The night air over the King Abdullah Financial District in Riyadh was hot, dry, and smelled faintly of burning desert dust and costly incense.
At seventy stories above the sprawling avenue of light, the penthouse observatory of the Al-Faisaliah Core looked out across an endless sea of illuminated glass towers cutting through the Arabian dark. Below us, the desert capital hummed with the quiet, high-voltage energy of a sovereign wealth empire executing its evening settlement rounds.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass panel, my black velvet trench coat open over a tailored ivory silk jumpsuit with broad, floor-sweeping legs. My dark hair was pinned into a tight, severe crown, secured with an onyx and platinum clip. In my hand, I held a crystal glass of chilled sparkling water, watching
