The Sheikh's Unruly Lover Page 3

  “Father, I’d like you to meet Kelly Gunther and Marian Frank. Kelly is the CTO of our American branch, and Marian has accompanied him to finalize the deal with National Oil. We had a problem at today’s meeting that is, as of now, completely unresolved.”

  Mr. Almasi nodded, his jowls wobbling a little. “Let’s call New York, shall we?”

  4

  Omar sank into a chair while his father dialed Mr. Thomas. Not only was this an epic deal-making failure, their call was timed for squarely in the middle of the night over there. Who liked to be woken up to bad news?

  Kelly and Marian sat stiffly in the chairs beside him. Marian craned her head as she peered around the office, clearly fascinated by her surroundings. He liked that about her—in fact, he could watch her observe the world around her for hours and probably never grow bored. Something about her called to him, made him desperate to know more.

  The phone rang several times on speaker before Thomas picked up. “Hello?”

  Omar’s father gave a curt introduction, and then Omar took over. “Sir, we apologize for the intrusion so late at night.”

  Mr. Thomas grumbled from his end of the phone.

  “There was a misunderstanding at our meeting today that resulted in National Oil being unwilling to negotiate until they receive an apology from Kelly.” He paused, looking over at Marian, who stared daggers at Kelly. “Kelly is unwilling to apologize for what he says—”

  “Bob, I made a joke,” Kelly interrupted. “These guys are so sensitive, so easily offended. They need their own safe spaces.”

  Mr. Thomas sighed. “Marian, didn’t I send you along for just this reason?”

  “Mr. Thomas, I have done everything I possibly can to reel in this arrogant and offensive prick,” Marian said. “But he is his own man, and I cannot make his decisions for him or tape his mouth shut, as much as I would like to. He made a tasteless joke about the women of Parsabad, and I can’t blame National Oil’s team for—”

  “You need to shut your dirty mouth right now,” Kelly snapped. Omar raised a palm, as though it would quiet him. Kelly barreled on regardless. “I won’t apologize to a bunch of sensitive pussies who can’t even focus on business for ten goddamn minutes.”

  “Kelly,” Mr. Thomas said from across the world, “you’re fired.”

  Kelly’s brows knit together as he sputtered in confusion. “What the hell did you say?”

  “You’re fired. You need to make your way back to America on your own dime. Now get the hell out of this business deal before you ruin everything.”

  Kelly looked between Omar and Marian before launching to his feet. “You all are a bunch of weak-willed idiots! I hope the deal fails and you all simmer in a pile of your own shit!” He wobbled out of the office. After a tense moment in the office, Omar looked at Marian to find her grinning.

  “Was that funny to you?”

  “I don’t know what I’d call it. But I know I can breathe easier now that he’s gone.”

  “Marian, will you handle the deal?” Mr. Thomas sighed wearily. “I should have sent you to do this job from the get-go.”

  “I will absolutely handle this deal to the best of my ability.” Marian smiled widely at Omar and his father.

  Omar glanced at his father, who nodded. “Yes. This seems like a positive movement forward. I believe my son will work well with Marian.” After a moment, he added, “And this will be very good for PR, for both of our divisions.”

  “Will I be the first woman to broker a mining deal in Parsabad?” Marian asked.

  “If you are, we’ll be sure to play that up,” Omar said, relaxing into his seat. She’d been right—it was easier to breathe without Kelly the nuisance in the room. But despite his own relief, he wasn’t entirely sure that having Marian at the helm would work as well as everyone thought. Beneath Kelly’s astounding crudeness, he’d had a point—many businessmen, especially in the Middle East, didn’t listen to women.

  Mr. Thomas was disconnected by default, over there in America. Omar’s father was detached from the world of present-day operations, since he left the bulk of that to his sons. And ever since Annabelle had come into the family business, it seemed he’d turned over a new egalitarian leaf. And while that was commendable, it didn’t make Omar’s job any easier.

  Because Omar still had to deal with all the chauvinistic men who populated the business world. Marian had to know too, just from working with Kelly alone. But if she were a man, their brokering might work a little better.

  But if she were a man, you wouldn’t be nearly as drawn to her.

  A shiver coursed through him, and he forced his gaze off her wild curls. He wanted to drag his fingers through her hair, to catch the sweet scent of her shampoo. He’d been dying to grab a handful of her curves since laying eyes on her, but it still felt wrong. Both because of business and because of his late wife.

  The group hung up the call with Mr. Thomas, and Omar’s father clasped his hands. “I expect you’ll contact National Oil to arrange a new meeting.”

  “Immediately.” Omar stood, re-buttoning his suit coat, and waited for Marian to stand as well. In the hallway, she turned to him, those honey-chocolate eyes making his belly do a nosedive.

  “Omar, I know you don’t know much about me, but I’m a killer worker,” she said, sounding rushed. “I do my research, and I live and breathe my job. So when I interrupted in the meeting today, I wasn’t ‘being a woman.’” She made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers. “I was bringing up a valid point—those machines they want to provide to us are useless. I’ll show you the research. I think they’re offering this as a way to either give us a bad deal or to make us turn away entirely.”

  Omar clenched his jaw, weighing her words heavily. How to delicately explain the rules of the game? “I see your point. And I’m glad you said something. Except—”

  A happy exclamation echoed through the hallway. Annabelle hurried toward Marian, her arms outstretched, her face lit up with a contagious smile.

  “It’s you!” Marian shrieked and ran into her friend’s arms. “I can’t believe it’s you, you freaking Persian Princess!”

  Annabelle laughed as they hugged. Omar relished the familiar energy between the women, felt it seep into him, warming him through. He hadn’t felt that sort of connection in a long time. And he liked being at Marian’s side, having that energy in his proximity.

  “Omar, how is this vixen treating you?” Annabelle punched his shoulder jokingly, then pulled him in for a hug. “She’s smart as a whip. Though I’m sure you’ve already seen that.”

  “Yes, actually.” Omar smiled at Annabelle, shoving his hands in his pockets. “She’s been responsible for one firing so far, as well.”

  Annabelle gasped. “He’s finally gone?”

  The two friends chattered happily for a few moments, which Omar observed as if doing a sociological study. Not just because they were old friends, but because he wanted to learn more about Marian. He was fascinated by her quirks, the smirk that preceded certain quips, the way she brushed back her hair with a flick of her wrist, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes that told him there was a whole different layer to her he had yet to explore.

  Why are you so fascinating? He looked away, as though to train his mind to ignore her. Marian was linked to his wife—maybe irrationally so—and for better or worse, he had to ignore the former because of the latter. There was no other way.

  The women wrapped up their conversation once Annabelle checked the time. “I’m on my way to a meeting right now,” she said, squeezing the sides of Marian’s arms. “I’ll text you about meeting up later. Love you, girl.”

  They hugged again, and once Annabelle trotted down the hall, Marian turned to him with an ear-to-ear grin.

  “I had no idea you two were so close,” he mused, pointing down the hallway. He led the way to his office, which was just around the corner. Her being close to Annabelle was…a relief. Somehow. Or at least exciting. There was something b
uried deep within that relationship that comforted him, made him distantly curious to see how things with Marian might develop.

  “Oh, yes. We’re sisters, without the blood.” Marian snorted as he led her into his office. It was a corner office, significantly smaller than his father’s but well-lit and airy. “And you’re Imaad’s brother…so I guess that makes us in-laws, somehow.”

  Omar laughed a little, sitting in front of his desk. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “So, what about you, Omar? We haven’t gotten a chance to really get to know each other. I mean, I should know something about you, since we’re working together now.” She cocked a winning grin, propping her hands against the back of the chair facing his desk.

  “Well, there’s not much to know, really.” He leaned back in the chair, trying to affect a relaxed air, even though this probing turn of conversation made him nervous.

  “Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”

  “Imaad and Zahir. That’s it.”

  “The three heirs.” Marian grinned, flicking her hair back from her face. “What about family? Kids?”

  “None of those,” he said, forcing a little laugh. Please don’t ask anything more.

  “Married?”

  He swore there was a lilt in her voice as she asked it, which both uplifted and devastated him.

  “Uh…yes.” When he noticed she looked a little crushed, he added, “I was. My wife, uh…she passed away two years ago.”

  Silence filled the room, and Marian’s face fell. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t mean…” She nibbled on her bottom lip, shaking her head, ringlets swaying. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Omar tapped his fingers on his desk, crippled with indecision. Here it was—the elephant in his head. Impossible to avoid now. And maybe this was his cue to draw the line in the sand. Now.

  “Well, I’m going to get to work on setting up another meeting with this company,” Omar said, reaching for some files on his desk.

  “Great,” Marian said quickly. “I’ll draft a presentation, one that will address today’s horrible outcome and then how to move forward from here.”

  Omar nodded, avoiding her gaze. “Excellent. Let’s meet tomorrow.”

  Marian nodded and let herself out of his office, leaving a wake of confusion behind her. He stared at the door for a long time, combatting the “Wait” dangling on his lips.

  5

  After an invigorating lunch with Annabelle and a productive afternoon of business planning, Marian was ready for one more self-esteem boost.

  She dressed carefully in her hotel suite while on speaker phone with Layla, a friend from NYC.

  “You should wear the red one,” Layla said, even though she couldn’t see the options being considered.

  “Yeah, but that might scream something I don’t want to scream in this male-dominated society,” Marian said, nibbling her lip as she looked at the three dresses lying on her bed. “All I want is to look sexy for myself and have a relaxing, exploratory night out in Minarak.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need a sexy Almasi brother on your arm?”

  Marian’s stomach plummeted to her feet. “Ugh. I didn’t tell you.” She relayed the awkward encounter earlier that day in Omar’s office. “That’s what I get for being forward with a business associate.”

  “You weren’t forward, you were just curious.”

  “Yes, I know, but my intentions were forward,” Marian said, snatching up the black dress. This one would do. Just the right amount of cleavage and curves.

  “He can’t know that,” Layla pointed out.

  “That’s true. But I feel like he did.” She sighed, shimmying out of her work clothes. “He’s just so hot. Annabelle told me her husband was sexy, but she failed to mention how gorgeous his brother is.”

  “Once you’re married you can’t say stuff like that,” Layla said.

  “Bullshit. Annabelle and I don’t work like that.” Marian laughed as the dress settled softly over her body. She tugged it into place, admiring the tops of her breasts peeking out from the off-shoulder neckline. “If a dude is hot, he’s hot. Which reminds me, you need to come work for this company.”

  Layla sighed. She worked for a journalism firm as a researcher. “You’re always trying to recruit me.”

  “I know. But especially now.” Marian flitted over to the bathroom mirror to touch up her makeup, making her eyeliner a little darker. She set the phone down next to the sink. “We need more women in this world. Today’s failure made me realize just how badly we still need to break the glass ceiling.”

  “I’m just not quite ready to leave my current job,” Layla said. “I think I might be getting a raise soon.”

  “You’ve been saying that for a year,” Marian retorted. “If they offer you a raise, let me know the amount, and I’ll make sure we beat it.”

  Layla laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “This company is like a family. It is a family. Well, two families.” She tried to still her blinking as she traced the bottom curve of her eye. “So it’s kind of like My Big Fat Greek Wedding, except with Parsabad. And in one of the families, you have to fight tooth and nail for everything.”

  “Not all families are like that,” Layla said.

  “Well, fine. But my point is, this is a good place to work. And sometimes there are perks, like rampant victory over assholes, and gorgeous, dark, Parsian eye candy.”

  “Will you sleep with him?”

  “I would need his permission first, but yes.” Marian blinked through an application of mascara. “Okay. I’m heading out for my little tourist night.”

  “I can’t believe it’s dinner time there. I just woke up. I’ll talk to you later, girl.”

  The friends hung up, and Marian gathered her purse before slipping her feet into the pair of peep-toe shoes she’d brought. She didn’t travel anywhere, near or far, without at least a few different sexy-night-out options. It was part of her self-care routine, something she started years ago when she realized most men were either way below her standards or way too intimidated by her. It made the dating pool laughably small, and so the best bet was to simply date herself.

  Marian took the elevator downstairs and strutted out into the lobby confidently. This was amazing already. Eyes gravitated toward her, and she absorbed it all, relishing the attention. Especially after a painstaking morning of being ignored, overlooked, and undervalued.

  As she passed the reception desk, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood out to her. She blinked, sizing him up from behind. A pale blue linen shirt, dark gray slacks. Thick, dark hair swept back from his face, so luscious she wanted to run her hands through it. Is that Omar? Marian slowed and stared at him, willing him to turn around.

  Omar turned a moment later, his nervous gaze landing immediately on her. She lifted her brows and clicked her way toward him.

  “Hey there!” She smiled brightly. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached her.

  “Hi, Marian.” A grin flickered on his face but failed to light.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Omar paused, avoiding her gaze. “Well…”

  Suddenly his nervousness clicked into place. He didn’t want to be caught here—but why?

  “I wanted to double check that Kelly had left.” Omar cleared his throat, jingling some change in his pockets. “So he wouldn’t cause any issues for you. I mean, the company.”

  Marian nodded. “Very thoughtful of you. I was just on my way to dinner,” she said, gesturing toward the front door. “Would you like to join me?”

  Omar’s gaze raked up and down her body, and she swore she heard him sigh. “Yes. That sounds…” He paused, something unknown crossing his face. “I actually should get home. I forgot I have to—”

  “Oh, come on.” She grabbed at his wrist, leading him toward the sliding front doors. Whatever his hesitation was, she’d cure him of it. “Let’s go grab a bite to eat. I’m new to this city,
and I need a guide. You did volunteer last night.”

  This seemed to ease his doubts, because he complied with her tug instead of resisting. “I’ll call my driver.”

  “No. I want an authentic experience.” She led him toward the sidewalk, her hand slipping into his. Heat flooded her like an electric shock, and she glanced back at him with surprise. Confusion shone on his face, and she squeezed his hand, pulling him faster. “Show me how to hail a cab in Minarak.”

  On the sidewalk, cars meandered past the hotel, a few obvious taxis approaching. Something about Omar felt new right now. Nothing like the level-headed, confident businessman she’d interacted with thus far. This man was cautious, as if he’d just arrived at a party where he knew no one.

  Omar paused, appraising her heavily. Oh God. He’s going to back out. He’s going to run away.

  Marian deflated a little, but Omar raised his arm and waved it vigorously in the air. “This is how you do it. Just quickly. Several should stop.”

  As if on cue, three taxis pulled over to the side of the road, and Omar smiled at her. This time it felt genuine.

  “Well, thank you for that. I would have done it much more aggressively, based on my experience as a New Yorker.” She picked the first taxi that approached and slid into the backseat. “Now how do I say, ‘Take me to the fanciest restaurant in the fanciest district’?”

  Omar laughed a little and leaned forward, instructing the taxi driver in Farsi. She caught a whiff of his cologne as he settled back into the seat.

  “That’s a bit too much for the first lesson,” Omar said. “How about we just start simple?” He pronounced the word for restaurant, which he repeated a few times while she stumbled over it lamely.

  “Yeah, that works,” she said finally, happy that he’d decided to accompany her. Something felt natural with him, as if she were reconnecting with a long-lost friend. Even though it made no sense, and she had no basis for it...it was there.