The Sheikh's Contract Fiancee (Almasi Sheikhs 1)

She watched him dress, the sheets bunched around her on the bed, a tiny pout on her face. Once he’d slipped his shoes on, he came over to her for a final kiss.

“I swear. I don’t want to go.” He caught her mouth in a kiss and one turned into another. When they parted for air, her lips were kiss-swollen and red.

“I won’t tell the paparazzi if you stay,” she whispered.

He grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Same here.” She flopped back onto the bed. “And maybe touching myself.”

He paused in the doorway, turning back toward her. “You have to make this harder for me, don’t you?”

Her evil nod was the only confirmation he needed.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, blowing a kiss through the air. “And we’ll pick up where we left off.”

She mimed catching the kiss in the air, and Imaad tore himself away from her warm and welcoming gaze, hurrying out the door before he could think better of it.

Annabelle awoke slowly in the morning, alternating between yawns and body stretches as she acclimated to the bright sunlight in her bedroom. What a great sleep. No, what a fantastic sleep. As if she’d been in the womb again. She rolled over, seeing the rumpled sheets at the side, and caught a whiff of Imaad’s cologne.

Disappointment crashed through her. Why hadn’t he stayed? She pouted in no particular direction, letting herself whine internally about it for a little bit. She wasn’t one to want men to spend the night too often, but guys like Imaad were different. Hell, she’d never taken anyone like Imaad home before. Which made it even more devastating that she didn’t have his strong arms to crawl into or that dark sweep of his gaze to push her stomach into a free-fall.

Are you falling for him? The thought appeared, stealthy and taboo, in the recesses of her mind like the flash of a lightning bug. It couldn’t be. He was her arranged marriage, the literal embodiment of having no say in the matter. There was no possible way she could fall for him.

She pushed out of bed, resolved to steady her mind and start the day out on the right foot. She headed for the kitchenette to start a pot of coffee and thumbed through the room-service menu for an appealing breakfast. Thoughts of Imaad clouded her head at every turn. Bacon and egg wrap. Would Imaad eat that? What’s his favorite food? Hummus and pita platter. Mmm. Reminds me of the dunes. Scrambled eggs with toast. Seems like a metaphor for my insides after the way he fucked me last night.

She sighed, pushing the menu aside. So maybe she was a little into him. Picking up the phone, she nibbled on her lip while it rang the reception desk. She placed an order for scrambled eggs and toast—the breakfast kind only, not the metaphorical kind—and then went to her desk to resume looking over the merger documents.

Every few lines, her mind wandered to Imaad. Imagining a quip about the paperwork in his baritone voice, or pausing to remember the feel of his hands on her arms. When a knock sounded on the door, she jumped. Ten minutes had passed, and she was still only three lines in.

Annabelle graciously received her breakfast, tipping the bellhop, and then set the covered plate on the desk beside the papers. If her entire morning would be spent absorbing legalese about merging bylaws and shareholder details, she’d need a full belly.

And maybe another interruption from Imaad.

She shivered, unable to fight the grin overtaking her face. The bottle of wine sat unopened in the kitchenette, and she smiled over at it for a few minutes, recalling fragments of their night together.

Focus. She turned back to the papers, rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time. She tried to pair eating her eggs with reaching paragraph milestones. She couldn’t have another bite until she’d successfully digested a new paragraph—the only way she might be able to force herself to stay on task.

But her mind invariably wandered again. And after ten minutes, almost the entire plate remained, and her hand played between her legs while she imagined Imaad thrusting into her.

Her phone rang, and her heart leapt into her throat. She scrambled to pick it up, hoping that it might be Imaad. Just calling to check on her. Say a few cute things for the morning. Tell her he missed her.

“Hello?”

“Annabelle.” It was Marian. “I’m not calling too early, am I?”

“No, of course not.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to calm her racing heart. “What’s up, girl? Everything okay?”

“Well…no. Not exactly.” The tone in her friend’s voice made Annabelle’s stomach sink. She sat up in her chair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your mom was taken to the hospital last night. She couldn’t breathe. She’s in critical care right now as they try to figure some things out. But they were considering surgery last I checked.”

Annabelle’s vision closed in and she slumped back into the chair. She gripped the armrest with a free hand, trying to calm the swirl of panic in her chest. “Oh my God.” Her worst fear had come to life. Her mom needed her while she was thousan

ds of miles away.

“I know, girl. I wanted you to know as soon as I found out.”