Annabelle glanced over at him. Imaad sent her a patient look. Please don’t snap. Please don’t snap.
“And once this wonderful marriage is complete,” Annabelle said, “I’m very much looking forward to assuming my new executive role within the company.”
His father laughed so hard that he choked. He set the tumbler down, palm pressed to his chest as he regained his breath. “Oh, no, miss. You won’t be doing that. How could you? You won’t have time, with the children!”
Annabelle’s stricken look set warning bells ringing in his head. Panic sliced through him, and he leaned forward, hoping to defuse this situation before it became all-out war. “Father. We can’t get ahead of ourselves. I have some important things to show our guest, so we should be on our way now. Annabelle?” He stood, staring down at Annabelle, urging her to follow him.
Her gaze was so hard on his father that he thought a laser beam might materialize. “Excellent.” She stood stiffly, forcing the briefest of smiles. “Pleasure, sir.”
They hurried out of the office. Once the door swung shut behind them, Annabelle turned as if she were going to pounce.
“What the fuck was that?” Her voice was low, rimmed with sharp edges.
Imaad sighed, at a loss. It had been worse than he’d expected. By a long shot. “I told you, he’s a traditionalist. I can’t—”
“You didn’t even stand up for me. You didn’t say a damn thing.” She jabbed her finger in the air as she spoke. She probably wished it were a knife blade instead of her finger. “I am a corporate liaison here, not a goddamn baby factory.” She stomped away.
“I know this.” He raced in front of her to the elevators and faced her, searching out her gaze. “Trust me, I know. We’re not having kids. You don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want.” He held up his hands, surrendering. “This is a process, and it won’t be easy.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, cinching the creamy fabric over her breasts.
“This was the meet and greet. It’s the only thing on the agenda until the next meeting with the board in two days.” He paused, weighing the idea that had been percolating inside him since he woke up that morning. “Why don’t we get out of town for now, do some sightseeing, and work on the game plan? Now that we know what he expects, we can figure out how to work with it.”
Annabelle sighed, gaze fastened to the ground. She pouted a little before she said, “Yeah. I think that’s probably a good idea. As long as wherever you take me is better than the inside of that office.”
Imaad pushed the down button, ideas springing to life. “Oh, yeah. Definitely better than that.”
7
Annabelle sat in the plush armchair in the hotel lobby, her toes wiggling as she waited for Imaad to show up. It was like skittishly waiting for a high school date, except the chaperone was just the driver, and their destination was almost certainly not going to be the mall.
Imaad refused to tell her the plan, only that she needed a change of comfortable clothes, long pants, and some shoes that weren’t heels. She’d stuffed the few items into her oversized purse, which sat at her feet now. She couldn’t rip her gaze from the automatic sliding doors of the main entrance.
Imaad’s hotness only added to her confusion. If this were any other country, any other circumstance, she would have her legs wrapped around Imaad by now, head thrown back in ecstasy, demanding he teach her how to say “sex kitten” in Farsi.
But she had to keep those thoughts at bay. Something about Imaad was extremely inviting, like a warm hug after being out in the snow. She wanted more of him, on a visceral level, as if her cells responded to him before her brain even recognized he was there.
She couldn’t bone her fake husband. That wasn’t allowed. It would only muddy this already murky situation. She had to uphold the integrity of this business deal…whatever shreds remained of it.
The doors slid open, and Imaad strolled in, trendy sunglasses on his face, his boyish grin snagging her from across the lobby. She popped to her feet, voice caught in her throat. Damn this man. He sauntered toward her like a GQ model, pure casual airs and relaxed fit clothing, one hand buried in the pocket of his dark chinos.
“You ready?” He slid his glasses on top of his head when he approached, his dark chocolate eyes glinting.
“I suppose.” She shrugged her purse over her shoulder, unnerved by how attracted she was to him. Seriously unfair. He stood a whole head taller than her, and that broad chest would feel great under her fingertips. “Do I get to know where we’re going now?”
“Nope.” He led the way out of the hotel, and they resumed their familiar positions inside his private car. “You’re just going to have to wait and find out.”
An hour later, after the city highways turned to two-lane roads and then into dusty paths, they were firmly in the desert. The earth stretched out sunburnt red all around them, tiny sprouts of plants making scarce appearances.
“Wow.” She couldn’t look away. An occasional road sign guided them, but beyond that, it was easy to think they could just drive off over the horizon and never find their way back. “This is so desolate.”
“Very few people live out here.” Imaad squinted past her, surveying the same horizon. “This is Dasht-e Kavir. The Great Salt Desert.”
She gasped. “This is all salt?”
He nodded. “Salt and sand.”
The car slowed, and Annabelle noticed they were nearing a stable up ahead. A few men were gathered around camels. Annabelle raised a brow.