Enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling, projecting arches over gorges adorned with diamonds. The smiles were sharp and delicate.
Everyone knew why he was there.
Amira descended the main staircase wearing a modern light blue silk cafta, embroidered with silver. Elegant. Sober. An armor.
At the foot of the stairs, the three Alsaba brothers were waiting for her, as if they were pieces of a display case.
Khalil, the eldest, was the first. Exaggeratedly handsome, with a beard trimmed with geometric precision and teeth that were too white.
He took Amira’s hand and kissed the air above her hips, impregnated with musk and vapor.
—Amira… your face turns pale when you appear —he said in a heavy voice for the cameras.
Meanwhile, his eyes searched for the prey. He searched for flashes. He searched for angles. He searched for the spectacle.
—I’ve already ordered the presidency to be ready. Combined with our capital… we could buy that archipelago in Greece that you mentioned in that interview. We’d be the golden couple on magazine covers.
Amira felt her stomach churn.
