Usually I’m not easily distracted. I’ve spent the hardest years of my life staying laser focused on my goals, which is why I’ve made it to where I am and why I’ve stayed on top.
I’ve built my reputation and turned Sultans from just another company into the empire it is today by being cold, aloof, and stubborn, and I have no interest in changing my ways.
But for the first time in my life, my mind wanders, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it or drag it back to what I should be focusing on.
I’m sitting in a conference room, a dozen suits trying to gain my attention and keep me up- to- date on the latest batch of rough diamonds from Kimberley, South Africa, and I’m busy wondering what my little wife is at home doing and if I should take her with me to Egypt.
She might jump at the chance to see the boy, though I don’t know if that will endear me to her or push her away. Or she might be too worried to leave the country with her father so ill, afraid that she’ll miss his final moments.
To be honest, I’m not sure he’ll let her be around for them either way.
By the time the meeting ends, I couldn’t tell you a single fucking thing that went on during it, and I head straight to my office to check emails and leave for the day.
There isn’t anything new, so I pull up the email from Jeannie that I received and press Reply.
Jeannie,
I’d like an update on the new dig site and also on why you didn’t make me aware of Darryn Anders sniffing around.
Have it to me by the end of the day.
— J. Faraci
Shutting down my computer screen, I pick up my phone instead, realizing that I haven’t heard from Ian in far too long to be comfortable and I’m putting an end to it now. He also hasn’t given me an update on anything that I’ve asked from him.
“Boss,” Ian’s voice chirps over the line.
I sit in my office chair, leaning back and running a hand through my hair. “You sound chipper.”
“Chipper? I sound bored.”
“How’s the boy?”
I’m not sure why I ask him that first instead of asking about any developments with the lamp. Truth be told, I really don’t care how he is; he could be rotting at the bottom of the Red Sea and I wouldn’t blink twice. But having him alive and well is still paramount to ensuring Yasmin continues being agreeable. My stomach cramps at the thought of having to blackmail her to keep her at my side, but I don’t let the feeling linger.
“Aidan is fine.”
“On a first- name basis?” I ask.
“What, did you expect me to sit here and call him ‘the boy’ to his face?” he guffaws. “You know, I think we underestimated how much he despised working for the Karam family. He doesn’t think very highly of Ali. Spends half his time talking to Jeannie—who, by the way, keeps disappearing and not letting anyone go with her— and then the other half of his time on the phone with his mom. And I’m doing okay too, thanks for asking, Julian. But it’s fucking hot here. I swear to God, I’m practically melting. And we have five different archaeologists sitting around the compound, getting lazy and leaving dishes everywhere. You need to put people in line.”
My lips twitch. “You’re so dramatic, Ian.” I laugh. “Things will all work out. I’ll be there in a week and handle everything. We’ll make sure everyone knows their place.”
“I…you’re coming here yourself?”
“Did I stutter?” I reply. “I need you to set up a meeting with Darryn Anders for me. Can I trust you to handle that?”
“I can do that.” He pauses and then says, “I heard you married the bitch. Were you planning to tell me?”
“Watch your mouth,” I demand, something hot and sharp serrating through my chest.
The other end of the line is deadly silent.
Shaking it off, I purse my lips, annoyed at my outburst. “That’s my wife. I can’t allow you to disrespect her.”
“But she’s— ”
“The plan hasn’t changed,” I interrupt. “Set up the meeting. And wait. You’ve been extremely disappointing lately. Don’t let it happen again.”
I press End, tossing the phone down in irritation before grabbing my jacket off the coatrack and walking out of the room to go home.
“Ciara,” I call out right before I head to the elevators.
She perks her head up from where she’s focused on her computer.
“I’ll be out of town next week. Adjust my calendar accordingly. I’ll need you to take notes at any meetings for me. Is that something you can handle?”
Her spine stiffens, determination filling her gaze as she nods.
Smiling slightly at her eager attitude, I leave.
Thirty minutes later, I’m back home, pulling my Audi R8 into the oversize garage and parking at the end of the row. I don’t see Yasmin creeping by the garage door until I’m out of the car and halfway there.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I step up to her, my eyes scanning her from head to toe, trying to see if she feels okay after what we did two nights ago and annoyed that I even care.
She glances at me and then back. “Debating on how pissed you’d be if I stole one of your cars and crashed it.”
I smirk, slipping my hands into my pockets, my fingers brushing against my metal staff. “What’s mine is yours, wife. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t crash. Insurance is a bitch.”
Suddenly, she spins toward me. “Can you arrange a car to take me to brunch on Sunday? Like… with a driver?”
“Just take one. I really don’t care.” I wave my hand toward the row of them. “But if you’re going out in public, Razul’s going with you.”
I expect her to fight against it. Her father didn’t take her security half as seriously as he should have, considering who he is, but she does me absolutely no good if she dies before her father or before I forge a new will in her name.
“Well, he can drive, can’t he?”
My brows lift, surprised by her reply. “Yes. Can’t you?”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “Please, don’t be ridiculous. What kind of twenty-three- year- old can’t drive? I just don’t like to.”
I nod, watching her fidget from one foot to the other.
“Who are you going to brunch with?”
This time, her eyes flash and her jaw locks. I wonder if she realizes how much she gives away just by how her body responds to my questions.
“A friend.” She brushes a curl out of her face.
“A woman friend?” I push. I assume it’s the Riya name that incessantly called her while I had her phone and is now foolishly concocting some plan over text messages with Yasmin over how to best me.
She laughs, her eyes wide as she looks at me. “Don’t pretend you care. We both know what this is.”
I step in close to her, the tips of my shoes touching hers and her chest brushing against my torso as she cranes her head to keep my gaze.
“On the contrary, gattina. I care very much.” She licks her bottom lip.
I reach my hand out and wrap it around the back of her neck, my lips ghosting across her ear. “If you embarrass me by seeing another man in public, I’ll take you over my knee and remind you of your place.”
My hand drops like she’s burning me, and I brush by her, lightly grazing her shoulder as I move inside.
I head back to Isabella’s enclosure, not waiting to see if Yasmin follows behind and honestly not caring if she does. Stepping into the room, I walk over and open the side before moving to the chair that’s sitting against the far side of the room. I wait to see if Isabella comes out and eventually she does, her body slithering along the floor until she curls at my feet, her head coming up to my leg. I reach down and give her a pet, an unusual feeling filling my chest.
“I’m a married man, Isa. Can you believe it?” I say. “But don’t be jealous. You’re still my number one girl.”
Isabella’s head rests on my knee and I know it’s ridiculous to keep talking to her, but I do anyway. Over the years, she’s become my closest confidante, my partner in crime, the only living being that I trust implicitly.
“Besides, she’s temporary,” I remind us both.
The words are bitter on my tongue.
