“Hopefully you feel better by lunch,” Amad said as he took her hand, guiding her out of the bedroom. “These meals are not to be missed.”

  “If not lunch, then dinner, for sure,” she said, clutching at her belly. “The morning sickness can’t ruin everything, right?”

  Amad pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. At least there were things to distract her from the unpleasant sensations of morning sickness. Like the incredible palace that Amad called home and all the dark-skinned people rushing around in traditional kaftans and the brilliant sunlight that broke through the vining trellises to create dappled patterns on the inlaid stone paths through the gardens. Everywhere she looked, there was something new and interesting and incredible.

  Jasmine shrubs lined the paths, and for some reason it was one of the few smells that didn’t throw her into a nauseous fit. Amad spoke softly as he pointed out things of interest—the design of the garden and how its renovation had been a gift to his mother. The mosaic tiles lining the path in some places, which were old parts of a previous temple in the city center.

  And the tents.

  There was practically a tent city in the backyard, huge, sturdy canvas tents erected that made her feel like she’d stepped onto the set of a movie. Amad led her into the first one, and inside was a whole different bustling world of activity.

  Amad waved at people on occasion as he led them deeper into the tents. Rooms had been partitioned off, Amad explained, but the tent structure was an homage to their roots. To the way their tribal nation once lived. Now, the tents were the center of business activity and decision making. Even Calla had her own studio in here, where she worked on her designs.

  “How does it work with kids and education?” Vanessa asked, her eyes on a small cluster of kids playing with what looked like a spinning top.

  Amad faltered. “Well, you’d have to ask the women.”

  Vanessa almost snorted but she realized he was being serious. “Why the women?”

  “I don’t know how things are done now. I only know how I grew up. But the women will know. Kids are their territory, after all.”

  Vanessa smirked, wanting to jab him for the comment but getting distracted as Amad swept his arm toward a little alcove nestled in the corner of the tents. “Here’s Calla’s studio.”

  A big work desk lined the far wall, and all sorts of fabrics hung draped over mannequins and rods throughout the space. Calla appeared a moment later, beaming and flushed, from beneath a gown on a mannequin. She brushed a lock of cocoa-colored hair out of her face.

  “Hello, Vanessa! It’s so lovely to meet you!” Calla rushed forward, arms out for a hug. “We’re sisters now, right?”

  Vanessa could only laugh as Calla wrapped her arms around her. The soft floral scent of her hair felt calming, even as another wave of nausea threatened her.

  “It’s so good to meet you. And yes, I’m pretty sure we’re automatically blood related ever since our wedding in Vegas,” Vanessa cracked.

  “A lot of things changed after that Vegas wedding,” Amad teased.

  “Mostly for the better, I hope!” Calla chirped. She squeezed the sides of Vanessa’s arms. “It’s so good to have you here. I’ve been waiting for an American sister.” Calla nudged Amad’s side. “You think your little brother will marry an American girl too?”

  “One can only wait and see,” Amad said.

  More ladies entered Calla’s studio then, carrying bolts of fabric. Calla introduced them all to Vanessa—all members of the tribe, some of them married to distinguished tribal leaders—and Vanessa couldn’t help but notice how Amad looked totally at ease while surrounded by almost a dozen women.

  It was one of the small things she respected about him. He could handle any situation, be anywhere, and still look cool as a cucumber. And now that she’d seen his traditional homeland, it was somehow sexy that he’d turned out more progressive than the others. The only man to dress in Western clothes. The America-based sheikh.

  As Calla led Vanessa through the studio, explaining her designs and some of the plans for the clothing, Amad took her hand in his. The warmth of his rough palm sent a jolt of security through her.

  She loved this. Right here. Being wrapped in the warm embrace of a homeland that, even though it wasn’t hers, felt familiar and safe. Visiting women who welcomed her and smiled fondly, even though they’d just met. Dipping her toe in a new culture that would become an undeniable part of her baby’s life and future.

  “I want to steal your wife for tea tomorrow,” Calla said to Amad as she held up a swath of fabric against Vanessa’s sun-kissed arm. “What do you think, Vanessa? Can we meet for tea around eleven?”

  “Of course,” Vanessa blurted. “I’d love that.”

  “And Calla and the other ladies can help answer all your questions,” Amad said.

  “I might not have all the answers,” Calla said with a knowing grin, “But I probably have some.”

  7

  Vanessa awoke the next morning feeling caught between two worlds. She knew that if she got out of bed, nausea would strike. But she didn’t feel sick quite yet. In fact, she felt slightly normal. Horny, even.

  Amad rolled over beside her. He hadn’t taken an early meeting that day, so they’d been snoozing and cuddling since the wee hours. She spooned him from behind, nuzzling her face in the caramel expanse of his back. He mumbled something, reaching behind him to stroke her bare hip.

  “You know what, babe?” She dragged her lips over his shoulder. “I think we need to have sex.”

  That seemed to catch his attention. He rolled onto his side to face her, bleary eyes narrowing. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Like, right now.”

  “Sounds urgent.” His voice was groggy and deep. He pinched an eye shut as he tossed back the covers, exposing their naked bodies. They always slept nude together. “Good thing I’m on call for sex emergencies.”

  Vanessa giggled as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck. His hands wandered between her legs, gently exploring the heat there. He moaned low a moment later, once he’d slipped a finger inside her pussy.

  “Damn, Vanessa.” He pushed to sitting, his eyes clearer now, more alert. His cock jumped to life between his legs, standing long and hard. “You are so wet. Have you been this turned on all morning?”

  She nodded as he took his position over top of her, the heat of him between her legs a welcome pressure she’d come to crave. He groaned appreciatively as he nestled himself into place. His cockhead skimmed the folds of her pussy, sending a jolt of anticipation through her. They hadn’t had sex since their wedding night, mostly due to the onset of early pregnancy symptoms. Even though it had been days, it felt like years to her. She needed him inside of her. Filling her. Completing her.

  The thought jarred a cold fear through her as Amad eased his cock into her pussy. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder, resolving not to think too hard about it. Amad didn’t complete her, no matter how much it felt like it. Because she didn’t need a man. It was the pregnancy hormones speaking. Or something.

  Her eyes fluttered shut as the sensations overcame her. They started a slow, gentle rhythm—perfect mid-morning sex—and it wasn’t long before her entire body tensed at the precipice of an orgasm. Amad’s sexy grunts and intense but slow thrusts had her unraveling in mere minutes. She wanted to keep quiet—who knew how sound traveled in this palace?—but moans escaped her anyway. She threw her head back as a long, low keen ripped out of her.

  Amad came a moment later, tensing and stilling as his low abs jerked with the orgasm. They lay sated and panting on the bed, Amad’s arms wrapped tight around her. He pressed lazy kisses to her shoulder blade as they recuperated.

  “I think I like Amatbah better than America,” Vanessa ventured a moment later. She could feel the curve of his grin against her skin.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “I get more of you here. We get lazy mornings like this.”

  “You’re not working,” Amad pointed out. “That’s half the schedule conflicts gone.”

  “True,” Vanessa said with a sigh. It hadn’t been hard to resign from her serving job. She hated it, even though she’d been waiting tables for the past three months, since the last boutique she managed had unexpectedly closed. Finding jobs in Vegas recently had been tricky, at least at the high level she’d worked her way up to. She didn’t exactly know what came after this trip, but she’d figure something out. Quitting her job for a chance to travel to Amatbah was worth it. Even more with their baby on the way.

  “And truthfully,” Vanessa added, “I’m not sad to be off work right now. I keep thinking about how much my stomach would turn if I had to smell that lobster queso dip we served. Yuuuck.”

  Amad laughed into her shoulder. “But it’s such a good dip.”

  “Not in the first trimester.”

  Amad drew lazy patterns over her lower belly. “It’s better for you to be off work. You’re pregnant. You’re growing life. You need to kick back and focus on that.”

  Something in his words irritated her, but she couldn’t figure out what. He was being sweet. He was being helpful. He was being the doting partner that life had proven didn’t exist in her world.

  Vanessa sighed, rolling onto her side. She didn’t want to nitpick his niceness. She should enjoy it while it lasted. But it was hard to be reliant on him. So far away from home, no money coming in, no job to return to. She’d agreed to this, yes—but it chafed at her desperate desire to be independent. To prove that she needed no one except herself.

  “When we get back to Vegas, I’ll find a low-key part-time job,” she finally said.

  “Or,” Amad said, kissing the dip of her waist, “You could stay here and relax and be waited on hand and foot.”

  He pinched her side before rolling out of bed, sending her a smile as if his offer sealed the deal. She tried to conjure the same sort of excitement about the idea, but it wouldn’t come. Kicking back and being waited on hand and foot sounded a lot like her mother’s dream life. And Vanessa wanted to distance herself from that life path as much as possible. If her mother could see her life in Amatbah and think, “Great, she finally listened to me,” then Vanessa had failed.

  “Let’s just see how I like it first, okay?” She tried to keep her tone light as she rolled out of bed. The two of them took their time getting dressed in adjacent walk-in closets, trading jokes and comments as they prepared themselves for the day.

  Amad escorted her through the palace to meet Calla in the sitting room, where they’d agreed to meet for tea. She was surrounded by her gaggle of tribal ladies, just like yesterday. The room was full of chatter and laughter as Vanessa joined in. A chorus of hello’s erupted through the room. Vanessa relaxed immediately at the sight of Calla’s bright smile. They were friends already, she knew.

  “Come join us,” Vanessa said, reaching for Amad’s hand.

  “Oh, no. I can’t.” He tutted, squeezing Vanessa’s wrist. “I have something to take care of right now anyway.”

  “Oh?” Vanessa quirked a brow.

  “A meeting with the tribe. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Now have fun with your new friends.”

  Vanessa smiled up at him, her heart swelling to near bursting. This was the sort of thing she could get used to, even though every inch of her railed against it. “I’ll see you later.”

  “We’ll take care of her!” Calla promised as Amad waved and left the room. Vanessa took her seat on a plush chair at Calla’s side. “Where is he off to?”

  “Some meeting,” Vanessa said. “I don’t know really.”

  “Amad is such the business caretaker in this family,” Calla said as the other ladies took their seats at the low, oval coffee table in the center of the room. A handwoven maroon and burnt yellow rug covered the tiled floor, the stitches there snagging Vanessa’s attention.

  “He’s very busy. I don’t usually know with what, though,” she confessed, laughing slightly.

  “I can assure you, it’s something to do with the tribe! It always is.” Calla leaned back to receive a mug of steaming tea that a palace employee brought out. Each woman received a mug, and soon the conversation turned toward Calla’s fashion line.

  “Amad told me a little bit about your Fashion Week debut last year,” Vanessa said as she blew on the steaming tea in her mug. “It sounds like it was amazing.”

  “Fatim’s surprise appearance in the show is definitely something we’ll be doing from here on out,” Calla said with a laugh. “Honestly, it mobilized the entire country. I never expected a fashion line would bring so much opportunity to Amatbah. But here we are.”

  “So what exactly is the plan going forward?” Vanessa asked, a little embarrassed that she didn’t know more when her very own husband was helping orchestrate the "more.”

  “Amad is working on opening up distribution channels to the entire world. My fashion line will clothe our country, but the plan is that the clothing will be available to the world at large, as well. We’ve been producing a great amount thus far, mostly to stock the local boutiques and shops here in Amatbah’s capital. But we’re preparing to ramp up production once the international orders come in. And that’s where the real work begins.”

  “How exciting!” Vanessa took another sip of her ginger tea before continuing. “You know, I still have a lot of contacts from my time with the boutiques in Las Vegas. I’m sure I could help find some interested buyers.”

  A certain sparkle came to Calla’s dark eyes. “Could you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I played a big role in purchasing the looks each season. I love this stuff.” Vanessa laughed nervously when she found all eyes on her. She was suddenly being assessed for aptitude. She made it a point to look good—it was one holdover from her upbringing that she’d never been able to conquer, she supposed—with flawless makeup and well thought out outfits. Heels were her work boots, she always said during her boutique years. Waitressing had gotten in the way of that recently, but she always made sure she had her war paint perfected prior to every shift.

  “Maybe you should join the ranks, then,” Calla said, slyly crossing her legs. She set the mug down and reached for a planner at her side. “I’m serious. We could use someone like you on the team.”

  Vanessa couldn’t deny that her heart rate picked up a little at the offer. She was ready to say yes the second Calla proposed it, but she felt like she should weigh it out first. Take some time to think about it. But really, she was dying for a job. An occupation. Some way to earn her keep while under the luxurious wing of Amad. She just needed it.

  “Are you sure you have room for me?” Vanessa asked as she glanced around at all the beautiful women in attendance.

  “We could use three more of you!” One of the ladies spoke up.

  Laughter rippled through the room. Calla nodded. “It’s been a challenge to get all the loose ends tied up. More links to America don’t hurt, either. I promise you—there’s room for you, and I think your skillset would be a natural fit. But only if you want to.”

  Vanessa swirled the tea in her mug. Two days in Amatbah and already she had the offer of a lifetime. It seemed serendipitous—and Amad might just have to deal with the fact that she wouldn’t be kicking back and relaxing like he wanted her to.

  “I think it sounds perfect,” Vanessa said with a grin. It felt good to say those words. Really good. And maybe that was just the sign she needed.

  This could really be the start of something great in Amatbah.

  8

  Amad was a man of progress. Of forward motion. Of getting things done.

  So after his third consecutive meeting with the tribal women without a clear direction forward, he was ready to tug his hair right out of his head.

  He wasn’t very good at covering his frustration, either. But since his brother’s wife was at the helm of this project, he tried his best.

  This is why women stay out of the business realm. He tapped his pen manically against the edge of the table as one of the tribal ladies wrapped up her monologue about sourcing fabrics from Indonesia. These meetings tended to get off track, and he was used to laser-focused action points. Walking away from business meetings with a plan and a to-do list. But these ladies insisted on talking through everything a hundred times. It was enough to drive him up a wall.

  Besides, this fashion line needed to get moving and fast. He’d gambled the tech holdings, and if this line didn’t start generating income soon, the tribe would be in trouble.

  Once the rambling production coordinator wrapped up, Amad knew he needed to help this group get back on track. He leaned forward, lifting his pen.

  “Can we re-route the fabric supply? I’d like to see what we can do to move the brand forward immediately.”

  Calla nodded, glancing at the planner in front of her. “Maybe some international outreach would be good right now.”

  “Let me go to Paris.” He glanced around the table. “The center of the fashion world. I’ll see if I can’t reach some business contacts there, catch a few fashion shows, see what crops up in the networking.”

  “That’s a great idea. And while you’re out making progress abroad, we’ll finish hammering out these final details back home.”

  “Perfect. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you take Vanessa? She’ll be an asset.”

  Amad paused, his mouth parting. “Why would I take her?”

  Calla cocked her head. “She has contacts in the fashion world from her years managing boutiques in Vegas. She should be involved.”

  Amad didn’t necessarily think that involving Vanessa was a great idea, but he’d at least managed to snag some forward motion in this meeting, so he’d run with it. Besides, he didn’t want to admit that he had no idea she had a fashion background. That just highlighted the fact that they’d gotten married without truly knowing each other. “Fine. Sure. I’ll make sure to schedule in some vacation time.”