Romance: Bad Boss: Billionaire Romance Boxed Set by Stephanie Lex Page A
Authors: Stephanie Lex
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his first day in Vegas. He decided he was going to the Strip that night, play a few games at a casino, maybe meet a few women. He showered and changed into a suit and rolled up to the Vegas Strip in his new car.
He first stopped at a popular casino and when he entered, people stopped what they were doing and stared. Ali carried himself so confidently around the casino, and his striking features caught the attention of many.
He could see out of the corner of his eye, as women would whisper together about him, watching him until he was completely out of their sight.
He first stopped at the bar and sat down. It was crowded with all types of people, older and younger and wealthy and poor. The poor bartender, a young woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, was bustling around trying to keep up with all of the drink orders. It seemed to be a busy night.
The Sheikh tried waiting patiently, however, waiting was not something he was good at. Ali was so used to being served privately and immediately, that he whistled at the bartender to grab her attention as his patience grew thin.
“Miss! You’ve forgotten me!” he called.
She came up to him with two drinks in her hand for other customers, beads of sweat on her forehead. Her eye makeup was beginning to run slightly.
“I haven’t forgotten you, I promise. I just have other people to take care of.”
Ali slammed his fist on the bar. “Do you know who I am?”
She shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t. Tonight, you are a customer like everyone else.”
The young bartender turned away to serve the drinks in her hands, and this angered Ali. He followed her across the bar until he was standing in from of her again, and he waved to get her attention.
“Miss, I need a Johnnie Walker Blue. Now.”
She sighed and realized she needed to tend to this man if she wanted a decent tip. She reached for the bottle and poured him a generous portion. As she handed him the drink, he handed her a one-hundred-dollar bill and told her to keep it all. Her eyes widened.
As the young woman stared at her tip, she realized it was time to turn on the charm and be nice to this man. Chat him up. Make him order more drinks. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her polo and leaned forward toward the Sheikh.
“So, what brings you here?” she asked him with a pouty grin in her face.
Ali took a sip of his scotch, letting the fiery drink coat his tongue before taking another sip.
“My business brought me here. I am from Dubai, my name is Sheikh Ali bin Malik Al Mubarak, I’m sure you’ve heard of me and my brothers.”
The bartender shook her head.
“Do you live in a box, American woman? How have you never heard of me or my family?”
She stood straight up and raised an eyebrow at Ali.
“I am just as American as you are, Mister Sheikh Ali. My name is Mei Frigg Jonsdottir. Can you guess where I’m from?”
Ali squinted his eyes at the girl.
“From your beautiful face, I would say you are from China. But that accent, it’s from somewhere else. Where are you from, Mei?”
She smiled coyly.
“My mother is from China. My father, and then myself, we are from Iceland. I am just as American as you are.”
He slammed his drink on the bar, scotch droplets flying, and he laughed.
“I have been in the country all of one day! You certainly are more American than I am!”
Mei rolled her eyes. “Finish your drink, sir. I think you need another one soon.”
Ali spent several hours at the bar, talking with Mei and ordering drinks, never once stepping away to play at a table or a slot machine.
Mei ran back and forth between customers, taking tips and smiling and casually chatting with the drunk tourists. Ali watched her closely, his own head becoming fuzzy with alcohol.
“American woman, come pour me another,” he called.
“I told you, I’m not an American woman,” she
He first stopped at a popular casino and when he entered, people stopped what they were doing and stared. Ali carried himself so confidently around the casino, and his striking features caught the attention of many.
He could see out of the corner of his eye, as women would whisper together about him, watching him until he was completely out of their sight.
He first stopped at the bar and sat down. It was crowded with all types of people, older and younger and wealthy and poor. The poor bartender, a young woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, was bustling around trying to keep up with all of the drink orders. It seemed to be a busy night.
The Sheikh tried waiting patiently, however, waiting was not something he was good at. Ali was so used to being served privately and immediately, that he whistled at the bartender to grab her attention as his patience grew thin.
“Miss! You’ve forgotten me!” he called.
She came up to him with two drinks in her hand for other customers, beads of sweat on her forehead. Her eye makeup was beginning to run slightly.
“I haven’t forgotten you, I promise. I just have other people to take care of.”
Ali slammed his fist on the bar. “Do you know who I am?”
She shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t. Tonight, you are a customer like everyone else.”
The young bartender turned away to serve the drinks in her hands, and this angered Ali. He followed her across the bar until he was standing in from of her again, and he waved to get her attention.
“Miss, I need a Johnnie Walker Blue. Now.”
She sighed and realized she needed to tend to this man if she wanted a decent tip. She reached for the bottle and poured him a generous portion. As she handed him the drink, he handed her a one-hundred-dollar bill and told her to keep it all. Her eyes widened.
As the young woman stared at her tip, she realized it was time to turn on the charm and be nice to this man. Chat him up. Make him order more drinks. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her polo and leaned forward toward the Sheikh.
“So, what brings you here?” she asked him with a pouty grin in her face.
Ali took a sip of his scotch, letting the fiery drink coat his tongue before taking another sip.
“My business brought me here. I am from Dubai, my name is Sheikh Ali bin Malik Al Mubarak, I’m sure you’ve heard of me and my brothers.”
The bartender shook her head.
“Do you live in a box, American woman? How have you never heard of me or my family?”
She stood straight up and raised an eyebrow at Ali.
“I am just as American as you are, Mister Sheikh Ali. My name is Mei Frigg Jonsdottir. Can you guess where I’m from?”
Ali squinted his eyes at the girl.
“From your beautiful face, I would say you are from China. But that accent, it’s from somewhere else. Where are you from, Mei?”
She smiled coyly.
“My mother is from China. My father, and then myself, we are from Iceland. I am just as American as you are.”
He slammed his drink on the bar, scotch droplets flying, and he laughed.
“I have been in the country all of one day! You certainly are more American than I am!”
Mei rolled her eyes. “Finish your drink, sir. I think you need another one soon.”
Ali spent several hours at the bar, talking with Mei and ordering drinks, never once stepping away to play at a table or a slot machine.
Mei ran back and forth between customers, taking tips and smiling and casually chatting with the drunk tourists. Ali watched her closely, his own head becoming fuzzy with alcohol.
“American woman, come pour me another,” he called.
“I told you, I’m not an American woman,” she
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