“Wonderful. I just wanted to thank you for helping me out this morning. I knew I could find you here.”

  “Yes. It ran a bit long, but only because the children were enamored with my storytelling skills.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. The men were gathering around the table, and Vanessa could tell it was time for her to leave.

  Someone nearby made a sharp comment in Amatbahn that caused Amad to twist around. He glared and issued a curt response. His gaze was clouded when he faced her again.

  “You should go. The meeting is going to start.” He sounded exasperated and squeezed her arm. “I’ll find you after.”

  The excitement thrumming through her dulled only slightly with the strange interaction there that she couldn’t understand. She’d need to add “learn Amatbahn” to her lists of tasks while staying at the palace. She offered an apologetic smile to the tribal leaders and hurried out of their space, feeling like she’d overstayed her welcome.

  But it didn’t matter. If she’d overstepped her boundaries by trying to visit Amad in his male space, the news she had would surely make up for it. She’d managed to snag a connection that she was positive he’d be thrilled about.

  Now she just had to figure out when to break the news.

  14

  A few days went by as Vanessa and Calla worked diligently on the maternity line, preparing for Marie Frechard to formally receive the items. Calla buzzed around the work space like a bumblebee on steroids. But Vanessa couldn’t blame her. This was big news for her business and big news for the tribe.

  Which meant that it was officially time for Vanessa to tell Amad.

  He’d been distant in the days since she’d found him in his tribal meeting. She figured it was because they were both busy—Vanessa spent more and more time in Calla’s workshop, and Amad spent more and more time with the leaders, squaring things away for the business side of the fashion line. It seemed everyone in the palace had their minds on the fashion line, one way or another.

  But now that Vanessa’s random connection was turning out to be a bit more stable than just a passing business card at a Paris fashion show, it was time to hand the reins over to Amad. This was his side of things. She couldn’t wait to brighten his day with the news.

  Tracking him down was harder than expected, though. These days, they only consistently saw each other upon waking and when going to bed. Occasionally, a shared dinner might happen, but even then, Amad seemed distracted or rushed.

  But maybe this was just the life of a working couple. The type of pair who ran businesses and made international deals. A tremor of excitement coursed through her as her footsteps clicked down the granite stairs that led to the workout room on the east end of the palace. Amad’s daily workout session would be ending in a matter of minutes. She’d catch him on his way out, snag him for a few minutes, and share the awesome news.

  She poked her head into the big, brightly lit room. It was a modern workout room stuck in a medieval-looking salon. The walls were laid with unevenly sized stones, rounded out to form the eastern turret of the palace. The grunts and punches of Amad and Fatim, sparring in a boxing ring on the far end, were the only sounds that echoed through the big chamber.

  Vanessa hung by the wall, watching with fascination as her husband threw jabs and dodged the punches of his brother. It seemed unlikely that she would ever tire of seeing him half-naked or sweating. An alarm sounded from somewhere—maybe one of their phones—and the brothers got in their final punches before dropping their stances.

  When Amad tugged off his boxing gloves, his gaze swung her way. She waved at the brothers, happy at least that a smile overtook Amad’s face. Fatim called out his greeting as he gathered his things at the far wall.

  “Were you spying on my display of masculinity?” Amad joked as he came over, his black workout shorts swishing softly against his thighs. She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his sweaty neck.

  “Always.”

  “I need a shower,” he said, pinching at her waist. “Do you want to come?”

  That seemed like a fine midday suggestion. But she needed to get her news out first. “Sure. But I want to talk to you first.”

  “What’s on your mind?” He dragged his forearm across his forehead as they headed for the doors. He picked up his T-shirt on the way and tugged it over his head.

  Vanessa picked at a cuticle as they started their walk down the long hallway. Nervousness invaded her, and suddenly all of her imagined conversation starters disappeared entirely. She had no idea what to say.

  “Well…” she began.

  Amad slung his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s hear it.”

  She swallowed a knot in her throat. She needed to just say it. “I have some news about Calla’s fashion line.”

  “Oh, are you the messenger now?” he teased.

  “No. It’s…uh…it’s something I’ve been working on.”

  Amad straightened, his pace slowing slightly. “Okay.”

  “What is the name of the client you would most like to snag in the fashion world?” she asked, her thoughts flowing a bit more freely now. She’d frame this as the incredible gift she’d imagined it, as long as she could lead him to the prize. “The department store you’ve been trying to get?”

  “Le Suiz,” Amad said cautiously. He removed his arm from around her shoulders and stopped walking entirely. “Why?”

  She turned to face him, unable to hide the excitement that had been brimming just beneath the surface since the phone call. “Why haven’t you been able to get ahold of them?”

  Amad shrugged. “They’re one of the most famously selective department stores out there. It takes time and connections. What are you getting at, Vanessa?”

  She gripped his arms. “What would you say if I told you I’ve got them on our side?”

  Amad blinked. “I don’t follow.”

  “I was able to make the connection with Le Suiz. With Marie Frechard.” She searched his face as she shared the big news, practically bursting as the words came out of her. “She’s seriously interested in the maternity line and is in the process of reviewing the clothing to bring Calla’s line on board.”

  A stunned silence throbbed between them. Amad’s face had transitioned from blank to confused.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “but how did you get Marie Frechard to review the clothes?”

  Vanessa drew a fortifying breath, trying to calm the nerves skating through her. “I met her in Paris! She was there in the bar after the fashion show. We talked while you were out trying to make connections with other people. I really didn’t think anything would happen, so I didn’t bother telling you. But I reached out, and she was interested enough to request pictures…which led to samples.” She clapped her hands together, the grin straining at her face. “I can’t believe it, Amad! I had to tell you. She’s yours. I got her for you.”

  Amad just blinked at her, face looking more like she’d told him that a surprise lunch of fresh lard and frog eggs awaited him. “And why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  Something in his voice knocked her enthusiasm down a few notches. “Because it was so uncertain. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I didn’t even know how important she was until after I’d talked to her, so…”

  Amad turned on his heels and started walking down the hall. “Come on. I need to shower so I won’t be late to my next meeting.”

  She scurried after him, still expecting the merriment and gratitude to come raining down on her. “Aren’t you excited?”

  “What? Oh, yeah.” He sounded distracted again. The way he had the past few days. “This is great news. Good work, Vanessa.”

  But she didn’t believe his words. Not even a little bit. His tone was better suited for a child who’d drawn a very terrible depiction of a house, not a capable woman of fashion who’d set up the deal of the century.

  “I thought you might be more excited,” she finally said once they reached their bedroom. Amad pushed through the heavy wooden door, heading straight for the bathroom.

  “Oh, trust me, I am,” he said, not even looking at her. “Are you going to shower too?”

  Showering was the last thing on her mind right now. But if it meant more chances to smooth this over, to understand why her husband was acting like this, then she’d take it.

  She followed him into the bathroom, trepidation weighing heavily.

  Amad could barely hide the scowl on his face, so he tried to just hide inside the stream of water in the shower.

  Vanessa took her time undressing, what with the thirty-five different parts of her complicated outfit, so he had some time to fume in peace.

  This week had been one blow after the other, and at this point, he wasn’t sure he could handle much more.

  It had started with the surprise of the elementary school. It had, apparently, been the first time in Amatbahn history that a man had shown up to read to the children. Amad played the part of being happy to help his wife, who he’d claimed was very ill, but stepping outside of his gender role didn’t feel good, lodging deep like a stone trapped in his shoe.

  It felt even worse when he’d returned to his tribal meeting to find Vanessa lingering at the table, which prompted the snark of his fellow leaders. One had joked that they’d exchanged pants in the relationship, that Vanessa might as well stay since he had obligations with the schoolkids.

  And now this. Her news today was probably the worst blow of all. He wanted to look supportive, but the dark edges of his anger were unfurling, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it under wraps. This wasn’t okay. She was infringing in a huge way and basically backstabbing him in his own world.

  The dark thoughts kept unfolding, pushing him deeper and deeper into his pit of frustration. By the time she got into the shower, his whole body prickled with the urge to say something.

  “About time,” he snapped. “You know, if you weren’t so obsessed with how you looked, you wouldn’t need a full hour to do anything or go anywhere.”

  Vanessa’s surprise filled the air between them. He grabbed for the bar of soap, keeping his back angled toward her.

  “Well, excuse me,” she finally said. “I thought you appreciated the way I look. Maybe I’ll just stop trying altogether.”

  He huffed, soaping up his chest. He’d wanted a quickie in the shower, but with this news slamming around inside of him, he couldn’t even fathom it.

  “Let me help,” she said, reaching for the soap.

  “I got it,” he snapped.

  He felt her recoil—not just physically, but emotionally, somehow, even though it was impossible to sense that. Maybe that was a sign they’d been growing closer. Probably too close.

  Amad hadn’t wanted this—a woman who stepped out of line, who overstepped his boundaries.

  And now he had no idea where to go next.

  “I don’t know what your problem is,” she said, yanking open the shower door. “I thought you’d be happy about the business deal.”

  “Thrilled,” he shot back. “I’ve got things on my mind that don’t concern you, you know. Not everything revolves around your little dalliances with the department store.”

  He was shooting out hurtful stuff now, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. He needed to process this betrayal in peace.

  “Fine. Let’s talk when you’re not so moody then.” She stormed across the bathroom, snatching up her clothes, and disappeared.

  Amad didn’t leave the shower for a long time. He needed the peace and quiet to figure out his game plan.

  It wasn’t just the tribe’s finances at stake. It was his place in the tribe at stake too. His authority. His ego.

  It was damn near everything.

  And he hated that Vanessa was the earthquake that had made it all threaten to crumble.

  15

  Once Amad had taken his long and cleansing shower, he felt slightly more prepared to begin reining in this wild horse called his personal life.

  Step one: Call Marie Frechard and formally take over communications.

  Step two: Make sure everyone knew that a new dawn for the tribe was on the way.

  He stayed in the bedroom as he rang Marie, his laptop open on the coffee table in front of him. His throat tightened as he awaited an answer. He finally had his in, though it came via the worst possible undercut. Someone outside his team, going behind his back to court the customer he would have given his right arm to bring to the table. He steered his mind away from the betrayal—it was too fresh. He didn’t need to kick up his anger again by going there just when he’d calmed himself down.

  A receptionist for Marie answered, and Amad stated who he was, the new liaison for Calla’s maternity line. He was put on a brief hold. His knee bounced as he suffered through the tinny music. The same receptionist responded a moment later.

  “Ms. Frechard cannot speak with you,” she proclaimed in stilted English. “She will only speak with Ms. Hammerman about this account.”

  Amad could only sputter. The words didn’t even make sense. “But this is my account. I’m the sheikh prince of Amatbah, the investment source behind Calla’s designs—”

  “She prefers to speak with Ms. Hammerman directly,” the receptionist replied, sounding bored.

  “Ms. Frechard wouldn’t even have any designs to look at if it weren’t for me,” Amad said through gritted teeth. This was getting to be too much. All of it. And it needed to end now.

  “Please communicate with Ms. Hammerman that she should call Ms. Frechard at her earliest convenience if she wishes to add you to the list of approved delegatees.”

  And then the receptionist hung up.

  Amad actually stared at his phone, aghast beyond belief, for what felt like an eternity. A maelstrom of emotions roiled through him, but outrage won out.

  “This is fucking ridiculous,” he spat, and leaped to his feet. He was walking without even deciding where to go. He knew his next steps intuitively, guided by his rage. He’d go straight to the source of this mess. This ridiculous betrayal. This totally unnecessary meddling.

  Amad’s mind raced, each step toward the royal tents pushing him deeper into his frustration. When he stormed into the tents, he saw Vanessa at Calla’s side, reviewing fabric. A handful of other women lingered nearby, working at sewing machines and performing other tasks. He strode over to Vanessa, grabbing her wrist.

  “We need to talk,” he said in a low voice, trying to keep it measured. She must have heard the restraint in his tone, because she shot him a sharp look.

  “About what?”

  “About the fact that you locked me out of the most important deal in our tribe’s history.”

  He sensed the room quieten when he said that. The attention of the other ladies sizzled over him.

  “I didn’t lock you out,” Vanessa said, straightening. “I kept quiet because I wanted it to be a surprise. I wasn’t even sure if it would lead anywhere—"

  “It’s not your place to get involved in these matters.” He couldn’t give a damn that everyone was watching now. Conversation had ground to a halt. They were officially making a scene. “This is my work. A man’s work.”

  “But Amad—” Vanessa sputtered.

  “There’s more at stake than you know. You can’t just walk in here and take over and think everything will fall into place,” he spat.

  “What else is at stake?” Calla’s question surprised him. He swung around to look at her. It annoyed him that this was happening in public, but Vanessa had pushed him to this.

  “The finances for the entire tribe,” Amad said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Even when speaking to Calla. “This is my territory. I have the most intimate knowledge of where the funding comes from, what’s keeping the tribe afloat.”

  “And what’s keeping it afloat now?” Calla asked.

  He gritted his teeth, holding her gaze. “The promise that this line will take off.”

  A sharp, incredulous laugh erupted from Calla. “Are you serious? The whole country is hanging on a promise?”

  “Some things needed to be gambled in order to fund your venture,” Amad spat, not wanting to get into the details now. Like they would even understand.

  “And what was gambled?” Vanessa asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I have it under control.”

  “Amad, what was gambled?” Calla asked again.

  He worked his jaw back and forth, looking between the two women. This could very well be the low point of his career.

  “We needed cash for the fashion line,” he said, crossing his arms. “I cashed out the tech stocks.”

  Calla cursed under her breath while Vanessa covered her mouth.

  “Are you serious?” Calla asked.

  Frustration swarmed him. He was over this. He didn’t need to be interrogated by people who didn’t even understand what he did.

  “You think you can reach a reward without risk?” He slammed his fist against the table, and the noise made Vanessa jump a little. “Come on. I’ve been doing this for ten years. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Nobody said you didn’t—” Vanessa began.

  “Do your brothers know about this?” Calla asked.

  “They know I’m handling it,” Amad said. “I’m done with this conversation. Vanessa, I need you to call Marie Frechard. Now. Get me on her stupid list, or else all of this is going to fall through. And that will be on your shoulders.”

  Amad turned on his heels and stormed away. If they wanted to play in the territory of men, he’d treat them like men. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he stalked through the halls, fists balling and un-balling as anger thrummed through him.

  This whole situation was absurd. It needed to end immediately.

  Amad returned to the bedroom and took to pacing. He was too upset to work, too upset to speak with anybody. He needed to cool off in a big way, but all his tried and true methods—fighting, fucking, and traveling—weren’t available to him at the moment.