The Sheikh's Pregnant Employee (Almasi Sheikhs 3)

Omar shrugged, a clouded look crossing his face. “There you have it.”

Zahir took another sip of his whisky. “She won’t let me in if I go there now.”

“Then go whenever you can. Tomorrow. The next day. It just has to happen,” Marian said.

Zahir nodded, twisting the tumbler in his hand. Marian’s vague advice circled awkwardly inside him, trailing something heavy behind it. “You’re right.” He looked between his brother and sister-in-law, then gave them each a hug. “Thanks for listening. I should really get some sleep.”

But sleep wouldn’t come. Zahir wasn’t dumb enough to expect sleep tonight. All he’d be able to do would be think of Layla and wonder what her unrevealed news might be.

15

First thing Monday morning, Layla marched into Almasi headquarters with resignation papers tucked under her arm.

She’d poured over the document all weekend, as well as cried her eyes out and made peace with the fact that her brief, whimsical brush with feeling something for a man had once again led right where she’d expected: heartbreak.

There was no other way to handle this situation. Zahir was off-limits and had been the entire time. Which meant that this baby was hers and only hers, and she had no reason to go ruining Zahir’s new, perfect marriage with a surprise child with some fleeting New Yorker.

Tears welled up in her throat again. Good thing Zahir had shared his news first. One more disaster averted.

Part of her could understand his ridiculous man logic. Just fuck until I legally wed someone else. It almost made sense, if you took feelings out of the mix. But what Zahir didn’t know, what Layla wouldn’t admit under threat of death, was that his confession ruined the tiny, eager sprouting seed of hope within her that what she felt for Zahir was real and might actually go somewhere.

She knocked her head against the side of the elevator, as if it might help loosen the thought so it could roll out of her ear. Don’t you understand how hard it is for me to open up? I trusted you. I thought you were special. I thought we had a connection. I dared to hope with you.

She’d been saying these words to him in her head all weekend long. It didn’t matter how many times she repeated them. It never hurt any less.

When the elevator doors slid open, she headed straight for Almasi Senior’s office. She knocked three times, waited for his rumbly voice, then let herself in.

“Miss Layla.” He grinned up at her, eyes squinting. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, sir.” She forced a quick smile, handing him the papers. “I just wanted to drop these off. I’m sorry to deliver this news so soon.”

His bushy brows furrowed as he read. After a moment, he said, “But I don’t understand. Aren’t you well paid here?”

“Yes, sir. Very well paid.” Her heart picked up a fast rhythm. “It’s not the pay, in fact.”

“Then what is it? You’ve only been here three months.”

“I, uh, well…” Her palms went clammy as she struggled to remember the monologue she’d practiced at home in the mirror. “You know, this is very far from home and very different. I just realized that I should be closer to the people I love.” She paused, struggling to remember another convincing reason. “And the weather? It’s very hot. I find that it’s hard to—”

“It’s too hot for you?” His eyebrow arched accusingly as his gaze drifted downward. A thick moment of silence passed. Heat prickled over her neck.

Oh God. Maybe I’m actually showing. She shifted, doubts flooding her. Her mouth started moving but she couldn’t control the words. “I’ve ju

st been very unwell here, actually, feeling sick and sort of, you know, under the weather, sort of puking when I wake up and—”

Mr. Almasi’s brow arched higher. “Puking?”

“It’s sort of a, a—” Her cheeks flamed; this was a train wreck. "A problem that definitely can be resolved, I just need to be closer to home, and with the duration of the illness around nine months I don’t think that I can fulfill the year contract.”

The silence that filled the room became so loud that her head throbbed. Her heart pounded as she struggled to think back on what she’d even said.

“So you’re pregnant,” he stated matter-of-factly.

The air whooshed out of her lungs. There was no coming back from this gaffe. “Yes.”

“We have an excellent maternity package,” Mr. Almasi said, looking almost amused. “There would be no problem for you if you were to stay on.”

Her cheeks flushed, and a string of curse words thundered through her head. “Sir, I appreciate that fact, and I do understand that there is a very generous maternity package, but as you can probably guess, I’d like to be closer to home at this time.”