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

Food and booze handled, she walked down the hall toward the ballroom again and promptly ran into Nassir. Talk about lost. No way would that guy ever frequent a lowly service hall unless he had no idea where the hell he was. With a sigh, she approached him. “Is there a problem?”

“No. You are in charge of all these people, yes?” He nodded toward the wait staff and others milling around in the hallway.

“I hired them, yes.” Janna did her best to explain her job, “As a wedding planner, I’m in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes. I coordinate all the different puzzle pieces to make sure they fit. Damage control.”

“You are not busy now?”

His dark gaze held more than a hint of mystery and despite his early bad manners, she couldn’t help being intrigued. “No. I’m between tasks at the moment.”

“Good.” Nassir took her by the elbow and led her back into the ballroom. “Then you shall join me for a drink while you wait for your next crisis to avert.”

Janna resisted the urge to prickle beneath his authoritative tone and did her best to remember Taleb’s words. Our men provide for their every need to show how deeply we care…

“I suppose I have time for one drink.” Janna shook off his hold on her arm and preceded him into the ballroom, pleased to see the guests still enjoying the live band, the banquet tables still laden with food, and the bar staff busily filling orders.

Nassir escorted her to empty table near the back of the room and held the chair for her while she sat then raised his hand to summon a passing waiter. “What will you have to drink?”

“A cola.”

“Cola?” Nassir frowned.

“I’m still working. Cola will be fine,” she told the waiter.

Nassir gave his order as well then took a seat beside her.

Awkward silence ensured.

After a few tense moments, she decided to get him talking about himself. In her experience, if there was one universal subject people loved to discuss it was themselves. “So, do you mind sharing why you were upset about him carrying Bree from the room?”

“He made himself a spectacle. That is not done in our country. Not by men of our class.”

“And what class is that exactly?”

Before he could answer, Nassir’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from a pocket in his robe and scowled at the screen. “It is my brother.” He swiped the screen then tucked the phone away again. “I will call him back later.”

She laughed. “Wow. You’re braver than me. I would never get away with diverting one of my siblings’ calls to voicemail.”

“You have brothers and sisters?”

“Three. All younger.” She sat back as the waiter returned with their drinks, and glanced around the room. Several women were eyeing Nassir, but if he noticed the attention he didn’t show it. Or didn’t care. She shook her head and smiled. “I kind of became a surrogate mother to them years ago after our own mom was involved in a bad car accident. With her injures, she wasn’t able to do even the most basic things, so the responsibilities fell to me.”

“How old were you at the time of this accident?” he asked, his expression concerned.

“Twelve.” She traced a finger around the rim of her glass. “I think that’s why being a wedding coordinator was such an easy fit. I’ve been taking charge and organizing things for more than half my life.”

Nassir said nothing, just watched her.

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his intense onyx gaze and she found the feeling unsettling to say the least. She hadn’t noticed before in the hustle and bustle of the night, but now sitting here so close to him, she realized Nassir Adjalane was a very handsome man—all dark hair and dark eyes and long, lean muscled form.

Janna looked away fast. She had no business thinking about one of the wedding guests like that. Especially one from Al-Sarid.

“The wedding was very nice,” he said, his voice lower than before.

“Yeah. It was beautiful, if I do say so myself.”

“Amare looked very happy with his choice of a bride.” Nassir con

tinued to watch her, his face unreadable.