Fuck.
She headed for the bathroom, eager for a cold shower and a nap. The meeting with the board wasn’t until tomorrow morning, so she had plenty of self-loathing and wine drinking to get caught up on before then. Imaad had woken up at her side cheerful and sweet, but her own crushing guilt and remorse pushed her to give him the cold shoulder.
You’re always the one who makes things awkward.
But why shouldn’t she? Men were for sex, or the occasional non-work friend, but nothing more. The fact that she’d blurred those lines with someone so intimately involved in her business dealings here felt like the worst kind of failure.
Annabelle showered as quickly as she could, careful not to let her hand wander between her legs as images of their night on the dunes flashed through her head. They wouldn’t leave her—might never leave her. Imaad had won all sorts of awards in the few days she’d known him. Most Abrupt Personality Change. Most Romantic First Date. Sexiest Night in the Desert. King of Foreplay.
She leaned against the wall, letting herself relive that breathtaking orgasm when he’d fingered her into bliss. The man was good. Too good. That wouldn’t be easy to forget, but she’d have to do her best.
Once she toweled off and sprawled across her bed to dry, she picked up her phone to text Marian. Fingers hovering over the letters, she contemplated what update she might give.
Gave into my sexy fake fiancé; might be carrying his child.
No, that would require way too much explanation. She hadn’t told anyone yet about the secret marriage arrangement. It seemed shameful to admit h
er father had sold her like that.
Had mind-blowing sex in a salt flat yesterday. Came four times. Might be in love with the Parsian guy now.
She shook her head. Nope. That wouldn’t work either. It had to be simple and useful.
“Hey, Marian. How’s everything going back home? Things are good here. Meeting with board tomorrow. Saw the desert yesterday, very lasting impression.”
She sent it before she could think twice, and then buried her face in her pillow, letting out a muffled scream.
Imaad knocked on his father’s door, jittery with nerves. This was the big day, the day of the board room presentation, where Annabelle would state her case and make her offer on behalf of her father’s firm. His anxiety was sky high because Annabelle had basically refused to speak to him since he’d dropped her off at her hotel yesterday. She’d woken up in a funk, no doubt caused by their sexy, sandy adventure.
But as far as he could see, their passion out on the dune should have brought them closer, not made them feel like two teens after their first time. They could both cite plenty of reasons it shouldn’t have happened, but thank God it did.
The feel of her ass in his hands burned through him. Annabelle was a lingering memory at every turn, constantly flitting around the back of his mind, like fireflies at dusk. He couldn’t shake her. And now, he was desperate to see her again. Almost twenty-four hours without laying eyes on her was too long.
Imaad pushed into his father’s office, eager for a little chat before the meeting. His father looked up from some papers, an eyebrow arched.
“Hello, Father.” Imaad sat in the leather armchair facing his desk, squeezing the armrests.
“Son. Is everything okay?” His father must have sensed the strange energy around him. He rarely came to the office unless summoned directly.
“Yes, of course. Just eager for the meeting.” He didn’t know how to voice the feeling that lurked inside him. Didn’t even know where to begin.
A moment of silence passed. “How is the girl? Annabelle.”
“Oh, she’s great. Very lovely. I took her to the dunes yesterday.”
His father smiled knowingly. “Excellent choice, son. You know, these arranged marriages take time. There’s a process involved. You will love her someday—it just takes time.”
Imaad fingered the cuff of his navy suit jacket, unsure how to respond to the unsolicited advice. But what if I love her much sooner than that? The words felt traitorous, like they’d come from someone else’s head. What had gotten into him? Annabelle looked and acted like the woman of his dreams—so what? Didn’t mean he knew her at all or had any reason to feel so…inclined toward her.
“I know this part can be scary. Agreeing to spend your life with a stranger.” His father’s voice took on a melancholy tone. “But we’ve all been there. And it works out for the best. You know that these arranged marriages have a higher success rate than love marriages.”
Except ours was doomed from the start. “Yes. That’s very encouraging.”
“You two look very good together,” his father added. “I think I might be rather excited for the wedding.”
Imaad smiled briefly, coming to his feet. “Me, too. I’m going down to the conference room to see if Annabelle has arrived. I’ll see you there.” He left his father’s office feeling both unsettled and strangely confident. His father’s advice resonated as absurd but eerily accurate. He didn’t know what to think anymore, other than wanting more Annabelle.
Down a few floors, the hallway bustled with arriving board members. He spotted Annabelle through the dark heads, her blonde hair and ruby lips a beacon to him. He rushed over to her, grinning broadly.