The Billionaire Sheikh Ch. 01

Someone here on Literotica mailed me and asked if I could write about a billionaire. Other said the liked my Sheikh stories. Someone else reviewed my earlier stories and claimed they were degrading and using the F-word way too much. So this time I want to try to write an old fashioned romance story with no sexscenes (at least not in the beginning) but what still will have you ladies (and maybe gentlemen) dreaming hot dreams.

Feel free to comment, to suggest improvements or to point out factual errors. Or to suggest a storytwist. Bear with me that English is not my mother language. The setting of the story will be the fictious oil emirate Al Dahaab, famous for its golden beaches (hence the name Gold)

*****

She had a splitting headache. Her eyes were burning.

Lisa was rubbing her index- and middle fingers in circles over her temples. Well at least she got the job done. The sun was slowly rising above the highrises in the business district of al Dahaab. The azure waters of the Gulf invisible from their 15Th floor. The files were stacked in neat piles and she had compiled a document with all the cases they were handling for Khalid Enterprises, the Al Dahaab University, Nour Oil and smaller local clients.

Khalid Enterprises was a major client for her firm Baker De Groot, consultants and tax advisors. PDG most people called it. PDG had been handling the visa cases for the shipping moghul Khalid Enterprises, owned by a younger brother of the Emir of Al Dahaab, for years. Sheikh Khalid was rumoured to be quite the demanding business man.

Until recently their business with Khalid Enterprises had run smoothly.

Lisa's department in Amsterdam had been taking care of all the visa requests by their clients from AL Dahaab and the rest of the Gulf for the Shengen Area, the largest part of Western Europe and part of the European Union. But with the United Kingdom leaving the EU, Brexit, many international companies were planning to leave London and settle in Amsterdam or Berlin. That also applied for the companies from Al Dahaab, a small but very rich oil Emirate bordering Saudi Arabia. The workload on residence permits and visa applications had tripled in a few months' time.

Mr Patel the stocky Indian expat who was station chief in Al Dahaab, had suggested to Lisa's bosses to manage the immigration clients from Al Dahaab by the local branch of PDG from that moment onwards instead of out of the main office in Amsterdam. Quite a sound idea. Lisa had agreed with him. It would be easier to create a strong relationship with clients when you could meet in the office over tea or coffee instead of over the email or by a conference call. Locals would also be more cultural sensitive.

Three days ago mr Patel had called Lisa. His voice was shaking. In a panicky way he had explained that PDG was in deep shit. His cousin, Joe Patel, had been handling the visa cases in Al Dahaab. The man had read law in Oxford and mr Patel had trusted his nephew to be able to handle the applications. Patel jr was all confidence and showed great papers with academic qualifications and traineeships. He had been on the job for two months.

But then a letter had been hand delivered to PDG just before mr Patel had started his weekend of binge-watching Netflix. A letter coming from the top floors of their high-rise office tower. A letter from Sheikh Khalid, owner of Khalid Enterprises. It was a harsh letter. His company had seen all its visa applications denied all of a sudden and according to the sheikh Patel jr was an incompetent fool who had ignored all emails. PDG was given till the first day after the weekend to clear up the mess but otherwise Khalid Enterprises would take its business and go elsewhere and press for damages. The only reason the Sheikh did not do that straight away was, according to the letter, the excellent service PDG had provided for years.

When hearing about the letter Patel junior had headed straight back to India and Patel Senior had looked in despair at a pile of unanswered letters and a chaotic office with files everywhere. It was obvious junior could do the talk but had been utterly worthless as an employee. The old man blamed himself. If he had not been his uncle he might have checked his work earlier.

Mr Patel had begged Lisa for help. Could she come? Could she find a solution? Would she be a dear and go to that meeting with the Sheikh, the one he had summoned them to attend?

Lisa had packed her things and taken the first flight to the Emirates. And so she had ended up in a small Gulfstate bordering the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia. An emirate with loads of money and very strict rules of behaviour. No drinking, no bars. Lots of expats but all you could do was work and work and sleep.

Now after a weekend of relentless working and sleeping five hours a night at least she had been able to sort things out. Some cases could be solved by launching an appeal, others by applying for a new visa all over again, a few could be saved by sending in more information and some however were lost causes. Those two professors would never make it to the oncology conference in Paris, the wife of the owner of the oil company would have to miss her cousin's wedding and the Sheikh's men would not be able to travel to Amsterdam for business. Time was simply lacking to arrange that.

"Lisa", mr Patel said, walking in her small office. "Are we able to somehow manage this crisis?" His secretary followed him in and handed him and Lisa a cup with steaming Arabian coffee and a platter with sweet honey pastry.

She felt a stone in her stomach. She was so nervous and tired. What if they would loose this client? The guy probably had all kind of connections not only in the Gulf but also worldwide. Lisa was the head of her department age 26 but PDG's topmanagement was ruthless. A worldwide American- European consultancy firm, they did not care that much for an again station chief in a Gulf state or a paralegal in Europe. Even if the station chief had a 20 year career with them or the paralegal was running her own visa department with five others working there for her.

"We have to make it work mr Patel."

"I compiled a list with cases and solutions. We will offer all damage control for free."

"Tell the sheikh you have been handling his cases for eight years. That you are back. That he can trust you."

"I hope so. I have been googling the man. He is very successful it seems and demands that of the people he works with as well. Unlike those Arab princes this guy seems to be all about work and business. Only gossip columns I found are years old. I never directly dealt with him before. I have no idea what kind of a person he is."

She looked at her watch. "I better go."

She grabbed a scarf and walked to the bathroom. Her long dress would not offend any local and with her honeycoloured curls in a tight braid tucked in a bun at her nape and covered by the scarf, she felt sure she looked professional Arab-style.

The elevator pinged and she pressed the button for the 28th floor. A bead of sweat travelled down between her breasts. Her breathing was high in her chest. She glanced in the mirrored walls. Huge blue eyes, a flush colouring her cheeks slightly pink but due to lack of sleep she looked deadly pale with dark rims under her eyes, some curls escaping the headscarf. A young woman. Tall for this part of the world. A bit too curvy for her own part of the world. Paralegal. Someone about to advise a sheikh, a prince, the brother well half-brother of a king, a man who owned billions. Why for heaven's sake did she have the feeling she had to go to the toilet? She had just been there. Get a grip. You nervous foul. You can do this.

The elevator pinged. The door opened. She walked into the office of Khalid Enterprises. A young man in the white robe of the region, the thobe, his head covered by a red and white checkered triangular scarf kept in pace with a black agal, was sitting at a reception desk.

"I am Lisa van der Woude. I am here to see Sheikh Khalid."

"Just a moment miss."

The young man phoned and said something in Arabic.

Just a minute after finishing his call an older gentleman walked into the reception area. He wore the same crisps clean flowing robe. Grey beard stubble accentuated a lined face and disapproving eyes.

"Come follow me."

That could not be the sheikh. Too old.

She walked behind the man into a huge corner office. The waters of the Gulf were the backdrop for the figure sitting behind a huge desk.

"The person from PDG my Sheikh."

Piercing eyes above a short black beard burned into her soul. The first thing she thought was how this man looked like the crown prince of Saudi. The man looked tall even while sitting down and oh gosh he was gorgeous.

She stopped herself short of offering her hand. Traditional Muslim men would not want to shake the hand of a woman who was not family.

"Lisa Van der Woude. It means "Of the forest" sir. You asked PDG to report on the problems regarding the visa procedures."

The old man standing to the left hissed: "You should address the Sheikh as Your Highness or My Sheikh. Not call him sir, woman."

"They sent me a girl?" a deep voice grumbled. "They make a mess out of things and when I want a competent man to made the problems go away, the firm that bills me 800 dollar an hour sends me a pretty girl!"

Oh that started well!

"Sir eh Your highness Sheikh, PDG is sorry for all the inconveniences caused. We tried to repair and did the best we could."

The dark eyes were focussed on her face and she really really needed to pee now. Her knees seemed to shake all on their own account.

"We made your company our priority and sent the head of the department to evaluate your situation over the weekend. I prepared a list of all the applications by Khalid Enterprises and I am convinced all will get a positive results apart from one."

"If they sent the head of the department, miss Forest," the sheikh said, "Why is he not here and sent us a girl to talk with? Do they think I would be more lenient towards a pretty face?"

'Sir eh"

"Your highness, " hissed the old man.

"She can say sir. Miss Forest answer me please", the sheikh said, rising from his desk. Her eyes focussed on his tall body, the wide robes hiding much but not his broad shoulders and flat belly.

It was obvious he was almost done with the whole conversation.

"I am the head of the department sir. I have been handling and supervising your cases for the last 8 years."

"How is that possible? You are a young girl."

"I am 26 sir. I am a lawstudent who has to work to be able to take financially care for my grandmother. My grandfather died. I do her shopping..."

"The sheikh is not interested in that woman," hissed the old man again. Oh Gosh now she was rambling. Her nerves were catching up on her.

The dark god in front of her held up his hand to motion the man to be silent.

"Continue."

"I have been on your cases for the last 8 years. We at PDG thought that handling your cases locally would be a big advantage for our clients here in the Gulf and Saudi. PDG is working endlessly to repair all damages. I made a list sir with all your cases. And the best solution for each. Here."

She held out her hand with the file in it.

A large hand with sunkissed fingers pointed to his desk.

She stepped towards it and placed the folder open on it. Keeping one copy for herself.

"As you can see sir. Most can be repaired. PDG will pay for all extra costs. We are very sorry for the inconvenience sir."

He sat down again and picked up the folder. She noticed he had long lashes rimming those dark piercing eyes. A long thin nose with that curving tip common in the region, a full mouth. She wondered how his beard would feel. Like stubbles or soft like she felt between her legs. He smelled good.

"There is one problem. Three gentleman applied for a visa to visit Amsterdam coming from London. It is scheduled in three days. I cannot arrange things in such short notice I am afraid."

"They are supposed to check out a new headquarter for us on the continent with that Brexit stuff going on. This is quite annoying miss Forest."

"Van der Woude sir. Yes I am so sorry. Can maybe someone step in who has a diplomatic passport? They do not need a visa to travel."

"Thank you miss Forest. You can go. Please follow mr Yasser." He motioned with his hand, dismissing her without giving her an extra glance. It was obvious he was very angry and annoyed. To be honest he was right with that. That upstart of a Patel Junior had created such a mess.

Lisa followed the old man out and was escorted back to the elevator.

At the end of the afternoon Lisa was immerged in a case, a nice cup of Earl Grey Tea within reach. Somewhere in the background she heard the ping of the elevator and voices. Steps approached her desk and when she looked up the first thing she saw was a white thobe covered by the more formal long black cape with the thin gold stripe.

"Miss Forest."

She had the feeling her jaw dropped and her breath stalled. In front of her stood Sheikh Khalid in person. In his formal wear he looked uttermost impressive. And immensely tall. Handsome. Beautiful was the word.

She tried to rise from her chair but a hand motioned to stay seated.

"I looked over your proposal miss Forest. You did a good job over the weekend. I am impressed."

He handed her the file she had given him. There was another letter on top of it.

"I made some changes. But all in all it looks good. Please continue. ... Oh and the other stuff was delivered to our office this afternoon. It seems a women spa opened up in the building and they offer a free chair massage whatever that may be. We have no women working in my firm so their marketing is not up to speed but I was thinking you might enjoy it after the hard work you have done."

What?! Was he now complimenting her? She tried go find her voice.

"Ehh... thank you sir... "

He nodded to her and turned to leave.

"Did you manage to find someone to check out the offices? The Amsterdam trip?"

Oh gosh why was she blabbing again. He would not want her to put her nose in.

The dark eyes roamed over her. She felt herself blush and look embarrassed.

"Well Miss Forest as you know perfectly well and have showed by coming here when the lower ranks would not do, the higher ones have to step in. I am going myself. I have a diplomatic passport because I am royalty even when it is just a minor junior half-brother."

He started to walk away but turned again in the doorway. Hesitating for a moment.

"I am taking my jet. We leave at 8 pm sharp. If you want to, bring your files so you have enough to work on during the trip and your boss can see billable hours that I have to pay. But then you can spend all day tomorrow doing that shopping for your grandmother you spoke of. Give me your phone so I can put my number in so you can call when you are on the airport and my man Omar can come and get you."

Dazed she reached for her purse and handled him her mobile phone. One minute later he gave it back, bowed his head again and walked out.

She was staring at his receding back for minutes. Two very fit man falling in with him. Bodyguards?

What?? Had she saved PDG's account? Had he just now invited her a seat on his jet? Had he been thinking of her when the deliveryboy brought him a welcome package for a spa? Had he remembered she was taking care for his old grandma?

She picked up her phone with a slightly trembling hand. An outgoing call had made two minutes ago to a number listed in her contacts as Sheikh Khalid bin Salman al Dahaab.