“Sorry. I thought corded phones died in the early 2000’s, but apparently not in Parsabad.” She steadied herself on one leg, adjusting the receiver between her ear and shoulder.
“You could call me on your cell phone, you know. Like a regular human being,” Marian mused from across the world.
“I get better rates this way,” Annabelle said, carefully dipping her nail polish brush back into the bright red lacquer. She should have gotten a pedicure, but the pile of corporate merger documents waiting for her demanded she stay in the room. If only to feel productive.
“Well anyway. Go on.”
“Right.” Annabelle sighed, picking up her story from where she’d left off. “So, men are awful and I can’t get away from them. That’s basically the bottom line.”
Marian chucked. “No, the story you were telling was significantly different than that.”
“When
I gave Imaad the prenup, he acted like I’d suggested we go on a killing spree. He doesn’t want to get married either, so what’s the big deal? I’m so sick of all these fragile male egos. The second a woman tries to take control, he needs to swoop in and be offended.”
“Honey, prenups are an American thing. He probably had never seen one.”
“And above him and me are two more men who are completely conservative assholes trying to rule our lives. Why is this a metaphor for my life? I can never escape my father and his ridiculous scheming. I just want to be left to make my own decisions for once.”
“Well, what would you decide now if you could?”
Annabelle straightened, nail polish brush hovering in mid-air. “I’d finish the merger and fuck Imaad every weekend.”
Marian burst out laughing. “Why only the weekend? That could be every night.”
“Yeah, but that would be like marriage, which would be the same as accepting what my father forced on me. No thanks.”
“I don’t think most married people have sex every day. Actually, if you fuck only on the weekends, that would be more like married life.”
Annabelle got a shiver through her, but she couldn’t for the life of her say why. There was something forbidden about thinking of Imaad as her chosen partner. “Whatever. You get my point.”
“The point being that you like Imaad.”
“I don’t like him,” she clarified. “I think he’s hot. There’s a huge difference.”
“How hot are we talking? Like, melt-me-into-candlewax hot?”
“I’d say something a little bit hotter than that,” Annabelle said with a sigh, capping her nail polish. Her toes were bright red and only slightly unevenly coated—overall, a win for Parsabad. “Like you could melt the one ring to rule them all, Mount Doom-style hot.”
Marian let a shuddery sigh. “Yeah. Okay.”
A faint knock sounded on the door and she jumped. “I think someone just knocked.”
“Maybe you accidentally summoned Imaad.”
Annabelle laughed, but her belly knotted fiercely. Could it be? She’d successfully avoided him since last night’s dinner. And her game plan was to keep avoiding him, until either business or blatant sexual need forced them back together.
She waddled through the master suite and toward the foyer on her heels, careful not to smudge her freshly applied nail polish. She peered through the peephole and gasped.
“What is it?” Marian asked, fear edging her voice.
Annabelle waddled backwards, eyes fixed on the door. “It’s Imaad.” She gulped. “And he’s dressed to kill.” Through the peephole, she’d gotten a glimpse of him in a white linen shirt undone at the top, letting a healthy amount of chest hair show through. He looked casual and unaffected. So hot that she didn’t trust herself to even open the door with the security latch on.
“Let him in!”
Imaad knocked again, and she nodded, though no one could see it. “Okay. I’ll call you later.” She lowered the receiver, but the base was in the master suite. The cord wrapped ingloriously around the doorframe, as if she were thirteen all over again. She sighed, tugging open the door with one hand.
“Hey, you.” Imaad’s grin evaporated any ounce of self-control she might have had. She smiled in response, unable to rip her gaze from his exposed chest. Their dark hookup the other night meant she had only felt it. But seeing him in the light, the bronzed, toned, Middle Eastern God that he was, made her realize just how special that hookup had been. Like bedding Adonis himself.