Spinning scandal is what Sahr Youssef does best. When Zain Hashemi's father hires her to fix his playboy son's image, that's all he's supposed to be: another troubled client. That is, until the friction between them shifts - into chemistry.
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Name: Aqeel Hashemi
Age: 55
Occupation: Founder and CEO of Hashemi Industries
Current place of residence: Manhattan, New York.
Sahr read over the rest of the page quickly one more time before putting the file away. She checked the time on her phone. Five more minutes till Mr Hashemi would arrive.
She'd spent the past hour and a half reading over Anne's notes, and had added a few of her own. She'd tried to do more research, but even her efforts has turned up little else. Mr Hashemi was the founder and CEO of Hashemi Industries, which had started out as an import/export company, and then expanded into real estate, technology, and travel. He lived in Manhattan, and he was 55 years old. And she'd only been able to uncover that last piece of information through a Fortune list. He was a good businessman, but she knew little else. Evidently Mr Hashemi liked to stay out of the spotlight.
Sahr's eyes wandered over her office walls, all decorated with an assortment of framed newspaper clippings, magazine articles, and a few covers. Each of them featuring various A list celebrities and socialites. They were her clientele. Men and women who were constantly in the spotlight. No reclusive businessmen on the list. So why would a man like Mr Hashemi want her services?
She checked her phone again. Four more minutes, and then she'd find out.
*****
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Unnghhh." Zain groaned as the pounding in his head continued.
"More coffee beta?" his dad said glancing up from the newspaper he was reading.
"Noooo." Zain groaned out. "Nooo cofffeee. But do you think...do you think you could make the sun go away for a while? My eyes are killing me."
"Of course." his dad replied. He pressed the button for the limo's intercom. "Ahmed, open the sunroof please. I think my son needs help waking up."
"Aaaaahhh!!!" Zain yelled as the sunroof retracted and light came pouring in. "Baba what the hell?!?"
Aqeel Hashemi chuckled as he watched his son desperately try to shield himself from the sunlight.
"That's what you get for being drunk." he quipped.
"First off, I'm not drunk, I'm hungover. Second, since when did you start caring about what state I'm in? Why'd you pull me out of the hotel this morning?"
"Dragged is more like it." Aqeel replied. "And if you'd been listening to me instead of throwing up, you would've heard about our plans."
"And what would those plans be?"
"We've got a meeting with Sahr Youssef. She's going to fix you up."
*****
Time is money, Benjamin Franklin.
That was the phrase that kept repeating itself over and over again in Sahr's head as she watched the minute hand tick by on the clock that hung on the back wall of her office.
Tick, tick. Tick, tick.
Time is money. And when you charged as much as she did, time really was money. Sahr could practically see all the billables she was losing waiting for this meeting to begin. Aqeel Hashemi was fifteen minutes late. She glanced at her phone. One more minute, and then she'd have Anne cancel and get on with the rest of her day.
She was forty-five seconds away from calling her assistant when the intercom on her desk buzzed.
"Miss Youssef, Mr Hashemi is here in the lobby. Shall I send him in?" Anne asked.
A small part of her wanted to say no, don't let him in.He's late and he shouldn't get this meeting. But Sahr Youssef was no fool, and only a fool would throw a fit instead of taking a meeting, even if her client was a little late.
So she cleared her throat and replied. "Yes Anne, send him in."
A few seconds later she heard a knock on her door before it opened, and Anne walked in, followed by an older gentlemen.
"Mr Hashemi, Miss Youssef." Anne said introducing the man.
"Miss Youssef," he said, shaking her hand "a pleasure to meet you."
"A pleasure to meet you as well." Sahr replied. "Please, have a seat." she said, gesturing to the sofas in her office. "Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?"
"I don't suppose you have chai, do you?" Mr Hashemi asked.
Sahr laughed. "As a matter of fact we do. Anne two cups of chai please."
"Of course." Anne said stepping out.
"So Mr Hashemi, what can I do for you?" Sahr asked.
Mr Hashemi looked like he was unsure of where to start. "My son," he said "he needs your help."
"Your son?"
"Yes. He's here with me today actually. He's just using your uh, facilities. He's not feeling well. That's why we were late."
There was a knock on the door before Sahr could reply.
"Miss Youssef the chai." Anne said holding a tray. "And there's a younger Mr Hashemi waiting to be let in."
"Let him in." Sahr said. "And ask him if he'd like anything to drink."
The door opened a little wider as a young man walked in. Sahr stood to greet him, but almost froze halfway. The friendly expression he's been sporting changed to shock when he saw her.
