Page 26 of Hired Husband

I had no idea why that was so important, but I let her guide me around, pausing every so often so she could introduce me to businessmen, historians, diplomats, and all sorts of other affluent people. She never skipped a beat on a name, title, or questions about family or current projects, politely exchanging a few words with every person as effortlessly as if she’d known them since birth.

To be fair, I was sure she had known some of them all her life, but it was still impressive that she seemed to not only know every single person by name, but had also stored enough information about each of them to make the exchange feel warm and personal.

Every so often, she’d lean toward me, quietly becoming my social navigation system. “Ignore him. He’s a jackass with too much money, but he’s also a minister in parliament, so just smile and move on.”

Another moment later, “Now, that one is important. She’s the head of the Planning Committee. Shake her hand and smile like you mean it.”

I found myself taking extreme comfort in her guidance, beyond grateful that she’d offered to stick with me tonight. At one point, after brushing past yet another person who apparently wasn’t important enough to waste more than a greeting on, I finally bent over and murmured against her ear.

“I owe you big time, Jasmine. I have no idea how I would’ve survived this without you.”

“Oh, I know.” She batted her lashes at me, a suspiciously sweet smile on her lips. “I have a few ideas about how you can make it up to me.”

With that, she winked and turned to shake yet another hand, but naturally, my brain had taken her comment a whole other way. My slacks suddenly got a little tighter as images flashed across my mind of all the ways I could return the favor.

She snapped me right out of it when she turned to look up at me again, her expression a lot more serious now. “There’s my father. I’m probably going to have to leave you with him for a few minutes, but I will find you again, alright?”

I nodded, oddly disappointed but knowing she was probably right. “Lead the way, boss.”

She took my arm, gently steering me toward Basel and once again saving my bacon by giving me some quick, broad-stroke highlights of who he was with. “Some of them are GlobalStar execs. Don’t worry too much about those, but the three on his immediate left are politicians. They’ll have to sign off on your plans, so make a good impression.”

“Got it.”

She paused for a beat, slowing slightly. “There’s enough influence in that group to sway the global economy. Tread carefully, Isaac. Those two on the far side are investors, and if you impress them, you might as well have a blank check for your complex.”

Before I could even begin to process that, Basel spotted us and waved me over. Jasmine’s prediction almost immediately came true. She walked me to them, but after just a second, her father effectively dismissed her.

“Thank you for bringing him to me safely, honey,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “You can take a break and have some fun now. I have him.”

She inclined her chin in a nod. After offering me a tight smile, she disappeared into the party and Basel handed over a glass of something alcoholic. As I took it, he lifted his own glass high into the air.

“Gentlemen, let’s have a toast to the structural engineer who is going to put Sharm El-Sheikh on the map as a leading industrial region in this hemisphere!”

The men around us immediately thrust their own drinks into the air, echoing various sentiments but in Arabic. I clinked with them, sipping as if I knew exactly what they’d said.

Colin had warned me about how business was done in Egypt, but it was yet another thing I’d been unable to fully comprehend until I lived it for myself. Basel and his friends plied me with drinks, asking questions about my family, my upbringing, and the house I’d been restoring back home.

A dozen more toasts were made, my glass refilled every time I glanced at it. Business was never overtly discussed, but after a few comments being made around the group about history and heritage, Basel suddenly draped an arm around my shoulders.

“We are moving forward with your design,” he said, sweeping his arm around to motion vaguely at just about everything in sight. “We’ll celebrate that.”

A round of cheers rang out and yet another toast was made, but I was feeling slightly tipsy by now. Not drunk, necessarily, but pleasantly buoyant. One part of me ignited at the thought that I’d apparently just gotten the go-ahead, but the other, bigger part was a little more skeptical about whether it was even actually true.

I’m being cautious about this one. He’s been drinking even more and even longer than I have.

Finally, as the older men switched over to Arabic, I looked around for Jasmine, but she was nowhere to be found. I glanced at Basel next, but he was completely absorbed in whatever story he was telling, his eyes shining and his whole body involved in the animated gestures that accompanied his words.

Moving away from the table one inch at a time, I finally managed to slip away without anyone noticing, wandering from one gallery to the next in search of my not-date. My head was spinning slightly, the enormity of the museum only really dawning on me now that I’d lost my guide.

I had no idea where I even was when an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind. “You’re Isaac, aren’t you?”

Strangely, the man who’d spoken sounded vaguely Australian and I didn’t recall having met anyone from there tonight, so I turned, hoping some of Jasmine’s earlier remarks about who was who would help, but they didn’t. I was sure I’d never seen this guy before in my life.

He was maybe a few years older than me, with dark hair and a glass of whiskey in his hand. As I nodded, he swapped the glass to his other hand to extend his palm toward me. “David Maher.”

I shook with him. “It’s nice to meet you, David. That’s an interesting accent you’ve got. What part of Egypt are you from?”

He chuckled. “My parents are from Cairo, but I grew up in Sydney.”