Imaad was mid-sentence when his phone rang during the morning meeting with his father. He slipped it out of his pocket, leaving his father watching him with an arched brow.

“It’s my fiancée,” he said with a smirk at his father, answering the phone with a swipe of his finger. “Hello?”

Annabelle’s voice was tight. “Imaad, I have a problem.”

He sat up in his chair, furrowing a brow. “What is it? Tell me.”

Annabelle sniffed hard, like maybe she’d been crying. His chest tightened. “My mother is ill. Very seriously ill. She was sent to the hospital last night, and now they’re wanting to schedule some sort of surgery for her.” Her breath hitched. “I have to go home.”

“Wh—? Wait. Hold on.” Imaad popped out of his chair and took to pacing in the far corner of the office. “Do they know what the problem is?”

“I don’t know exactly what the problem is, but she couldn’t breathe,” Annabelle said, her voice wavering. “And the whole thing is just a clusterfuck. I have to go be with her.”

Imaad’s mouth went dry and he stared at the gray carpeting of his father’s office, struggling to piece together a reassuring response. Of course she should go. It was just that he wanted to go with her. To make sure she had the help she needed. To be able to hold her when she cried.

“When will you leave?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I have to make some calls, find out some information. But I’ll go as soon as I can.”

“Wait for me,” he said, his voice coming out gruff. “I can help. I—”

“Listen, I gotta go. Marian is calling me on the other line. We’ll talk later.”

The line went dead, and he stared at his phone for a moment, unsure which of the roiling emotions inside him was the closest to the truth. Panic tremored through him, while protectiveness raged. He needed to be there for her—that was the only thing he knew for sure.

Imaad turned to his father, approaching the desk. “Annabelle is in a bit of trouble.”

His father looked up at him, squinting. “The merger?”

“No.” Imaad cleared his throat. “Her mother is ill and scheduled for an emergency surgery of some kind. She has to return to the States to be with her.”

His father grumbled something, slamming his pen down on the desk. “Absolutely not. We’re in the middle of the merger! Is she insane?”

Protectiveness licked through him and he straightened his stance, holding his father’s gaze. “If you were in the same sort of trouble, I’d be there in an instant. This is no different.”

“That’s completely different. You’re my son!” His father’s jowls quivered with the force of his words. “A son’s place is by his father’s side. A daughter’s place is by her husband’s side.”

“She is not my wife yet,” Imaad countered, balling his fists. “And even if she were, I’d support her decision to go.”

“The shareholders have more questions,” his father spat. “It will look bad if she leaves and returns, no matter what the reason is. Their confidence is already tenuous. Do you want to do this to my company?”

Imaad’s shoulders prickled with tension. He let a long, tense silence creep by, and then he turned to leave.

“I’ll be back around later,” he said, storming out of the office as quickly as he could. Before he said something he might regret, something to damage the trust between father and son. “I’ll figure this out.”

But it was already settled for him—Annabelle was the priority. He would sort things out with his father later, no matter how bad a mess it might become.

* * *

Annabelle dialed her father’s number with shaky fingers. After an hour spent researching flights, she’d found the soonest, and apparently the most expensive. It didn’t matter. She’d be home by the following evening.

The phone rang, and she drew a deep breath. She wanted to wait to buy the ticket until she broke the news to her father. He wouldn’t take it well—that was already certain. Anything that pulled her from his primary motive would be rejected, point blank.

“Hello?” Her father’s gruff voice made her belly cinch into a knot.

“It’s me.” She waited, and he grunted with recognition.

“What is it? All good with the merger?”

“Mom is sick. Like, really bad. She’s in intensive care right now and they’re planning an operation for her.” She pinched her eyes shut, imagining the words before they came out of her mouth. “I’m flying home to be with her.”

Her father scoffed. “Oh, please. She’ll be fine. You get yourself so worked into knots about this stuff. It’s just a surgery. These happen daily. Hourly.”

Her mouth parted, anger simmering in her veins. “You don’t even know what’s going on with her—how could you say that? I’m not taking the risk that something happens while I’m halfway across the world.”

“You’re staying there,” her father said. “You have to complete the merger.”

“Like hell I am!”

“Don’t throw this opportunity away,” her father warned.

“You can take this opportunity and stuff it,” she said, feeling something uncork deep inside her. Like the lid had finally blown off. “Besides, what opportunity am I passing up? The chance to spend my life married to a man I didn’t choose and don’t even know?” She scoffed, even though the words rang untrue inside her. She was getting to know Imaad—and she definitely liked him. And he was dating material for sure… But that was beside the point.

“Bah! You’re overreacting!” Her father’s voice came out gruff and strained. “The sheikh’s son is handsome and wealthy. What more could you want?”

“What more could I want?” She practically spat it out. “I could want a father who wouldn’t treat me like I was property. Like I’m yours to give away.” Her body shook with emotion. “You know, I really preferred things when you stayed the fuck out of my life.”

Annabelle hung up the phone, hands trembling as the last few minutes washed over her in a painful wave. She stared at the telephone, bottom lip trembling, helplessness and anger frothing into a chaotic cocktail. A few tears spilled out, which she wiped away angrily. And then she went back to her laptop, pulling open the ticket she’d found, and pressed “Purchase.”

While she worked through the billing and travel information pages, her mind worked overtime analyzing the situation. Stepping away from Parsabad might mean giving up the whole shebang. Even though it made sense to her to come back in a week and continue the job, it was clear their respective fathers might not be so flexible.

But oh well. She’d figure that out when the time came. For now, the next step was obvious, because it was guided by her heart. And in the end, she only had herself to answer to. That’s how it would always be.

She clicked “Confirm,” and nodded at the screen while her final details appeared. Her flight was scheduled for eight p.m. that night. Now all she had to do was pack up her few belongings and get the hell out of Dodge.

Annabelle closed her laptop, scanning the room to see where she might start. She headed for the bathroom to pack up her toiletries, but paused midway.

She had to write a note to Imaad. She wouldn’t have time to see him and probably not even call him. She’d leave a note with the front desk so he didn’t worry. It was the least she could do.

Scribbling furiously, the words poured out of her.

Dear Imaad. I’m sorry things happened this way, but I really hope you understand—I had to go. I can’t wait around on the other side of the world while my mom suffers. I’m very sorry if this ruins the deal. It’s my full intention to return once her surgery is complete and resume the job, but I doubt very much either of our fathers will be open to the idea. It hurts me to think of the problems this will cause you because you certainly don’t deserve it. If it helps, just place all the blame on me—I’m prepared to take the brunt of this.

Thank you for everything.

Annabelle

Her pen hovered over the end of her name, tempted to add something else. But what? “You’ve been a great lay”? Even that trivialized him somehow. He was more than that. He was…special. She slumped over the desk, massaging her temples. This wasn’t the time for feeling sappy about Imaad.

But she never imagined she might care about not seeing him again.

What if last night was the last time you ever get to see him?

She sighed, stomping into her bedroom, assessing her strewn clothes and rumpled bedsheets. Not seeing Imaad again felt wrong somehow. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to get packing and get out of Parsabad.