The Sheikh's Pregnant Employee (Almasi Sheikhs 3)

Zahir’s laugh came out sharp and forced. “Please. This is just how I look normally. I can’t control it.” He shifted in his seat, dragging his thumb over the base of his wine glass. “Besides. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m an engaged man now.”

Omar sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You gave father your answer?”

“No, I haven’t.” He sighed. “But does it matter? It’s as good as done.”

“You could say no.”

Zahir shook his head. “I can’t. I could never. You know this better than anyone.”

“You’ve sacrificed enough for the job, for the family. I’m sure you could—” Omar began.

“No.” Zahir straightened in his seat, the mere suggestion making his blood run hot. “Not after everything father has done for me. I owe him everything. It’s my obligation as the eldest. You don’t understand.”

Omar narrowed his eyes. “Father puts pressure on Immad and me too, you know. And I’ve managed to say no before.”

“That was different.” Of course Omar would bring up how he’d turned down arranged marriage offers after his first wife’s death.

Omar eyed him for a moment and then focused on something toward the back of the room. Zahir spotted Marian and Layla wending their way through the restaurant toward them, heads close as they spoke.

“I trust your honeymoon went well.” Zahir tapped his fingers on the tablecloth, unable to rip his gaze from Layla. It didn’t matter whom he married or how hard he tried to be happy in the arranged marriage—he would never forget Layla. He’d never be able to not see her.

“Better than well.” Omar flashed a mysterious grin, tipping the last of his wine into his mouth. “Marian and I are trying for a baby.”

Zahir’s brows shot up. It shouldn’t surprise him, he just hadn’t expected that he could be an uncle anytime soon. “Is that right? Congrats, brother. That’s excellent.”

“We’ll see how long it takes. But I think I can safely say we’ll be the first.” Omar nudged him as he stood up. Zahir downed the rest of his wine, trying to spot where Layla had wandered off to. Marian approached the table alone.

“I’m certainly going to be in last place,” Zahir said, coming to his feet. He buttoned his suit, furtively searching the restaurant for Layla as Marian slid into Omar’s embrace. “But only in this instance.”

Omar huffed with a laugh, and Marian smiled sweetly up at him. “What are you two talking about?”

“Just how he’s definitely going to be an uncle before he’s a father,” Omar said, pushing his fingers into Marian’s curls. Her smile wavered and then tightened.

“Well, let’s get going.” She jerked her head toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Zahir. Bright and early.”

“Don’t forget. You’re back from vacation now.” Zahir watched as the two strolled off to say goodbye to their colleagues, and then he surveyed the remaining crowd. Urgency clawed at him; he had to find Layla. Now might be his only chance to speak with her outside of a work setting, this slim window between responsibility and free time.

Instead of saying goodbye to anyone, Zahir hurried toward the front doors of the restaurant. He suspected she’d sneaked out early, after Marian came back alone. Maybe she was already gone. He pushed through the front doors of the restaurant, the rush of traffic and the dry, night air meeting him. At the curb, peering down the street, that familiar strawberry blonde hair tugged at his attention, the perfectly plaited tresses drawing him near.

“Layla.” He jogged toward her and she turned, her face wrought into an unknown expression. She didn’t hold his gaze long before turning back toward the street.

“What?” She held up her arm, gesturing more forcefully for a taxi.

He stood at her side, unsure what to say. Her icy exterior was palpable, but he wasn’t sure how to melt it. “Are you leaving so soon?”

“The dinner is over. I’m ready for bed.” She didn’t even turn his way to speak.

Zahir reached for her wrist, gently guiding her hand down. “I can take you home.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good id

ea.”

“Why? Because spending money for a stranger to take you somewhere is a better idea?” He scoffed, fishing out his phone before she could protest. “It’s no trouble to drop you off.”

Her gaze landed on his hands as he texted his driver to meet them out front. “You really shouldn’t.”

Zahir sent his text before slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Well, I already did.” He smiled at her, as if encouraging her to do the same. She stared past him, her face neutral.