First thing Monday morning, Layla marched into Almasi headquarters with resignation papers tucked under her arm.

She’d poured over the document all weekend, as well as cried her eyes out and made peace with the fact that her brief, whimsical brush with feeling something for a man had once again led right where she’d expected: heartbreak.

There was no other way to handle this situation. Zahir was off-limits and had been the entire time. Which meant that this baby was hers and only hers, and she had no reason to go ruining Zahir’s new, perfect marriage with a surprise child with some fleeting New Yorker.

Tears welled up in her throat again. Good thing Zahir had shared his news first. One more disaster averted.

Part of her could understand his ridiculous man logic. Just fuck until I legally wed someone else. It almost made sense, if you took feelings out of the mix. But what Zahir didn’t know, what Layla wouldn’t admit under threat of death, was that his confession ruined the tiny, eager sprouting seed of hope within her that what she felt for Zahir was real and might actually go somewhere.

She knocked her head against the side of the elevator, as if it might help loosen the thought so it could roll out of her ear. Don’t you understand how hard it is for me to open up? I trusted you. I thought you were special. I thought we had a connection. I dared to hope with you.

She’d been saying these words to him in her head all weekend long. It didn’t matter how many times she repeated them. It never hurt any less.

When the elevator doors slid open, she headed straight for Almasi Senior’s office. She knocked three times, waited for his rumbly voice, then let herself in.

“Miss Layla.” He grinned up at her, eyes squinting. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, sir.” She forced a quick smile, handing him the papers. “I just wanted to drop these off. I’m sorry to deliver this news so soon.”

His bushy brows furrowed as he read. After a moment, he said, “But I don’t understand. Aren’t you well paid here?”

“Yes, sir. Very well paid.” Her heart picked up a fast rhythm. “It’s not the pay, in fact.”

“Then what is it? You’ve only been here three months.”

“I, uh, well…” Her palms went clammy as she struggled to remember the monologue she’d practiced at home in the mirror. “You know, this is very far from home and very different. I just realized that I should be closer to the people I love.” She paused, struggling to remember another convincing reason. “And the weather? It’s very hot. I find that it’s hard to—”

“It’s too hot for you?” His eyebrow arched accusingly as his gaze drifted downward. A thick moment of silence passed. Heat prickled over her neck.

Oh God. Maybe I’m actually showing. She shifted, doubts flooding her. Her mouth started moving but she couldn’t control the words. “I’ve just been very unwell here, actually, feeling sick and sort of, you know, under the weather, sort of puking when I wake up and—”

Mr. Almasi’s brow arched higher. “Puking?”

“It’s sort of a, a—” Her cheeks flamed; this was a train wreck. "A problem that definitely can be resolved, I just need to be closer to home, and with the duration of the illness around nine months I don’t think that I can fulfill the year contract.”

The silence that filled the room became so loud that her head throbbed. Her heart pounded as she struggled to think back on what she’d even said.

“So you’re pregnant,” he stated matter-of-factly.

The air whooshed out of her lungs. There was no coming back from this gaffe. “Yes.”

“We have an excellent maternity package,” Mr. Almasi said, looking almost amused. “There would be no problem for you if you were to stay on.”

Her cheeks flushed, and a string of curse words thundered through her head. “Sir, I appreciate that fact, and I do understand that there is a very generous maternity package, but as you can probably guess, I’d like to be closer to home at this time.”

The doorknob turned, and the door swung open. Goosebumps flared on her calves and she let her eyes flutter shut, groaning internally. She already knew who it was.

“Father.” Zahir’s voice flooded her, made her knees weak, and she kept her back as rigid as possible. “Are you busy?”

“Well, yes, a bit, I’d say.” Mr. Almasi grumbled a bit, adjusting his position in his seat. “Layla, you’ll forgive me for sharing your news so soon, but Zahir is the CEO in training, so he should hear this as well.”

“What?” Zahir sent her a hard look.

“I—” Layla began.

“Layla is with child and wishes to resign,” Mr. Almasi said, steamrolling her with the admission. Zahir’s face tightened slowly, as if someone tugged at his cheeks from behind.

Layla’s stomach made a somersault, and she backed toward the door. “Well, that’s all for now. Thank you both for a very pleasant time at Almasi-Thomas. I’ll go get my things ready now. I’ll be leaving within the hour.”

She bolted past Zahir, ignoring the heat rolling off of him, the confusion that he wore like a suit. She kept her eyes on the ground as she headed for her own office. A moment later a door slammed behind her and footsteps approached.

“Layla.” His voice was firm, quiet.

She swallowed a knot of tears and continued to her office. Head hanging, she pushed inside, tears blurring her vision. She studied her desk top, unable to look up at him, unable to do anything for fear of betraying the emotions holding her hostage right now.

The office door shut a moment later. Nobody spoke, and Layla did her best to calm herself. When she looked up, Zahir’s face was unreadable.

“Is it mine?”

Her brain seized, and she got lost in his eyes. Tears returned to her eyes, and a few broke the seal, trickling down her face. She covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stifle a sob. She nodded hard, looking back at her desk.

“Jesus, Layla.” He stepped closer, reaching for her over the desk. She shied away, drawing a ragged breath.

“You’re the only one,” she whispered, and then hiccupped. “The only one I’ve been with.”

Zahir stared at her, a range of emotions playing across his face. But it hurt too much to look at him. It reminded her of all the rationalizing she’d done to get to this point, all the excuses and bad decisions.

“How long have you known?”

She shuddered with another sob. “Since that business dinner. The real one.”

His eyes widened, a vein pulsing in his neck. For a moment, she thought he’d put his fist through the desk.

“Are you serious?” His voice held a note of incredulity she hadn’t known he was capable of. She nodded, shrinking back.

“And you never thought to tell me?”

“I was going to,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. Her mascara was probably wrecked. Her life was definitely wrecked. “At dinner the other night—”

“I can’t believe this.” Zahir paced the office, his hands tugging at his hair. She drew another breath, struggling to hold onto the break in tears. “I need to think about this. I can’t talk to you right now.”

Layla wiped at her eyes, fighting another up-swell of emotion.

“We will discuss this later,” Zahir said, stopping in his tracks. He pointed at her, the gesture cementing his words. “You will wait for me, and we will discuss this.”

He paused, nostrils flaring, and then let himself out of her office. Layla collapsed into her chair, letting another wave of sobs consume her.

Wait for him to discuss this? She owed him an explanation, that much was certain, but she couldn’t be in this building any longer. Once the tears subsided, she scribbled down the admin information for her log-in and gathered the few items she had placed around her desk, pushing them into her purse. And then she scooted out of the office, heading to the elevator, head down and heart splintered.