The Sheikh's Unruly Lover

by Leslie North

  Her reply this time came lightning fast. “No thanks.”

  He frowned at his phone, pocketing it before heading downstairs to meet the car. He felt all jumbled and unstable on the inside, and he hated that feeling. He needed equilibrium, and fast. At the office, Omar jumped into the swing of things quickly, eager to lose himself in the day’s tasks.

  His first order of business was calling National Oil about the pending deal. Armed with the document that he and Marian had brainstormed the night before, he was put through to their CEO. Omar made a quick speech about why they should meet and discuss any potential repercussions of Kelly Gunther’s unexpected visit. Surprisingly, the CEO suggested he come around to Almasi Holdings for a one-on-one meeting.

  “I’ll have my colleague join us then,” Omar said on his desk phone as he reached for his cell phone. Marian needed to be here. “She’s away from the office now, but I’m sure she can—”

  “No, just the two of us will be fine. After all this commotion with the American man…I want to do things more traditionally.” The CEO’s tone left no room for discussion. And of course it had to do with Marian being female. Omar had known from the start that these men wouldn’t like working with a woman. Now Kelly’s ruckus had given them the excuse they needed to edge Marian out of the picture. “See you in a half hour.”

  Omar set the phone down gently, wondering what had prompted such an immediate interest in sealing the deal. He blinked at his cellphone, indecision gnawing at him. This would be easier if Marian had come into the office. Between her not feeling well and the CEO’s demand, maybe it would be best to just see him and finish it up.

  That was what they both wanted, after all.

  But this was their deal. Finishing it without her seemed wrong. He blew a puff of air between his lips, struggling to make the wisest decision. Who was it more important to please in this case: the gatekeeper for the deal or a colleague?

  He checked his watch. Time was ticking. He tapped out a quick message to Marian. “Will you come in at all today?”

  As he waited for a response, he knew exactly what his father would say: seal the deal. The business comes first.

  And as time wore on and Marian didn’t respond, it seemed his decision was made for him.

  He tapped on his desk, waiting for the National Oil CEO to show up.

  Three hours later, Omar had a signed agreement in his hands, freshly penned by both him and the CEO of National Oil. The best possible outcome that both he and Marian had envisioned—good equipment, transparency in stakeholders, and no more nonsense coming from Kelly Gunther, who was apparently back on a flight to the US. He couldn’t wait to tell Marian.

  But first, lunch. He texted Marian to see if she’d join him, but all he got was a “No thanks.” This news had to be shared in person, or she might take it wrong. Face-to-face was the only way.

  After a quick lunch at his favorite café down the street, he returned to his office humming. He loosened his tie as he settled into his seat, ready to tackle emails and correspondence for the rest of his afternoon. The major headache of the week was out of the way. Smooth sailing from here.

  He worked quietly for a long while, the only sounds the distant honking of the traffic six stories below. He tensed when he heard stomping in the hallway, followed by his doorknob turning.

  The door swung open, and Marian stormed in, her eyes on fire.

  “What the fuck did you do this morning?” She strode up to his desk and cocked a hip, arms crossed over her chest. Anger sizzled in the air around her. He gaped up at her, unsure how he could respond and keep his life intact.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You sealed the deal without me,” she spat, leaning over his desk. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  He leaned back in his chair, holding up a hand. “Listen—”

  “No, I will not listen to you. I got an email from Mr. Thomas lauding your exceptional deal-making skills. Did he mention me even once, or all the hard work I put in? No. Of fucking course not. So why am I even surprised that you ran off with all my brainstorming and made this deal behind my back?”

  “That is not how it went down,” he began.

  “Oh, really? Well, it looks to me like you met with the CEO this morning and signed the deal without me. Or did it go some other way?” She leaned closer, cocking a brow.

  Omar swallowed hard, formulating the most diplomatic response possible. He’d never seen her angry before—this was like reasoning with a bull. “The CEO contacted me last-minute for a meeting. He showed up so fast that I didn’t have time to get you involved. Besides, he asked for a private—”

  “Bullshit. Pure. Bullshit.” She laughed scornfully. “You’d think that at the very least you could have included me in the paperwork or made some mention to my boss that I had any hand in this success.” She shook her head, mouth tugged down into an angry frown.

  Omar held her gaze, no matter how much it stung. “I’m sorry.” He hadn’t even known that his father had shared the good news with Mr. Thomas already. It seemed like a cruel joke. But Marian was in no mood to hear his side.

  “Well, I guess this means I can just go home now. You got what you wanted—the deal and a quick lay.” She spun, slamming the door shut behind her as she stormed out.

  Omar let his head fall to his hands, her words spinning inside him like a tornado. He grimaced as the pain washed through him over and over again. Her parting shot wasn’t anywhere near the truth. That wasn’t what he’d wanted from her.

  Omar clutched at his head as a headache throbbed to life, and he struggled to figure out the best next step. He couldn’t let Marian think that he had planned this betrayal. If anything, he needed to tell her just what he felt for her…and what he was prepared to attempt with her.

  He reached for his phone, dialed her number. It rang once before it clicked over to voicemail, so he tried again. Same result. She was most likely ignoring his calls.

  He groaned, tossing the phone on the desk. Nothing felt good or right anymore. And there was only one clear desire: to have Marian back at his side.

  15

  Marian fumed in the taxi to the hotel as she searched for last-minute flights on her phone. She’d be returning to NYC that evening, come hell or high water. She was sure Mr. Thomas wouldn’t mind, since in his eyes she’d been merely an accessory to the deal.

  As she searched, Mr. Thomas called. She answered, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. “Hello?”

  “There you are. So, are you preparing for your return?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for flights now.” She swallowed a knot in her throat, looking out the window as the sights of Minarak breezed by.

  “I’m glad to hear negotiations are finished. Very pleased to see that email from Mr. Almasi.” Mr. Thomas cleared his throat. “But why weren’t you mentioned?”

  She pinched her eyes shut. “I assure you sir, I was there. I was at every meeting, save for today’s.” She swallowed a surge of anger. “Omar can vouch that I was there every step of the way.” And if he doesn’t, then he deserves to have his balls removed.

  Mr. Thomas harrumphed from across the world. “Well, I’m sure you did a fine job. Kept everything organized, as you always do.”

  Her heart sank. She’d done more than a fine organization job. She’d carried this deal…and received none of the glory. “Of course.”

  Back at the hotel, she purchased the earliest flight possible and packed as quickly as she could. Peace, Parsabad. She’d be back in NYC by the following day, and it couldn’t be soon enough. In just under an hour, she was airport-ready. She breezed out of the room and down into the reception area, leaving her key at the front desk.

  During the ride to the airport, she wavered between torturous memories of Omar’s sweet kisses and recalling Annabelle’s story about being detained in the name of love. Or so the story went, now that Annabelle and Imaad told it as if it were legend. How he had security hold her up at
the airport so he could offer his private jet, to get her back to her sick mother sooner.

  She smiled sadly. Her story with the Almasi middle brother had turned out significantly different. Though deep down, a part of her was desperate for that romantic gesture. Maybe he’d be waiting at the airport—or maybe he’d already called the guards to refuse her passport.

  You’re thinking like a crazy woman. Yet it was hard not to be hopeful. She wanted so badly to be wrong about him. But her own parting words cycled like a tornado in her mind. He’d used her for a business deal and for sex, while all along she’d thought him to be an equal, even potential partner material.

  It was the greatest let-down of her life. No, worse. The greatest embarrassment of her life. She’d failed on the romantic front and the professional front, all in one blazing downfall.

  Check-in at the airport went smoothly, since she was about five hours early. Nobody stopped her through security, and the longer she waited in front of gate B27, the more convinced she became that her disappearance from Parsabad would likely not even register with Omar.

  She’d been a blip, when she’d thought it was a boom.

  After one excruciatingly long direct flight to New York City, Marian stumbled through the JFK airport like a zombie, unsure if it was very early Parsian time or super-late NYC time. She wobbled as she went through customs, the week and a half away from home feeling more like a full month. The vowels and consonants of her fellow Americans rang strangely between her ears. She rolled her luggage glumly through the baggage claim and picked up the first taxi she could. Home sweet home.

  The low point came when she got back to her studio apartment in Brooklyn. Just before pushing open the door, she stilled herself, wondering if maybe Omar was waiting for her on the other side. How would that even be possible? She pushed it open, finding a dark, stale apartment waiting for her. No Omar. Not even junk mail under the door.

  Was she that desperate to hear from him? Not even a peep since she’d left his office the afternoon before. And now, halfway across the world, even yesterday in Parsabad felt like a distant fantasy. One that she was unable to even fathom from within the confines of Brooklyn.

  Marian quickly fell asleep, back in her own bed. Strange dreams plagued her, but when she awoke around nine the next morning, she felt refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Back in the swing of things in New York. Exactly like before. Pre-Omar.

  She shuddered. There’d be none of those thoughts now that she was back. She needed to banish him from her mind. Even though part of her wilted on the inside at the concept. They’d been so good together. And he’d been so sweet. How had things ended this way? Why had he done that to her?

  The confusion irritated her almost as much as the lack of caffeine. She called Layla for an impromptu welcome-home coffee date on her self-declared transition day. She needed a day to decompress, buy groceries, and take excessive naps before heading back to the office the next morning. They met at their favorite spot in Brooklyn, just ten minutes from Marian’s building.

  “It’s so good to see you!” Layla wrapped her in a tight hug, her sparkling strawberry blonde hair smelling of flowers, as always. Marian sighed into her friend’s embrace, grateful for the familiar contact.

  “God, it’s good to be back.” Marian collapsed into a wrought iron chair on the back patio of the coffee shop, thankful for the bright sun and light breeze. A waitress came for their order and they got what they always did—two red eye coffees.

  “So tell me. How did the deal go?”

  Marian leveled her with a look. “It went. But not so well, for me.”

  “Oh no.” Concern creased Layla’s face. “What happened?”

  Marian gave her the CliffsNotes version of how Omar had sealed the deal without her, making her own boss think she’d had little to do with the success.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Layla said. “You two were so good together. You worked so well, I thought.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too.” Marian scoffed. “He hasn’t even called or anything since I left, so I guess that’s my answer. It was just a fling for business purposes.” She scoffed. “And the worst part is, I really thought we had…something between us. You know? Like, I felt that spark. And I thought he did too.”

  Layla frowned as the waitress set down their coffees, her eyes on the table. “Some guys just aren’t…ready, I guess.”

  “Yeah, and he was the least ready of all.” Marian shook her head, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her mug. “I should have known from the start that I could never compete with his dead wife.”

  Layla grimaced. “Was it that bad?”

  “Jesus, it was practically a chastity belt!” She paused, sipping at her coffee. “That’s a lie. If he tried to be chaste, he failed. Miserably. We couldn’t stop having sex.”

  Layla squeezed her arm. “Was it at least good?”

  “Ugh. The best.” Marian crumpled into her seat, memories flooding her. “That’s the thing. Everything seemed so good. Like, within three days, I was already thinking about a future with this man.”

  Layla widened her eyes. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Except, not wow. Major letdown, in fact.” Marian sighed tersely, the cup of coffee steaming in front of her lips. “I dunno. I’ll get over it. Or maybe I won’t.”

  Layla pouted. “Honey, you will. I promise you. You’re made of steel. You’ll bounce back.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of bouncing back.” She took a contemplative sip of her coffee, sullenness making her limbs heavy. “Maybe I just want to not fall over and over again and have no one there to pick me up but myself.”

  “But you’re stronger for it, honey.”

  “I dunno.” Marian felt a dark cloud overcoming her. “Because now, at work, I’ll have to work even harder to prove to my boss that I even do anything. He thinks I just took notes and kept everyone on track, but I carried a solid half of the deal. All I can do is go back to work and keep hoping for another opportunity to arise. But if I stay there, I might run into Omar again. And how horrible would that be? It might be better if I just quit.”

  Layla let out a low breath. “Wow. You sure about all that?”

  “No. But that’s how it’s looking right now.”

  “Listen, girl, you need to finish that coffee before you make any rash decisions. And then just go to work tomorrow and see what happens. I’m sure this isn’t as bad as you think. And really…I think you just have a broken heart.”

  Marian frowned. “Yeah. Stupid dumb heartbreaking guys from Parsabad.”

  Layla wrapped her in a hug. “It’ll get easier with time. And until it does, I’ll take you out to forget.” She kissed the top of her head, and then clinked her mug against hers. “Partying helps everything.”

  16

  Omar spent a restless evening in his penthouse after Marian’s outburst. His throat was tight, and he couldn’t get a full breath of air, no matter how deeply he breathed. His game plan was to give her space and go over to her hotel after dinner.

  But around eight p.m., he got the news from Annabelle—Marian had flown home.

  The revelation crushed him, made him both dizzy and exhausted at the same time. He reached for his phone to call her, but again it clicked straight to voicemail. Of course it would—she was hundreds of miles up in the air. He didn’t leave a message, choosing instead to pace his living room while he concocted a plan.

  What now? He certainly couldn’t leave things in the state they were now. If only to get his side heard, to let Marian know the truth, to have her not hate him. But if things really went his way, he’d have a chance to tell her how he felt. That she was more than just a special woman—she was the only woman he’d ever felt tempted to try anything with. Since before Anahita even.

  One thing he would do now. He hurried into his office, finding the familiar book of love letters scattered across his desk. He reread them occasionally and had done so more often during Marian’s stay. He’d turned to them
as a guide, but they’d led him into a thicket. He had to get rid of them.

  It was time to end the chapter.

  He settled into his desk chair, spreading the letters out one last time, just as he’d done so many times over the past two years. He studied each one carefully, appreciating for the last time the curls of her Farsi, the angles of her English, the poetic way she had of writing to him, even while laid up in bed during his work days. The letters served as a sort of journal of their quickly arcing relationship, one that started as strangers but ended as heartfelt lovers.

  But that story was over. It had been over for a long time. And he could not deny his emotions, especially his feelings for Marian. Not for Anahita, not for anyone else. It was simply impossible.

  Omar read each letter for the last time, smiling at her musings, laughing at some of her observations about his brothers or the hospital staff. And when he’d combed through everything, he scooped them all into a pile and carried them into the living room.

  He pressed the electric starter for the gas fireplace, watching as the controlled fire leapt to life. And then, one by one, he tossed the letters into the hungry orange flames, watching as each one was swallowed up into a black abyss in the heart of the flame. He fed the fire until he had no more to feed it, and then he sat for a long time watching the paper disintegrate into ash.

  It was almost eleven p.m. when he snapped out of it, and he immediately called his father.

  His father’s groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Sorry for the late call,” Omar said, feeling suddenly breathless. “But I have to go to America.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “For what?”

  “Marian.”

  His father sighed. “What?”

  “Will you support my decision?” His throat tightened. He’d go whether or not he had his father’s blessing, but it would be nice to have it. “I’ve fallen in love with her. I want to be with her. And she left the country thinking I’d used her. I have to go make it right.”