He found an empty spot on the banquette seating that lined the walls, one that allowed him full view of the entrance at the bottom of the stairs leading from the street to the below-ground club. If she did not arrive in fifteen minutes, he would have to contact her father. He knew he should relax and enjoy the gathering, or at least feel satisfied at his impeccable planning, but there was Arya to think of. She'd suggested that the young European prince visiting the country would appreciate the club atmosphere before the formal events that started tomorrow. In fact, the whole party had been her idea. Her hand was everywhere he looked tonight, from the dry ice smoke to the laser lights to the special cocktails. A dozen people had complimented him on the arrangements for this intimate party, not knowing that half of them had been Arya's idea. Strobe lights and smoke machines that wouldn't have been out of place in the hottest night spot in Ibiza filled the club. A famous American dance diva sang her latest number one hit on the stage, keyboards and electronic beats thundering behind her. The most beautiful women in the country gazed at him with dark eyes. After scrolling through his messages again and finding nothing to explain her absence, he dropped his BlackBerry into his vest pocket and scanned the room.
Either before eleven, or she was to text him the reason why, along with her estimated time of arrival. In future, he would make it clearer to her that she was to arrive at these events before eleven, decided His Royal Highness Javad Shirin, first in line for the throne of the republic of Ulai.