The Sheikh's Unruly Lover (Almasi Sheikhs 2)

“Bob, I made a joke,” Kelly interrupted. “These guys are so sensitive, so easily offended. They need their own safe spaces.”

Mr. Thomas sighed. “Marian, didn’t I send you along for just this reason?”

“Mr. Thomas, I have done everything I possibly can to reel in this arrogant and offensive prick,” Marian said. “But he is his own man, and I cannot make his decisions for him or tape his mouth shut, as much as I would like to. He made a tasteless joke about the women of Parsabad, and I can’t blame National Oil’s team for—”

“You need to shut your dirty mouth right now,” Kelly snapped. Omar raised a palm, as though it would quiet him. Kelly barreled on regardless. “I won’t apologize to a bunch of sensitive pussies who can’t even focus on business for ten goddamn minutes.”

“Kelly,” Mr. Thomas said from across the world, “you’re fired.”

Kelly’s brows knit together as he sputtered in confusion. “What the hell did you say?”

“You’re fired. You need to make your way back to America on your own dime. Now get the hell out of this business deal before you ruin everything.”

Kelly looked between Omar and Marian before launching to his feet. “You all are a bunch of weak-willed idiots! I hope the deal fails and you all simmer in a pile of your own shit!” He wobbled out of the office. After a tense moment in the office, Omar looked at Marian to find her grinning.

“Was that funny to you?”

“I don’t know what I’d call it. But I know I can breathe easier now that he’s gone.”

“Marian, will you handle the deal?” Mr. Thomas sighed wearily. “I should have sent you to do this job from the get-go.”

“I will absolutely handle this deal to the best of my ability.” Marian smiled widely at Omar and his father.

Omar glanced at his father, who nodded. “Yes. This seems like a positive movement forward. I believe my son will work well with Marian.” After a moment, he added, “And this will be very good for PR, for both of our divisions.”

“Will I be the first woman to broker a mining deal in Parsabad?” Marian asked.

“If you are, we’ll be sure to play that up,” Omar said, relaxing into his seat. She’d been right—it was easier to breathe without Kelly the nuisance in the room. But despite his own relief, he wasn’t entirely sure that having Marian at the helm would work as well as everyone thought. Beneath Kelly’s astounding crudeness, he’d had a point—many businessmen, especially in the Middle East, didn’t listen to women.

Mr. Thomas was disconnected by default, over there in America. Omar’s father was detached from the world of present-day operations, since he left the bulk of that to his sons. And ever since Annabelle had come into the family business, it seemed he’d turned over a new egalitarian leaf. And while that was commendable, it didn’t make Omar’s job any easier.

Because Omar still had to deal with all the chauvinistic men who populated the business world. Marian had to know too, just from working with Kelly alone. But if she were a man, their brokering might work a little better.

But if she were a man, you wouldn’t be nearly as drawn to her.

A shiver coursed through him, and he forced his gaze off her wild curls. He wanted to drag his fingers through her hair, to catch the sweet scent of her shampoo. He’d been dying to grab a handful of her curves since laying eyes on her, but it still felt wrong. Both because of business and because of his late wife.

The group hung up the call with Mr. Thomas, and Omar’s father clasped his hands. “I expect you’ll contact National Oil to arrange a new meeting.”

“Immediately.” Omar stood, re-buttoning his suit coat, and waited for Marian to stand as well. In the hallway, she turned to him, those honey-chocolate eyes making his belly do a nosedive.

“Omar, I know you don’t know much about me, but I’m a killer worker,” she said, sounding rushed. “I do my research, and I live and breathe my job. So when I interrupted in the meeting today, I wasn’t ‘being a woman.’” She made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers. “I was bringing up a valid point—those machines they want to provide to us are useless. I’ll show you the research. I think they’re offering this as a way to either give us a bad deal or to make us turn away entirely.”

Omar clenched his jaw, weighing her words heavily. How to delicately explain the rules of the game? “I see your point. And I’m glad you said something. Except—”

A happy exclamation echoed through the hallway. Annabelle hurried toward Marian, her arms outstretched, her face lit up with a contagious smile.

“It’s you!” Marian shrieked and ran into her friend’s arms. “I can’t believe it’s you, you freaking Persian Princess!”

Annabelle laughed as they hugged. Omar relished the familiar energy between the women, felt it seep into him, warming him through. He hadn’t felt that sort of connection in a long time. And he liked being at Marian’s side, having that energy in his proximity.

“Omar, how is this vixen treating you?” Annabelle punched his shoulder jokingly, then pulled him in for a hug. “She’s smart as a whip. Though I’m sure you’ve already seen that.”

“Yes, actually.” Omar smiled at Annabelle, shoving his hands in his pockets. “She’s been responsible for one firing so far, as well.”

Annabelle gasped. “He’s finally gone?”

The two friends chattered happily for a few moments, which Omar observed as if doing a sociological study. Not just because they were old friends, but because he wanted to learn more about Marian. He was fascinated by her quirks, the smirk that preceded certain quips, the way she brushed back her hair with a flick of her wrist, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes that told him there was a whole different layer to her he had yet to explore.