Page 29 of Tangled IN LIES (IN YOU 3)

“We’re opening a huge network of bookshops within Saudi Arabia. You’ll be acting as liaison between the superstore managers. They need some guidance; I’ll send you my notes and plans to your email so you can direct the opening. Contact Fading Ink for help too.”

“Wait, I thought the Moudi family was helping to open the stores.”

He lifts his head to look at me. “When we started having problems launching a small bookstore network here in Medina, I held back from involving them in an international franchise I’ve been working on for a while in secret. Someone was screwing with us, so I tried to look for other opportunities to expand.”

“You didn’t trust them.”

He shrugs and then stands from the desk, and goes to his wardrobe to pick an aquamarine kaftan with stunning details stitched at the neck. “I trust the father, not his sons. They need to earn it, and so far, I don’t see why I should.”

I arch my eyebrow, and his lips tug in a teasing smile.

“You might want to blend in. We’re going to visit Edar Moudi after we catch the culprits. I want to talk to him.”

“With this?” Is he kidding me? I’ll look like a princess and stand out more than I already am. But my traitorous heart palpitates with excitement as he drags his gaze leisurely down my body.

“Yes,” he simply states, grinning at me. “I got it for you from the downstairs store. Your clothes aren’t suitable for our adventures.”

I roll my eyes, and his lips stretch into a smile, exposing two cute dimples at the corners of his mouth.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll come to you after I get into this.” I turn to leave to change when I remember. “What about Noor?”

“I’ll handle her.” He lingers at the door, regarding me. “I want you to trust me, Cassandra. This isn't the first time I’m dealing with this. I’m not trying to clip your wings, but we must be careful.”

I nod as something loosens within me at his admission.

At least, he isn’t treating me like I’m not worthy of being in the know.

When I saunter into the living room, I find Mark waiting for me. I touch my hair as I pass him a scarf. “Tried to do it myself, but I can’t,” I admit, and he grins.

“You look striking.” When he steps closer, it becomes hard to breathe. My skin sparks to life and my pulse drums against my temples. Mark coils the scarf around me as if nothing affects him. While I try to ignore everything he is doing to me.

Afraid of my reaction to him, I fist my hands at my sides. I’m petrified I’m getting addicted to his unique energy and cunning ability to deal with challenges, or silent strength.

“How do you know so much about this culture?”

“Once upon a time, I lived here. I still remember things even if I was so young when my foster parents moved me to America,” he sadly whispers, surprising me. “I won’t hold you back, Cassandra, nor will I treat you below me.”

A lump forms in my throat, reacting to his promise.

“But you have to allow me to protect you.”

I tilt my head to look at him.

Something fervent kindles my soul with a longing that was dormant for the past few years. I step away from him as soon as he fastens my headpiece. All that I am, and all that I can’t be, rushes back like a wave crashing against my chest.

“Let’s go.” We leave the resort in his car, and his men follow behind.

To keep myself busy, I open an email from Mark. Reading through the notes, I realize he’s been working on this deal for almost a year. I’m beyond impressed. Mark managed to sign a franchise with one of the biggest superstore network holders in the Middle East. He’ll be using small print houses to supply the stores, helping small businesses to grow. It makes sense why he wanted to work with the Moudi family and put so much energy into maintaining this partnership.

While he drives, I manage to sort out most of the issues and prepare for the launch with franchise partners and for the event at Medina. I wonder if Mark kept this charade with the Moudis as a distraction. I’m starting to think he has an intelligent approach, dealing with these debacles. And whoever these people are, they were outplayed.

“We’re here.”

I put away the tablet and look around. “Very remote.”

He nods at my observation, slowing down the car. He allows his men to pass, and then he stops. Pulling out his phone, he dials Higgins.

“Do you see them? Got it. We’ll wait.” He disconnects the call. “The truck should pass them in about twenty minutes.”

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