The Sheikh's Secret Bride (The Adjalane Sheikhs 1)

“Why wouldn’t he be happy? They’re in love.”

“Marriage is not only for love.”

And there it was. She’d wondered where his pompousness had gone. Janna shook her head, “No. Marriage is love.”

He leaned in closer, and her breath hitched. Close enough for her to smell his cologne—spice and sandalwood and something else indefinably him. “Do you have a business card?”

Momentarily flustered by the nearness of him, her normally ordered thoughts scattered. “Um, a business card? Are you getting married soon?”

“Yes.”

Of course he was. Time for the butterflies flitting around her stomach to go back in their cage. She pulled out one of her cards from the small evening bag she carried and handed it to him. “I didn’t realize you were engaged. Have you been together long?”

“No. We only met recently, but I’m positive she is the one. The woman I wish to marry.”

All righty then.

Their fingers brushed as he took the card from her and an electric jolt zinged up her arm and into her bloodstream from the contact. Her heart raced and his dark gaze fell to her lips.

Nassir inched closer, as if…

His phone rang again, and he cursed. “Excuse me, but I must take this call.” He rose and tucked her business card into his pocket. “Janna, it was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for speaking with me.”

He walked away, his phone to his ear, and Janna sat there and watched him leave. For some weird reason, she missed his presence. As if her world felt somewhat emptier without him.

Silly, considering he was practically married and the last thing she needed were more complications.

Chapter 2

Two weeks later…

Nassir lunged forward, his red-gloved hands raised, hoping to catch his brother off balance once again.

No such luck.

Adilan kicked hard, hitting Nassir in the hip and sending him sprawling across the mats. “Come on, Nassir. Get your head in the ring.”

Nassir bounded to his feet and stalked around his brother, searching for an opening. This time he tried a spin kick, but Adilan was ready for him again and knocked his supporting leg out from under him, tumbling him to the mats once more.

Frustrated and out of breath, Nassir rolled to his back and stared at the overhead lights Kickboxing wasn’t something he did for pleasure, unlike Adilan. No. Nassir had other purposes in mind. The strenuous workouts helped him focus.

After a few moments, he stood and pulled off his tank top, tossing it toward the ropes cordoning off the boxing ring. Back in fighting stance, he crooked a finger at his brother, his gaze stern. “Let’s go.”

Adilan gave him a feral grin as they circled each other. Adilan took a light tap to his chin and then returned it with a double punch to Nassir’s gut. They exchanged a punches—Adilan took a light tap to the chin while Nassir got a double-punch to the gut—as they discussed business.

“What’s going on with the board?’ Adilan asked.

“What do you think? They refused to rescind their decision, nor will they allow me more time.” Nassir had met with them again that morning, but they’d remained adamant—marry in the next two weeks or lose his position with the company. Nimr hadn’t even had the decency to look apologetic.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I have things under control. The wedding planner who handled Amare’s wedding is due to arrive today.” Adilan swung with his right fist, but Nassir ducked and caught his brother with a hard blow to his chest.

“What good is a wedding planner, without a bride?”

Nassir sidestepped to the right, missing a wild swing from his brother, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Adilan stopped, lowering his fists momentarily, his expression stunned. “The wedding planner is the bride.” Nassir attacked with an open shot to his brother’s torso. Adilan doubled over and grunted. “Does she know this?”