chloe agreed dryly.

"The whole place is soundproofed, so guests can do more or less what they want in here without disturbing anyone else. Rumor has it when the Rolling Stones used to stay here, they turned the whole place into a nightclub."

"I'm not surprised," Chloe snorted. "I bet there are all kinds of stories…"

"Well, don't tell anyone I told you, but if you talk to some of the old hands in housekeeping, they'll tell you they were vacuuming cocaine out of the carpet for weeks…"

Chloe walked around the suite, cataloging amenities as she went. She was glad to see the designers had equipped the plush living space with all the usual must haves – a cocktail bar, an infinity-pool-style Jacuzzi on the roof terrace looking out over Mayfair and Chelsea, wireless sound system, sauna, steam room, in short – everything anyone might desire.

"Everything looks good. No one's stayed here yet, I take it?"

"No. No one."

"And our guests land in..?”

"About," Katie checked her watch, "three hours."

"Excellent. Can you sort out three cars, to be ready in about an hour and ten minutes to take me to Heathrow?"

"No problem."

"Oh, and Katie?"

"Yes?"

"Where am I staying? I want to freshen up before I go."

3

^"
I
hope you found our facilities up to scratch?" the hotel manager asked, the smile on his face suggesting that was exactly what he expected to hear.

"I did indeed. I think your guests will find the suite perfectly adequate."

"Only
adequate
, Miss Rouhani?"

"It's lovely,
Mr. Dance
," Chloe continued, copying his tone of voice, "but don't forget, my clients are amongst the world's richest men – they're used to the height of luxury…"

"My dear…" the manager began, returning to his usual blustery self.

"Chloe, please," Chloe replied, cutting him off. "What can you tell me about our first guests?"

"Of course, please do call me James," the manager replied, seeming to forget his initial train of thought. "We have the honor of welcoming Prince Tariq Al Saud to christen our Presidential Suite."

Chloe's blood ran cold. "Of
the
Al Saud family?" she whispered, face turning white with shock.

"Indeed." James smiled warmly, not having noticed her displeasure. "The Saudi Sovereign Wealth Fund was one of the first organizations to take an interest in funding our recent refurbishment, and the Prince was most excited to hear that we were finally reopening our doors."

"They paid for all this?" Chloe gestured around her, indicating the millions of dollars worth of fine furnishings, upholstery, and polished marble that surrounded them. Suddenly, her new workplace felt very different from just a few moments before – it had changed in an instant from a place that had seemed full of possibility to one that reminded her of her family's dark past.

"Most," James agreed. "Not quite all, but most. Are you all right, Chloe?" he asked, his voice suddenly concerned. "You've gone all white."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Chloe murmured, doing her best to reassert control over her emotions – she was a professional, after all – and she needed to do her job. She knew that she couldn't let anyone know why she'd just experienced that reaction.

"It's not," James ventured, "something to do with the guest is it?"

Chloe wouldn't have expected that the man standing in front of her could be quite so perspicacious, but perhaps she'd underestimated him – because he was quite correct.

"No, not at all." She smiled, forcing her voice to remain calm and level. "I should have had a better breakfast, that's all. Just blood pressure…"

"Well, if you're sure that's it?" James replied doubtfully.

"I am," Chloe replied firmly, her professional demeanor now entirely restored.

"Well, in that case, you'd best get a move on! You wouldn't want to be late…"

"No," Chloe said thoughtfully. "That simply wouldn't do,
would it
?"

She strode off to the convoy of cars waiting for her, leaving a slightly befuddled hotel manager in her wake.

4

^"
F
uck." Tariq massaged his temples and checked the screen on the other side of the room – about twenty minutes til they landed.

He stood up, walking out of his cabin into the seating area, hunting for a couple of aspirin. As he walked by, the air hostess he'd last seen draped over Omar's leg passed in the other direction with a guilty look on her face, messily holding her dress around her to stave off her nakedness.

Tariq almost let her pass without a word, but his head hurt too much and he decided that preserving her modesty was of less importance than getting hold of some painkillers.

He tapped her on her shoulder as she passed. "Could you ask one of your colleagues to send me a couple of aspirin and a Bloody Mary when you're… more composed?" he said, maintaining an entirely straight face, in spite of the fact that the girl's expression was one of complete horror that the boss had seen her in the state. She nodded furiously, then practically ran away, leaving him chuckling to himself in the corridor.