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.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Ignore my friend. She’s cranky because she’s been working much too hard recently and she hasn’t gotten laid in months.”
“Zara!” I snapped, shaking my head. “I’m going to need a drink stronger than lemonade for this.”
Ignoring the men who offered to get that drink for me, I strode away from what had been a pretty comfortable perch before they’d invaded it, and I ended up in the pool for a while until they left. Relieved to be able to go back, I was still reaching for my towel when she started chiding me.
“You totally ruined our shot at going out with them tonight.”
“How? You can still go out with them, but even if I wanted to, I can’t. Family dinner.”
She sighed. “Even if you wanted to? Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because they’re boring.” I finally wrapped my towel around myself and lay back down. “I have no use for boys like that. I mean, come on. They clearly only came to the club to hunt for their next conquests. Do you really want to be just another notch on some idiot’s bedpost?”
“I would’ve been if you hadn’t been here.”
I laughed. “If he really wants you, he’ll be back.”
True to my prediction, the guy she’d been flirting with circled his way back to us a couple hours later, but this time, I promptly excused myself. I’d had about enough sun for the day anyhow and the boutiques were calling my name.
After air-kissing Zara’s cheeks and doing the polite thing by actually waving at her idiot, I left them to it, then told Rashid to take me back to Heliopolis.
On the way, we stopped at a bookshop and a jewelry store, my favorite market, and finally, the boutique that was designing my gown for this weekend.
“Is it ready?” I asked when I walked in, accepting a glass of ice water the sales assistant pushed into my hand. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“The alterations are just about finished,” she said. “Let me get Sashi for you. She’ll be delighted you’re here.”
I nodded, wandering through the showroom while I waited for the designer.
Her work truly was incredible. Every shelf and rail in the shop displayed embroidered silks and hand-finished beadwork.
She was custom-making my dress for the opera I would be attending with my family in a few days and I’d been buzzing to see the finished product.
As I wandered deeper into the boutique, admiring the craftsmanship of her garments, I suddenly heard a family laugh that made me stop in my tracks.
“I am standing normally. I swear. This is just how I stand.”
The tailor clicked his tongue. “Relax your shoulders, sir.”
“They are relaxed. This is as relaxed as I get.”
Someone sighed, probably the tailor, and I found myself smiling as I followed the voice around the corner.
Isaac stood on a fitting platform while two tailors fitted an immaculate black tuxedo on him.
His dark blond hair looked genuinely windswept—not styled to look that way—and I happened to know that his shoulders really were just that broad.
“Of all the boutiques in all of Cairo, what are the odds you’d wander into mine?” I asked, resting a shoulder against the wall dividing the fitting area from the rest of the showroom.
Isaac looked up at me in the mirror. A warm smile appeared on his face that made me feel tingles in places that shouldn’t tingle around him. “Have you considered that maybe you wandered into mine?”
I shook my head. “I was here first.”
Pushing away from the wall, I drifted a closer.
My eyes raked over the length of his body under the pretense of studying the fit of the tux, but in reality, he just looked really handsome like this and I couldn’t not stare.
There was simply something undeniably American about him, just standing there, tall and broad-shouldered, so carefree despite being poked and prodded by two stern, elderly tailors.
Somehow, he managed to look slightly out of place and completely comfortable at the same time.
He wasn’t at all the kind of man I’d ever imagined spending this much time thinking about, but here I was, finding myself spending almost every waking minute in the week since he’d arrived wondering what he was doing.
“That looks good.” I inclined my chin toward the fit of the tuxedo around his waist. “It needs to be taken in just a little more, though.”
The tailor’s eyes widened immediately and he stepped closer, fingers adjusting the fit while I lifted my gaze back to Isaac’s. “How’s Egypt been treating you so far?”
His eyes lit up. “It’s incredible. I’ve never been in such a busy city before. I’m loving it. Every corner of this place feels so alive that it’s completely addictive.”
I chuckled. “That’s a pretty accurate description.”
“I found a bakery yesterday that changed my life,” he said, holding my gaze in the mirror as he tried to stand still.
The tailor kept flicking him, though, letting me know that it was more difficult for Isaac than he was letting on.
“I have so many questions. For starters, tell me about this thing we’re going to this weekend? ”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it before navigating to something and then holding the device out toward me. I was almost too afraid to look, but when I glanced down, I saw the same elegant invitation I’d received.
I sighed. “You’re coming too?”
“I think so? Basel sent me that and told me to wear a tux, so I’m not sure it’s optional.”
“I tried warning you about this.” I looked back up at him, not needing the invitation to be able to give him the information he wanted.
“It’s the annual historical society gala.
My family has been a benefactor for years.
Basically, it’s part opera, part charity ball.
You’re lucky to score an invite. It’s one of the biggest cultural events of the season, but it’ll also be the start of your introduction to GlobalStar society. ”
An unexpected burst of excitement flared through me at the knowledge that he would be there too, though, but then the tailor stepped away from him and nodded. “There we go. It’s a perfect fit.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, my gaze dropping back down to that same section around his waist. “It’s saggy.
May I?” Without waiting for an answer, I swept the little container filled with pins from his hands and took a step closer.
“It should be fitted, not baggy around the sides.” I tucked the fabric in a little at his left side, securing first one pin before moving on to his right. “There, you see? Like that.”
“It’s too tight.” The tailor folded his arms. “It will not be comfortable.”
“Comfort does not equal looking like a slouch.”
The tailor swapped into Arabic then, arguing his point while I gave it right back, insisting that Isaac had to look the part for the event. The man himself just stood there and took it, his eyes bouncing from one of us to the other until the tailor finally blew out a heavy breath.
“Very well. I will make the adjustments.”
I shot him a sweet smile. “Thank you.”
He nodded but started muttering under his breath as he wandered away, hopefully to recruit backup so he could get the job done in time. A moment later, I heard another set of footsteps behind us, and when I turned, a seamstress carrying a garment bag was coming toward us.
She smiled. “Miss Saad. You can follow me please. Sashi will be with us in a moment.”
I hesitated, turning back to Isaac instead of taking off immediately. “I suppose I’ll see you this weekend.”
“See you then.” He flashed me a grin that threatened the stability of my knees. “Thanks for your help, Jasmine. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your first public appearance with the Saads. You have to look the part.” I had no idea why I hadn’t just accepted his gratitude, but I spun on my heels and went to meet the designer, deciding not to overthink why I sometimes did the things I did when I was around him.
A few hours later, Rashid drove through the gates of my family home and I sighed, exhausted but happy I was about to get a homecooked meal.
Nancy’s food tasted like home and my mouth was practically watering as I hurried inside, kicking off my shoes somewhere between the front hall and the dining room.
The scent of dinner wafted through the entire house at this time of day and I groaned, praying to every god who had ever been out there that my brothers hadn’t beaten me to the spread.
Before I turned the corner, however, I heard the front door open again and I twisted on instinct, the threat to whichever Saad boy I was about to race to the table dying an instant death of my tongue when the man who appeared wasn’t a Saad at all.
It was Isaac, walking in with a devil-may-care grin and his blond hair pushed back off his forehead.
He looked dangerously good in a pair of simple trousers and an open-collared shirt.
My heart started pounding, but I didn’t even have time to come up with another quip before he noticed me, those blue eyes instantly zeroing in on mine.
A flush started spreading on my cheeks under his gaze, so I averted my eyes, pretending to be busy with…
something. I didn’t even know what it was.
In that moment, the only thing I knew for an absolute fact was that Isaac suddenly seemed to be popping up everywhere—and I wasn’t nearly as annoyed about it as I should’ve been.