The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée (Almasi Sheikhs Book 1)
Page 1
The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée
Almasi Sheikhs Book One
Leslie North
Contents
Almasi Sheikhs
The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée
Blurb
Mailing List
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
End of The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée
Thank You!
Sneak Peek
Almasi Sheikhs
The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée
The Sheikh’s Unruly Lover
The Sheikh’s Pregnant Employee
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, SEPTEMBER 2017
Copyright © 2017 Relay Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations
www.relaypub.com
Blurb
She’s expecting a simple business deal, but he’s expecting much more…
Annabelle works tirelessly for her father’s mining company, despite their rocky relationship. So when he asks her to travel to the Middle East to complete an important business merger, Annabelle sees an opportunity. It’s her chance to prove her worth, but the culture clash proves difficult for the strong-minded American woman. She’s supposed to work closely with the son of the oil company’s CEO, but Annabelle’s not sure what to make of Imaad. He may be gorgeous, but she refuses to be cowed by his good looks or his old-fashioned ways.
Sheikh Imaad is ruthless in his business dealings for the family oil company, but standing up to his traditional father is not as simple. When he learns his father’s full intentions--that the business arrangements include an arranged marriage to the American executive, Imaad wants to refuse. His intended bride is both beautiful and brash, but Imaad has a plan. If he can convince Annabelle to go along with the fake marriage, they might both get what they truly want. Sounds simple, but Imaad soon realizes it won’t be easy to tame a western woman.
To please their families and prove their worth, just how far will Imaad and Annabelle be willing to go? And what will happen when the charade starts to get a little too real?
Mailing List
Thank you for purchasing ‘The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée’ (Almasi Sheikhs Book One)
Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.
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1
Annabelle checked her desk clock for the hundredth time in the past half hour. She’d been waiting for four o’clock since approximately eight a.m. And after piles of paperwork, frustrating colleagues, and a bevy of small emergencies in her department, she was ready for a big, overflowing glass of red wine and Netflix.
If only four o’clock would get here.
A light rap on her door made her tense up. Could it possibly be another crisis requiring her attention? She sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “Who is it?”
The door to her office creaked open, and her best friend Marian poked her head in, her half-grimace/half-smile telling her bad news was coming. “Hey. I need you for a sec.”
Annabelle sent her a flat look. “For what? I’m so close to finishing. Is it urgent?”
“Yeah.” Marian nibbled on her bottom lip, her brown eyes big. “Your dad wants to see you.”
Annabelle deflated. It was no secret she was the company owner’s daughter, but the number of times they ever saw or spoke to each other could be counted on one hand in a good year. And it wasn’t like he’d ever showed her any favoritism. Her belly knotted. “What does he need?”
Marian shook her head. “He didn’t say. But he told me you should come now.” She sighed. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not trying to ruin your day.”
Annabelle let the frown slide off her face. “I know. I’m just so damn ready to go home.” She pushed back from her desk, adjusting her pencil skirt as her heels clicked irritatedly across the wood floor of her office. The tight sleeves of her ruffled top cinched at her arms, begging her to tear it all off and throw it onto the floor then easing onto her overstuffed couch. Soon. The weekend will be yours. It would be her first totally stress-and-obligation-free weekend in too long. No work trips, no late Friday night, no upcoming Monday to fret over because of her mother’s doctor’s appointment.
The weekend was clear.
And damnit, she was going to capitalize on it with a big-girl bottle of wine and her vibrator.
The two friends left her office, heading briskly down the hallway toward the elevators. Marian pressed the up button, nudging Annabelle with her elbow. “Loosen up a little. It’s just your dad.”
Annabelle opened her mouth to protest, but realized her entire body was tense. Seeing her father did that to her. Even just the thought of it. “Ugh, you’re right. You know me too well.”
“Just consider it part of my job.” Marian winked at her. “Both as your father’s executive assistant and as your best friend.”
Annabelle laughed, and the pair stepped into the elevator once the doors opened fully. “I never get a good feeling when he calls me into his office. It’s usually bad news.”
“Not last time,” Marian pointed out. “You got the raise.”
“Yeah, well, the raise might as well have been a demotion.” Annabelle glumly poked the button for two floors above them. “With how much my mom’s been in the hospital recently, I can barely make ends meet.”
Marian tsked, her dark ringlets bouncing slightly as she looked up at her. “You can ask him for another one, you know. He’ll give it to you.”
Annabelle swallowed a knot in her throat. If only it were that easy. “You know I’ll never do that.” She depended on the man enough as it was. Being his spawn was one point against her; relying on him for a job was another ten points. If she’d had any other remotely competitive offers out of college, she might have had a chance to truly break free of his control.
But now, under the roof of his own behemoth mining corporation, her only safe bet was to do her job and keep her head down.
Marian tapped her finger against the folders in her arms as the elevator dinged at the top floor. “I can try to put a bug in his ear, then.”
“Don’t.” Annabelle grabbed her friend’s wrist after they stepped out into the hallway. “If he even gets a whiff that I need more money from him…” She didn
’t bother finishing the sentence. She couldn’t imagine what sort of condescending requirements he’d trap her in. Asking for more—for anything—from him was best avoided.
“I’m just saying, I could make it…I don’t know…offhand, or something.” Marian shrugged, her voice lowering as they turned into the hallway leading to the office. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, I just…”
“I appreciate the offer,” Annabelle said, squeezing her friend’s arm. “But I have to find a different way. I can’t ever ask.” Her pride wouldn’t allow it. Not after everything she’d weathered as his only child.
Marian nodded, reaching out for the doorknob to the office. She pushed the door open and offered her a smile. “See you later.”
Annabelle strode into her father’s office, straightening her back, keeping her ruby lips in a thin line. Her father looked up from his computer when the clicking of her heels sounded through the office.
“Hello, Mr. Thomas.” She stopped in front of the seats facing his desk, clasping her hands behind her back. She hadn’t called him Dad since she was ten. “You wanted to see me?”
He glanced up at her and then buried himself in his computer screen again. He grunted slightly, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the keyboard. “Sit down.”
She gritted her teeth, steeling herself to disobey him. “I’m fine where I am.”
“Sit.”
She gnawed at the inside of her lip for a moment, then perched on the edge of the chair. “Now, what is this about?”
“You never could just do what I ask, could you?” Her father’s voice dripped with condescension. He shook his head, not breaking his rhythm on the keyboard. “I have a new assignment for you. One that I hope you’ll accept.”
She cleared her throat, excuses already swirling around in her head. Like hell she’d take his direction. “To be frank, I’m swamped. I can barely keep up with the workload as it is—another assignment would—”
“This is why I told you to sit.” His voice cut through her, sharp and swift, and she slid onto the soft cushion of the seat. His dark brown eyes were hard but familiar, some vestige of nostalgia in there. “I have an offer, and I want you to hear me out.”
She nodded, pursing her lips. “Go on.”
He sighed, long and raggedly. “As you know, my health has not been…the best.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, I’m feeling inclined to arrange some of my affairs, if you will. I don’t want to take any chances with this business. I want to protect it, in any way possible. And it seems to me the best way to do that will be to merge with another company.”
Annabelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Merge? With…who?”
“There’s an interested company, one that will complement our existing structure nicely. The deal has been set in motion…all that remains is for my liaison to sign.”
She nodded. “Okay. How do I fit in?”
Her father paused, his eyes softening. “I want you to be my liaison.”
She blinked, the words refusing to settle into her head. “What?”
“I need a blood relative to go on my behalf. And with my health, I can’t make the trip. There’s no way in hell.”
Annabelle furrowed her brow, tracing patterns across the deep wood desktop with her eyes as she tried to absorb his words. “But where is it?”
“Parsabad.”
She laughed. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not.”
“No way.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry. You’ll just have to go yourself.”
The way her father sighed told her he’d been expecting this. “You will be compensated.”
“Oh yeah?” She scoffed. “Like what?”
“In the form of your mother’s medical expenses.” Her father coughed a few times. “I know it’s been hard to pay them, to be taking care of her. I will cover all of the bills if you go to Parsabad and do this for me.”
Annabelle’s caustic retorts immediately dissolved on her tongue. She stared at her father in disbelief. This wasn’t fair. How could he use her mother as leverage? She could never say no to an offer like that, and he knew it. The smart, conniving bastard.
“So that’s it? I just go to Parsabad and sign a paper?”
Her father nodded gravely, his dark gaze focused on the desk. “In a nutshell.”
In a nutshell. That could leave room for so much more. There had to be more, for him to hold out such a huge carrot.
“And you’ll clear all my mom’s medical bills? Seriously?” She had to say it again, just to make sure this was real.
Her father nodded.
Annabelle steeled her jaw, rubbing her thumb compulsively over the knuckle of her index finger as she thought. “Do you expect any complications? Or is it really as simple as a blood relative signing?”
“Make a presentation to their board, then complete the deal. It is as simple as that,” he said, his voice coming out gruff. He adjusted his position in his enormous leather chair, smoothing down the steel gray tie on his chest. “I’ve done all the dirty work already. The negotiation, the settling, the redistribution of executives…”
Annabelle cast him a quizzical look.
“Nobody will be losing jobs,” he said. “But there will be some relocation.” He paused heavily. “When you get to Minarak, you’ll be meeting with Imaad. He is the son of the CEO, a fine young man. I expect you two will get along quite well. And if everything goes as well as I expect…they may need a young executive like you out there.”
Annabelle studied the sleek black fabric of her pencil skirt, unable to fathom anything beyond the pending plane trip to Minarak, much less moving there. All she knew about the place was that it had seceded from Iran in the late 1800’s, Farsi was the primary language, and was more progressive in women’s rights than most of the surrounding countries, though perhaps not as completely down with short skirts and bare shoulders as the States. “I don’t know what to say. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”
Her father nodded, eyes squinting at the corners, the closest he ever came to smiling. “Sounds good, Birdy.”
The use of her childhood pet name seared through her like a lightning bolt. She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. She couldn’t even meet his gaze.
“Thanks for…this,” she forced out, pushing to standing. “It will be a big help with my mom.” She stood, smoothing her skirt down, measuring her next words. “I appreciate it.”
“I’ll send the flight plan soon. You’ll be leaving on Sunday. They’ll give you your visa at the airport.”
At least she’d have something of a weekend. The two glanced at each other, the brief contact searing down into that familiar wounded part of her heart, the place where she’d always wished for a regular daddy. Someone who would have married her mother, called her on the weekends, worried about her new boyfriends.
Annabelle spun on her heel and strode toward the door, checking her watch. Three forty-five. As good as four, and a perfect time to head home and get started on that big-girl bottle of wine—and packing for Parsabad.
2
Imaad met his brother Omar in the glittering foyer of their father’s company. The brothers hugged briefly, and Omar squeezed his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.
“You made it,” Omar said as the two headed for the shiny wall of elevator doors.
“Barely,” Imaad said, checking his watch. “Father knows the traffic is hell at this hour. I don’t see why he couldn’t have just had a phone conference.”
“It seems he has something too important to discuss over the phone,” Omar said cryptically, adjusting his watch as the elevator numbers ticked downward toward them. A heavy silence settled between them as his father’s surprise meeting announcement roiled through Imaad. He hated being summoned like this, in the middle of his busy day. His father had it easy anymore—sitting in the golden tower, treating Imaad like his little delivery boy.
&n
bsp; Because of course he’d do anything his father asked. It was the only worthy contract in life—to honor his parents.
“Is there such a thing as too important for the phone?” Imaad scoffed, stepping into the elevator once the doors whooshed open. “I can handle it, whatever it is.”
“Then you should have put your foot down,” Omar said, sending him a sly glance.
Imaad sighed. Like that would be possible with their father.
“You know, you’re only making this worse for yourself.” Omar arched a brow. “You always jump when he asks you to. You’re a grown man. Your response shouldn’t always be ‘How high?’.”
Imaad narrowed his eyes at his brother. Of the three brothers, he and Imaad were often mistaken for twins. It didn’t help that they often independently chose the same close-cropped haircut, and tended toward the same relaxed, business casual style. And in moments like these, it was like glaring at his reflection. Omar’s steely gaze provoked him in a way that their oldest brother, Zahir, couldn’t accomplish.
“Thank you for the unsolicited advice,” Imaad said.
“You should listen to it.”
Omar would never understand. As the youngest, Imaad was perpetually seen as the least capable, no matter how much he succeeded. And even Omar didn’t understand the extent to which their father relied on him. He could never let him down, no matter how much it stung to bend to his will.