“What do you think?”

“That it’s beautiful, but a little big for my taste.”

“No dreams of being a princess?”

She laughed. “I’m not exactly princess material. I grew up dreaming of racing cars, not horses. I’d rather work on a fussy transmission than go shopping.”

“Why aren’t you racing cars? Women do.”

“I don’t have the killer competitive instinct. I like to go fast. I mean, who doesn’t? But I’m not into winning at any cost. It’s a flaw.” She pointed at an ancient Sumerian bowl and wrinkled her nose. “That’s a whole new level of ugly.”

“It’s over four thousand years old.”

“Really? That doesn’t make it any more attractive. Seriously, would you want that in your living room?”

He’d never paid much attention to the ancient piece of pottery, but now he had to admit it wasn’t to his taste.

“It’s better here, where all can enjoy it.”

“Very diplomatic. Is that your prince training?”

“You are comfortable speaking your mind.”

Maggie sighed. “I know. It gets me into trouble. I’ll try to be quiet now.”

And she was, until they reached the garage. He opened the door and led her inside. Lights came on automatically.

There were only a dozen or so vehicles in this structure. Others were housed elsewhere. Maggie walked past the staff Volvo, his Lamborghini, two Porsches, the Land Rover and Hummer to the battered Rolls-Royce Phantom III at the far end.

“Oh, man, I never thought I’d see one of these up close,” Maggie breathed.

She ran her hands along the side of the car. “Poor girl, you’re not looking your best, are you? But I can fix that.” She turned to Qadir. “The first one of these was seen in October 1935 at the London Olympia Motor Show. They brought nine Phantoms, but only one of them had an engine in it.” She turned back to the car. “She’s a V-12, zero to sixty in sixteen-point-eight seconds. That’s pretty fast for this big a car. Especially considering how quiet the engine runs.”