The Sheikh's Contract Fiancee (Almasi Sheikhs 1)

She blinked, the words refusing to settle into her head. “What?”

“I need a blood relative to go on my behalf. And with my health, I can’t make the trip. There’s no way in hell.”

Annabelle furrowed her brow, tracing patterns across the deep wood desktop with her eyes as she tried to absorb his words. “But where is it?”

“Parsabad.”

She laughed. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not.”

“No way.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry. You’ll just have to go yourself.”

The way her father sighed told her he’d been expecting this. “You will be compensated.”

“Oh yeah?” She scoffed. “Like what?”

“In the form of your mother’s medical expenses.” Her father coughed a few times. “I know it’s been hard to pay them, to be taking care of her. I will cover all of the bills if you go to Parsabad and do this for me.”

Annabelle’s caustic retorts immediately dissolved on her tongue. She stared at her father in disbelief. This wasn’t fair. How could he use her mother as leverage? She could never say no to an offer like that, and he knew it. The smart, conniving bastard.

“So that’s it? I just go to Parsabad and sign a paper?”

Her father nodded gravely, his dark gaze focused on the desk. “In a nutshell.”

In a nutshell. That could leave room for so much more. There had to be more, for him to hold out such a huge carrot.

“And you’ll clear all my mom’s medical bills? Seriously?” She had to say it again, just to make sure this was real.

Her father nodded.

Annabelle steeled her jaw, rubbing her thumb compulsively over the knuckle of her index finger as she thought. “Do you expect any complications? Or is it really as simple as a blood relative signing?”

“Make a presentation to their board, then complete the deal. It is as simple as that,” he said, his voice coming out gruff. He adjusted his position in his enormous leather chair, smoothing down the steel gray tie on his chest. “I’ve done all the dirty work already. The negotiation, the settling, the redistribution of executives…”

Annabelle cast him a quizzical look.

“Nobody will be losing jobs,” he said. “But there will be some relocation.” He paused heavily. “When you get to Minarak, you’ll be meeting with Imaad. He is the son of the CEO, a fine young man. I expect you two will get along quite well. And if everything goes as well as I expect…they may need a young executive like you out there.”

Annabelle studied the sleek black fabric of her pencil skirt, unable to fathom anything beyond the pending plane trip to Minarak, much less moving there. All she knew about the place was that it had seceded from Iran in the late 1800’s, Farsi was the primary language, and was more progressive in women’s rights than most of the surrounding countries, though perhaps not as completely down with short skirts and bare shoulders as the States. “I don’t know what to say. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

Her father nodded, eyes squinting at the corners, the closest he ever came to smiling. “Sounds good, Birdy.”

The use of her childhood pet name seared through her like a lightning bolt. She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. She couldn’t even meet his gaze.

“Thanks for…this,” she forced out, pushing to standing. “It will be a big help with my mom.” She stood, smoothing her skirt down, measuring her next words. “I appreciate it.”

“I’ll send the flight plan soon. You’ll be leaving on Sunday. They’ll give you your visa at the airport.”

At least she’d have something of a weekend. The two glanced at each other, the brief contact searing down into that familiar wounded part of her heart, the place where she’d always wished for a regular daddy. Someone who would have married her mother, called her on the weekends, worried about her new boyfriends.

Annabelle spun on her heel and strode toward the door, checking her watch. Three forty-five. As good as four, and a perfect time to head home and get started on that big-girl bottle of wine—and packing for Parsabad.

2

Imaad met his brother Omar in the glittering foyer of their father’s company. The brothers hugged briefly, and Omar squeezed his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

“You made it,” Omar said as the two headed for the shiny wall of elevator doors.