Tangled IN LIES (Book#3, IN YOU)

by Cassandra Night

  Together, we contact a bunch of clients. Somehow, we manage to appease them and organize the event to give them plenty of exposure. After we decide which venue is capable of holding all five hundred guests, we start booking musicians and food catering, making sure we have enough seating and flowers.

  “Noor, would you be okay to finish here? I need to see what Mr. Lawson thinks.”

  “Yes, of course, miss.”

  When I enter the main lounge room, I find the place buzzing with action.

  “Cassandra?” Mark spots me before I can speak. “What’s going on?” He takes hold of my arm and pulls me after him.

  “Mark.” I lose my breath as he pushes me into his bedroom and closes the door.

  “We’re planning a hoax operation. Next to the venue you’ve booked, I reserved another one without any way to tie it to Fading Ink or me. If this event gets sabotaged, we have a plan B.” That’s smart but a bit excessive too.

  “I thought Aaron wants to quit with us.”

  “I personally spoke with his father, and he agreed to help. He dispatched our order secretly. It should arrive by the end of the day to the new bookstore. It isn’t ideal, but we have to push this.”

  “You’re testing Aaron, aren’t you? He doesn’t know yet about the order.”

  He nods sharply.

  “His father is old, and Aaron’s going to run this company after he dies. It won't surprise me if he’s making his own alliances behind his back.”

  “What are we going to do if we lose this shipment too?”

  “I reached out to a small print house in Turkey before I left London and also contractors to get ready a small bookstore for the launch. I worked with them in the past. They’ve never disappointed me.”

  “How about catering, musicians, and other things we booked for the opening event?”

  “We’ll have people on standby to redirect everything to the secondary venue. Noor is Aaron’s fiancée. She’ll report to him as soon as she can. He’s her boss. We needed to keep her in the dark until I arranged everything.”

  “But not anymore?”

  He nods again.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I search his gaze, sensing there’s something more.

  “My men are following the truck delivering our goods. I’m going there too. Perhaps we can intercept the coup and speak with the perpetrators.”

  “Take me with you,” I insist, and he smirks, shaking his head. “Mark?” I groan. “You promised to show me how this business works. Don’t keep me in the dark. I can help.” Maybe.

  He groans, looking at the ceiling. “Why can’t you stay here and organize things instead of being in the epicenter of it all?”

  My lips twitch. “You already did most of the work. I want to learn from you, see how it pans out.”

  He exhales and gives in. “Fine. Take your tablet with you. Try not to get anyone's attention. Don’t speak to anyone, keep your head down, hair tucked under the scarf, and do as I say.”

  “Okay,” I agree, even if I want to roll my eyes at him.

  He opens his chest drawer and pulls out his laptop, gauging me.

  “We’re opening a huge network of bookshops within Saudi Arabia. You’ll be acting as liaison between the superstore managers. They need some guidance; I’ll send you my notes and plans to your email so you can direct the opening. Contact Fading Ink for help too.”

  “Wait, I thought the Moudi family was helping to open the stores.”

  He lifts his head to look at me. “When we started having problems launching a small bookstore network here in Medina, I held back from involving them in an international franchise I’ve been working on for a while in secret. Someone was screwing with us, so I tried to look for other opportunities to expand.”

  “You didn’t trust them.”

  He shrugs and then stands from the desk, and goes to his wardrobe to pick an aquamarine kaftan with stunning details stitched at the neck. “I trust the father, not his sons. They need to earn it, and so far, I don’t see why I should.”

  I arch my eyebrow, and his lips tug in a teasing smile.

  “You might want to blend in. We’re going to visit Edar Moudi after we catch the culprits. I want to talk to him.”

  “With this?” Is he kidding me? I’ll look like a princess and stand out more than I already am. But my traitorous heart palpitates with excitement as he drags his gaze leisurely down my body.

  “Yes,” he simply states, grinning at me. “I got it for you from the downstairs store. Your clothes aren’t suitable for our adventures.”

  I roll my eyes, and his lips stretch into a smile, exposing two cute dimples at the corners of his mouth.

  “Give me a few minutes. I’ll come to you after I get into this.” I turn to leave to change when I remember. “What about Noor?”

  “I’ll handle her.” He lingers at the door, regarding me. “I want you to trust me, Cassandra. This isn't the first time I’m dealing with this. I’m not trying to clip your wings, but we must be careful.”

  I nod as something loosens within me at his admission.

  At least, he isn’t treating me like I’m not worthy of being in the know.

  When I saunter into the living room, I find Mark waiting for me. I touch my hair as I pass him a scarf. “Tried to do it myself, but I can’t,” I admit, and he grins.

  “You look striking.” When he steps closer, it becomes hard to breathe. My skin sparks to life and my pulse drums against my temples. Mark coils the scarf around me as if nothing affects him. While I try to ignore everything he is doing to me.

  Afraid of my reaction to him, I fist my hands at my sides. I’m petrified I’m getting addicted to his unique energy and cunning ability to deal with challenges, or silent strength.

  “How do you know so much about this culture?”

  “Once upon a time, I lived here. I still remember things even if I was so young when my foster parents moved me to America,” he sadly whispers, surprising me. “I won’t hold you back, Cassandra, nor will I treat you below me.”

  A lump forms in my throat, reacting to his promise.

  “But you have to allow me to protect you.”

  I tilt my head to look at him.

  Something fervent kindles my soul with a longing that was dormant for the past few years. I step away from him as soon as he fastens my headpiece. All that I am, and all that I can’t be, rushes back like a wave crashing against my chest.

  “Let’s go.” We leave the resort in his car, and his men follow behind.

  To keep myself busy, I open an email from Mark. Reading through the notes, I realize he’s been working on this deal for almost a year. I’m beyond impressed. Mark managed to sign a franchise with one of the biggest superstore network holders in the Middle East. He’ll be using small print houses to supply the stores, helping small businesses to grow. It makes sense why he wanted to work with the Moudi family and put so much energy into maintaining this partnership.

  While he drives, I manage to sort out most of the issues and prepare for the launch with franchise partners and for the event at Medina. I wonder if Mark kept this charade with the Moudis as a distraction. I’m starting to think he has an intelligent approach, dealing with these debacles. And whoever these people are, they were outplayed.

  “We’re here.”

  I put away the tablet and look around. “Very remote.”

  He nods at my observation, slowing down the car. He allows his men to pass, and then he stops. Pulling out his phone, he dials Higgins.

  “Do you see them? Got it. We’ll wait.” He disconnects the call. “The truck should pass them in about twenty minutes.”

  “I didn’t realize how difficult running this business overseas might be,” I tell him.

  “Once you learn about the system, it gets easier. You start to anticipate and learn to act accordingly. I doubt you haven’t seen similar things working with investors at the bank.”

  “I did.” But not at the ban
k. “Being a Cade brought me close and personal with people who juggle big funds and play political games like chess.” Except those sharks play the games with people’s lives not with figurines. Nothing is unattainable to them. I got to see how they operate. “I just wonder who the main player is.”

  “Why do you think there is?”

  “Just a hunch. Let’s see how it pans out.”

  His gaze snaps to the mirror as screeching cars surround us and military-looking men pile out of the vehicles, shouting something and pointing their guns at us.

  “Fuck!”

  “Oh my God.” My hands rise to placate them.

  “Do not challenge them. Do what they say. Keep your identity secret if you can. You’ll be okay.” He clips a warning as he opens the door and slowly climbs out with his hands in the air. I stay inside, but my door is wrenched open, and a guy pulls me out. My hand goes up as they point the guns, pushing me to another vehicle.

  7

  Thunderstorm

  ~Cassandra~

  After a two-hour journey, we finally arrive at the mansion. Green grass, manicured trees, and beautiful flower beds artfully carved into the land greet my eyes. The view takes away my breath as the welcoming white pillars and arches draw my eyes toward the majestic stairs at the entrance. But I search for Mark, anxious about his safety.

  My nails dig into my dress material as I find him pushed out from the vehicle. His sharp gaze tracks mine. Exhaling in relief, he tips his head at me and smiles. My muscles stiffen as the doors on my right open. The male with military regalia extends his hand.

  “Miss, please follow me.”

  My skin prickles with unease, but I don’t fight him.

  The evening wind whips my scarf around my shoulders as I place my hand in his calloused ones. Conscious about how much attention I’m attracting, I touch my head, making sure my disguise is in place.

  “You don’t need to be afraid, miss. I’m General Abbas, head of the police force in Saudi Arabia. This is my home. You’re safe here. Please allow me to show you to your quarters. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

  None of it makes me feel at ease, quite the contrary.

  Smiling, I tip my head at him, and he walks me into his home. Unable to appreciate the beauty of it all, I count the armed men circling around the property. I try to keep calm as he leads me through the lush interior to my room. To his word, Abbas leaves me alone with the maids, who rush to get me ready for bed.

  “Could you please tell me what’s happening? Mr. Lawson hasn’t returned yet,” I speak to one of the women. I was relieved he actually sent someone who can communicate with me.

  “You should rest, miss, it’s very late. Tomorrow, Mr. Abbas will explain everything. I’m sure your boss is taken care of.” She leaves the room and two guards stand at the door.

  Exhausted from all the ventures and stress, I lie on the bed. Just for a minute, I close my eyes. I tremble from tension and lack of sleep is catching up with me. I melt into the bedding like on the soft clouds, and my mind shuts down, beckoning me deeper into sleep.

  “Hey.” A gentle stroke on my cheek sends delicious shivers down my spine, wrapping around my body. “Cassandra.” A low, masculine voice is so close to my ear but also so far. “Open your eyes, Lovebird. I need to know you’re okay.” Gentle lips press against my temple, so tempting and soothing, I sigh. “Cassandra.”

  Hearing my name, I blink. My hands coil into his shirt then I realize who’s next to me. “Mark,” my voice rasps as I stare at him. “You’re here.” I try to sit, but he pushes my shoulders down. “What happened?”

  “Sleep. We’re safe. I’m here now.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  As if my eyelids weigh too much, my eyes blink closed.

  “Good night,” I whisper, yawning.

  Mark’s scent wraps around me, just like his protective hands cradling me. I can’t force them open again. I let the day slip away. Tension leaves my body and I let go.

  ****

  A tremor works up my spine as a chilly breeze wisps against my back, coming through the open window. When the sensation of someone sleeping next to me registers, I become alert.

  Mark. He came back.

  My eyes snap open and I find him staring at me with soft eyes from sleep and messy hair sticking in every direction.

  “Morning,” he rasps.

  “Morning,” I reply, trying to ignore the heat seeping from his palm on my waist into my skin.

  To distract myself, I swing my gaze around the room to see if the maids have sneaked in on us. They did this yesterday and I haven’t figured out how yet.

  His finger grazes my cheek, bringing my focus back to him. “Have they hurt you?”

  “No,” I quickly tell him. “What’s going on, Mark?” I speak in a hushed tone, afraid someone might overhear us.

  Last night, the urgency in his tone made me believe I must be watchful of how I conduct myself around these people. I might be a free woman in the world I came from, but not here. The rules are different here. Forced hospitality on us doesn’t warrant my confidence either.

  “General Abbas was trying to figure out who’s hijacking my trucks too. He arranged his men to monitor the Moudis’ warehouse. General Abbas wanted to see who he might catch on the other end.”

  Shit! And he did. Us.

  “Did you explain to him about the problems we’re dealing with?”

  He nods and digs his gaze into mine. My skin tightens. Why is Mark this wary? Unless he doesn’t trust what he learned from Abbas. Did anyone tell the General about this particular shipment, or did he just get lucky?

  “Is he worried you’re going to retaliate?” If the General’s goal is to prevent conflict, whose side is he on?

  Mark presses a finger to his lips. “Be careful. I still don’t know what the General’s role in all of this is. You might be right about the bigger player. I think he’s trying to keep me away from finding out who it is.” He rubs a lock of my hair between his fingers. “By the way, I told them you’re my fiancée. Couldn’t chance them thinking you’re an unclaimed woman in their folds.”

  I blink, surprised as my pulse throbs against my neck, thick like syrup. But I ignore it, push it down. Not wanting to acknowledge how his words affect me. There are many other things to worry about.

  “I thought this trip was going to be safe.” I dig my gaze into his, and he squeezes my hand in reassurance.

  “You’re safe. This is just a little hiccup. I haven’t expected Aaron to be this deep with some anonymous big shots that the Saudi police force is getting involved. General Abbas avoided telling me who’s funding these operations, but I think he knows.”

  “What are we going to do now?”

  He stands. His silky black pants cascade down his firm legs. His muscles ripple as he walks toward the window.

  “Yesterday, Abbas invited us to the ball in Istanbul. We’re leaving tomorrow at noon. Every Middle East big shot will be there. It’s one of the biggest and most exclusive events of the year. Great opportunity to network and get exposure.”

  The way he says it, I believe we have no choice in the matter. No, the General is definitely forcing our hand with this. But why? Is it to hide the people who're trying to sabotage us or to aid them?

  I study Mark’s calm, calculated demeanor, and I have a strong feeling he has a plan or an ace up his sleeve. This man didn’t become successful playing by other people's rules. No, he’s the one who calls the shots.

  However, we need to tread carefully here, not to cause conflict, but rather resolve it before it escalates.

  My eyebrows crease. “What about our plans here at Medina?”

  He turns to tell me as the door clicks open and a woman announces Abbas’ arrival.

  Mark moves closer to the bed, blocking me, his stance wide, shoulders tight like sentinels. The General saunters into the room before I can grab a scarf and cover myself.

  “There’s
no need, Mrs. Cade. Like I said, you’re under my protection.”

  I still. My cheeks flame as I become aware I’m in the nightgown the General’s maid helped me into yesterday. I hate being at a disadvantage, and he already figured out who I am. So much for keeping my identity hidden. At least he has the decency to keep his eyes averted while I wrap the scarf around my shoulders.

  “I thought we could speak before leaving for Istanbul. There are a few things I need to discuss with you.”

  “Give us a few minutes, and I’ll find you after I change.”

  Abbas nods. His eyes skate over me and then he turns to leave. I grab a robe and jump to my feet.

  “General.”

  He pauses, turning around.

  “Thank you for your warm hospitality.” I slip past Mark, hoping this isn’t too bold a move to address him. But his people confiscated my things, including my phone. “I wonder if I could call my family. I worry about my children at home. They haven’t heard from me since yesterday.”

  “Your father-in-law contacted me already. They’re aware you’re my guest.” Before I can mask the shock hitting me like a punch to the throat, he says, “Mrs. Cade, your family is respected here in the Middle East. I’ll make sure your stay here will be pleasant and smooth.”

  I nod, casting a look at Mark, standing still like a stone at my side. His face is like granite.

  “Thank you, Mr. Abbas. Can I ask for another favor?”

  He nods.

  “I still need to finish a few things for Mr. Lawson. We’re organizing an important event at Medina.” But before I can even ask for my things, he speaks again.

  “You aren’t my prisoner, Mrs. Cade. Your personal belongings from the car and also your hotel suite will be sent shortly to your quarters.”

  I blink, biting the inside my cheek, so I won’t show my utter disbelief.

  “I also organized a dinner for you. I hope you’ll enjoy my home for the duration of this stay.” Abbas looks between us with bold curiosity and then leaves, shutting the large door behind us.

  Mark twists around. His stormy gaze speaks volumes. We can’t change this situation we got ourselves in—only choose how we react to our circumstances.