The Sheikh's Pregnant Employee (Almasi Sheikhs 3)

“Imaad.” Layla blinked, struggling to place the name. She couldn’t think past any name but Zahir. “Oh, Annabelle’s husband!”

“Right.” Marian clucked her tongue. “Another fine specimen of the Almasi gene pool.”

Layla snorted. “Finer than your own representative?”

“No, mine is the finest. And the eldest specimen isn’t so bad, either.”

“Oh, there’s a third one?” Layla’s gaze wandered out the window as they talked, taking in the golden hues falling over the sleepy Minarak. At this hour in NYC, the city would be bustling and noisy. Here, it looked like people were still only considering making their way to the office.

“Ohhhh yes. The only eligible bachelor. And, well, if you weren’t going into an HR position, I’d suggest you get on it. But once you take the job, that option will be out, since he’ll be your boss.”

Layla sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll have to be content with my hot Parsian stud, then. Poor me.”

Marian nudged her side. “Yeah, I totally pity you. The Almasi family is kind of absurdly hot, though. Even Daddy Almasi, if you’re into older, slightly authoritarian men. So consider yourself warned.”

Layla huffed with a laugh, enjoying the cool lick of the morning air that crossed her forehead. “You make this sound like I have something to worry about.”

“Well, every NYC girl who’s joined the Almasi Holdings ranks recently has ended up marrying one of them.” Marian’s eyes twinkled.

The two laughed, and soon they pulled up to Almasi Holdings’ building. On the way inside, they chattered about the upcoming wedding. Less than two weeks away and almost everything was taken care of. Marian seemed relaxed for a bride in the final days, but having so much money at her disposal probably helped things.

“Welcome to the Almasi Headquarters.” Marian swept her hand in front of her as they strode through the expansive lobby. Pristine, white tiles gleamed underfoot; the walls were shiny like stainless steel, something both elegant and industrial reflecting back at them. There was serious money and aesthetic here. Layla took it all in as they headed for the elevators.

“I’ll drop you off at the board room so you can meet the brothers and Mr. Almasi,” Marian said, checking her wristwatch. “Once you all talk things over, I’m sure you’ll sign the contract and get an office and all that fun stuff.”

“Oooh, my office.” Layla grinned as the elevators swooped upwards, her belly twisting. Meeting the Almasi family had a special weight to it, even though she already knew Omar. However, she only knew the romantic Omar, the Omar who’d contacted her with a desperate plan to stop Marian from leaving his life, the Omar who’d flown across the sea at the drop of a hat to surprise his love in Manhattan.

With their family empire, she assumed in the workplace things would unfold a little differently. At least more formally.

At the top floor, Marian led her down a carpeted hallway lined with closed, wooden doors. She stopped in front of one, her hand on the doorknob.

“Here we are.” She grinned, tucking some of her curls behind her ear. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Marian pushed the door open, revealing a crisp, white board room. Natural sunlight poured in from the wall lined with windows. A long table filled the room, dotted with empty chairs. Except for four chairs near the head of the table. The Almasis.

Layla swallowed a knot of nervousness and shut the door behind her, trying to take it all in. There was Omar. He stood, as did the others, to greet her. Her gaze skat

ed over Almasi Senior—definitely distinguished, but not her type. Then Imaad, far more sly and collected than she’d gathered from photos.

And then there was the third one. Her gaze traveled over Zahir’s face, registering a stricken look, one of quiet panic, and then realization began to sink in.

Zahir. That’s freaking Zahir.

“Welcome, Layla!” Omar swept toward her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Zahir is the third one. Disbelief made painful rounds in her head, and she could barely rip her eyes off of him. She forced a laugh, welcoming Omar’s greeting, trying to jerk her brain back into a functioning mode. Zahir, the man who’d gotten her off last night when he whispered a breathy “I want you to come with your fingers inside yourself, imagining it’s me.”

She blinked hard, shaking each man’s hand in turn. When she got to Zahir, electricity snapped through her. Please don’t blush or fuck this up. She’d already slept with her boss—what a way to start the new job. Creating HR nightmares right off the bat.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet the rest of the family,” she said, her neck heating up. She jerked her gaze away from the manly clan, sliding into the seat farthest away from Zahir. If she could just not look at him during the meeting, that would be great.

Even without looking at him, she could feel his gaze sizzling over her. The same way it had the night they met. So hot that it might char the edges of the table. Her neck heated up more—this was getting dangerous. It wasn’t even hot in here.

“When Marian recommended you, we knew there was no other choice,” Imaad said, tossing her a brilliant smile. Man, Marian had been right—these guys were hot. But she’d been wrong in one tiny aspect. Layla stole a glance at Zahir, feeling her insides crumple. Zahir was definitely the hottest. Hands down.

“I’m just grateful for the chance to be here.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. Wasn’t there something she could fan herself with?

“We looked over the resume you sent last night,” Zahir started, his voice laced with professionalism. He rifled through some papers, his dark eyes darting over the sheets. “You have a very compelling early history in Human Resources. One that is rife with experience in conflict resolution and sensitive negotiations. And, I see, a penchant for travel.”