The Sheikh's Unruly Lover

by Leslie North

  There was a soft chuckle from his father. “You boys never cease to amaze me.”

  Omar relaxed a little. “This is just something that I have to do.”

  “I’m happy to see that you’ve healed,” his father said. “Go to her. We’ll make sure everything is covered at the office.”

  Omar hung up the phone, his entire body buoyant with excitement. This just didn’t feel necessary, this felt more right than anything he’d ever done. He texted Annabelle to see if she was still up, and she called almost immediately.

  “Is everything okay?” Her voice sounded strained.

  “It will be,” Omar said. “I need your help. I want to fly to New York to surprise Marian, but I need some information first.”

  Annabelle hummed appreciatively. “Do I smell a grand gesture in the works?”

  “Not as good as being a border detainee, but we can’t all work at Imaad’s level,” Omar cracked. “We parted on bad—well, horrible—terms. I have to go make it right. And I don’t think I can survive without her, honestly.”

  Annabelle cackled. “Oh, God. Like I didn’t see this coming from a mile away.”

  Omar grinned despite the anxiety gnawing him alive. So many things had yet to fall into place. Every second, his plan coalesced more inside his head.

  “This has to be a surprise. But I need her address and contact information for someone who can help me over there.”

  “The first one is easy. And the second is…” Annabelle paused, and then squealed. “I know who it is! Layla! One of her closest friends in NYC. I can send you her information as soon as we hang up.”

  “Great.” Relief flooded him, and a to-do list began materializing in his head. “And Annabelle, I just want you to know, I didn’t sell her out, or throw her under the bus, or use her for anything.” He swallowed hard. “I’m just crazy about her.”

  “Awww, Omar.” Annabelle tutted. “Pack your shit and go find her!”

  When he hung up the phone, he felt energized and ready to tackle everything. He’d arrange his departure on the family jet for first thing in the morning, meaning he’d get to NYC sometime in the morning their time. And hopefully along the way, he’d be able to solidify the final details with Layla about the surprise plan percolating in his head.

  Glancing one last time at the glowing embers in the fireplace, he realized that small gesture had freed him in a way he hadn’t counted on.

  Freed him up for an entirely new future with Marian.

  17

  Layla texted incessantly about going out that night. All through her first day back in the office, Marian could barely keep up with the pinging messages about outfit choices and makeup looks. Layla always had a penchant for date nights, but this seemed excessive. Maybe she was taking Marian’s sadness and making it her own.

  “Damn girl, calm down. I might not want to go out tonight. Let’s see how work goes,” Marian responded to a string of 13 texts.

  “WE ARE GOING OUT TONIGHT NO QUESTIONS,” Layla responded.

  Marian frowned at the phone screen. Well, that was settled. She turned to her computer, finishing the email she’d started. Half a day back in her regular spot in the regular office and already it seemed a little bland. Like maybe nothing had changed in her absence…and maybe that nothing ever would change.

  She’d relished the freedom and agency of her temporary position abroad. Having that sort of negotiation power and importance was a welcome change. Far better than being an executive assistant, even though she was paid handsomely and loved her job.

  She was ready for more. And as far as she could see, her next chance for more might never come.

  She sighed heavily, returning to the email. Work today was a struggle. Between Layla’s texts and wondering about Omar, she was about braindead. And still no word from him, which only convinced her further that he’d entirely forgotten about her and moved on. Her disappearance probably just made it so easy for him, fit perfectly into his stupid little plan. She scoffed.

  Layla texted again. “I think you should wear that green dress, the one with the scoop back.”

  Marian picked up her phone in a huff. “We’re not going to the MET, Layla. We’re going to a BAR. Why do I have to get so fancy?”

  “I want to go to a fancy place before the bar, I thought I told you. Aren’t you reading my messages??”

  Marian scrolled up, finding a brief mention of a fancy place. “Sorry. Ok fine, fancy dress. Whatever. You dress me. I don’t even care, I just want fucking martinis.”

  Layla sent a smiley face, and Marian watched her phone a moment longer, just to be sure no other queries were coming. When it seemed Layla the Dress Code Goddess had been appeased, Marian returned to her work.

  She made it ten minutes before Layla texted again. “I’ll be over at 5:30 to start getting ready.”

  Marian’s eyes widened. What did she think this was, Saturday night? It was a Wednesday. She shook her head. Incredible. She’d have to leave work exactly on time to make it home before Layla got there.

  Marian made it through the rest of her workday somehow and then squeaked out of work just a few minutes early to get a head start on the commute to Brooklyn. As predicted, Layla was waiting in the hallway with a backpack when Marian arrived, smiling like she knew a secret.

  “It’s a night to celebrate,” Layla said, following Marian inside the apartment.

  “What are we celebrating? The fact that I’m still single?” Marian dropped her purse on the counter.

  “No. Well, only if you want to, but that seems a little sad. We should rephrase it, at any rate. I would like to celebrate the fact that I’m quitting my job.”

  Marian turned slowed to her friend, eyes wide. “Really?”

  Layla grinned, nodding excitedly. “Yep! I finally made the decision.”

  “So this means you’ll come work with us, right?” Marian winked at her.

  Layla laughed, but it died off quickly. “No, actually, I’m going to travel for a while. I have enough savings to last me at least a year and a half, maybe two, if I play my cards right. I’ll have to get a job again eventually, but, damn…I’m ready.” She blew a puff of air from her mouth. “I put in my two weeks today.”

  Marian squealed. “Wow! That’s so exciting! Congratulations!” The two friends hopped around. “Now I see why you’re so hellbent on getting out tonight!’”

  Layla smiled mysteriously and scooted into the bathroom. “I’m going to start getting ready!”

  Marian cleaned up the kitchen before heading to her dresser to pull out the appropriate necessities: sheer stockings and a push-up bra. She stripped out of her work clothes and shimmied into the tights and bra just as Layla came out of the bathroom in a form-fitting blue dress.

  “That’s cute,” Marian remarked. “Totally good for an ‘I’m quitting my job’ night out on the town.”

  Layla grabbed her make-up bag and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the far wall. “Thanks. I thought so, too.”

  The two friends readied relatively quickly amid pop music and a few anecdotes about Marian’s trip to Parsabad. By the time six thirty rolled around, the two were smoking hot and ready to go.

  “This feels great already,” Marian said, locking the apartment door behind her. They strutted down the hallway like bad bitches and then hailed a cab like they owned the world.

  In the taxi on the way to their first stop, Layla was bubbling. “This is gonna be such a great night. You’ll see that not all men are bad. There are some good ones out there.”

  Marian lifted a perfectly painted brow. “I thought this was about your upcoming travels.”

  “Well, yeah, that too.” Layla patted at her hair, stealing a glimpse in the rear-view mirror. “But this is also about you feeling good. Feeling better.”

  Marian shrugged. “Whatever it is, we look awesome, and there’s gonna be vodka.”

  Layla grinned. “Exactly.”

  About fifteen minutes later the taxi pull
ed up to their destination, a Mediterranean restaurant Marian had never heard of. A car horn blared behind them as they approached the main doors, and the smattering of people on the sidewalk stared at them.

  Inside, the restaurant was strangely empty. Not a single patron filled any table, despite the entre place being illuminated.

  “Whoa,” Marian muttered.

  “We must be early,” Layla said. “I made a reservation, even. Looks like we didn’t need it.” She laughed a little as the maître d’ led them to a table with banquettes in the far corner of the restaurant. The two sat down, receiving stiff board menus, and a moment later, a waiter appeared with water and a bottle of wine.

  “Compliments of the house,” he said, bowing slightly as he poured the wine.

  “Was this a Groupon or something?” Marian whispered.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Layla blurted, jolting to her feet. “I’ll be back.” Layla trotted off into the recesses of the restaurant. When she disappeared around a corner, Marian stared peering around. Something seemed off, but she didn’t know what. The disturbing lack of people irked her. Maybe she just wanted to be ogled, and since there was no crowd, it was a letdown.

  I wish Omar could see me now. She’d love to send him a selfie of herself in this hot dress, all dolled up, let him see what he was missing. She smiled smugly. If only she’d allow herself to message him. But maybe after a few martinis, she’d break down. Probably she’d drunk-confess to him that she loved him. The word hung bulky and threatening in the back of her mind. Just a little loosening of her defenses and it might slip out, unbidden.

  Marian sighed, taking a sip of her water. The wine looked nice. Like, really nice. She squinted as she studied the label. What sort of language was that? Foreign symbols crawled across the label, a strange language. She picked the bottle up, studying the origin information. Minarak, Parsabad.

  Her eyes widened. No fucking way. What sort of weirdness was that? She set the bottle down and looked around again, as if Omar might materialize. A pipe dream if she’d ever had one.

  She dragged her fingertips over the white linen tablecloth, waiting for Layla to return, until a movement caught her eye. Something fluttered in the air. She looked up and gasped. It was a butterfly. A black and blue butterfly heading straight for her. Followed by another one…and another.

  She furrowed a brow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Why were there butterflies in here? She craned her neck to see someone, anyone, that might be able to explain this. Was this part of the restaurant’s shtick, and she just didn’t know about it? Maybe that’s why Layla brought her here, for the butterflies. God, where was Layla?

  Marian sipped her water and then choked, spraying water everywhere over the tablecloth. Omar was in the doorway. He was in the fucking doorway across the room, the same one Layla had disappeared through. Tears pricked her eyes, and she covered her mouth, struggling to make sense of it. Either Layla was secretly Omar…or Omar had flown across the ocean after her.

  Her lip trembled under her palm as he approached, his dark eyes set on her. More butterflies fluttered in the air as he came near, framing him in the most ethereal way. Maybe this was just a dream, spawned from heartbreak and intense longing. That still seemed a legitimate possibility.

  “Marian.” Omar slid onto the banquette next to her, reaching for her hand. The warmth of him rooted her to her spot, and a few tears escaped.

  “Why are you here?”

  Omar smiled a little. “You left before I could make things right.”

  Another tear escaped. “So you came to me?”

  He nodded, wiping away a tear with his rough thumb. “Marian, I love you.”

  Her whole body quaked with the admission, and she crumpled into his arms. He held her, gently rocking back and forth, as she cried.

  “I’m sorry for how everything went down,” he whispered. “I never used you. You were always right by my side. I made sure that everyone knows you had the most to do with that deal…and that I just signed it.”

  Marian shook a little, letting his words wash over her. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, but his scent was a balm she hadn’t counted on.

  “I just want to be with you,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You’re the only woman that makes me feel free again. I want to be free, with you at my side.”

  Marian clutched at the lapels of his jacket, the tears finally subsiding. She looked up at him, searching his face for clues that this was really happening. The contours of his jawline, nose, the shape of his eyes, were such a relief to look at again—even after just days apart—that it prompted more tears.

  “Goddammit,” she sputtered, resting her forehead against his chest. “I love you too. Where did you get these butterflies?”

  His warm hand smoothed over her back. “My father has been involved with conservation societies for a very long time. And occasionally, they’re released back into the wild.”

  Marian groaned. “Like you?”

  Omar’s body shook as he laughed. “Exactly.”

  Marian looked up at him again, her face feeling damp and messy. “You’re a real keeper, you know that?”

  “I try my best,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over her chin. And then he pressed his lips to hers, an electric kiss zipping through her, making her toes tingle. “I want to keep this for as long as I can,” Omar murmured, sliding his hand around the back of her neck.

  Marian sighed, slinging her arms around him. Thank God this was real, this was happening. Because there was nobody else she wanted to have at her side. “Oh yeah? Well how do you suggest we do that, when we live half a world apart?”

  “There are ways.” He nuzzled his face against hers. “I could always move to New York. Or you could come claim your new job in Parsabad as Negotiations Director.”

  She inhaled sharply. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’ve talked to my father and Mr. Thomas.” He smiled warmly as he ran his fingers through her hair. She could look up into his eyes for a lifetime and still want more of it. “They both agree the change would be great for the company. And a bigger challenge for you, since you proved yourself with the National Oil deal. If you’re open to the idea.”

  Her mouth fell open, ideas springing to life. A move to Parsabad? Omar at her side? A new, more challenging role? Not a single doubt crept into her mind. She could only feel excitement, could only see hope.

  “Yes,” she blurted.

  Omar chuckled, brushing his lips against hers. “Don’t you want to think about it for a little bit first?”

  “I’ve never felt anything more right in my life,” she said, hooking her arms around his neck. “God, it just makes so much sense. All of it. Especially you.”

  “So you won’t have a problem coming to be with me…for a very long time…” Omar’s gaze turned boyish and shy. “Like maybe forever.”

  Marian couldn’t fight the smile. She fingered the collar of his jacket, admiring the immaculate trim of his hairline. Forever had seemed like a possibility with him from the beginning, even when it made no sense. Now it was the only thing that made sense. “That sounds like a pretty good start to me.”

  End of The Sheikh’s Unruly Lover

  Almasi Sheikhs Book Two

  PLUS: Love your sexy sheikhs? Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from Leslie North’s bestselling novel, The Sheikh’s Forced Bride, Book One of The Sharjah Sheikhs series.

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  BLURB

  Sheikh Khalid Al-Qasimi’s playboy ways have finally caught up with him. After creating a scandal during a diplomatic visit to America, Khalid is given a choice by his father—marry or face banishment. Rather than lose his family, Khalid bows to his father’s wishes but an outspoken American interrupts Khalid’s would-be wedding. Now Khalid has a new plan that might please his father, secure his inheritance and leave Khalid still able to go on with his life …he’ll take the beautiful American as his bride—and then his father will hate her so much he’ll beg Khalid not to get married after all.

  Journalist Casey Connolly has never been afraid to share her opinions. While researching an article on arranged marriages, she lands in trouble when she crashes a royal wedding to get a quote from the attending American guests.. The sexy groom offers to set her free if she’ll step into the role of his fiancée—just for a short time. Seeing a chance to get the scoop she needs, Casey agrees.

  Soon there’s no denying the chemistry they share. But Casey’s boss is pushing her to complete her piece and head back to the States, while Khalid’s father is still pushing for a hasty wedding. Will this pseudo-romance become the real thing or buckle under all the pressure being put on these two?

  Get your copy of The Sheikh’s Forced Bride from

  www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Sheikh Khalid Al-Qasimi took a deep breath to steady his nerves and let it out. He stared at the enormous wood doors in front of him. Drawing another slow breath, he put his hands on the brass door handles. Once he stepped through those doors, his life would change forever. And not for the better.

  Letting go of the door, he shook his arms out and looked down at his traditional white robes of his country.