The Sheikh's Secret Bride (2 page)

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?”

“Not yet.”

“I think you should proceed very carefully. Hazim is waiting for you to fail. He’s never liked the fact that our family was put in charge of the oil business. With Nimr as the senior board member, he fully expected to be named CEO.”

“I can handle Hazim,”

Adilan straightened then staggered back, holding up his hands in surrender, “But can she? If Hazim gets wind of your plan, he’ll do everything he can to ruin it. Maybe you should call this plan of yours off.”

“No.” Nassir grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face. “I can’t call this off.”

“Why not?” His brother took a long swig of water then leaned sideways to peer around Nassir as the gym doors swung open.

“Because…” Nassir turned as well and sighed. There she was. Janna Davis. His bride. “She is already here.”

Janna walked into the boxing gym, her nose wrinkled from the smell of sweat and blatant testosterone in the air. This was the only time Sheikh Nassir had free in his schedule today, and with a wedding this close she was having to take her time with him when she could. But still, he’d contracted her to plan his wedding for him, not win the next heavyweight title.

Bright sunshine streamed in from the hallway behind her and she blinked several times to allow her eyes to adjust to the room’s dimmer light. She took a deep breath and stared at the two sweaty, half-naked men in the ring before her. At least the money was good, considering she’d had to clear her schedule for a week to accept his request. It would be worth it if the funds ensured her mother received adequate care.

Sheikh Nassir, of course, looked just as good as he had at the wedding reception. Maybe more so, considering she could now see his muscled torso and arms, his smooth tanned skin, his strong, sinewy arms, roped with veins.

Janna took a small step back at the intense liquid heat pooling deep in her core and swallowed hard. She met his dark gaze and squared her shoulders, clutching her portfolio to her chest like a shield. “Mr. Adjalane, if now is not a good time…”

“It’s Nassir, Janna,” he said, his voice low and deep and dripping with seduction. “We discussed this.”

“Yes, we did, Mr. Adjalane.” She looked away from him, and stared at the floor as he slipped between the ropes of the ring and jumped to the ground. Janna did her best not to notice the mesmerizing bead of sweat rolling down the center of his chest, over his sculpted abs, to disappear beneath the waistband of his shorts. She’d never wanted to be a bead of sweat so much in her life.

Nassir cleared his throat and she met his gaze, heat flaring in her cheeks when she realized he’d caught her staring. And if the heated look in his eyes was any indication, he knew exactly what she’d been thinking too. Mouth dry, she forced herself to continue. “Mr. Adjalane, you’ve brought me halfway around the world to plan this wedding. There are many items we need to discuss, not to mention the fact that I haven’t met the bride yet, and…”

He stepped closer to her and her words trailed off at the sheer sexiness of his smile. “Do whatever you like.”

Whatever I like?
That wasn’t how this worked. She tried a different approach. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. I took the liberty of creating a list.” She pointed to her bright pink leather portfolio. “We really need to discuss the arrangements. You’ll need to inform me of possible venues, what kind of ceremony you’ll be having, not to mention banquet halls and caterers and whatever else we’ll need. I’ve only just arrived in Al-Sarid and as a foreigner here, I could really use your advice. I planned Amara and Bree’s wedding, but that with a much longer preparation time.”

Nassir looked at her like she’d grown a second head as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his neck. “I have a very busy schedule, Janna. As I said, plan the wedding as if it were your own. I don’t want to be involved.”

Shocked by his cavalier attitude, Janna tightened her arms around her portfolio and gave him a pointed stare. “I understand that this may not be the most comfortable topic for you, but you have to give some input. Or at least tell me when and where I’ll meet the bride so I can discuss these things with her.”

He stalked over to where a pile of soft white towels awaited and grabbed one. He scrubbed his hair first and then began to wipe off the sweat from his torso. He ignored her outburst and continued the conversation as if it had never occurred.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, scrubbing his hair with the towel around his neck.

“At the hotel outside your compound. Why?”

“That is unacceptable. You will move into the palace this afternoon. It will be easier for you to plan things from here.” He tossed the towel into a nearby basket and headed for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I require a shower before my lunch meeting.”

“Wait.” She trailed after him out into the hall. “What about—”

“Janna.” He turned so abruptly that she almost ran into the back of him. “Unless you wish to accompany me in my shower, I’d suggest you meet me at the restaurant. Say, one hour?”

Wide-eyed, Janna stared up into his face, his amused smile, his sardonic, raised brow. “Um.” She took a step back and a deep breath, hoping to recover some of her lost sanity. “Fine. I’ll meet you in an hour. What’s the name of the restaurant?”

Nassir gave it to her along with the address, which she scribbled down on the notepad inside her planner. “My driver will see that you arrive there safely and on time.”

“All right then.” She closed her portfolio then turned as the other man from the boxing ring stepped in beside her. He appeared to be staring at her planner and with her nerves on edge, her snark got the better of her. She gave him an irritated look and did her best to keep the annoyance from her tone. “What?”

“I’ve just never seen a pink leather business planner before.” He shrugged.

“May I introduce my youngest brother, Adilan Adjalane,” Nassir cocked his head toward the other man beside Janna.

Janna kept her attention on Nassir. “Will your bride be at the restaurant as well?”

Nassir exchanged a glance with the man beside her then smiled, “Of course.”

Her tense shoulders relaxed a bit. Now they were getting somewhere. “Good. I can get her input then. See you in an hour.”

She nodded to Adilan then headed back for the exit.

From what Nassir had explained, the driver he’d arranged for her would be available for her use at all times during the duration of her stay. At first, she’d considered that idea a little strange, but now that she was in Al-Sarid and didn’t speak the language, she was beyond grateful for the polite, English-speaking driver who just might prove to be her saving grace.

Janna walked outside and said driver held the door open for her now as she slid into the backseat of the sleek black sedan and placed her portfolio beside her. One hour from now, she’d meet the bride and finally get to work.

                                                                                    *****

“She’s a little spitfire, eh?” Adilan said as they headed for the showers.

“She is spirited, yes.” In fact, she’d seemed downright aggressive today, much different from the last time they’d met. At Amare’s wedding, she’d seemed tough and in charge but still feminine and even downright flirty.

“Her and Malid would get on like a house on fire,” Adilan said, raising his eyebrows.

Nassir rubbed the stubble on his jaw, “Agreed. Best to keep those two apart. Our brother’s anti-West views would not be welcome.”

Nevertheless, today she’d been all staunch business and prickly demands. Nassir didn’t like those changes, but did his best to consider the fact that she was a stranger in a strange land and perhaps she’d been nervous. He knew he could be intimidating, especially on his home turf.

Of course, nervous was not what he’d seen as she’d stared at him the ring or later, as he’d wiped off. No. Then her beautiful eyes had filled with sexual heat and sensual promise as she stared at his bare torso. His body stirred at the memory and he couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. He’d been aware of her since that night at the reception. Today had proven to him that he was not alone in that awareness.

Truth be told, her fiery personality only made him want her more. Janna’s feisty nature brought out the dominance in him, made him want to tame her, own her, claim her as his. Not that he planned to ever share that with her or anyone else. This would be a business arrangement. A marriage of convenience. A way for him to maintain his control over the Adjalane Oil Board. Nothing more.

“You really think she’ll agree to marry you?” Adilan asked, jarring Nassir out of his thoughts.

Nassir gave a brief nod as they headed into the locker room. “She will.”

“I’ve got my doubts, brother. The next few days should be most interesting. I look forward to watching you fail.”

“Then you will be disappointed.” Nassir grinned. “She will be mine. No doubts. Even better, she’ll be planning her own dream wedding without realizing it.”

“No. I believe she is too smart for you.” Adilan chuckled. “Any woman who will carry a binder like that is a force to reckoned with. She’ll catch you at your game and then she’ll make you pay.”

“Never happen.” Nassir scoffed. “Besides that pink monstrosity she calls a portfolio, everything she uses is that color. Pens, paper, business cards. Everything. Do you know what that means?”

Adilan shook his head.

“It means, dear brother, that she has her head in the clouds. While she’s planning other peoples’ weddings, she probably has hers already planned out down to the smallest detail. Seems my new bride is a hopeless romantic. And romance makes people blind. And stupid.”

“Perhaps.” Adilan said, heading for the showers, his grin wide. “But I will still be anxiously awaiting your downfall.”

Twenty minutes later, Nassir walked into the restaurant, nodding to the owner as he was escorted to his private dining room. The purpose of today’s luncheon was to discuss the current board situation with Hazim, his uncle and the man who’d trained him for his position with the company. 

“Uncle,” Nassir greeted Hazim with a kiss to each cheek, as was their custom, though there was little affection behind the act for them. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today.”

Hazim took his seat and sipped his water. “You are most welcome, though I wonder why you asked me here?”

Nassir steepled his fingers and waited while the waiter took their orders then left them alone once more behind in their private room, a veil hung over the door for added security. “These current demands are untenable.”

Hazim gave him a droll look. “The marriage aspect? Does that mean you intend to defy their orders already?”

“You did not participate in the vote. Why?”

“It seemed unfair to participate in a vote that could easily allow me to step into your position.”

Nassir appreciated the man’s frankness. He always preferred to meet his competition head on, knowing where the strike was going to come from so that he could calculate a wise response.

“Besides, the fact remains your recent public affairs debacles have left the board’s reputation in tatters. To overcome that precarious position will require a show of obedience on your part - a sacrifice. Thus the wedding.”

“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with the fabrication of such a plan.”

Hazim smiled, small and cold. “Actually, I did not. This was entirely your father’s doing. My brother may have protected you in the past, but this time you have pushed him too far and he has chosen to let the wrath of the board fall.” Hazim sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Lucky for you, I have no desire to run Adjalane Oil.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Nassir leaned forward slightly. “You have wanted my position since the day I was appointed.”

“At first, yes. But now that I have seen the amount of stress it has caused you, the way it has taken over every aspect of your life, I have changed my mind. I would much rather have someone else in the forefront and simply know that my wishes were going to be met.”

Nassir shook his head, a small muscle ticking near his clenched jaw. “And you believe
I
will be your… what? Puppet leader?”

“I do, yes.”

Stunned, Nassir sat back again, speechless.

“Listen, nephew,” Hazim continued, leaning forward now to rest his forearms on his knees. “I have come prepared to help you solve your dilemma.” He snapped his fingers and a woman in a black burqa stepped through into the room.

Her kohl rimmed gaze met Nassir’s from behind her veil and she made no attempt to look away, as was the normal custom of respect.

The longer Nassir stared into those dark brown eyes, the more recognition dawned. It was Nehla, Hazim’s consort.

“I see that you already recognize my guest. Hazim gestured for her to join them. “She has been apprised of the situation and is ready to become your bride.”

“No.” Nassir held up his hand. “Much as I appreciate the offer, I already have a bride.”

“Really?” Hazim gave him a curious look. “That is not what I have heard.”

“Well, you have heard wrong.”

“Nehla would be a suitable bride and one the board would readily accept, with a little persuasion from me.”

“The stipulation was that I marry someone with ties to the West. Not only does Nehla not meet that requirement, why would you think for a moment I would marry your consort?” The thought of marrying his uncle’s mistress turned his stomach. Nehla might dress as a chaste woman now, but Nassir knew it was only an act.

“You are running out of time. You could be married to Nehla before the week is out.”

“No.” Nassir looked out the doorway and spotted Janna near the hostess station. He caught a passing waiter and instructed him to bring her over to their table then stood. “This meeting is over. Good day.”

Hazim pushed to his feet as well, but before he could say a word, Janna approached.

“Who is this?” Hazim asked Nassir.

“Janna, this is my uncle Hazim. Hazim, Janna is planning my wedding.”

“What?” Hazim’s tanned complexion flushed an unattractive shade of red and his dark gaze sparked with anger.

“Yes. Now, if you will excuse us, Janna and I have much to discuss. I will see you at the next board meeting, Hazim, if not sooner.”

Nassir stared at his uncle from across the table, daring the man to stay. After another moment, Hazim gave up the fight and strode from their private dining room, Nehla in tow.

Once he and Janna were alone again, he held her chair for her as she sat, then resumed his own seat across from her.

Janna still stared after their departed guests, frowning. “Was that your bride?”

Nassir didn’t answer, just hailed the waiter back over and ordered a white wine and a water for Janna and a refill of his chardonnay, all the while figuring out the best response to her question. “She will be unable to attend today, unfortunately.”

“Oh, dear.” Janna sat that god awful pink planner on the table beside her and appeared genuinely downhearted. “I was really hoping to get started on the preparations as soon as possible.”

The platters of food he’d ordered earlier arrived and Nassir stifled a laugh as Janna took in the mountains of hummus and pita bread, tangy curry chicken and rice, and garlic kebabs laid out before her. And last but not least, a fresh cucumber salad with lettuce, and a variety of other vegetables.

“Wow.” Her gaze lifted from the feast to Nassir. “This all looks and smells amazing.”

“Do you like Arab cuisine?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never eaten any.”

“Then I shall enjoy your first experience of sampling the treats of my country.” He smiled and pointed toward the curry chicken. “That one is spicy, so be warned.”

“I like spicy.” She picked up her fork and sampled a small bite. The tiny groan of pleasure that escaped her had Nassir shifting in his seat and thinking of the bedroom, not the dining room. “This is fantastic.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” Nassir couldn’t seem to stop staring at her mouth, at the way her tongue peeked out to wet her bottom lip. “But you sound surprised.”

“I’ve had Indian curry before, but this is different. This has just the right amount of heat.”

The right amount of heat, indeed
. The fact she seemed to like his native foods pleased Nassir more than he cared to admit. In the palace, the chef would cook whatever she wanted including American dishes, but the thought of them sharing a banquet for two of their favourite spicy dishes brought a smile to his lips.

“So,” Janna said around a bite of salad. “Your bride doesn’t want to have a say in the planning of the wedding?”

“Let us finish our meal first, then we will discuss business, yes?”

“Okay.”

Half an hour later, Janna sat back in her chair and rubbed her stomach. “This was all wonderful, but I can’t eat another bite.”

“I, too, am full.” He called the waiter over once more to clear their plates, then ordered strong coffee. Janna asked for hot water and tea instead.

Once the waiter had brought their items, she got down to business again, transforming from satisfied female to hardened harpy before his eyes. “All right. Let’s start at the top. What is our budget?”

“Budget?”

“Yes. How much money will you spend on your wedding?”

“There is no budget. Whatever you decide will be done. I am a man of position and therefore my wedding should be extravagant. Nothing discounted or cheap.”

“I’ve never planned a wedding that didn’t have some type of ceiling on the budget. Even Sheik Amare gave me a few expenditure guidelines.”

“Well, now you have.” Nassir smiled at her stunned expression. “I’m sure you’ve had ideas about the perfect wedding before, but have never been able to act upon them. Now you can. Plan this wedding with the same care and consideration as if it were your own. As if there were no limitations to the money that could be spent.”

Janna raised her eyebrows, “You’re serious?”

“Most definitely. Do whatever makes you happy.”

“But it’s not my wedding.” She shook her head and clasped her hands on the table top. “Perhaps your bride and I have different tastes.”

“I doubt it.” He sat back and watched her, “I imagine you would be a romantic, using lots of flowers, decorations, creating a fantasy land where the bride was the princess and the groom the handsome prince.”

She flushed the most beguiling shade of rose he’d ever seen. “I’ve done
Cinderella
themed weddings. If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

“This isn’t about what I want.”

She looked up and met his gaze, a flicker of something passing through her eyes, there then gone before he could identify it. Empathy, perhaps.

“Mr. Adjalane…”

“Nassir,” he corrected her again.

“Nassir,” she kept her gaze lowered, her voice firm. “If your bride is not going to be involved in planning the wedding, I must insist you provide some guidance.”

“I have. If you are happy, I will be happy.”

“And will your bride? Will she be happy too?” She pushed away from the table and stood. “Thank you for lunch. I need to go so I can get my things moved into the palace.” She turned to leave then stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. “I hope your bride knows who she’s marrying.”

“She will,” he said, then watched as she strode from the restaurant, her head high and her movements graceful.  She moved like one of his prized thoroughbred racehorses, all sleek muscle and refined beauty. He’d always left the taming of his race horses to his stable hands, but not this time.

Nassir settled the bill then strode out to his own waiting car. This time he would very much enjoy taming this fine, charming, completely disarming American filly himself.