Asim leapt out of bed extra early the next day with one goal in mind: spend as much time with Elena as possible. Their romantic reverie from the day before left him craving more, which seemed silly to even think about considering they’d spent nearly the entire day together. How could that much of her make him want even more? It was unsettling, but in a good way. Made him curious to see how much he could learn about her before this all came to an end.

The memory of her rattled around behind his eyes, coloring nearly everything he did that morning as he got ready. Every cell craved her company, that sweet heat crashing around him again, the soft scent of her hair. Her lilting laugh wafting through the air. He rushed through brushing his teeth and styling his hair, buttoning up his shirt on his way out of the bedroom.

Crossing the threshold into the main foyer of the house, the scurrying of maids made him straighten. There wasn’t usually so much activity this early in the day. And when his mother was gone, the house staff slouched, like taking a furtive smoke break when the boss wasn’t looking.

All this commotion could mean only one thing.

His mother breezed through the foyer, sunglasses on her face, a flowery dress flowing around her. He froze in his tracks. He hadn’t expected her to be arriving so early today. Definitely not before nine a.m. She must have cut that US trip very short.

Safiya raised her glasses to look at him, narrowing her eyes. “Good morning, Asim. Where is your fiancée?”

So she’d cut straight to the chase. He swallowed hard, looking around like he’d left his response misplaced somewhere in the foyer. “Uh…she…”

“You must take me to her.”

“Mother, I’m sure she’s still sleeping.”

“We should help her greet the day, don’t you think?” A plasticized smiled crossed her face, one that made his inside solidify. He was confident around any woman in the world—except for his mother. She was the one lady who could crumble his façade.

“Well, I…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. What a horrid way to start the day—not just for him, but for Elena. He couldn’t spring this surprise on her. Not like his mother wished it. “She’s not been feeling well.”

“Hm.” His mother’s nostrils flared. “We should make her tea. Chamomile and sage.” She clapped her hands sharply, summoning a maid. She directed her to make the tea and bring it immediately. “When it’s ready, we’ll take it to her. Together.”

Asim forced a smile but it felt more like a grimace. The woman was relentless. The quality made her an asset to the family business. After their father’s death five years ago, Safiya had stepped up to the plate in a huge way, not content ceding operation to her sons. The ways in which she remained involved after his father’s death told him that she had been pulling far more strings in the background than his parents had ever let on. It was no wonder she was obsessed with him finding a business-minded wife. She wanted him to execute the exact same plan she and his father had followed. Which meant she was probably fiercely committed to seeing the Dahoud girl become his wife instead of Elena.

Asim summoned a passing servant, tersely instructing him to warn Elena that he’d be showing up at her room soon. He paced the foyer, waiting for his mother to return from freshening up in her bedroom. When she showed up, smiling sardonically with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, the two walked silently to Elena’s room.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

Elena cracked open an eyelid, squinting against the sunlight streaming through her window. She’d forgotten to shut the room-darkening curtains again, which meant the brilliant light of day woke her up far earlier than she liked.

She groaned, shifting in the bed, soreness evident between her legs. You knew this would happen. After no sex for so long, a free-for-all like their wild treehouse evening was sure to leave her battered and bruised. They’d fucked in every square inch of that space; and in some of those inches, multiple times. A grin drifted across her face, and she launched an arm over her eyes to block the sun. Those sexy memories would haunt her. Long after this ruse was over, which maybe would prove to be a bad thing down the road.

What if you never stop fantasizing about him? To say he was skilled in bed—or rather, the treehouse—would be an understatement. The man had fingers and lips that could bring an angel to orgasm. His gaze alone was enough to push her over the edge. Hell, she’d gotten off just by locking eyes with him at least once.

She still wasn’t sure if this whole thing was a mistake or not. But one thing was certain: the sex, at least, was worth it.

A soft knock sounded on her door, and she sat up a little, bunching the silky sheets around her naked body. “Who is it?”

A soft voice replied, in uncertain English. “Madam, Sheikh Asim is on his way to see you.”

She lifted a brow. Perfect. So now she could prepare. “Thank you.” She waited to see if the messenger would add anything; when nothing came, she tossed the covers back, revealing her naked body. Yes, this would be a fine way to greet the day. She flipped onto her stomach, trying out a few sexy postures—resting her head in a hand, twirling hair, mischievously bending a leg. When the next knock came, she was ready.

“Darling, it’s me.”

Asim’s voice soothed her, made the mischief come to a boil inside her veins. Just his voice could affect her like that. This is dangerous. She flipped onto her back, splaying out like a kinky goddess. This would do. “Come in, you sexy man.”

There was a pause, and then the door creaked open a bit. Asim’s voice floated through the opening, still slightly muffled. “Darling, my mother has returned from her trip, and she wishes to tend to your poor health.”

His words crashed together like a head-on collision and she scrambled to grab the sheets and pull them around herself. His mom is back? She lay back for a moment, then pushed the sheets off again. She needed clothes, at least, in the presence of the matriarch. She couldn’t lounge like a lazy concubine in front of that terrifying woman. My poor health? She scrounged for some panties, and then a tank top.

“Did you hear me? Or have you fallen asleep from the illness?”

Elena coughed loudly, looking over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Asim, I drifted off. One moment.” So now she had to play sick. With so little time to prepare, who knew what he expected of her? What had he already told his mother? She leapt into bed, bunching the sheets and covers around her, making a sick nest. She fluffed the pillows, mussed her hair. “Please come in.”

The door creaked open again, and Elena feigned grogginess. She turned to look toward the door, opening her eyes to slits.

“Is that you?” She reached feebly toward the door, then pulled her hand back. That was too much. She wasn’t dying here. This wasn’t an Oscar-worthy performance of passing into the afterlife.

“Oh, my darling.” Asim rushed toward her, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. He stroked her hair back, and then his mother came into view, gaze slicing into her. Elena pushed up a little bit, coughing feebly, avoiding Safiya’s gaze.

“You’ll have to excuse me.” She sniffed, smoothing her hair down. “I haven’t been feeling well.”

“So Asim told me. I’m very sorry to hear it.” She sat on the edge of the bed as well, offering a steaming cup to her. “I’ve brought you some tea. Chamomile and sage. Drink it; you will feel better.”

“Oh, thank you.” She mustered a smile, taking the hot cup between her hands.

“This air does not always treat foreigners very well,” Safiya said, but she couldn’t tell if that was a criticism somehow. Are you calling me weak? “Asim, you should go check on your other guest. I’ll help Elena with her tea.”

Fear sliced through her as Asim stood. Don’t leave me alone in here. Asim made a face that said “I’m sorry” before he left the room, leaving them in a tense silence.

“Now that we have some alone time,” Safiya said, her voice hard as the edge of a diamond, “I want to know you better. If you’re supposedly marrying my son, I must know as much as I can.”

Elena nodded, taking a hesitant sip of the bitter tea. Maybe it was laced with poison, and this was the end. His mother had won. “Of course.”

“Where are you from?”

“California.”

“There’s so much scandal and drama in Los Angeles,” Safiya said, eyes narrowing. “You’re not from LA, are you?”

God help me if I were. “No, I’m from the more northern part.”

“Good.” Safiya sniffed, adjusting her position. “What do you do?”

“I just graduated from college,” she said, sipping again at the tea. “I majored in art. I’m a painter.”

“Do you find it difficult to make a living? Or are you hoping to simply live off my son?”

Elena nearly choked on the tea. “No, ma’am. I…I don’t want to simply live off him. I plan to start my own business and an art gallery in a few years. I work on commission for now, and have for a couple years. The money isn’t great, but it’s growing. I have full confidence this will be my career.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “And what do your parents say about this?”

Elena’s voice shriveled. “They always supported my dreams. They would be proud of me, I think.”

Safiya softened visibly. “Have they been gone long?”

“They both passed several years ago.” She nibbled at her bottom lip. “I miss them every day.”

Safiya shifted. “I’m sure they’d be happy to know you’ve met someone like Asim. He is the pride that every mother hopes for. I will see that only the best comes to him.”

Again, her words were like a ruler against the knuckles. She took another sip of tea, wondering where this conversation would end up. This clearly wasn’t a soft-hearted let’s meet my new daughter-in-law bedside conversation. This was an interview.

“How long have you known him?”

The question squeezed at her gut. Panic flashed through her. She feigned coughing into her hand. “Well, it hasn’t been long.” Safiya’s eyes darkened. “In the grand scope of our lifetimes, the amount of time we’ve spent together feels like only a few days.”

“Hm.” Safiya smoothed a few wrinkles from the comforter, her lips a thin line. “You seem to have the same poetic inclinations as my son.”

“It’s one of the reasons we work so well together,” Elena said, the words flying out before she could think better of it. And the strange part was she meant them.

“I should leave you to get better. Drink all of that tea.” Safiya patted her leg through the blanket and stood, gliding out of the room without another word. Elena sat paralyzed in her wake, staring into space, replaying the conversation in her head to figure out if she’d passed the test or not.

Asim arrived moments later, eyes wild. “How did that go?”

“I have no idea.” Elena slurped back the rest of her tea and set the cup down on the nightstand. “That was terrifying. And to think I almost greeted her totally nude with my legs spread.”

Asim drew back, an eyebrow arching. A grin ghosted his face. “That’s what you were planning for me?”

“Well, yeah.” She huffed, burying her face in her hands.

Asim sighed, easing onto the bed. He rubbed her back. “I’m sure you did fine. I wasn’t expecting her to appear so early. I thought we’d be able to spend the day together and prepare a little bit. But…” He shook his head. “Thank you for your performance. I’ll be able to feel out her reaction a bit later.”

Something about the word “performance” niggled at her, sent strange, unwelcome spirals through her body. That hadn’t been a performance—she’d meant everything she said. “Why later?”

“She’s going to change and get ready for the day. She literally came straight from the airport to your room. She hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

Elena tutted. “She was hellbent. How long do we have to keep this up?”

Asim’s gaze flitted away. “Until she withdraws the marriage offer to the other family. I’ll let you know after I speak with her.” He paused, snagging her gaze. “But I promise you’ll be compensated for all your help.”

Elena frowned, looking away. Compensated. So does this mean you’ve become a hooker? “Lovely.”

Doubt crossed his face; he reached for her hand. “I don’t want this to be painful for you. Let’s just have as much fun as we can while you’re here. We might as well enjoy our time together, right?”

His smile disarmed her, made the bitter taste of his insinuation dissolve entirely. He pushed back the sheets, revealing her legs. Goosebumps prickled on her skin as he dragged his fingertips over her shin, up to her knee, over the warm flesh of her thigh. She swallowed hard, daring herself to meet his gaze.

What did she even want from him? Things were too murky to tell. The long-term picture was a foggy bay at sunrise, no clear end in sight, one foot blending into one mile. Because what were the chances he felt the same prickly sensations of attraction and longing sprouting inside him? The same familiarity, the same urgent tides of deep-seated connection washing over him? This would only ever be pure business for him—no matter how good the sex was.

So if she only served as his cover story, then there shouldn’t be any problem just having fun with him. No strings attached.

No matter how much her heart throbbed at the thought of something more with this man.