The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée (Almasi Sheikhs Book 1)

by Leslie North

  5

  “Fuck that man!” Annabelle tore open her purse, scrambling to find her cell phone. It might not work here, but that was fine. She’d yell across the ocean if she had to. “I knew this was one of his goddamn dirty tricks. He can take this marriage proposal and stuff it up his crusty ass!”

  Imaad approached her, anxiety filling the air between them like pooling water. “So, he didn’t even tell you?

  “Of course he didn’t!” She found the phone and tossed her purse, the contents scattering across the carpet. She huffed, kicking a tampon away. Even in the midst of all this she didn’t want the dark-skinned hottie to see her secret things.

  Imaad ran a hand through his hair, making the immaculate style stick up at comical angles. “This was part of the deal. The business merger was predicated on us getting married.”

  Annabelle glared at him as her phone turned on. “So you knew about this the whole time?”

  “Of course. My father told me last week.”

  “What were you trying to do? Scare me off by being an asshole?” She scoffed, shaking her head. The phone vibrated as it turned on and then began the lengthy process of finding a signal in this strange new land.

  “Yes. I was.”

  His soft tone made her pause. She glanced at him, unnerved by the tenderness there. When he spoke now, he was a different man than he’d been for the past hour. Harassing her about her looks, her dress, her words, her entire existence. So that was all an act?

  It didn’t even matter. She’d been duped, and she wouldn’t stand for this.

  “Well, listen. I can’t marry you. Maybe you’ve come around to the idea of marrying a complete stranger, but I haven’t, and I never will. And if this is what the deal requires, both of our fathers can fuck right off.”

  Imaad winced at the words. He approached as she scrolled through her phone, the piney scent of his cologne reaching her.

  “Hang on. Let’s talk before you make that phone call. You’re upset.”

  “No shit I’m upset!” She laughed bitterly. “My dad just tried to marry me off like I’m some prize cow.”

  Imaad reached for her hand, touching her wrist. Warmth flooded her and she looked up at him as if she’d been slapped.

  “Wait to call him.” Imaad’s voice was firm but gentle. His dark eyes looked friendly, not at all the hard glares from earlier. “Let’s get everything straight first.”

  She scowled at him then set the phone down. “I’m pretty sure I have everything straight already. My dad agreed to marry me off to you and didn’t tell me about it.”

  “And my father agreed to have me marry you. Neither of us were involved in this decision. Neither of us want to do it.”

  “Yep, sounds like an accurate summary.” She snatched up her phone again. “Now excuse me, I need to call that heinous man who helped give me life.”

  “Wait.” His fingers brushed her forearm, and she clenched her thighs. There was something potent in his touch. Something a little too potent. “Hear me out. We can’t let this merger be cancelled.”

  “You were pretty okay with ruining this sham marriage fifteen minutes ago, what’s so different now?”

  “I thought you came over here knowing the arrangement. Convincing you to renege on your decision is one thing. But if you didn’t even know…that means our fathers included the marriage in the merger contract.” He paused, his umber eyes swirling with confusion. “It can’t affect the merger,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I don’t know what life is like for you over in the States, but we need this for our company. Badly.”

  Annabelle swallowed hard, impacted by the sincerity in his voice, the desperation that clawed at her, even through the fog of anger.

  “We’ve been laying off workers for months. If we don’t merge, we’ll lose thousands more. My father arranged this because he values business far more than romance. Marrying his son to the daughter of the merging company’s CEO is his idea of happily ever after. My father takes this very seriously.”

  She laughed. “Well, if he wants the merger so badly, he’ll have to do it without a wedding. Can we change the contract?”

  Imaad shook his head, his dark brows knit together. “It’ll never happen.”

  Annabelle stared at her cellphone, mind swirling with disbelief. Barely an hour in Parsabad, and she was already knee-deep in this quagmire caused exclusively by her father. She should have known better. He never promised anything that didn’t come with the strings already attached. But she’d never imagined these strings would be so tenacious.

  Her phone buzzed with a new message, and then again. Apparently, it had found a signal—the missed messages were rolling in. She unlocked her phone, eagerly scrolling through what she’d missed during the flight over.

  Imaad slumped down into the chair nearby while she read her texts. A couple “Safe trip!” messages from friends and a handful from Marian. The first one wishing her a smooth flight, the second hoping she’d landed without using the barf bag, the third one informing her that her mother had been taken to urgent care the night before, but everything was okay and she shouldn’t be worried.

  Annabelle’s belly knotted so tightly it almost made her gasp. It would never end. Another scare, another health failure, another worry to add to the pile that already crushed both of them under its weight.

  But your dad is taking care of her bills now. The thought whispered through her like a refreshing breeze on a hot day. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. He’s going to take care of it now.

  Her throat tightened, the sad truth meandering through her. Her own father had leveraged her hand in marriage to acquire this business deal, knowing that his daughter’s only weakness was her mother’s health.

  What a bastard. Tears pricked her eyes and she stood in front of the sliding glass door, and watched dusky hues descending over Minarak. She stared at a crowded row of apartment buildings in the distance, wondering who lived there, what they might be combatting at that moment in their household, whether any of them had faced such a betrayal from their own parent.

  This is not fucking normal. She wiped away a tiny tear that had broken through the fiercely guarded wall of her eye. So, what now? Marry the jerk, even if maybe he wasn’t totally a jerk, and just continue with life as normal? Impossible. She couldn’t live with herself if she had to cow to her father’s stupid, rich whims again. Just because he had money and power, he wanted to control her life. Thought he could toss her around like a useful little rag doll.

  And maybe he’s right.

  Annabelle crossed her arms tightly, looking beyond the city, seeing the snowcapped mountains on the horizon without even appreciating them. She couldn’t, at a time like this. She needed all her focus for finding a way out of this. A way of lessening the betrayal, even slightly. You would do anything for Mom.

  “What if we do it, but just get the marriage annulled after?” She turned to Imaad, feeling like a traitor for even suggesting it. Here she was, bending to her father’s will. Exactly as he planned. Exactly as he knew she would.

  Imaad straightened, eyebrow perking up.

  “We can keep up appearances. You know, just play the part.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Once it’s through, we’ll call it off.”

  “The merger won’t happen until we’re married,” Imaad said.

  “Right. And then we can divorce. Or annul. Whatever.”

  A tense silence settled between them. Slowly, Imaad nodded. “Yes. I think this makes sense…somehow.”

  Their gazes locked. She saw the same confusion in his eyes, the same distrust, the same damn shackles binding his wrists.

  If you two are bound to do this…at least it wasn’t his choice either.

  Somehow, that made it better. They could stand in solidarity. Screwed by their parents. Forced to enter into a modern-day arranged marriage. Their stories would become fodder for a Lifetime movie down the road. Once the divorce was finalized, of course.

&n
bsp; “Great.” Annabelle rested her hands on her hips, looking Imaad up and down. So maybe he was a decent man after all. And fuck, he was sexier than hell. The type of broad shoulders and dark, brooding eyes that made her knees wobble.

  “Yes.” Imaad cleared his throat, heading for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be here at nine to take you to the office.”

  “Thanks.” Her words withered in his wake once the door shut behind him, and the silence in her room was a different type of tense now. She almost wished he were back. Something about him felt calming, perhaps because they were partners facing this together.

  She shook her head, heading for the bathroom. Time to wash off the day. Wash off the news. And wash off that lingering desire to see what Imaad looked like under that suit.

  6

  Imaad paced the lobby of the hotel. He’d arrived twenty minutes early, but only because he wanted some alone time to brief her on the upcoming meeting. His father was no picnic, and the two of them could easily be at each other’s throats within minutes.

  But despite sending up a message to her room, Annabelle still hadn’t shown. He sighed, heading for the small lounge, keeping an eye on the elevators while he ordered tea. Worry made sickening swirls in his body, threatening to topple him if he entertained it long enough. Annulling the marriage had never even occurred to him as a possibility until she’d mentioned it the night before. All they had to do was play along until the right time.

  He tapped his finger on the black surface of the counter while he waited for his tea, gaze glued to the elevators. Come down, Annabelle. Hurry.

  The doors whooshed open and a few people streamed out. No Annabelle. He received his tea and chose a seat in plain view of the elevators. He blew on the steaming liquid as he watched for another car to open.

  The door slid open. He raised the mug to his lips, feeling out a sip as he surveyed the guests. There, toward the back—the shockingly blonde beauty he’d been waiting for. Dressed in high-waisted black pants that fit her so well they might as well be painted on. A cream blouse hung slightly looser, but the tempting mounds of her breasts could be seen despite the fit. He sipped too hard at his tea and burned himself, and he set the mug down, swearing.

  A moment later Annabelle arrived, her lips painted ruby, her face the epitome of put-together businesswoman on her way to kick ass. She clasped her hands together, smiling down at him.

  “May I join?” She grinned while she eased into the seat, something playful in her gaze that had been entirely missing the day before. “Hubby.”

  He laughed, adjusting his mug on the small saucer, cock twitching in his pants. She could call him whatever she wanted if it meant he could use their fake engagement to put a hand anywhere on her body. “Please. Wifey.”

  Her gaze darkened, the familiar recoil from the day before rearing up. “I need to practice this a little bit.”

  “Exactly why I came to find you early.” He glanced behind them, searching out one of the few waiters. He called out to him in Farsi, indicating that Annabelle would place an order. He arrived a moment later with a menu. “We need to establish some rules.”

  “Great. More men telling me how to live my life.” She thumbed through the menu, a wry look on her face.

  “I have no interest in ruling your life. My only interest is making sure that my life isn’t ruled as well.”

  Her mouth thinned to a line. “Fair enough. Let’s hear it.”

  “My father is a traditionalist. So you may hear some…remarks from him. Remarks you may not like.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”

  “Just keep in mind that he may speak to you more as a daughter-in-law and less of a business associate.” Anxiety licked through him. He counted a million ways this pending meeting could end poorly. Especially now that he had a taste of Annabelle’s hotheadedness. “Do your best to stick to the business portion. We just need the merger. Remember that.”

  “Right.” She closed the menu, smiling up at a waiter who came to take her order. She asked for a coffee and toast then turned to Imaad. “So what about us? How are we supposed to act?”

  Imaad took another sip at his tea, trying to steady his mind. He knew how he wanted to act with her, but that would fall more on the side of a fling than a business marriage. “Normally. He’ll not expect us to be terribly intimate. Even if we were truly in love, public displays of affection are frowned upon here.”

  “Good. So I don’t have to hold your hand or call you Snookums.”

  Imaad laughed. “Definitely not.”

  The two shared a look, one that made a tendril of hope uncurl within him. If she was going to be spending a lot of time in Minarak at his side, it helped that her sharp wit made something buzz deep inside him. Also didn’t hurt that she was so damn easy to look at.

  Once they finished breakfast, Imaad called for the car. Her heels clicking softly as they walked through the hotel lobby to the main doors. Her flowery perfume reached him, and his head spun for a moment. If you were anyone else…

  In the back of his mind, he knew all the things he wanted to do to her. Every time he looked at her, he found something new fascinating him. The long curl of her eyelashes. The tiny mole on the upper left side of her lip. The downy blonde hairs on her cheeks. The precise arcs of her eyeliner. And if he could see under those tailored clothes—get down to the real meat of the matter—he was sure he’d find plenty more delights to blow his mind.

  Outside the hotel, the busy Minarak morning blared and honked around them. He held open the back door of the sedan, waiting as she got in, his gaze sliding over the delicious curve of her hip. Once he was seated beside her and the car was in motion, he allowed himself another glance.

  Her heart-shaped face was turned toward the window, gaze transfixed on the cars passing by.

  “Is this your first time in Parsabad?”

  She nodded, not looking over at him. “But I’ve been to the Middle East before.”

  The ride to the office was quick, and Imaad didn’t try to say much. He liked the fragrant cloud of wonder that hung between them, as Annabelle took in a new city and they sat in relative ease…waiting for the storm to come.

  Annabelle followed him into the corporate office building, where they headed for the top floor quickly. In the elevator, Annabelle cast him a worried look.

  “Anything else I should know before I go in?”

  Imaad shook his head, fingers twitching as he fought the urge to squeeze her shoulder. He knew her enough to know that wouldn’t go over well at all. “Just keep the merger in mind. I’ve never done this before either.”

  They shared a long look, one that seared him to his spot. When the doors opened, they lingered a moment, gazing at each other. Annabelle ripped her eyes away, and Imaad came to, clearing his throat. He led the way out of the elevator and toward his father’s office. He knocked once before pushing the door open.

  Inside, his father had a huge grin and two drinks poured, just like last time.

  “Come in, come in!” He gestured them in, pointing to the two open seats. Imaad allowed Annabelle to sit first, then took the empty seat. His father settled into his large leather chair behind the desk, smiling so widely his teeth showed.

  “Mr. Almasi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered her hand, and he took it, shaking it fervently.

  “Annabelle. My future daughter.” Imaad’s father let out a long sigh, gazing at Annabelle as if she were a ghost. “You’re much more beautiful than your father let on. I think my Imaad must be pleased.”

  Annabelle stiffened beside him. An awkward silence filled the room.

  “Drinks, Father?” Imaad pointed at the tumblers when the silence had grown deafening.

  “Yes. To celebrate!” His father picked up one, offering the second to Imaad. His voice shriveled in his throat. Of course his father wouldn’t offer a woman whiskey. He could feel Annabelle’s eyes burning on his hand holding the tumbler.

  His father
clinked glasses with him and Imaad sent an apologetic look her way, trying to send an explanation via mind waves, if such a thing were possible. This is tradition. This is my father. Don’t be offended.

  “I’m very pleased to be here to complete the merging of our two companies.” Annabelle’s voice sounded forced. She must be trying very hard to control that sharp tongue of hers.

  “Yes, yes.” His father waved his hand in the air, as though dismissing it. “But the real matter is the marriage! This has been too long in the making. You two will be the perfect couple.”

  Annabelle glanced over at him. Imaad sent her a patient look. Please don’t snap. Please don’t snap.

  “And once this wonderful marriage is complete,” Annabelle said, “I’m very much looking forward to assuming my new executive role within the company.”

  His father laughed so hard that he choked. He set the tumbler down, palm pressed to his chest as he regained his breath. “Oh, no, miss. You won’t be doing that. How could you? You won’t have time, with the children!”

  Annabelle’s stricken look set warning bells ringing in his head. Panic sliced through him, and he leaned forward, hoping to defuse this situation before it became all-out war. “Father. We can’t get ahead of ourselves. I have some important things to show our guest, so we should be on our way now. Annabelle?” He stood, staring down at Annabelle, urging her to follow him.

  Her gaze was so hard on his father that he thought a laser beam might materialize. “Excellent.” She stood stiffly, forcing the briefest of smiles. “Pleasure, sir.”

  They hurried out of the office. Once the door swung shut behind them, Annabelle turned as if she were going to pounce.

  “What the fuck was that?” Her voice was low, rimmed with sharp edges.

  Imaad sighed, at a loss. It had been worse than he’d expected. By a long shot. “I told you, he’s a traditionalist. I can’t—”

  “You didn’t even stand up for me. You didn’t say a damn thing.” She jabbed her finger in the air as she spoke. She probably wished it were a knife blade instead of her finger. “I am a corporate liaison here, not a goddamn baby factory.” She stomped away.