Zahir twirled the stem of his wine glass back and forth under his fingers, allowing himself just one more glance at Layla. He knew he’d been staring at her throughout dinner, but it was impossible to look away. She’d shown up to work distant and distracted, which made him even more desperate to catch her eye and know that she was okay. Layla had a strange way of wearing her emotions on her sleeve. Or maybe he was simply the only one who could see them.

“I’d say we’ve done a fine job of mixing cultures and blending practices,” Imaad spoke up, breaking through Zahir’s thoughts. Imaad raised his wine glass, the rest of the table following suit. The group, which included all levels of executives, had been discussing overall business strategies, along with the benefits and challenges of the merger. Zahir was quick to point out Layla’s contributions when he could, though he swore she shrank a little each time he did.

The table dissolved into individual conversations, and Zahir took another sip of his wine as Layla stood, gesturing discreetly to Marian. The two hurried away, leaving Layla’s spot empty directly in front of him. Omar leaned toward him, gripping the back of his chair.

“Okay. Let me be plain.” He cleared his throat, his dark eyes darting over Zahir’s face. “Do you have a thing for your new hire?”

Zahir blinked a few times, struggling to find words. Was it so obvious?

“Or maybe you’re already sleeping together.” Omar lifted a brow.

“What are you talking about?” Zahir finally found his voice, and it came out more defensive than he liked.

“I know you. You have one thing written on your face.”

Zahir tugged at the collar of his shirt. There was something unnerving about being called out, even if it was by his brother. He’d thought this attraction was far more under wraps. “And what’s that?”

“You’re looking to fuck.”

Zahir’s laugh came out sharp and forced. “Please. This is just how I look normally. I can’t control it.” He shifted in his seat, dragging his thumb over the base of his wine glass. “Besides. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m an engaged man now.”

Omar sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You gave father your answer?”

“No, I haven’t.” He sighed. “But does it matter? It’s as good as done.”

“You could say no.”

Zahir shook his head. “I can’t. I could never. You know this better than anyone.”

“You’ve sacrificed enough for the job, for the family. I’m sure you could—” Omar began.

“No.” Zahir straightened in his seat, the mere suggestion making his blood run hot. “Not after everything father has done for me. I owe him everything. It’s my obligation as the eldest. You don’t understand.”

Omar narrowed his eyes. “Father puts pressure on Immad and me too, you know. And I’ve managed to say no before.”

“That was different.” Of course Omar would bring up how he’d turned down arranged marriage offers after his first wife’s death.

Omar eyed him for a moment and then focused on something toward the back of the room. Zahir spotted Marian and Layla wending their way through the restaurant toward them, heads close as they spoke.

“I trust your honeymoon went well.” Zahir tapped his fingers on the tablecloth, unable to rip his gaze from Layla. It didn’t matter whom he married or how hard he tried to be happy in the arranged marriage—he would never forget Layla. He’d never be able to not see her.

“Better than well.” Omar flashed a mysterious grin, tipping the last of his wine into his mouth. “Marian and I are trying for a baby.”

Zahir’s brows shot up. It shouldn’t surprise him, he just hadn’t expected that he could be an uncle anytime soon. “Is that right? Congrats, brother. That’s excellent.”

“We’ll see how long it takes. But I think I can safely say we’ll be the first.” Omar nudged him as he stood up. Zahir downed the rest of his wine, trying to spot where Layla had wandered off to. Marian approached the table alone.

“I’m certainly going to be in last place,” Zahir said, coming to his feet. He buttoned his suit, furtively searching the restaurant for Layla as Marian slid into Omar’s embrace. “But only in this instance.”

Omar huffed with a laugh, and Marian smiled sweetly up at him. “What are you two talking about?”

“Just how he’s definitely going to be an uncle before he’s a father,” Omar said, pushing his fingers into Marian’s curls. Her smile wavered and then tightened.

“Well, let’s get going.” She jerked her head toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Zahir. Bright and early.”

“Don’t forget. You’re back from vacation now.” Zahir watched as the two strolled off to say goodbye to their colleagues, and then he surveyed the remaining crowd. Urgency clawed at him; he had to find Layla. Now might be his only chance to speak with her outside of a work setting, this slim window between responsibility and free time.

Instead of saying goodbye to anyone, Zahir hurried toward the front doors of the restaurant. He suspected she’d sneaked out early, after Marian came back alone. Maybe she was already gone. He pushed through the front doors of the restaurant, the rush of traffic and the dry, night air meeting him. At the curb, peering down the street, that familiar strawberry blonde hair tugged at his attention, the perfectly plaited tresses drawing him near.

“Layla.” He jogged toward her and she turned, her face wrought into an unknown expression. She didn’t hold his gaze long before turning back toward the street.

“What?” She held up her arm, gesturing more forcefully for a taxi.

He stood at her side, unsure what to say. Her icy exterior was palpable, but he wasn’t sure how to melt it. “Are you leaving so soon?”

“The dinner is over. I’m ready for bed.” She didn’t even turn his way to speak.

Zahir reached for her wrist, gently guiding her hand down. “I can take you home.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Because spending money for a stranger to take you somewhere is a better idea?” He scoffed, fishing out his phone before she could protest. “It’s no trouble to drop you off.”

Her gaze landed on his hands as he texted his driver to meet them out front. “You really shouldn’t.”

Zahir sent his text before slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Well, I already did.” He smiled at her, as if encouraging her to do the same. She stared past him, her face neutral.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, glancing at him briefly. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. I’m tired.” She folded her arms over her chest, turning away toward the street. A tense silence settled in the space between them on the sidewalk, one that Zahir couldn’t figure out how to break.

Thankfully, the car arrived quickly. Layla slid into the back seat, and he got in after her, shutting the door quietly. Layla stared out the window, her face and posture stony.

Zahir looked her up and down a few times. So much for the painstaking progress they’d made as coworkers and friends. Even if every day he allowed himself just a little reverie about their fantastic sex.

A few moments of silence went by, stretching tighter with every second. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Her chest heaved, like maybe she hadn’t breathed the entirety of the car ride. Layla’s grip tightened on the door rest. “I…I don’t know why you’d ask that.”

“You’ve been acting strangely around me.”

Layla blinked a few times, nibbling on her bottom lip. Finally, she cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “I just, uh…I don’t know.”

“It’s important to me that we have a good working relationship. And this has not been good, or working.” He gestured to the air between them.

Layla’s gaze fell to the open seat between them. “I just still find it weird that we work together after…everything that’s happened.”

Her words tumbled through him like boulders. That was it? “I see. Well, I suppose that could be strange for you.”

The sound of the car’s turn signal was the only sound between them for a moment. “Have you slept with everyone at the office?” She asked it casually, as if maybe she were asking about what time a play began.

He knitted his brows together. “No, of course I haven’t. That’s absurd.” He huffed with a disbelieving laugh. “No animal shits where they eat.”

Layla’s gaze scorched over him. “So that’s what it was? Fucking me was shitting?”

The fire in her tone prickled at him, sent his frustration tumbling over the edge. “Oh, come on! Of course not. That’s not what I meant at all. What are you getting at with this?”

She shrugged, her nostrils flaring as she turned back to stare out the window. “Just trying to figure out how you feel about it.”

“How could I have known who you were, that you would end up at my company?” His voice tightened with anger. “Do you make it a habit of sleeping with your bosses?”

Her mouth fell open, shock rippling across her face. “How dare you suggest that!”

“But don’t you see that—”

“Let me out.” She grabbed at the door handle, but it was locked. The car moved too fast to step out of, even if she was bolstered by anger. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. I’ll walk.”

“You will not walk,” Zahir countered, leaning toward her. “This neighborhood is too dangerous for a woman at night.”

“Oh well. I have mace.” She unbuckled her seat belt, speaking to the driver. “Excuse me, sir? Could you drop me off here?”

Zahir sent her a sharp look and addressed the driver in Farsi. “Continue to her building.”

Layla leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And buckle up. I’m taking you home. There’s no need to be so…adversarial. You weren’t like this before.”

Her face darkened. “Before?”

“Yeah. Back when you acted like you liked me. When you’d let me lead. I can’t even believe now that you let me touch you.”

She glowered out the window, tight-lipped. He ran a hand through his hair, heart beating wildly. He hadn’t meant to say all those words…but they were out now. No turning back.

A few moments later the car slowed as they approached her building. “This is me,” she said, her voice monotone.

When the car rolled to a stop, Zahir reached for the door handle. “I’ll let you out.”

She scoffed, and by the time he’d crossed the back of the car, she was pushing out of the car on her own. He clenched his jaw, meeting her fiery gaze. There was something mischievous there. Yes, she was provoking him. The energy crackled plainly between them.

“I don’t need a man to help me out of the car,” she spat and strutted past him into the building. He balled his fists, stilling his hand. He could have grabbed her by the wrist, spun her around, pinned her to the trunk of the car. Pressed himself against her, asked her if what she really needed was a man to make her feel better. In a way only he could. The image passed before his eyes like a movie, and by the time he could clear his head, she was inside the building, heading for the elevator.

He swore to himself, lingering at the side of the car. The woman in that car wasn’t even a little bit the Layla he’d come to know over the past month. Something was seriously wrong—and more than that, he could taste the desire that dripped from her like honey. She might play this part, but it wasn’t working. She needed him—maybe as a friend or maybe as a lover. Either way, he needed to show up.

Zahir poked his head into the car. In Farsi, he said, “Park the car. I’ll let you know soon if I’ll be coming down.”

He hurried into the building, murmuring the apartment number to himself. He’d helped secure this spot, so he knew exactly what apartment was hers. Sixth floor, number 621. A three bedroom with a hot tub and balcony. He’d opted for something a bit more luxurious than he otherwise might have, since he’d known it would be hers.

He tapped his thumb against the elevator panel as the car rose toward the sixth floor, as though the motion might help alleviate some of the tension in his chest. There was no good reason to go up to her apartment, other than his desperation for her. He wanted to take her into his arms and feel that tension melt away, get back to their witty rapport, smooth out whatever this uncomfortable kink was between them.

When he found her door, he took a deep breath before knocking, not allowing any doubts to creep in and remind him what a bad idea this might be.

He was following his gut, and it told him to go after her.