The Sheikh's Unruly Lover (Almasi Sheikhs 2)

“Yes, I know, but my intentions were forward,” Marian said, snatching up the black dress. This one would do. Just the right amount of cleavage and curves.

“He can’t know that,” Layla pointed out.

“That’s true. But I feel like he did.” She sighed, shimmying out of her work clothes. “He’s just so hot. Annabelle told me her husband was sexy, but she failed to mention how gorgeous his brother is.”

“Once you’re married you can’t say stuff like that,” Layla said.

“Bullshit. Annabelle and I don’t work like that.” Marian laughed as the dress settled softly over her body. She tugged it into place, admiring the tops of her breasts peeking out from the off-shoulder neckline. “If a dude is hot, he’s hot. Which reminds me, you need to come work for this company.”

Layla sighed. She worked for a journalism firm as a researcher. “You’re always trying to recruit me.”

“I know. But especially now.” Marian flitted over to the bathroom mirror to touch up her makeup, making her eyeliner a little darker. She set the phone down next to the sink. “We need more women in this world. Today’s failure made me realize just how badly we still need to break the glass ceiling.”

“I’m just not quite ready to leave my current job,” Layla said. “I think I might be getting a raise soon.”

“You’ve been saying that for a year,” Marian retorted. “If they offer you a raise, let me know the amount, and I’ll make sure we beat it.”

Layla laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“This company is like a family. It is a family. Well, two families.” She tried to still her blinking as she traced the bottom curve of her eye. “So it’s kind of like My Big Fat Greek Wedding, except with Parsabad. And in one of the families, you have to fight tooth and nail for everything.”

“Not all families are like that,” Layla said.

“Well, fine. But my point is, this is a good place to work. And sometimes there are perks, like rampant victory over assholes, and gorgeous, dark, Parsian eye candy.”

“Will you sleep with him?”

“I would need his permission first, but yes.” Marian blinked through an application of mascara. “Okay. I’m heading out for my little tourist night.”

“I can’t believe it’s dinner time there. I just woke up. I’ll talk to you later, girl.”

The friends hung up, and Marian gathered her purse before slipping her feet into the pair of peep-toe shoes she’d brought. She didn’t travel anywhere, near or far, without at least a few different sexy-night-out options. It was part of her self-care routine, something she started years ago when she realized most men were either way below her standards or way too intimidated by her. It made the dating pool laughably small, and so the best bet was to simply date herself.

Marian took the elevator downstairs and strutted out into the lobby confidently. This was amazing already. Eyes gravitated toward her, and she absorbed it all, relishing the attention. Especially after a painstaking morning of being ignored, overlooked, and undervalued.

As she passed the reception desk, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood out to her. She blinked, sizing him up from behind. A pale blue linen shirt, dark gray slacks. Thick, dark hair swept back from his face, so luscious she wanted to run her hands through it. Is that Omar? Marian slowed and stared at him, willing him to turn around.

Omar turned a moment later, his nervous gaze landing immediately on her. She lifted her brows and clicked her way toward him.

“Hey there!” She smiled brightly. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he approached her.

“Hi, Marian.” A grin flickered on his face but failed to light.

“What are you doing here?”

Omar paused, avoiding her gaze. “Well…”

Suddenly his nervousness clicked into place. He didn’t want to be caught here—but why?

“I wanted to double check that Kelly had left.” Omar cleared his throat, jingling some change in his pockets. “So he wouldn’t cause any issues for you. I mean, the company.”

Marian nodded. “Very thoughtful of you. I was just on my way to dinner,” she said, gesturing toward the front door. “Would you like to join me?”

Omar’s gaze raked up and down her body, and she swore she heard him sigh. “Yes. That sounds…” He paused, something unknown crossing his face. “I actually should get home. I forgot I have to—”

“Oh, come on.” She grabbed at his wrist, leading him toward the sliding front doors. Whatever his hesitation was, she’d cure him of it. “Let’s go grab a bite to eat. I’m new to this city,

and I need a guide. You did volunteer last night.”