Zahir’s gut felt tense as he locked up his office prior to the weekend. He’d stayed late to finish up a few pending reports for Omar during his absence. Of course Omar had taken the longest honeymoon known to mankind, but Zahir could hardly blame him. Their travel route was admirable and even something of his own fantasy. Hell, getting out of the country more often was becoming more and more of a scandalous thought. Almost as scandalous as his constant thoughts of Layla.

His gut wrenched again. It was like he couldn’t help but link everything back to her, so much that he wondered if he needed to call her. Maybe she was in trouble somewhere, and this was her signal for help.

Are you crazy? Two full weeks of minimal contact hadn’t lessened his urges or attraction any more than it had before; it simply made it necessary to distract himself. Which, thankfully, came in the form of work. And masturbation. Lots of masturbation.

A familiar gruff voice interrupted his quiet walk down the hallway. His father curled a finger in the air, beckoning for him to follow. Zahir altered his path to go to his father’s office.

“I’m surprised you’re here this late,” Zahir said, closing the door behind him.

“I just got off the phone with an important person.” His father’s eyes twinkled as he sat behind his desk. “I would have called you if I hadn’t found you leaving the office. I have some news for you.”

There was a note of joviality in his father’s voice, one that Zahir wasn’t accustomed to hearing. This was either a huge business deal or…he couldn’t even guess what might make his father this giddy. “Do tell.”

“Zahir, my son, I think it’s time that we begin to prepare for you to assume control here.”

The words floated heavily in the air, like a tanker in the ocean. Zahir tapped out a slow rhythm on the arm rest of his chair, struggling to fully process the words.

“I’m flattered.” Of course, he’d known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it so soon.

“You’re flattered, and you’re readier than ever. We’ve been preparing you for this day. I have full confidence that everything will go smoothly, but we should begin the transition immediately.” His father paused, clearing his throat, ensuring perfect delivery. “And part of that preparation includes your getting married.”

Every bone and cell inside Zahir’s body froze. He reluctantly met his father’s stern gaze. “Ah.” Married. Fuck. He’d avoided it long enough. As a bachelor thirty-three-year-old, he was practically a unicorn in his country. With his two younger brothers already married, sometimes it felt a little embarrassing. Not that he minded continuing his bachelor life in any way.

“I’ve arranged a bride for you.” A grin flickered on his father’s face. “She’s a beautiful girl, very smart, unspoiled—” That was code for virgin. “Absolutely perfect for you. And this arrangement will greatly satisfy some of our board members.”

Zahir’s gaze swept over the desktop, focusing on the dark stain of the wood. There were so many elaborate swirls there. Far too many to even count. And suddenly, he was far more interested in counting the swirls than continuing this conversation. “I—I’m not sure what to say.”

“Say you’re ready to set a date.” His father leaned forward a bit. “If we hurry, it could be before the end of the year.”

Zahir blinked, something jerking inside his chest. “I’m in no mood to get married right now.”

His father grumbled a bit, some of that glow falling off his face. “Mood? Who needs to be in a mood to get married? This is a business arrangement. You’re the one we planned to take over for me, but the board will only support it if you’re married.”

Zahir swallowed hard, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. The mention of the board could silence him even as his father’s news stabbed him in the heart. “I understand that.”

“Then there’s nothing further to discuss. I trust you’ll make the right decision.” His father grumbled again, and then added, “That’s all. Enjoy your weekend, son.”

Zahir stood on unsteady legs, drifting more than walking back toward the hallway. All the way out of the office, sullen thoughts crowded his mind. Goodbye bachelor life. Hello shackles and boredom. He turned toward the elevators, pushing the down button. Can’t I just marry Layla instead?

He rubbed at his face inside the elevator, as if it might help wipe away some of the confusion. He’d gone from bachelor to betrothed in the span of five minutes, so he needed to get used to the idea. Find a good bottle of whisky. And do his best not to sulk and pine and spend every second of his weekend wondering what Layla was doing.

Because that had been his gut reaction—the surprise engagement felt like a betrayal to Layla. Of course that was absurd—they had no formal relationship to speak of. But there was only one person every fiber of his being craved, like a sun-parched wanderer seeking water. Layla.

What could he do now? The timeline of a pending marriage prompted desperation to flood his veins, as if he had to scoop up every last available moment with her before time ran out. Before she changed her mind, before the passion ran dry, before his business marriage took place. Any number of things waited to squash this passion that consumed him on a daily basis.

Need burbled through him, a familiar sensation taking an even-more-familiar path when it came to Layla. He knew what the right choice was, even if it was also technically the wrong choice.

He had no time to waste. He’d make sure Layla knew he intended to break the rules over and over again, for as long as he could get away with it. There was no other option besides Layla.