Marian strutted into the hotel, distracted by the opulent surroundings. White tile gleamed and stretched around her, the entire west wall of the foyer a gently whooshing waterfall. The wall behind the reception desk, where Kelly stood, boasted rows of live plants. Marian stood behind him, blinking at her surroundings, trying to relish this awe and wonder before he wiped it away again.
As she approached Kelly pocketed his room key.
“Did you check me in too, or…”
“I’m pretty sure you’re able to do that on your own,” Kelly snapped. “See you at the dinner.”
He stomped off, his rolling luggage clacking behind him. Marian set her jaw, taking a breath before addressing the receptionist. She received her key card and headed for the elevators, checking her watch. Only ten minutes until the dinner with the executive from Almasi Holdings. Could that be the bug up Kelly’s ass? Seems like he has more than a bug up there. An entire colony, maybe. Of fire ants.
Marian’s belly rumbled on her way up in the elevator; she was ready for some exciting foreign food. She pushed into the room, taking only a perfunctory glance before scurrying around to freshen up. New shirt, a splash of water on her face, a new layer of deodorant…ready to go. She stepped off the elevator again with one minute to spare and ran into Kelly heading for the restaurant at the same time.
“Did the Almasi rep make the reservation in his name or—” she started.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Kelly said, condescension dripping from his words. Marian gritted her teeth, approaching the hostess podium at the hotel restaurant while he veered off elsewhere. Hopefully to go flush his head in a toilet.
“Hi, do you have a reservation for Gunther?” She paused. “Or it may be under Almasi?”
The hostess consulted her sheet and then nodded. “Follow me, please.” Marian, wedge heels clicking against the wood floor, followed her through the moodily lit restaurant. The hostess led her to a table set for two where a gorgeous man sat alone, flanked by empty tables and turning an empty glass in circles.
The hostess headed straight for him, and Marian slowed, unable to rip her eyes off him. That can’t be our executive. Her mouth parted slightly as she took him in—dark brows set in a straight line, plump lips, a skin tone that exemplified caramel candies. He wore a dark gray suit with a skinny, trendy tie. He looked up at her just as the hostess gestured his way.
“Enjoy your meal,” the hostess said in heavily accented English as she stepped away. The god man stood up, offering a large hand. Marian gaped at it.
“Pleasure to meet you. You must be the CTO that I’ve heard so much about.”
Marian slid her hand into his, a rush of warmth coating her insides. He felt heavenly. Like a glove she’d been looking for her entire life. “Hello. And you are…?” She knew his name—had it in her carefully researched notes a million times—but every thought left her brain at his touch.
“Omar Almasi.” He flashed a bright grin, showcasing perfect white teeth, and gestured toward her seat. “Your technology-deal facilitator and unofficial tour guide while you’re in Minarak.”
A giggle escaped her, completely unsanctioned, as she sank into the plush dining chair. Polished silverware glinted at the edges of an enormous silver plate. A candle flickered between them. This had all the makings of a rom-com date, if only Kelly weren’t on his way.
Shit. Kelly. The memory of his existence came to her like a surprise quiz in high school. She swallowed hard, unwilling to relinquish the private time with this handsome stranger.
“Are you Imaad’s brother?” She batted her eyes a little, toying with a ringlet by her face. The two place settings screamed at her, but she ignored it. Just for a bit longer.
“I am.” Omar’s dark eyes glinted like he had a secret. “Do you know him?”
“Not personally, not yet. But Annabelle is my best friend.” She said it proudly, as if name-dropping a celebrity. Omar nodded, the corners of his lips turning up.
“So we have Annabelle in common.” He shifted in his seat, his tone growing husky. “Very interesting.”
Someone cleared their throat, and Marian whipped around to see Kelly looming over her, his crooked nose looking like a sloppy Mr. Potato Head from this angle.
“Were you planning on allowing me to attend my own dinner?” Kelly’s voice made her wince.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Sorry, Kelly, I just…” Marian hopped up from the seat, her cheeks burning at the disdain in his voice. And the fact that she had failed to mention she wasn’t the CTO. Damn his distracting good looks. “I’ll ask the hostess to bring you a seat and place setting.”
“Good.” Kelly eased into the seat she’d vacated, but Omar rose.
“Wait.”
2
Omar couldn’t believe his eyes.
In front of him, the most beautiful woman
he’d laid eyes on since his wife’s passing two years ago floundered in the face of a type of passive rudeness Omar had never witnessed in his life.