Oil. The new quarterly projections were due in tomorrow and he hoped they were as good as he predicted. Maybe if the company turned a huge profit, the board would not look so harshly upon him if Janna refused his hand in marriage.
It was a long shot, but he hoped to get Nimr on his side. The old man carried a lot of influence with the other board members, and had been vocal against Hazim gaining control of the company. If those projections didn’t pan out, then he’d tell Janna the truth at dinner tomorrow night and let the chips fall where they may.
Chapter 10
Early the next morning Janna stood in the palace gardens, going over the placement of the tables and other ornamentation. She’d stopped at a hotel the day before to view their elaborate ice sculptures in the lobby and gotten the name of their resident artist. The man was supposed to meet her here to discuss several possible pieces for the reception.
Everything else with the arrangements seemed to be falling into place as well, and part of her couldn’t help envying Nassir’s still unknown bride. The woman was going to have the wedding of Janna’s dreams, but Janna didn’t even know if she would appreciate all the effort put forth on her behalf. She didn’t know if she’d appreciate being married to a man like Nassir either.
Janna certainly would.
And therein lay the crux of her problem. Somewhere in the midst of all this crazy mess, she’d gone and fallen head over heels for the groom. Now, on top of all the other things she had to worry about, she had to pretend she didn’t love him for the next four days or until the day she died. Whichever came first.
Given that the florists and the dressmakers had just left, again without a bride to measure as Nassir had said she would be absent until the day before the wedding, so she’d stood in once more, death might be a welcome respite after all this craziness.
She’d never taken on such a personal task as choosing the bride’s wedding gown before, had never dreamed anyone would even ask such a thing. Wedding gowns were an extension of the bride herself, each one unique. But, of course, Nassir had insisted. So, she’d chosen a gorgeous kaftan of white silk and sheer scarves, interwoven with strands of silver thread. Silver pearls adorned the bodice and the cuffs around the sleeves and hem.
Her maid Hafa had explained it was a custom for the bride to have her hands decorated with henna the morning of the wedding, and sometimes her feet. She’d shown Janna some photos from her own wedding and Janna had been enthralled with the delicate patterns.
Hafa had even introduced Janna to her cousin, who also worked in the palace. The cousin had placed a very small henna tattoo upon the inside of Janna’s palm. and as she looked at it this morning, she could almost see both of her hands covered in such artwork …
“Miss Janna?” a maid called, jarring her from her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Sheikh Nassir asked me to bring you this.”
Curious, Janna looked at the silver-dome covering the serving tray. “What is it?”
“He said it was your favorite.”
Janna lifted the dome, revealing a cup of hot cocoa and two s’mores beneath. She laughed and took the tray from the maid. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” The maid bowed and left and Janna sat the tray on a small table beside her. So Nassir had remembered her love of chocolate. And s’mores.
Janna picked one up and took a bite, closing her eyes at the flooded of memories the treat conjured. Lazy summer nights, campfires, the smell of pine and the buzz of mosquitoes. She smiled and looked up in time to see the man from the restaurant the other day approaching, his expression both determined and dark. Her smile disappeared.
“Miss Davis? I am sorry to interrupt your work, but I am Hazim Adjalane.”
Adjalane? Janna wondered if he was involved with Nassir’s oil business. She smiled politely. “Yes, I remember you from the restaurant. If
It was a long shot, but he hoped to get Nimr on his side. The old man carried a lot of influence with the other board members, and had been vocal against Hazim gaining control of the company. If those projections didn’t pan out, then he’d tell Janna the truth at dinner tomorrow night and let the chips fall where they may.
Chapter 10
Early the next morning Janna stood in the palace gardens, going over the placement of the tables and other ornamentation. She’d stopped at a hotel the day before to view their elaborate ice sculptures in the lobby and gotten the name of their resident artist. The man was supposed to meet her here to discuss several possible pieces for the reception.
Everything else with the arrangements seemed to be falling into place as well, and part of her couldn’t help envying Nassir’s still unknown bride. The woman was going to have the wedding of Janna’s dreams, but Janna didn’t even know if she would appreciate all the effort put forth on her behalf. She didn’t know if she’d appreciate being married to a man like Nassir either.
Janna certainly would.
And therein lay the crux of her problem. Somewhere in the midst of all this crazy mess, she’d gone and fallen head over heels for the groom. Now, on top of all the other things she had to worry about, she had to pretend she didn’t love him for the next four days or until the day she died. Whichever came first.
Given that the florists and the dressmakers had just left, again without a bride to measure as Nassir had said she would be absent until the day before the wedding, so she’d stood in once more, death might be a welcome respite after all this craziness.
She’d never taken on such a personal task as choosing the bride’s wedding gown before, had never dreamed anyone would even ask such a thing. Wedding gowns were an extension of the bride herself, each one unique. But, of course, Nassir had insisted. So, she’d chosen a gorgeous kaftan of white silk and sheer scarves, interwoven with strands of silver thread. Silver pearls adorned the bodice and the cuffs around the sleeves and hem.
Her maid Hafa had explained it was a custom for the bride to have her hands decorated with henna the morning of the wedding, and sometimes her feet. She’d shown Janna some photos from her own wedding and Janna had been enthralled with the delicate patterns.
Hafa had even introduced Janna to her cousin, who also worked in the palace. The cousin had placed a very small henna tattoo upon the inside of Janna’s palm. and as she looked at it this morning, she could almost see both of her hands covered in such artwork …
“Miss Janna?” a maid called, jarring her from her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Sheikh Nassir asked me to bring you this.”
Curious, Janna looked at the silver-dome covering the serving tray. “What is it?”
“He said it was your favorite.”
Janna lifted the dome, revealing a cup of hot cocoa and two s’mores beneath. She laughed and took the tray from the maid. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” The maid bowed and left and Janna sat the tray on a small table beside her. So Nassir had remembered her love of chocolate. And s’mores.
Janna picked one up and took a bite, closing her eyes at the flooded of memories the treat conjured. Lazy summer nights, campfires, the smell of pine and the buzz of mosquitoes. She smiled and looked up in time to see the man from the restaurant the other day approaching, his expression both determined and dark. Her smile disappeared.
“Miss Davis? I am sorry to interrupt your work, but I am Hazim Adjalane.”
Adjalane? Janna wondered if he was involved with Nassir’s oil business. She smiled politely. “Yes, I remember you from the restaurant. If
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