The Sheikh's Pregnant Fling (Azhar Sheikhs Book 2) Read online

  The car slowed near a trendy patio trimmed with wrought iron and paper lanterns. The café name matched their destination. “Here we are. Let’s go.”

  He pushed the car door open and stepped out, holding the door for his mother. She lowered her sunglasses, sniffing. “Shall we?”

  He gestured for her to lead the way and followed her inside the brick building. Notes of hazelnut and coffee blasted him as they stepped inside; soft jazz meandered through the mostly open floor plan of the café. A cash register sat next to a long display case of baked goods, but tables and chairs took up the rest of the space.

  “Who are we looking for?” Nasir smoothed down the front of his shirt, anxiety licking through him.

  “Laura was the original one,” Safiya said, pushing her sunglasses back on her head. “But I got an e-mail last minute that Laura couldn’t be here, so her colleague is meeting us.” Safiya’s hawkish eyes scanned the room. “Her name is Cassandra; she’s a blonde lady. She said she’d find us.”

  The name sizzled through him like a lightning strike, and hope sparked inside his chest. Could it be? But no—that was just his hopefulness again. Ruining his life on a daily basis.

  His gaze swung around the room until he saw her: the blonde heading straight toward them, glossy hair pulled back into a smart bun, black pencil skirt hugging curves he’d known for only a night.

  Her face bore confusion and forced friendliness. Nasir felt rooted to his spot, voice sticking to his throat as he struggled to find one single emotion to settle on among the tumult within.

  Cassandra came to a stop in front of them, hands clasped together. “You must be Nasir and Safiya.”

  7

  Nasir settled into the café chair, feeling like his head was about to pop off. The music and chatter of the café around them was a distant hum as he struggled to get his grip on the situation. Cassandra was in front of him, glowing and professional. Treating him like they’d never even met before.

  His stomach cinched into a knot.

  Safiya grinned at Cassandra like she was a queen. “Please excuse me. I’m going to freshen up quickly.” She sashayed away, purse slung over her shoulder, weaving through the tightly packed tables.

  Nasir clasped his hands beneath the table, wondering where to begin. Cassandra shuffled papers.

  “So. A consultant, huh?” He jerked his gaze up to meet hers and saw regret there, a flash of confusion.

  “I don’t like to tell people what I do.” She cleared her throat, pushing a pile of papers to the side. “Especially when interpersonal relations are involved.”

  He hefted with a laugh. What a clinical way to describe the way her thighs had shuddered during orgasm, the tiny whimpers that still haunted him in his masturbatory fantasies. “Is that why you never called back?”

  Cassandra cleared her throat, flattening her hand against the tabletop to examine her nails. “We’re not looking for each other, Nasir. It’s very obvious.”

  Nasir crossed his ankle over a knee, jaw flexing with frustration. He hated being ignored, but being ignored by someone like Cassandra was even worse. There had been…something there. Something he’d believed in sincerely, if only for a few days. She’d been a glimmer of possibility, a sudden, beautiful sunrise along a dreary journey.

  He laughed bitterly. “Yes, you made that very clear.”

  Nasir withstood the tense silence following his words, trying not to look at her, not even a glance. The perfectly smoothed blonde hair tugged at his attention, begged him to look while he could. He’d been desperate for a glimpse of her since their night together, but now it was all wrong.

  Safiya came back to the table beaming and settled into her seat, reaching out for Cassandra’s hand. “I’m so thankful for the work you do.”

  Cassandra laughed, color creeping into her neck. “Matchmaking is truly an art. And luckily, I have the track record to prove that I know what I’m talking about.”

  Nasir cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the table. “And have you ever been wrong?” He fiddled with his watch, perfecting his air of disinterest. “You know, with the matches. Or just about who might be good together in general.”

  Safiya cast him a sharp glance, and Cassandra reached for her papers. “Well, sure. I’m not right one hundred percent of the time. But I can guarantee I’ll find you the best options available to you.”

  Nasir shifted in his seat. “So you think you know exactly what I want.” He couldn’t help the snarl—it came of its own volition now.

  “Based on your profile, yes.” Cassandra gave a strained smile. “Now, as you know, I’m standing in for Laura, who had originally compiled a few different options for Nasir. Since reviewing your case today, though, I’ve added a couple extra. I think you’ll both be pleased by some of the options here, and I’ve printed out a summary of each lady for you to look at.” She pushed a small stack of papers their way. “Each woman has been matched primarily on the factors you indicated were most important: work and travel.”

  Safiya tutted as she looked at the first page with Nasir. “She has a lovely, strong nose.”

  Nasir glanced at the page nodding, receiving each sheet after his mother was finished. He saw the profiles without really reading it; his mind was too worked up to properly digest anything right now. A frothy mixture of snark and confusion bubbled up inside him.

  “Oooh, look at this one.” His mother leaned over, sharing the sheet with him. “She’s a pretty Muslim girl named Veeda. Master’s in business finance.”

  He nodded, staring at the sheet, the words a dancing blur. Veeda was the clear winner—she scored all the points for a business marriage. But she wasn’t Cassandra. And for some reason, he still only wanted Cassandra. “Yes. She looks absolutely perfect. Exactly the woman I’ve dreamed of my entire life.”

  His mother cast a quizzical glance his way but continued reviewing the profiles. After they had reviewed each sheet, she turned to him with a broad smile. “What a great selection. Any favorites?”

  He cleared his throat, spreading the sheets out in front of him. Each woman was beautiful in her own way, at least judging by the curated photos on display. But he had to be real with himself. Business made the most sense. And if Cassandra wouldn’t have him, then he’d have the woman least like her. Just to prove his point. “Let’s do Veeda.”

  Safiya beamed as Cassandra collected the sheets again. “Great. I think you’ve made a very good choice. She seemed to be one of the most compatible profiles based on your answers, actually.”

  “Oh, now, isn’t that sweet?” Safiya leaned into him, inviting his agreement.

  “Great.” Nasir checked his watch. “Are we done here? I have a board meeting.”

  Cassandra hesitated. “Uh, sure. I’ll be in touch to arrange the first date. Something relaxed and casual. Definitely low-key.”

  He arched a brow, wondering if maybe that was a reference to his own low-key dinner suggestion the first time they’d met. His belly flopped and he nodded. “Great. Looking forward to it.”

  As he stood, Safiya leaned over the table to grab Cassandra’s hand. “He’s a very busy man, you see. Please excuse his rudeness.” Safiya cast a sharp glance up at him and then stood, smoothing down her dress.

  Cassandra smiled, but it looked uncertain. She glanced at him only briefly, focusing instead on his mother. “I’ll be reaching out soon.”

  Nasir stormed out of the café, texting the driver on his way out. Under the bright midday sun, he paced the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. Safiya came out a moment later, looking cross.

  “What was that display?” Her Arabic came out sharp and fast, like daggers. “Why are you so agitated?”

  Nasir clenched his jaw, looking over her shoulder. “It’s nothing. Hard day at work.”

  “Which is precisely why you need to get away from work every once in a while and meet someone,” she spat. Safiya huffed, hoisting her purse higher on her shoulder. In English, she said, “You’ll than
k me for this someday.”

  Their car appeared around the corner. The further he drove, the more his anxiety dissipated. “I’m sure I will. And maybe it will be fine.”

  “Veeda looks lovely,” Safiya said, patting his shoulder, her voice softer. “She might be The One.”

  Nasir tutted as the car slowed to a stop at the curb. He opened the door for his mother to slip in the back seat, not finding the strength to confront the thoughts swirling inside his head. He doubted Veeda would be anything but A Suggested One, but maybe his mother was right.

  Taking a look couldn’t hurt. And somehow, it was a perverse happiness that Cassandra was at the helm of this. It meant she had to respond to him now. And maybe he could wheedle his way back in.

  8

  Cassandra stayed glued to her seat in the café for what felt like a full hour after Nasir and Safiya left. She watched him pace the sidewalk like an angry bull, craning to see over heads occasionally blocking her view of their conversation. The sight of him out there reminded her of a movie—she was the heroine, hiding a potentially lifechanging secret—even though it was most likely just a sensitive stomach or adult-onset gluten intolerance—while the handsome, dashing, painfully skilled lover bolted out of the building after receiving final confirmation of being scorned.

  Cassandra hiccupped, and then a sob escaped her. She gulped, shocking herself into silence, wiping away the fat tears that had fallen before anyone looked or noticed. What has gotten into you? She couldn’t be so emotionally distraught after a meeting like that. It had gone well, for all intents and purposes. Especially given the fact that she’d slept with a client, and that information could ruin her career.

  The number one rule of a matchmaker: do not match with the client. This meant that dalliances, traipses, and affairs of any kind were strictly prohibited. The industry was sensitive to the insinuation that matchmaking agencies were akin to hookup agencies. Cassandra fought tooth and nail to uphold her spotless reputation, and suddenly it was at risk of crumbling. This situation could become the sand she’d mistaken for bedrock when constructing this career.

  There is no way in hell you can see him again. Her own one-night-stand awkwardness aside, the fact that he was a paying client of her company made their brief dating history and non-existent future completely forbidden territory. She’d protect it like Area 51. Any intruder shot on sight. And nobody could know this potential-baby-but-probably-just-gas situation was his.

  This resolve helped relieve some of the anxiety. She packed up her things and headed for home, repeating the decision to herself. No matter what, nobody finds out about Nasir. Because what if she was pregnant…and she decided not to keep it? She brought herself up short. What was she thinking? Of course she would keep it. It would be Nasir’s.

  The idea swirled strange and foreign inside her. It was too early for all the what-ifs.

  As soon as she got back to the apartment, she dropped her stuff and headed for the plastic bag on the counter. She was supposed to take it first thing in the morning, but screw it—she’d buy a second one if need be; she had to know something and fast.

  Tearing open the packaging, the long white stick felt strange in her hand as she headed to the bathroom. This thing determined her fate. Would let her know whether a curveball headed straight for her.

  Anxiety churned in her belly as she sat on the toilet, stick poised awkwardly between her legs. Was she ready to be a mother? Ever since her own parents’ messy and violent divorce, she’d sworn to enter the marriage-and-kids fray with all her ducks in a row. Not to be with someone just because they knocked her up, like her mom did.

  Sure, she loved her dad and loved her mom—but together those two were toxic. They’d convinced the world they were perfect, while behind the scenes they were a snarling, unraveling mess. If anything, Cassandra was grateful for the divorce for showing her what she didn’t want.

  Which meant she would never be with Nasir—or anyone—simply because she’d gotten pregnant. She wanted a partner, not a guy who saw her as an obligation. She wouldn’t settle for anything less, either.

  Finally a trickle of pee came out, and she strained to see if she hit the mark. Once her bladder was empty, she set the stick on the side of the sink, yanking her gaze away, unable to watch it change.

  Once she’d wiped and flushed, Cassandra left the bathroom to pace the kitchen. She’d wait a full three minutes. Just in case the test needed extra time to marinate. Come to a decision. Decide her future.

  She didn’t look away from the clock, each minute dragging by like an hour. As the last second of the third minute ticked by, she hurried back into the bathroom, not breathing, so eager for the result, she could barely even see straight.

  The stick had come to a decision.

  A big plus sign stared back at her.

  Her mouth fell open, and she stared at it for a long time. That explained the midday unsanctioned crying and the indigestion after eating. Pregnant. The word swirled around in her head like an unidentified fleck in a glass of water. It didn’t feel quite right yet, but she needed some time to figure it out. Sit with it.

  Cassandra stumbled into the living room, reaching for her phone, finding some new work e-mails waiting for her. Safiya had sent one soon after departing, stating, “Thank you so much for your efforts and time. We appreciate it. Please contact Nasir directly to coordinate the date and time of his meeting with Veeda.” The number in the e-mail was the same one she’d been ignoring for two weeks. What a crippling dose of irony.

  Better late than never, even if it was work-related now. She tapped out a quick message to Nasir, ignoring the long stream of unanswered texts before hers. “This is Cassandra. Just touching base so we can get you set up with Veeda.”

  His response was lightning fast. The man basically lived with his phone in his hand. “Ah. So I did have the right number all along.”

  She grimaced—she deserved it. But given the results of the test, maybe she should reconsider giving his case back to Laura…or shoving it off on her boss once and for all. Their history was bad enough—now their futures were technically entwined, which made her wholly unfit to continue with him. “I can step down if you’d feel more comfortable. I took this case over as a favor to my colleague. But I’d understand if you’d prefer to work with her.”

  Anxiety gnawed at her as she awaited his response. And deep inside, she hoped he wouldn’t ask her to step down. Maybe she’d be grateful for the access to him, even if it was entirely professional. She never could resist poking at the bruise.

  “No. Don’t step down.”

  That was it. No reasoning or explanation. Simply the directive. She creased her brow, rereading it a few times. What other reason could he have for keeping her, beyond wanting to make her suffer through the awkwardness? Maybe he was a sadist. She’d picked up on enough hothead, alpha vibes from him, and although curtailed and controlled, he seemed to like wielding the power.

  “Are you sure?” She typed out a fast response. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I promise this can be painless and professional if you choose it.”

  He responded quickly. “I’m not a child, just busy. You do your job, and I’ll do mine. No need to back out. I’ll meet with Veeda.”

  She slid the phone away, letting his words sink in. Clearly he was salty about the poor treatment, but she’d seen the writing on the wall, a glimpse she never should have had. The whole thing was a clusterfuck, and now?

  Even more entangled, a hopeless knot she herself had helped to start. She was carrying his child—albeit mere cells—inside her body, and he himself had declared he didn’t really want children in his profile. So where did that leave her?

  Something nagged at her in the back of her mind, the whisper that there might be more to Nasir, but she couldn’t listen to that voice at a time like this. Because when that voice was proven wrong somewhere down the road, she’d have only herself to blame.

  And she wouldn’t let history re
peat itself. Not when she was manning the wheel.

  9

  Safiya didn’t stay long after the meet-up with Cassandra. These days, her priorities were split between Nasir’s love life and Asim’s infant daughter. Basri took a backseat, which he suspected was a relief for his youngest brother, who preferred to leave his shenanigans securely in the shadows.

  Her return to Lebanon was a relief for him, as well. His mother was all but pushing to attend the dates herself—so maybe she could take notes or record parts of the conversation for posterity. Who knew with that woman. She wanted the best for her sons, and she wanted it aggressively.

  Cassandra didn’t take long to schedule the casual dinner date. Their text messages were stilted and bursting—at least it felt that way to him—because he knew there was some reason she had turned off the attraction. It felt like a switch she’d flipped, some sort of overarching plan to not give into him. Because why wouldn’t she want him? He could see no reason for her to act like this. And he was desperate to know why.

  Basri’s snark appeared in his head—Well, maybe she just doesn’t like you, brother. Ever think of that? He scoffed at the idea. There was no mistaking that attraction. It had charred the edges of the bed.

  She changed her mind. The idea haunted him as he left the office and hopped into the car to go to the dinner date. But why? If he could hire an emotional detective, he would. Certainly couldn’t use his Love Detective, because that was Cassandra herself. Or maybe a psychic—something to crack the impenetrable shell of Cassandra’s life. Maybe he’d done something horribly wrong and remained unaware. Not like Cassandra would ever tell him.

  Nasir’s mind didn’t stop running in all directions during the ride to the restaurant. Crossing Cassandra’s path again felt like a second chance he wasn’t quite sure how to capitalize upon. The rational, even-keeled part of him murmured that he should stay distant, act aloof. The raucous core of him—the part he didn’t often let the world see—begged him to pursue her.