by Leslie North
Zahir swallowed hard, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. The mention of the board could silence him even as his father’s news stabbed him in the heart. “I understand that.”
“Then there’s nothing further to discuss. I trust you’ll make the right decision.” His father grumbled again, and then added, “That’s all. Enjoy your weekend, son.”
Zahir stood on unsteady legs, drifting more than walking back toward the hallway. All the way out of the office, sullen thoughts crowded his mind. Goodbye bachelor life. Hello shackles and boredom. He turned toward the elevators, pushing the down button. Can’t I just marry Layla instead?
He rubbed at his face inside the elevator, as if it might help wipe away some of the confusion. He’d gone from bachelor to betrothed in the span of five minutes, so he needed to get used to the idea. Find a good bottle of whisky. And do his best not to sulk and pine and spend every second of his weekend wondering what Layla was doing.
Because that had been his gut reaction—the surprise engagement felt like a betrayal to Layla. Of course that was absurd—they had no formal relationship to speak of. But there was only one person every fiber of his being craved, like a sun-parched wanderer seeking water. Layla.
What could he do now? The timeline of a pending marriage prompted desperation to flood his veins, as if he had to scoop up every last available moment with her before time ran out. Before she changed her mind, before the passion ran dry, before his business marriage took place. Any number of things waited to squash this passion that consumed him on a daily basis.
Need burbled through him, a familiar sensation taking an even-more-familiar path when it came to Layla. He knew what the right choice was, even if it was also technically the wrong choice.
He had no time to waste. He’d make sure Layla knew he intended to break the rules over and over again, for as long as he could get away with it. There was no other option besides Layla.
9
Layla came into work on Monday feeling simultaneously drained and refreshed. Her day-trip to a nearby city and antiquities museum had been a pleasant distraction from the shit show of her family planning, which had always been very simple: don’t start a family. She’d cried enough tears in her apartment to fill a small lake. The shock and confusion had ebbed into a babbling brook of quiet despair.
She was going to be a mother, the only thing she’d never envisioned for herself.
The weekend featured all the stages of grief—denial, outrage, and eventual acceptance. Marian counseled her as well as she could from across the world as she and Omar packed their bags to come home from their honeymoon. She murmured sweet, helpful things while Layla cried. She hadn’t even judged her when she admitted that Zahir was the father of her baby. Marian didn’t seem surprised, or maybe she’d just expertly squashed her incredulity. Either way, she swore her friend to secrecy.
Because there was one thing she was certain of: Zahir wouldn’t know.
Here begins the circus side show. She strolled into the hallway, dreading peeking into Zahir’s office to say good morning. But she had to do it—normalcy was the goal. Along with platonic gestures and never fantasizing about her boss ever again. Especially while she carried his tiny collection of cells inside her belly.
The fucking condom broke. The thought burst through her head like fireworks with startling regularity, interrupting mundane tasks like brushing her teeth or heating up food in the microwave. It just didn’t seem fair. There were mothers all over the world who wanted kids and couldn’t have them. And here she was, careful enough to be protected, never wanting a child, and she gets the unlucky broken condom.
“Good morning.” She forced a quick grin as she poked her head into Zahir’s office. He was studying his computer as he was most mornings. His face lit up when he saw her.
“Morning.” He offered a knee-buckling smile, his mouth hanging open like he might add more. She rushed away before she had to look at him any longer.
Inside the quiet of her own office, she took a long, deep breath, trying to roll some of the tension out of her shoulders. Just get through the day. It had to be easier going forward. And once she started to show, she could start working from home. She had plenty of time to begin that transition to remote work. There would be a way to make it work.
Zahir can’t know.
As she settled into place behind her desk, thoughts roiled thick and chunky inside her head. She’d combed through every possible scenario of how this might turn out, since seeing the positive result. And the one thing that didn’t make sense to her was telling Zahir.
He probably wanted to be a father, maybe someday, with the right wife cherry-picked for him by his family. The way Annabelle had been chosen for Imaad, the way Omar had married his first wife. After seeing all the traditional aspects of Omar and Marian’s wedding, there was no doubt in Layla’s mind that a surprise baby out of wedlock would not be well received by the Almasi clan. In fact, it might even ruin Zahir’s professional life.
All of Marian and Annabelle’s stories about Parsian culture and traditions haunted Layla every time she considered what it might be like to tell Zahir she was pregnant. She remembered the way Zahir had slipped out of her room that first night by a certain hour, to avoid the speculation. Well, now there was no speculating. He’d knocked someone up.
Confusion lashed at her, pushing her face into her hands. A quiet rap on her door made her bolt upright.
“Who is it?” She fumbled around at her desk, trying to make it look like she’d been working instead of moping.
“Zahir.” The doorknob turned and he pushed the door open, poking his head in. “May I?”
She nodded, clearing her throat. “Sure. What’s up?” She folded her fingers together on the desk top, made sure her midsection was firmly hidden behind the desk. Not like he could tell she was pregnant already. She couldn’t be more than five weeks along. But still. Just in case.
“Just wanted to see how your weekend was.” He leaned against the doorframe, impossibly casual and warm.
“Great.” She shrugged. Cried myself to sleep because I’m carrying your unexpected baby, is all. “I checked out the antiquities museum in Shahaar. Spent some time in the desert. It was nice.”
“Oh?” He lifted a brow. “Shahaar is one of my favorite places. I wish you had let me know. I could have taken you.”
She swallowed a bitter laugh. “Well, that would hardly be appropriate for a working relationship, Zahir. I see you at the office, and that’s it.”
He tutted, an uncomfortable pause emerging. “Right. Well, I actually wanted to mention something that takes you out of the office.”
Anxiety slithered through her. She had no energy left to confront this man. “What’s that?”
“There’s a dinner tonight.” He slid his hands into his pockets, looking rather pleased with himself. “Business dinner, rather. Strategy, check-ins, that sort of thing. Omar and Marian should be there, now that they’re back from their eternal honeymoon.”
Layla grinned but squashed it immediately. “Is it required?”
“Well, no…” Zahir’s gaze fell to the floor. “But it would be beneficial for you to attend. A good way to touch base with colleagues. Plus, the food is great.”
Work dinner wouldn’t be so bad. And with Marian there, she’d have reinforcements if needed. There was no good reason to say no—other than the fact that looking at Zahir’s face made her insides hurt. “Sure. Just let me know when and where.”
“Great.” Zahir smiled again, his gaze lingering on her face. The same warmth passed between them that had ensnared her the moment they started talking at Echo.
She forced a tight smile, ripping her gaze from his impeccably handsome jawline. “Okay then. See you later.”
Layla gritted her teeth as Zahir took the hint and excused himself, whooshing out a deep breath once her door clicked shut. This was hell. No, actually it was worse than hell.
Not only was she pregnant
out of wedlock in the most traditional country she’d ever set foot in, the pregnancy brought up all sorts of questions she wasn’t ready to face. Did she even want it? Now that she was pregnant, having the baby seemed the only way. Considering the alternative just didn’t sit right with her. But doing this on her own? It would be one thing if she’d been in a committed relationship and they had an accident. But even that was unlikely. Layla didn’t let herself get into committed relationships. She liked to be the fun time, a fleeting comet of perfect conversation and amazing sex that never once fizzled into flagging attraction or awkward disappointments.
It was much easier that way.
Because that way, she never had to confront anything unsavory. No heartbreak, no letdowns, nothing other than strictly what she wanted. Why be in a relationship when she could be free? It had been her motto since finding out the hard way that getting rejected hurt big-time, and there was no way to prevent the other person from just deciding one day he no longer loved her.
It had happened right after college, when her boyfriend of six years just abandoned their apartment one day and never returned. She’d found out later he’d skipped town to go marry someone he’d met on a free dating service, a relationship that had fermented quietly right under her nose for at least a year. She’d thought she’d get the happily ever after, but instead she’d gotten burned.
No one else would get the chance to hurt her again. And if anything, throwing a baby into the mix only widened the doorway of vulnerability. If she told Zahir, he could shut them out or worse, make her a prisoner to his demands. No, it was better to handle this on her own. She’d be a single mother. Women did it every day, all around the world.
Once she banked a few more paychecks, she’d figure out where to deliver, and how to get out of her contract. Step by step. Things would come together.
She took a shaky breath, struggling to feel a sense of calm about it all, until a hiccup emerged and gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body.
10
Zahir twirled the stem of his wine glass back and forth under his fingers, allowing himself just one more glance at Layla. He knew he’d been staring at her throughout dinner, but it was impossible to look away. She’d shown up to work distant and distracted, which made him even more desperate to catch her eye and know that she was okay. Layla had a strange way of wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Or maybe he was simply the only one who could see them.
“I’d say we’ve done a fine job of mixing cultures and blending practices,” Imaad spoke up, breaking through Zahir’s thoughts. Imaad raised his wine glass, the rest of the table following suit. The group, which included all levels of executives, had been discussing overall business strategies, along with the benefits and challenges of the merger. Zahir was quick to point out Layla’s contributions when he could, though he swore she shrank a little each time he did.
The table dissolved into individual conversations, and Zahir took another sip of his wine as Layla stood, gesturing discreetly to Marian. The two hurried away, leaving Layla’s spot empty directly in front of him. Omar leaned toward him, gripping the back of his chair.
“Okay. Let me be plain.” He cleared his throat, his dark eyes darting over Zahir’s face. “Do you have a thing for your new hire?”
Zahir blinked a few times, struggling to find words. Was it so obvious?
“Or maybe you’re already sleeping together.” Omar lifted a brow.
“What are you talking about?” Zahir finally found his voice, and it came out more defensive than he liked.
“I know you. You have one thing written on your face.”
Zahir tugged at the collar of his shirt. There was something unnerving about being called out, even if it was by his brother. He’d thought this attraction was far more under wraps. “And what’s that?”
“You’re looking to fuck.”
Zahir’s laugh came out sharp and forced. “Please. This is just how I look normally. I can’t control it.” He shifted in his seat, dragging his thumb over the base of his wine glass. “Besides. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m an engaged man now.”
Omar sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You gave father your answer?”
“No, I haven’t.” He sighed. “But does it matter? It’s as good as done.”
“You could say no.”
Zahir shook his head. “I can’t. I could never. You know this better than anyone.”
“You’ve sacrificed enough for the job, for the family. I’m sure you could—” Omar began.
“No.” Zahir straightened in his seat, the mere suggestion making his blood run hot. “Not after everything father has done for me. I owe him everything. It’s my obligation as the eldest. You don’t understand.”
Omar narrowed his eyes. “Father puts pressure on Immad and me too, you know. And I’ve managed to say no before.”
“That was different.” Of course Omar would bring up how he’d turned down arranged marriage offers after his first wife’s death.
Omar eyed him for a moment and then focused on something toward the back of the room. Zahir spotted Marian and Layla wending their way through the restaurant toward them, heads close as they spoke.
“I trust your honeymoon went well.” Zahir tapped his fingers on the tablecloth, unable to rip his gaze from Layla. It didn’t matter whom he married or how hard he tried to be happy in the arranged marriage—he would never forget Layla. He’d never be able to not see her.
“Better than well.” Omar flashed a mysterious grin, tipping the last of his wine into his mouth. “Marian and I are trying for a baby.”
Zahir’s brows shot up. It shouldn’t surprise him, he just hadn’t expected that he could be an uncle anytime soon. “Is that right? Congrats, brother. That’s excellent.”
“We’ll see how long it takes. But I think I can safely say we’ll be the first.” Omar nudged him as he stood up. Zahir downed the rest of his wine, trying to spot where Layla had wandered off to. Marian approached the table alone.
“I’m certainly going to be in last place,” Zahir said, coming to his feet. He buttoned his suit, furtively searching the restaurant for Layla as Marian slid into Omar’s embrace. “But only in this instance.”
Omar huffed with a laugh, and Marian smiled sweetly up at him. “What are you two talking about?”
“Just how he’s definitely going to be an uncle before he’s a father,” Omar said, pushing his fingers into Marian’s curls. Her smile wavered and then tightened.
“Well, let’s get going.” She jerked her head toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Zahir. Bright and early.”
“Don’t forget. You’re back from vacation now.” Zahir watched as the two strolled off to say goodbye to their colleagues, and then he surveyed the remaining crowd. Urgency clawed at him; he had to find Layla. Now might be his only chance to speak with her outside of a work setting, this slim window between responsibility and free time.
Instead of saying goodbye to anyone, Zahir hurried toward the front doors of the restaurant. He suspected she’d sneaked out early, after Marian came back alone. Maybe she was already gone. He pushed through the front doors of the restaurant, the rush of traffic and the dry, night air meeting him. At the curb, peering down the street, that familiar strawberry blonde hair tugged at his attention, the perfectly plaited tresses drawing him near.
“Layla.” He jogged toward her and she turned, her face wrought into an unknown expression. She didn’t hold his gaze long before turning back toward the street.
“What?” She held up her arm, gesturing more forcefully for a taxi.
He stood at her side, unsure what to say. Her icy exterior was palpable, but he wasn’t sure how to melt it. “Are you leaving so soon?”
“The dinner is over. I’m ready for bed.” She didn’t even turn his way to speak.
Zahir reached for her wrist, gently guiding her hand down. “I can take you home.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good id
ea.”
“Why? Because spending money for a stranger to take you somewhere is a better idea?” He scoffed, fishing out his phone before she could protest. “It’s no trouble to drop you off.”
Her gaze landed on his hands as he texted his driver to meet them out front. “You really shouldn’t.”
Zahir sent his text before slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Well, I already did.” He smiled at her, as if encouraging her to do the same. She stared past him, her face neutral.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded, glancing at him briefly. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. I’m tired.” She folded her arms over her chest, turning away toward the street. A tense silence settled in the space between them on the sidewalk, one that Zahir couldn’t figure out how to break.
Thankfully, the car arrived quickly. Layla slid into the back seat, and he got in after her, shutting the door quietly. Layla stared out the window, her face and posture stony.
Zahir looked her up and down a few times. So much for the painstaking progress they’d made as coworkers and friends. Even if every day he allowed himself just a little reverie about their fantastic sex.
A few moments of silence went by, stretching tighter with every second. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Have I done something to upset you?”
Her chest heaved, like maybe she hadn’t breathed the entirety of the car ride. Layla’s grip tightened on the door rest. “I…I don’t know why you’d ask that.”
“You’ve been acting strangely around me.”
Layla blinked a few times, nibbling on her bottom lip. Finally, she cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “I just, uh…I don’t know.”
“It’s important to me that we have a good working relationship. And this has not been good, or working.” He gestured to the air between them.