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“You did not participate in the vote. Why?”
“It seemed unfair to participate in a vote that could easily allow me to step into your position.”
Nassir appreciated the man’s frankness. He always preferred to meet his competition head on, knowing where the strike was going to come from so that he could calculate a wise response.
“Besides, the fact remains your recent public affairs debacles have left the board’s reputation in tatters. To overcome that precarious position will require a show of obedience on your part - a sacrifice. Thus the wedding.”
“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with the fabrication of such a plan.”
Hazim smiled, small and cold. “Actually, I did not. This was entirely your father’s doing. My brother may have protected you in the past, but this time you have pushed him too far and he has chosen to let the wrath of the board fall.” Hazim sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Lucky for you, I have no desire to run Adjalane Oil.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Nassir leaned forward slightly. “You have wanted my position since the day I was appointed.”
“At first, yes. But now that I have seen the amount of stress it has caused you, the way it has taken over every aspect of your life, I have changed my mind. I would much rather have someone else in the forefront and simply know that my wishes were going to be met.”
Nassir shook his head, a small muscle ticking near his clenched jaw. “And you believe I will be your… what? Puppet leader?”
“I do, yes.”
Stunned, Nassir sat back again, speechless.
“Listen, nephew,” Hazim continued, leaning forward now to rest his forearms on his knees. “I have come prepared to help you solve your dilemma.” He snapped his fingers and a woman in a black burqa stepped through into the room.
Her kohl rimmed gaze met Nassir’s from behind her veil and she made no attempt to look away, as was the normal custom of respect.
The longer Nassir stared into those dark brown eyes, the more recognition dawned. It was Nehla, Hazim’s consort.
“I see that you already recognize my guest. Hazim gestured for her to join them. “She has been apprised of the situation and is ready to become your bride.”
“No.” Nassir held up his hand. “Much as I appreciate the offer, I already have a bride.”
“Really?” Hazim gave him a curious look. “That is not what I have heard.”
“Well, you have heard wrong.”
“Nehla would be a suitable bride and one the board would readily accept, with a little persuasion from me.”
“The stipulation was that I marry someone with ties to the West. Not only does Nehla not meet that requirement, why would you think for a moment I would marry your consort?” The thought of marrying his uncle’s mistress turned his stomach. Nehla might dress as a chaste woman now, but Nassir knew it was only an act.
“You are running out of time. You could be married to Nehla before the week is out.”
“No.” Nassir looked out the doorway and spotted Janna near the hostess station. He caught a passing waiter and instructed him to bring her over to their table then stood. “This meeting is over. Good day.”
Hazim pushed to his feet as well, b
ut before he could say a word, Janna approached.
“Who is this?” Hazim asked Nassir.
“Janna, this is my uncle Hazim. Hazim, Janna is planning my wedding.”
“What?” Hazim’s tanned complexion flushed an unattractive shade of red and his dark gaze sparked with anger.
“Yes. Now, if you will excuse us, Janna and I have much to discuss. I will see you at the next board meeting, Hazim, if not sooner.”
Nassir stared at his uncle from across the table, daring the man to stay. After another moment, Hazim gave up the fight and strode from their private dining room, Nehla in tow.
Once he and Janna were alone again, he held her chair for her as she sat, then resumed his own seat across from her.
