After an invigorating lunch with Annabelle and a productive afternoon of business planning, Marian was ready for one more self-esteem boost.

She dressed carefully in her hotel suite while on speaker phone with Layla, a friend from NYC.

“You should wear the red one,” Layla said, even though she couldn’t see the options being considered.

“Yeah, but that might scream something I don’t want to scream in this male-dominated society,” Marian said, nibbling her lip as she looked at the three dresses lying on her bed. “All I want is to look sexy for myself and have a relaxing, exploratory night out in Minarak.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a sexy Almasi brother on your arm?”

Marian’s stomach plummeted to her feet. “Ugh. I didn’t tell you.” She relayed the awkward encounter earlier that day in Omar’s office. “That’s what I get for being forward with a business associate.”

“You weren’t forward, you were just curious.”

“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.”

This seemed to ease his doubts, because he complied with her tug instead of resisting. “I’ll call my driver.”

“No. I want an authentic experience.” She led him toward the sidewalk, her hand slipping into his. Heat flooded her like an electric shock, and she glanced back at him with surprise. Confusion shone on his face, and she squeezed his hand, pulling him faster. “Show me how to hail a cab in Minarak.”

On the sidewalk, cars meandered past the hotel, a few obvious taxis approaching. Something about Omar felt new right now. Nothing like the level-headed, confident businessman she’d interacted with thus far. This man was cautious, as if he’d just arrived at a party where he knew no one.

Omar paused, appraising her heavily. Oh God. He’s going to back out. He’s going to run away.

Marian deflated a little, but Omar raised his arm and waved it vigorously in the air. “This is how you do it. Just quickly. Several should stop.”

As if on cue, three taxis pulled over to the side of the road, and Omar smiled at her. This time it felt genuine.

“Well, thank you for that. I would have done it much more aggressively, based on my experience as a New Yorker.” She picked the first taxi that approached and slid into the backseat. “Now how do I say, ‘Take me to the fanciest restaurant in the fanciest district’?”

Omar laughed a little and leaned forward, instructing the taxi driver in Farsi. She caught a whiff of his cologne as he settled back into the seat.

“That’s a bit too much for the first lesson,” Omar said. “How about we just start simple?” He pronounced the word for restaurant, which he repeated a few times while she stumbled over it lamely.

“Yeah, that works,” she said finally, happy that he’d decided to accompany her. Something felt natural with him, as if she were reconnecting with a long-lost friend. Even though it made no sense, and she had no basis for it...it was there.

The taxi driver pulled up to a tall building, encased in reflective blue panes. The bottom level was a restaurant—she could see the maître d’s stand as a well-dressed couple entered. As she stepped out of the taxi, which Omar insisted on paying for, Marian craned her neck upward to see what lay above.

“This looks pretty fancy.”

“It’s just fancy enough,” Omar said. “They’ll let me in, at least.”

“Oh, please.” She waved her hand at him as they strutted toward the front doors. “You look like an off-duty underwear model.”

Omar lifted a brow at the same time her words crashed around her. Jesus, Marian, could you get a filter? She opened her mouth to smooth it over, but found nothing waiting on her tongue.

He opened the door for her, an amused air lingering between them. As they approached the podium, his hand found the small of her back. She relished the jolt of electricity that coursed through her again, made her toes tingle.

Omar spoke to the hostess, and soon they were seated at an intimate table for two along the front windows, overlooking the busy street. The glass was tinted from the outside, so they could peep out on the world in peace.

“This will be fun,” Marian said, settling into place. She smoothed the napkin over her lap in preparation. “We get to comment on everybody’s fashion choices without them knowing.”

“So you’re a voyeur,” Omar said, his eyes glinting.

“Maybe,” she said, teasing. “Important things to know about your business partner.”

A waiter came with glasses of water and the wine list. As Marian perused the choices, a thought occurred to her.

“Don’t think you have to pay for my dinner,” she said, her gaze traveling along his square jaw, over the five o’clock shadow. “You just ran into me at the hotel, so this isn’t me strong-arming you into a meal. I’m on an expense account, after all.”

“Please. I would hardly be a good man if I allowed a guest in my country to pay for her own meal.”

Marian batted her eyes at him. There were sparks here—right? She swore there were. Or maybe he was just being a sweet host. It was so hard to tell. The only thing she did know was how desperate she was to peel that shirt of his off and see what lay beneath.

They talked easily while waiting for the main course. Marian sipped on wine while Omar nursed a sparkling water. When she ordered her second glass, she said, “You don’t drink alcohol?”

“Not much anymore,” he replied, eyeing her as she downed the rest of her wine. “I…gave it up.”

“Any reason?”

A strange cloud covered his face, the same one that appeared when she’d caught him at the hotel. “Not really.”

“You’re just a good boy, then.” Marian folded her fingers over the table, casting him a secret smile. How many more hints did she need to drop? She’d held his hand and called him an underwear model. By all rights, he should be mounting her by now. At least, he would be if they were in New York.

“Not always.” He ran his thumb over the side of his glass, his dark gaze setting her pulse racing. There it is. The man could start a fire with so few words. That was a talent.

“Hm. You seem like a pretty good boy to me.” She leaned forward, conscious of her spilling cleavage. “What’s an example of you being bad?”

He wet his bottom lip, his gaze not moving from hers. She could practically feel the skin sizzling on her face. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to say. Bad boys don’t share.”

“Oh, jeez. Now I’m really curious. This probably has something to do with your brothers, right? I bet you three got into trouble back in the day.” She cocked a smile. Fire sizzled between them. Take the ball and run with it.

He chuckled throatily, and at the same time the waiter arrived with their dishes. Talk about poor timing. She received her plate gratefully, something with lamb and an impossible name. Omar looked just as disappointed as she felt.

The conversation flowed back to non-suggestive things, maybe due in part to the slurping and inhaling taking place over the plate in front of her. By the time their plates were cleared, Marian was stuffed and feeling significantly less sexy in her black dress. Maybe she should have left Omar at the hotel so she could bloat and grunt in peace.

But no, he was worth the discomfort of sucking her belly in post-meal. Especially when shivers thrilled through her almost any time he even glanced her way.

“So. Now that we’ve finished eating…I have a question for you.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth, placing the napkin on her plate. “Do you think we can salvage this deal?”

“No work talk,” Omar said, his firm voice feeling like a sizzling slap on the ass. “That’s a rule of mine.”

“Ever?”

“Outside of work,” he clarified, a boyish grin covering his face. “I devote enough of my time and energy to that place; I need to draw the line somewhere.”

“Hmmm. In that case…” She glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe for dessert, we should…go someplace else?”

The question hung in the air for a bit too long. Each second that dragged by felt like its own separate “no.” She was crazy. She was hallucinating the attraction. She needed to stay in her lane. He was a coworker, not a booty call. Every negative thought possible crowded her mind, filling her with doubt.

“Marian.” Omar wet his bottom lip again, his eyes fastened on the tabletop. “We need to keep this professional.”

Regret lashed at her, forced her to pinch her eyes shut with embarrassment. What had she been thinking? The sexy fantasies featuring Omar dissipated in a puff of regret. You’re an idiot to think he’d ever want to try anything with you.

“Right.” She forced a tiny grin, trying to shake the stinging rejection. The sense that no matter how craftily she used her feminine wiles, she couldn’t get the hottest man in the world to say yes to her.

The waiter came with their bill, and Omar scooped it up before she could protest.

“You don’t have to—” she started.

“But I want to.” Omar sent his card with their server, leaving them in a tense silence.

“Listen. I’m not trying to be a creep or anything,” Marian said, eager to smooth over the blip from a few moments ago. “This won’t affect our professional relationship. I need you to know that. I’m just…a fun gal. I like to go do things, get to know new people. That’s all.”

“Of course.” Omar took a sip of water, his eyes over her shoulder. Maybe he was wishing the waiter would return immediately. “Don’t worry, Marian. There’s no problem.”

The waiter returned a few moments later, and Marian drained the rest of her wine. She and Omar walked to the front door, but she’d never felt so awkward and bulky beside a man before. Was this the self-esteem boost you were looking for?

Outside, Omar hailed a cab, and again several pulled over. He spoke to a driver through the front window, then held the door open for her.

“He’ll take you back to the hotel,” he said with a small smile. “Have a good night, Marian. See you tomorrow morning. I’ll send a car for you.”

He shut the door, leaving her in a gloomy silence in the back seat.

Even though it wasn’t devastating or heart-wrenching or traumatic or anything of the sort…it still felt like it. Because there had been a secret voice inside her, whispering that Omar was on her level. Hoping that someone like him might be willing to have a connection with someone like her.

Just one little thing was missing: mutual attraction.