The Sheikh's Pregnant Employee (Almasi Sheikhs 3)

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” she spat, grabbing at her purse in the extra chair. “I’m not going to participate in this any longer than necessary.”

“Layla,” he said in a firm voice. “Wait.”

“Don’t follow me, and don’t come to my apartment,” she hissed. “I mean it.”

“Let’s talk this out,” he pleaded, grabbing for her wrist. He felt curious eyes whip their way, drawn to the quietly heated exchange. They had to avoid a spectacle. At all costs.

“And reach what conclusion? That you’re still getting married to someone else?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “You know, why even bother with me if you knew where this was headed?”

Layla spun on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant, drawing plenty of gazes along with her. Zahir clenched and unclenched his fists, watching her leave. He wouldn’t run after her—he knew what that would earn him. Drama and maybe even a fresh slap, not to mention plenty of newspaper coverage.

The waiter returned cautiously. No doubt he’d been observing this from somewhere else. He left the bill, which Zahir paid without even digesting the amount.

As he waited for his credit card to be returned, his mind swirled with protests and ideas. She needed time to cool off. She had to come around. This wouldn’t be the end. But how could she just leave like that? What could he do now? His insides felt scrambled and weak as he received his credit card from the waiter, thanking him listlessly.

Zahir stood and left the restaurant, avoiding eye contact until he was out of the building. As he waited for his car, he sucked deep breaths of the evening air, trying like hell to stave off the desperation making predatory steps around him. He couldn’t go home, that was for sure. There he’d fall into a sinkhole of self-pity, and maybe even whisky. But where?

He fished his phone out of his pocket, and his fingers maneuvered automatically to Layla’s message thread. He typed out a quick message. “I told you because I didn’t want to keep this from you. Please let me explain more.”

A response came quick. “Fuck you.” A moment later, another message arrived. “And fuck off.”

Zahir clenched his jaw, swiping away from the messages quickly. That hurt more than he wanted to admit. And in times like these…only one man could help.

He dialed Omar’s number. “Brother? I need to come over. There’s an emergency.”

“Of course,” Omar responded. “I’m home. Come now.”

On the way to his brother’s penthouse, Zahir pinched his eyes shut, letting himself drown in the frustrating blackness of this situation. Layla was the only woman he’d ever been with who made him feel both challenged yet comfortable; aroused but also clear-headed. He wouldn’t ever tire of being with her. Simply looking at her brought him more joy than he’d thought possible.

Yes, he was in love.

He slammed his fist against the door handle, sulking as the car approached Omar’s building. Like he needed this now. Of all times in his life to fall in love. Right before his own goddamned wedding. It just didn’t make sense, and it certainly wasn’t fair.

Omar would know how to handle this. He had to. He was the problem-solver, the only person able to navigate treacherous waters of any sort.

When Zahir arrived at Omar’s front door, he knocked until Omar pulled open the door, looking distressed.

“One knock is fine; I was expecting you,” he said, stepping aside to let his brother in. “Now what’s wrong?”

Zahir ran a hand through his hair, searching the foyer and

attached great room for evidence of Marian. “Where Marian?”

“On the phone in the bedroom. I think she’s talking to Layla.”

“Shit.” Zahir heaved a sigh, heading for Omar’s liquor cabinet along the far wall. He poured himself a whisky, which he took in one shot, then poured himself another.

“What’s going on?”

“Layla and I have been sleeping together.” He should have admitted it to Omar sooner, but there was no reason to. Not when he thought, foolishly, that everything would be fine in the wake of the engagement.

Omar snorted. “Well I knew that.”

“You knew?”

“I suspected. I told you at the business dinner last month I could see it all over your face.”