by Leslie North
Nimr stood and slammed his fist down onto the table, “That is irrelevant now. You will marry an American, and you will do so in the next thirty days. Furthermore, you will make amends with the Sharqi family.”
“Or what?” Nassir demanded. These men could not be serious.
“Or we will replace you.” Nimr narrowed his gaze on Nassir, his voice quiet. “You are cunning and clever. You think there will be a loophole or an exception, but you are wrong.”
“Replace me? I am Nassir Adjalane and heir to this empire…”
His father continued despite his protests. “I have taken the liberty of speaking with Taleb Sharqi and he has agreed to help you in this endeavor. You are scheduled to attend Amare’s wedding reception tonight. He has already had arrangements to introduce you to several women whom he believes would make a suitable wife.” Nimr smiled then, small and cold. “A month is not long for courtship. I would suggest you make your choice quickly.”
The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air. If he failed to take a bride, leadership of the company would pass to Hazim. The two men were rivals on the best days, enemies on their worst. And if his uncle took over leadership of the Adjalane Oil board that would mean an end to all the company’s philanthropic pursuits—Hazim had made it perfectly clear he would divert all of the money in the budget earmarked for charity straight into plumping the company’s bottom line. No new schools built. No more orphans rescued. No more hospitals constructed.
He looked each man sitting at the table in the eyes, seeing not even a hint of doubt in their eyes. They wanted him to marry? Fine. He squared his shoulders and stood. “I’ll see you back here in a month, gentleman. With my American bride.”
***
Wedding of Amare Sharqi and Bree, San Francisco, California, Two days later…
Janna Davis watched Amare sweep his new bride into his arms and stride from the banquet hall then snorted. “Well, that’s not something you see every day.”
Her feet hurt and she longed for a hot bath and a long night’s sleep. Putting this lightning-fast wedding together had taken every bit of her expertise and her energy. Now that it had gone off without a hitch, the adrenaline high she’d drawn on to keep her going had vanished.
Two men stood at her side, giving her not-so-subtle glances. One of them she’d met earlier, Karim Sharqi, the groom’s brother. His clipped responses to her friendly attempts at small talk had bordered on rude and he’d been no help at all as she hustled around the banquet hall, accounting for every detail.
The other had been a last-minute addition to the guest list. Nassir Adjalane, notorious for causing difficulties for the Sharqi family business, and—if the rumors were to be believed—the Hatfield to their McCoy. Frankly, she’d been shocked the guy had the balls to show up here. Mortal enemies didn’t normally celebrate each other’s weddings.
Tired of being gawked at like some prize-winning pony, Janna turned and gave both men a thorough once-over. Dressed in the traditional robes of their country, they were most definitely Middle Eastern. And if their blatant stares were any indication, it seemed their manners were as backward as their views toward equality.
“He’s acting like a fool,” Nassir said, giving the departing bride and groom a disparaging look.
Regardless of how she felt about the happy couple’s sappy romance, she wasn’t about to let this pompous ass rain all over their parade. She crossed her arms and faced him. “He’s acting like a man in love, though I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it.”
“How dare you insult us.” Karim scowled. “In our country, men do not show their emotions so publicly. We save our affections for the privacy of the bedroom.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t live in your country then. Sounds boring if you ask me.” Janna walked away, the taffeta skirt of her dress swishing as she headed across the room toward her cousin, Jack, and the groom’s other brother, Taleb.
She’d needed to get away from idiots before her big mouth got her in even more trouble.
“It was a beautiful ceremony, Janna,” Jack said once she’d stepped in beside him.
“Thanks. Although, he doesn’t seem to be of quite the same opinion.”
“Who?” Jack looked to where she indicated, then chuckled. “Oh. You mean Nassir. Well, they don’t call him the Heartless Sheik for nothing.”
“He wasn’t thrilled Amare carried Bree from the room.”
Taleb chuckled, “Do not worry. Nassir is a strict traditionalist. I’ve told him repeatedly he needs to join the twenty first century, but still he prefers to stay in the Dark Ages where women wore veils and did not work outside the home.”
“The not working part is bad enough, but wearing a veil all the time? No way.” The whole thing sounded barbaric and outdated. Janna marveled at the fact there hadn’t been a feminist uprising in Al-Sarid a long time ago.
“It is not as bad as you think,” Taleb said, his expression cautious. “There are reasons for what we do.”
“Really?” Jenna did her best to keep her sarcasm to a minimum and failed. “Do enlighten me.”
“Our women chose to wear their veils as a show of modesty and reverence to God. And our men provide for their every need to show how deeply we care. Many Westerners consider our strict rules and practices abusive, when the opposite is true. I believe if you spoke to the women of Al-Sarid you would hear a much different story.”
Janna shrugged, not wanting to insult his culture, no matter how different it was from hers. “I guess I like my independence too much to ever consider something like that. Besides, I’ve never been much of a follow-the-rules kind of gal.” She smiled at Jack then Taleb. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I better make sure the caterers have everything they need. Talk to you later?”
“Yep.” Jack pointed toward the entrance. “By the way, I made sure to tell the tabloid photographers I spotted earlier that this was all your doing. Who knows? Maybe someone will read about this event and offer you your dream job.”
“Maybe.” Janna didn’t have time to think about the future. Not when payment for this job hadn’t cleared her bank account yet and next month’s bills were stacking up.
She left Jack and Taleb behind and headed toward the side door where the caterers were busily moving between the kitchens and the hallways, working to keep up with the demand for food and drink from the guests. “Everything going okay out here?”
“Everything’s fine, Miss Janna.”
She smiled at the young man in charge, “If you need anything, you call my cell.”
“Will do,” he said.
Food and booze handled, she walked down the hall toward the ballroom again and promptly ran into Nassir. Talk about lost. No way would that guy ever frequent a lowly service hall unless he had no idea where the hell he was. With a sigh, she approached him. “Is there a problem?”
“No. You are in charge of all these people, yes?” He nodded toward the wait staff and others milling around in the hallway.
“I hired them, yes.” Janna did her best to explain her job, “As a wedding planner, I’m in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes. I coordinate all the different puzzle pieces to make sure they fit. Damage control.”
“You are not busy now?”
His dark gaze held more than a hint of mystery and despite his early bad manners, she couldn’t help being intrigued. “No. I’m between tasks at the moment.”
“Good.” Nassir took her by the elbow and led her back into the ballroom. “Then you shall join me for a drink while you wait for your next crisis to avert.”
Janna resisted the urge to prickle beneath his authoritative tone and did her best to remember Taleb’s words. Our men provide for their every need to show how deeply we care…
“I suppose I have time for one drink.” Janna shook off his hold on her arm and preceded him into the ballroom, pleased to see the guests still enjoying the live band, the banquet tables still laden with food
, and the bar staff busily filling orders.
Nassir escorted her to empty table near the back of the room and held the chair for her while she sat then raised his hand to summon a passing waiter. “What will you have to drink?”
“A cola.”
“Cola?” Nassir frowned.
“I’m still working. Cola will be fine,” she told the waiter.
Nassir gave his order as well then took a seat beside her.
Awkward silence ensured.
After a few tense moments, she decided to get him talking about himself. In her experience, if there was one universal subject people loved to discuss it was themselves. “So, do you mind sharing why you were upset about him carrying Bree from the room?”
“He made himself a spectacle. That is not done in our country. Not by men of our class.”
“And what class is that exactly?”
Before he could answer, Nassir’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from a pocket in his robe and scowled at the screen. “It is my brother.” He swiped the screen then tucked the phone away again. “I will call him back later.”
She laughed. “Wow. You’re braver than me. I would never get away with diverting one of my siblings’ calls to voicemail.”
“You have brothers and sisters?”
“Three. All younger.” She sat back as the waiter returned with their drinks, and glanced around the room. Several women were eyeing Nassir, but if he noticed the attention he didn’t show it. Or didn’t care. She shook her head and smiled. “I kind of became a surrogate mother to them years ago after our own mom was involved in a bad car accident. With her injures, she wasn’t able to do even the most basic things, so the responsibilities fell to me.”
“How old were you at the time of this accident?” he asked, his expression concerned.
“Twelve.” She traced a finger around the rim of her glass. “I think that’s why being a wedding coordinator was such an easy fit. I’ve been taking charge and organizing things for more than half my life.”
Nassir said nothing, just watched her.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his intense onyx gaze and she found the feeling unsettling to say the least. She hadn’t noticed before in the hustle and bustle of the night, but now sitting here so close to him, she realized Nassir Adjalane was a very handsome man—all dark hair and dark eyes and long, lean muscled form.
Janna looked away fast. She had no business thinking about one of the wedding guests like that. Especially one from Al-Sarid.
“The wedding was very nice,” he said, his voice lower than before.
“Yeah. It was beautiful, if I do say so myself.”
“Amare looked very happy with his choice of a bride.” Nassir continued to watch her, his face unreadable.
“Why wouldn’t he be happy? They’re in love.”
“Marriage is not only for love.”
And there it was. She’d wondered where his pompousness had gone. Janna shook her head, “No. Marriage is love.”
He leaned in closer, and her breath hitched. Close enough for her to smell his cologne—spice and sandalwood and something else indefinably him. “Do you have a business card?”
Momentarily flustered by the nearness of him, her normally ordered thoughts scattered. “Um, a business card? Are you getting married soon?”
“Yes.”
Of course he was. Time for the butterflies flitting around her stomach to go back in their cage. She pulled out one of her cards from the small evening bag she carried and handed it to him. “I didn’t realize you were engaged. Have you been together long?”
“No. We only met recently, but I’m positive she is the one. The woman I wish to marry.”
All righty then.
Their fingers brushed as he took the card from her and an electric jolt zinged up her arm and into her bloodstream from the contact. Her heart raced and his dark gaze fell to her lips.
Nassir inched closer, as if…
His phone rang again, and he cursed. “Excuse me, but I must take this call.” He rose and tucked her business card into his pocket. “Janna, it was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for speaking with me.”
He walked away, his phone to his ear, and Janna sat there and watched him leave. For some weird reason, she missed his presence. As if her world felt somewhat emptier without him.
Silly, considering he was practically married and the last thing she needed were more complications.
The Sheikh’s Secret Bride (The Adjalane Sheikhs Series Book 1) Introduction
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