Layla zipped and bounced around the hotel breakfast area like she’d mainlined caffeine. Really, she hadn’t even had a sip of coffee yet, but her nerves for the approaching day had her rattled in a big way.

Well, it was that and Zahir. They’d stayed up a little bit too long the night before with sexting and then outright sex talk over the phone, which ended with Layla fingering herself at Zahir’s request until she came. The orgasm had been almost as powerful as the ones from the other night, which was worrisome. The man held some sort of sexual power that she was slowly and steadily succumbing to.

Not that she minded. At eight a.m., she fought to not text him. Even though every cell in her body was dying to start their messaging off bright and early.

Marian strutted into the hotel lobby, waving at Layla while she talked to someone on her cell phone. Layla grabbed a lavash flatbread and to-go coffee—more of a ritual from back home than anything, though she usually ate a muffin or bagel—and hurried after Marian. Her friend’s conversation was short and professional.

“Right. Right. Well, we’re on our way, so be prepared. See you in about fifteen.” She swiped her phone closed, then hugged Layla.

“Who was that?”

Marian slid into the backseat of a taxi, and Layla followed suit. “Oh, it was Imaad. They’re just getting ready for your interview.”

“Imaad.” Layla blinked, struggling to place the name. She couldn’t think past any name but Zahir. “Oh, Annabelle’s husband!”

“Right.” Marian clucked her tongue. “Another fine specimen of the Almasi gene pool.”

Layla snorted. “Finer than your own representative?”

“No, mine is the finest. And the eldest specimen isn’t so bad, either.”

“Oh, there’s a third one?” Layla’s gaze wandered out the window as they talked, taking in the golden hues falling over the sleepy Minarak. At this hour in NYC, the city would be bustling and noisy. Here, it looked like people were still only considering making their way to the office.

“Ohhhh yes. The only eligible bachelor. And, well, if you weren’t going into an HR position, I’d suggest you get on it. But once you take the job, that option will be out, since he’ll be your boss.”

Layla sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll have to be content with my hot Parsian stud, then. Poor me.”

Marian nudged her side. “Yeah, I totally pity you. The Almasi family is kind of absurdly hot, though. Even Daddy Almasi, if you’re into older, slightly authoritarian men. So consider yourself warned.”

Layla huffed with a laugh, enjoying the cool lick of the morning air that crossed her forehead. “You make this sound like I have something to worry about.”

“Well, every NYC girl who’s joined the Almasi Holdings ranks recently has ended up marrying one of them.” Marian’s eyes twinkled.

The two laughed, and soon they pulled up to Almasi Holdings’ building. On the way inside, they chattered about the upcoming wedding. Less than two weeks away and almost everything was taken care of. Marian seemed relaxed for a bride in the final days, but having so much money at her disposal probably helped things.

“Welcome to the Almasi Headquarters.” Marian swept her hand in front of her as they strode through the expansive lobby. Pristine, white tiles gleamed underfoot; the walls were shiny like stainless steel, something both elegant and industrial reflecting back at them. There was serious money and aesthetic here. Layla took it all in as they headed for the elevators.

“I’ll drop you off at the board room so you can meet the brothers and Mr. Almasi,” Marian said, checking her wristwatch. “Once you all talk things over, I’m sure you’ll sign the contract and get an office and all that fun stuff.”

“Oooh, my office.” Layla grinned as the elevators swooped upwards, her belly twisting. Meeting the Almasi family had a special weight to it, even though she already knew Omar. However, she only knew the romantic Omar, the Omar who’d contacted her with a desperate plan to stop Marian from leaving his life, the Omar who’d flown across the sea at the drop of a hat to surprise his love in Manhattan.

With their family empire, she assumed in the workplace things would unfold a little differently. At least more formally.

At the top floor, Marian led her down a carpeted hallway lined with closed, wooden doors. She stopped in front of one, her hand on the doorknob.

“Here we are.” She grinned, tucking some of her curls behind her ear. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Marian pushed the door open, revealing a crisp, white board room. Natural sunlight poured in from the wall lined with windows. A long table filled the room, dotted with empty chairs. Except for four chairs near the head of the table. The Almasis.

Layla swallowed a knot of nervousness and shut the door behind her, trying to take it all in. There was Omar. He stood, as did the others, to greet her. Her gaze skated over Almasi Senior—definitely distinguished, but not her type. Then Imaad, far more sly and collected than she’d gathered from photos.

And then there was the third one. Her gaze traveled over Zahir’s face, registering a stricken look, one of quiet panic, and then realization began to sink in.

Zahir. That’s freaking Zahir.

“Welcome, Layla!” Omar swept toward her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Zahir is the third one. Disbelief made painful rounds in her head, and she could barely rip her eyes off of him. She forced a laugh, welcoming Omar’s greeting, trying to jerk her brain back into a functioning mode. Zahir, the man who’d gotten her off last night when he whispered a breathy “I want you to come with your fingers inside yourself, imagining it’s me.”

She blinked hard, shaking each man’s hand in turn. When she got to Zahir, electricity snapped through her. Please don’t blush or fuck this up. She’d already slept with her boss—what a way to start the new job. Creating HR nightmares right off the bat.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet the rest of the family,” she said, her neck heating up. She jerked her gaze away from the manly clan, sliding into the seat farthest away from Zahir. If she could just not look at him during the meeting, that would be great.

Even without looking at him, she could feel his gaze sizzling over her. The same way it had the night they met. So hot that it might char the edges of the table. Her neck heated up more—this was getting dangerous. It wasn’t even hot in here.

“When Marian recommended you, we knew there was no other choice,” Imaad said, tossing her a brilliant smile. Man, Marian had been right—these guys were hot. But she’d been wrong in one tiny aspect. Layla stole a glance at Zahir, feeling her insides crumple. Zahir was definitely the hottest. Hands down.

“I’m just grateful for the chance to be here.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. Wasn’t there something she could fan herself with?

“We looked over the resume you sent last night,” Zahir started, his voice laced with professionalism. He rifled through some papers, his dark eyes darting over the sheets. “You have a very compelling early history in Human Resources. One that is rife with experience in conflict resolution and sensitive negotiations. And, I see, a penchant for travel.”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded vigorously, looking at each man except Zahir. “Travel is in my blood. I recently left the corporate world in New York to begin traveling but, uh,” she licked at her lips, the imagine of Zahir hoisting her against her door flashing sinfully through her mind, “I could be willing to make Minarak my official destination for the next period of time.”

“We should talk salary.” Imaad shuffled some papers, glancing at his brothers. He ran through the job description, and she mentally ticked off each point as one of her areas of expertise. As if they’d designed the position just for her. “To be honest, we’re keen to hire you. And we’ll offer you the money to stay here for a while.”

“Furnished apartment, relocation benefits, and a starting salary of one hundred thousand US dollars,” Omar added.

Layla blinked, the words circling bulkily in her head. She’d made that much in New York City. But with almost zero spending required of her here in Minarak, the majority of that income could be banked. Marian had been right. A one-year trip could easily turn into two…or more. And better yet, she’d have options for afterward. That amount of money was worth postponing her trip by a little bit. A year would fly by.

Her stunned silence must have been enough of an answer.

“Shall we start with a year?” Almasi Senior rumbled with the suggestion, looking at everyone in turn. “Thirty days probation, though I doubt you’ll need it.”

Layla nodded, feeling like her head might topple right off. Let’s wrap it up so I can get out of here and start breathing again. “Sounds great. I’m very eager to begin.”

Zahir looked down at some papers in his hands. “Then we should sign.”

Layla rolled her lips inward as she watched his perfect, masculine hands set aside her contract. Even the act of him clicking a pen was somehow sexy. She swallowed hard. She was in trouble. She’d already had a taste of this man. How was she supposed to ignore that delectable flavor from here on out?

He slid the contract her way, his dark gaze meeting hers for a scorching moment. “Have a look. Make sure everything seems fine. And then sign on the last page.”

Layla nodded, feeling dazed. He could have told her to dance around the room with maracas, and she would have mutely agreed. She flipped through the pages, trying to make sense of the words, making it only a line or two before her nerves rattled and distracted her again.

Working here couldn’t be like this all the time. She’d have her own office. Her own space. Her own ways of avoiding Zahir during work hours. She flipped to the last page, skimming the articles. She just needed to process the shock of walking into her big meeting to find her Parsian lover at the helm, and then she’d be fine.

Totally fine.

She signed the last page with a flourish, and satisfaction rippled through the room. Almasi Senior nodded while Imaad and Omar looked pleased. Zahir stared at some unknowable spot on the table, tapping a finger against the finish.

“Welcome to Almasi-Thomas,” Omar said, grinning ear-to-ear.

Everyone shook hands again, and she made her handshake with Zahir as limp and efficient as possible. He was her boss now. They had to scrap everything that had come before, rewrite the entire rule book from scratch. And with her as the Human Resources Director of Cultural Integration, she actually would write the policies.

“Let me show you to your new office,” Zahir blurted, stepping forward while his brothers shuffled toward the door. “Then you can start getting settled in.”

Layla’s stomach sank. Couldn’t she request Omar show her the way? But no, this was just something she’d have to get used to—staring this sex god in the face and doing nothing.

“Great.” She tried to sound cheery but it just came out strained. Maybe even a little crazed. Layla followed Zahir out of the board room and down the hallway. Toward the end, he pushed on the second-to-last door, revealing a spacious office with wooden floors. Empty bookshelves lined one wall. The windows overlooked downtown Minarak and, far in the distance, rolling dunes.

“Wow.” She walked to the desk, already imagining ways she could fill this space, make it hers. But more than that, Zahir’s presence crowded her mind, making it hard to think about nearly anything else. After a few tense seconds she heard the door click shut. She turned to see Zahir leaning against it, his gaze dark and heavy.