"What other languages do you speak?" I sipped on my wine, wondering if I should raise my pinky in the air. No, that was for tea; it just didn't seem fancy enough to just drink the normal way in a place like this.
"I am getting pretty good at Arabic, and I can order cervezas like a pro in Spanish. But other than that, I just know key phrases. You?"
"I know some medical Spanish, but I wouldn't say I'm even close to fluent. Will I need to know Arabic for our trip?"
Owen smiled and shook his head. "No. All these business dealings will be done in English."
I was about to ask more, but the waiter returned with two small round plates that he set in front of each of us. Six tan and white shells were presented like artwork, each in its own little hollow of the special plate and dressed in butter. It smelled fantastic.
Owen picked up a pair of tongs and a slender two pronged fork from the assortment of utensils before us. I mimicked his motions as he grasped the shell with the tongs and used the fork to pull the meat out of the shell. I hesitantly put the food in my mouth, unsure of what to expect.
It was delicious. The snail reminded me slightly of an oyster, but with an earthy taste instead of salty. The butter sauce was creamy and divine, giving the little piece of meat more flavor than I had been expecting for something so small.
"You like it?" Owen asked, dipping a piece of bread into the butter sauce.
I nodded, going for a second shell. The tongs slipped and the shell threatened to fly off the table, like the scene from Pretty Woman, but I caught it before it got too far.
"Slippery little suckers," I said, glancing around to make sure no one else had seen my scramble with the shell. Owen chuckled.
"You'll get better at it the more you eat them."
"I know we are going to Dubai, but what are we doing there? Are you sure it will be okay for me to come?" I half hoped he would tell me that I actually wasn't coming and that I didn't have to get on another plane. I half hoped that I could just rent a car and drive home, but that would mean I wouldn't be with Owen.
"Yes, I'm sure that it's fine. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise. I know you had to take time off work for this, which I appreciate, so I'm going to make sure you have a good time. As far as what we are doing there, we will be wooing a sheik."
"A sheik? Like a prince?" I sat up straighter at the table. I never thought I would meet royalty. The waiter came and whisked the empty escargot dishes away, placing a small bowl of sorbet in front of me. I looked up at Owen, confused as to why dessert was being served.
"It's a palate cleanser before the main course," he explained.
I nodded and took a taste. Sweet orange sorbet.
"So a sheik, huh?" The sorbet was gone in two bites. I hoped dinner was coming soon, because despite the escargot and now the sorbet, I was still hungry.
"Yes. Sheik al-Saffar owns a large portion of the oil fields in production currently. He is thinking of partnering with Jack's company, due in part to Jack's marketing success. My job is to convince him that, since I am the head of marketing, my team will sell his oil better than he can himself." Owen folded his hands neatly on the table in front of him as though he had just finished a business proposal. I leaned back thoughtfully in my seat.
"I have a feeling it's more complicated than that, isn't it?"
"You might have a future in this business, Kaylee," he said, a grin breaking across his face.
"Nah, I'm better suited to scrubs than suits."
The waiter returned, refilling our wine glasses and placing the main course on the table. I almost didn't want to eat it because it was so pretty. A small fillet of white fish sat perched on a bed of onion, fennel, and tomatoes with a sauce that I could only describe as heavenly. Small clams and shrimp dotted the plate, adding to the amazing sauce. I had heard the word bouillabaisse when Owen had ordered and was sure that was what the sauce was called. I could die happy if I only ate that for the rest of my life.
Owen smiled at my look of rapture as I tasted the food before he continued. "We are meeting with the sheik and his son to forge a personal relationship with them. A lot of these business deals are built more on whom you like than what you can do. Most companies can offer similar services, but what they can't do is the relationship. The sheik actually had an arrangement with one of our competitors, but he wasn't getting what he wanted, so he has come to us. We offer almost the exact same core services, but we are willing to give him that something extra he is looking for."
"So, you are the sales pitch, then. The relationship that he is looking for. He wants someone he likes to sell his oil for him."
Owen nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "You're getting it."
We sat quietly for a moment, each of us enjoying our food. Owen gave me a bite of his beef bourguignon, and I shared my fish with him. I was hungrier than I thought, because despite my best efforts, the fish was gone long before I was full.
"Earlier, you said, 'We are wooing'. Do you mean me, or the company?"
"You, actually. You will be able to help me quite a bit with this."
My forehead crinkled as I tried to figure out how I would be able to help. I was a medical professional, not a salesperson. Especially not an oil markets salesperson. Unless the sheik needed help controlling his cholesterol or fixing a broken leg, I couldn't see what use I was going to be.
Owen smiled at me, waiting for the waiter to serve the next part of our meal before answering. A small plate of different kinds of cheese sat between us, waiting to be shared. I tried them cautiously, but found their flavors were actually quite good.