Page 18 of Hired Husband

“If he gave you that time, it was because he knew he had to so he could get his way,” she said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder as her chin lifted just a fraction higher. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Isaac.”

When her spine straightened a little, I sensed she was about to leave, so I just jumped in before she could move. “Do you have any recommendations for what I should see while I still have some free time? The real work only starts in the fall, so I’ve got a few weeks to settle in and do some sightseeing, but honestly, I’m at a loss about where to start.”

“Let me guess, the first thing on your list is the Pyramids?”

I shrugged. “I just said I didn’t really know where to start, but sure. That’s right there near the top for sure.”

She seemed strangely disappointed, huffing out yet another dramatic sigh before folding her arms over her chest. “It’s always all about the Pyramids for the tourists. Seriously, I know they’re impressive and I get that they’re interesting, but there are so many things here that are so much better than some stone triangles.”

“Those stone triangles are the only surviving wonder of the ancient world.”

She pursed her lips. “This entire country is a wonder of the ancient world. There’s so much to see that most people never get the opportunity to because they’re all so focused on the Pyramids.”

As I looked back at her, it occurred to me that she was definitely right. Most tourists flocked to the big attractions, and sure, the vast majority of them probably did it mostly because they only had such a limited amount of time in the country.

But me?

“Show me,” I said, leaning forward and not letting her look away this time. “Show me your Egypt, Jasmine. There’s nothing I’d like to see more.”

CHAPTER 8

JASMINE

The campaign was finally over. For the first time in weeks, nobody was waiting for me to pose under studio lights while they debated if my hair should look more windswept luxury or Mediterranean elegance. Sasha hadn’t called for days. This morning, I’d slept until nine a.m. and no one had panicked about why I hadn’t shown up yet.

It was absolute, pure bliss.

I stretched out on one of the loungers beside the private pool at the club, my oversized sunglasses shielding my eyes while a glass of icy lemonade sweated on the little table beside me.

Zara, my lifelong friend, lowered her magazine where she was lying on the lounger next to mine, letting out a soft moan as she rested her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. “This is the life. Remind me why we work again.”

I laughed. “I was just wondering that myself.”

“We should retire,” she said lazily. “On that note, what are we doing this summer? By the end of it, I want to feel like we really have given up on all economically productive activities.”

“What do you mean, what are we doing?” I asked. “I thought you’d be heading back to London.”

Zara and I had grown up in the same social circles. Our parents had known one another forever, despite hers having settled in England years before she was born. As soon as she’d arrived, however, her mom and dad—both Egyptian—had decided to split their time between Cairo and London. As a result, she had grown up with one foot in each culture.

Because of all that, we understood each other in a way few people ever could, both daughters of incredibly wealthy families and both considered the beauties of them. Our lives were almost identical.

Except for our taste in men.

As if the universe had decided to test the theory, a shadow fell across our loungers before she’d even had a chance to tell me if she’d be jetting back to the UK soon. I looked up to see three expensively dressed guys standing at the edge of our pergola, one of them smiling directly at her.

“Do you mind if we join you?”

“Not at all.” She smiled right back at him and drew her legs up before patting the space at the end of her chair.

Meanwhile, I wondered why they’d even bothered coming to the pool club when they clearly weren’t here to swim. They wore cotton shorts with silk shirts and their hair was styled with so much effort that I doubted they would let so much as a drop of water near it.

Zara immediately started flirting with Bozo One, but I had absolutely no interest in participating. One of his friends came to sit on the lounger on my other side anyway. His lips curled up into what I assumed was supposed to be a seductive smile.

“Aren’t you Jasmine Saad?” he asked. “I just saw a preview of your latest campaign for White Water Lily. It looks like it’s going to be another hit.”

“It will be.”

Zara groaned, flashing me a look that very clearly said she expected me to be polite, but I rolled my eyes and pushed my sunglasses up a little higher. “Our men’s line this fall is going to be incredible. It’s available for pre-order on the website.”