She wore a long sleeved, high-necked, somber but chic black dress as she waited for him to come to her suite, in the living room, where the cameras had been set up. And she looked respectful and subdued, as was fitting. He was actually younger than she was, and she knew he had a somewhat racy reputation when he traveled, with a keen eye for young women, but she had a feeling that he would be more circumspect here, and with her.
Blaise wasn’t disappointed when she met Mohamed bin Sabur. He came to her suite in an exquisitely cut English suit, made by his tailor in London, and impeccably shined John Lobb shoes from Paris. He was dark and had jet-black hair and a mustache, and he was one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. He was thirty-five years old and looked younger, and if she had been less serious about her work, she would have been tempted to flirt with him. Instead they sparred for two hours in the interview. He was clever and amusing and had a great sense of humor. He had been schooled in England.
For the first hour he dodged most of her questions, but she had anticipated that and had saved the important ones for later, hoping to wear him down and surprise him. And she even dared to ask him about his brother, the alleged terrorist, and he laughed out loud when she asked the question.
“What an interesting reputation my brother has,” he said easily, without embarrassment. “The only one he terrorizes is me. He beat me up regularly when we were boys, quite mercilessly. And now he charms away all my women. He’s a devilishly handsome man.” He had slipped right through her question with ease.
“So are you,” Blaise said with the smile that she had been famous for since her youth in television. She was an even match for him.
“Thank you, Miss McCarthy.” She asked him several more pointed questions then, about oil in the Middle East, and his business in the United States. He answered cautiously but seemed to be sincere, to a point. He was no fool, and he told her nothing he didn’t want said on TV. He was just guarded enough, and just open enough, to make the interview fascinating to their viewers. And he was an incredibly seductive man, with an air of mystery about him. And from his playful answer, she surmised that his brother probably was exactly what was said about him, a terrorist of some kind, but she knew enough not to press the point. And she drew the interview to an elegant close. He bowed when it was over, and thanked her, and then surprised her totally by pulling a small box out of his pocket and handing her a gift. She was stunned. No interview subject had ever done that before, although a few had sent presents to her afterward, but it was rare, except when they established genuine friendships. This, she knew, was just part of his charm. She opened it while he watched her, and found a gold bangle bracelet from Cartier with small diamond studs on it. It was an extremely generous gift from a very handsome man, and she was touched and flattered.
“Thank you for a most enjoyable evening,” he said to her. “I was wondering if you would be kind enough to join me for dinner?” She hadn’t expected that either, but Blaise had always been adventuresome, and she accepted without hesitation, and he was pleased. It was nearly midnight, but they were both exhilarated by the interview and wide awake.
He took her to one of the finest restaurants in Dubai, Pierre Gagnair’s Riflets, in his Ferrari, and she felt totally at ease with him. Whatever his reputation with women, he was also very much a gentleman, and extremely sophisticated and civilized. He spent considerable time in Paris and London every month, with frequent trips to New York on business. She had fun with him. He seemed very taken with her, and she was intrigued by him. She had a strong sense that whatever she was seeing was what he wanted to show her, and who he really was remained well hidden. But what she did see was entirely likable. She wore his bracelet on her wrist all evening, and when she thanked him sincerely for both the gift and the evening, he thanked her for the interview again. She promised to send it to him on a DVD after it ran, and she hoped he’d be pleased.
“May I call you when I’m next in New York?” he asked politely, and she smiled at him.
“I’d like that very much,” she said warmly, but she was sure he never would. She wasn’t nearly racy enough for him, and it was unlikely that they’d become friends. But he had made her brief stay in Dubai a lot more fun, and she had a sense of adventure as she went back to her suite, and looked at the bracelet again. She wrote him a note of heartfelt thanks to send the next morning before she left. He had been generous and cooperative and kind, as well as interesting as a subject. Her trip to Dubai to interview him had been well worth it, and a total success, which wasn’t always the case.