Temptation in Istanbul, page 1
“I’m leaving in a week.”
A week wasn’t a good enough reason to jump into bed with the first good-looking billionaire who swept her off her feet. Chemistry or no chemistry, sleeping with Faisal would be a stupid and dangerous move. Stupid because there was no chance it would become a meaningful relationship, and dangerous for the very same reason.
She backed away, her shaking hands giving up on untying her apron.
Abandoning the kitchen, she hightailed it to her room and didn’t look back until she closed her door.
She counted the seconds that lapsed from the time she left him.
When no knock came from the other side and no footsteps sounded down the hall, she pressed a hand to her thumping heart and analyzed what had happened downstairs with Faisal.
He’d kissed her.
Correction—they had kissed.
Dear Reader,
I started writing Temptation in Istanbul three years ago when I wanted to escape with one of my favorite trope mashups: single dad meets nanny. And that was my first spark of inspiration for Maryan and Faisal’s story.
She travels to Istanbul to deliver custody of his young daughter to him, and it’s supposed to be a short stay, free of romantic entanglements and temptations, but one thing leads to another... Of course, like most love stories, they have their obstacles to surmount and personal battles to conquer along the way.
It’s also set in sublime Istanbul, Turkey! Researching the landmarks and touristy spots was such a joy and a good opportunity for me to plan my next trip now that pandemic lockdowns aren’t so restrictive.
I hope you’re safe wherever you are and that Maryan and Faisal’s romance whisks you away on an armchair adventure of your own.
Wishing you a happy read,
Hana xx
Temptation in Istanbul
Hana Sheik
Hana Sheik falls in love every day reading her favorite romances and writing her own happily-ever-afters. She’s worked various jobs—but never for very long because she’s always wanted to be a romance author. Now she gets to happily live that dream. Born in Somalia, she moved to Ottawa, Canada, at a very young age and still resides there with her family.
Books by Hana Sheik
Harlequin Romance
Second Chance to Wear His Ring
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
For my mom and dad, and my sisters.
Love you all, always and forever.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EXCERPT FROM SECOND CHANCE WITH HIS PRINCESS BY REBECCA WINTERS
CHAPTER ONE
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, the nanny won’t leave the airport?”
Faisal Umar shrugged his suit coat on, Bluetooth in his ear, and his fast strides carried him out the door of his office. He was running late, he knew that. Though now he had his head of security and trustworthy friend Burak reporting that his effort to get out of his office building might be too late.
“She’s refusing to leave. Says that she expected you’d be here, in my place,” Burak explained.
Faisal scowled as he passed through the reception area of his office. His capable executive assistant, Rukiya, sprang out of her chair, but a curt shake of his head dismissed her services. As much as he appreciated her work, he was aware she had a full schedule of tasks and milestones for him to complete. He could take the lift by himself. Use that fraction of time to take a much-needed pause. And he asked for any meetings and calls to be put on the back burner while he handled this latest task on his unending to-do list.
Pushing the button for the lift doors to close, he said to Burak, “But you told her that the time and place of the meeting has changed. That I got caught up with work.”
That I hadn’t purposely stayed shut up in my office all day.
“She doesn’t care.”
Cursing softly, he dragged a hand through his thick curls. It was one problem after another. He couldn’t catch a break. “Okay, I’ll be there shortly.”
Burak didn’t mask his surprise. “You’re actually coming?”
What choice did he have? The nanny had his seven-year-old daughter, Zara, with her. Zara was coming to live with him now that he had full custody. Her mother and his model-actress ex, Salma, had called him a few weeks earlier from her opulent multilevel mansion in Los Angeles with an ultimatum. Either he took Zara in, or she would be sent to live with Salma’s parents in the Netherlands. And though he had no problems with Salma’s family, it hadn’t sat well with him that anyone else should raise her. He was her father, after all. Wasn’t it his duty to step in?
Besides, Zara and Salma had lived with him for the first three years of Zara’s life. His little girl had been born in Istanbul. It wasn’t like this was his first time parenting.
Just my first time doing it alone.
Faisal shook off the icy doubt shadowing that thought and said, “Give me half an hour,” before ending the call.
As he tipped his head back to watch the numbers close in on the ground floor, he allowed his thoughts to meander back to his office. The workload that would be waiting for him later caused a shudder to run through him. He couldn’t quash the fear that was roiling through his stomach. Months of planning and weeks of wooing a potential partner in the natural gas and oil industry. To finally see the finish line blasted off any lingering hesitation that his hard work might have been for naught.
All he’d wanted was to take his billion-dollar venture capitalist firm, Umar Capital Group, to the next level. But to give back and do that?
A dream come true, he thought with hope burgeoning in his thundering heart.
If all went according to plan, he would be partnering with this Turkish natural gas and oil company and bringing them much-needed investment. And in turn he secured the promise to helm the largest offshore development in the Indian Ocean, off the coast of oil-rich Somalia. His home long ago.
Even thinking of his plans now roused a smile.
He’d actually be helping boost Somalia’s economy, particularly for the people who needed it the most: impoverished families. Building an offshore rig would do that. Real jobs that would offer training, livable wages and transferable skills into other industries. New export opportunities, more fundamental import of food and medications, tourism and infrastructure. The beneficial effect was what refueled his passion on his worst and most trying days.
But now it’s almost here.
By tomorrow afternoon, to be precise.
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened on the lobby. Outside his office building, the cloudless blue skies and blinding white sunlight promised a good day. A hopeful one.
“To the airport,” he said to his driver before ducking into the back of his Maybach.
Everything will be fine. I have to believe it will be.
Just as he believed this meeting with Zara’s nanny would be like nothing he had ever experienced.
* * *
“Mr. Umar left the office and will be here soon.”
Maryan turned to the brawny, tall man standing over her, his lightly accented English reminding her she’d flown thousands of miles to Istanbul. He had introduced himself as Burak, head of security for the Umar Capital Group. There were three other men with him, and they all wore the same dark clothing, earpieces and shades to mask their eyes. Anyone who glanced at them knew they were security detail. Their attempt to blend in failed.
Even Zara leaned in at one point and whispered, loudly, “Why are they here?”
Maryan didn’t know how to answer her seven-year-old charge.
She eyed the broad-shouldered Burak, and she had to guess he was looking at them, too. She couldn’t tell with his sunglasses blocking his eyes. Unsettled but not feeling as though she should be worried about Zara’s safety or her own, she wrapped an arm around the little girl’s shoulders and hugged her to her side.
They waited on Zara’s father.
Faisal Umar.
The multibillionaire CEO known throughout Europe and Asia for his playboy antics. It turned out he was a workaholic as well. Not that the media ever focused on that. Too boring. Why report about him working long hours when the world could gab about his fast and furious lifestyle in VIP clubs and on massive super yachts?
She had met him a few times, but it hadn’t been enough to judge his character.
Maryan had taken a fine-tooth comb to his background on the plane. Poring over every detail she could learn about him. Adding it to what Zara’s mom, Salma, had told her. So far Maryan knew Zara was born in Istanbul, and Salma and Faisal co-parented for a few years. Then Salma landed her first leading movie role and moved to Hollywood to be closer to the heart of the star-studded action.
It did feel a little wrong digging into his background. But she couldn’t afford to feel ashamed. Zara would be living with her father now, but Maryan had been her primary caregiver for four years. Naturally, she was concerned. And her concerns encouraged her snoo
Zara needed a parent who would be present. Maybe not always, but enough that she shouldn’t have to feel like a burden.
And as far as first impressions went, Faisal wasn’t giving a good one.
She had anticipated he would be there to greet them when their plane landed. Instead, his security goons had swarmed them. They would’ve whisked them off to meet Faisal wherever he was, but Maryan was fatigued from the flight and mightily annoyed that Faisal hadn’t shown up. Putting her foot down had been too easy. She wouldn’t budge with Zara, she’d explained to Burak. Not until Zara’s dad put in an appearance. She wasn’t asking Faisal to bid his company away. And yet that was how his security had treated her demand. Coolly appalled by her request, Burak had turned away to phone his boss.
Luckily, Faisal saw it differently.
Now he had only to show his face and they could be off.
But what if he’s a brute? What if it’s clear that Zara won’t be safe with him?
Then she’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it.
“How long do we have to wait here?” Zara tugged on Maryan’s hand, her tiny palm sticky with sweat. “Is my daddy coming?”
He’d better be.
Out loud Maryan said, “Not much longer, hopefully,” and she eyed Burak while she said it to make the point clear.
Zara lowered her head. “Does Daddy not want me?”
Her heart seized painfully at the warble of unease in Zara’s small voice. Dropping to a crouch before her, she took Zara’s hands and squeezed comfort into her. Without needing to think it over, she assured her, “Of course he wants you. You’re here, aren’t you?”
“But he’s not here,” the little girl rejoined with the most plaintive of whines.
“That’s because he’s a very busy man. Sometimes when adults have to work, they forget the time, but they don’t forget their love for family.”
Zara nodded, but she looked glum even after, and Maryan’s heart broke ten times over.
Finally, when she couldn’t take the torture of watching Zara’s downheartedness, she left her to stalk over to Burak. Steam must have been misting out of her ears, because she could’ve sworn he drew up to his full height. As though she posed him actual danger. Mentally rolling her eyes, she marched his way. She didn’t reach him before a knock on the pocket doors to the VIP room turned all their heads.
Burak scowled and signaled for the others to draw in. They fell into a tactical maneuver, one they must have practiced many times judging by how quickly and efficiently they moved as one unit and one team.
Meanwhile, Maryan retraced her steps to Zara.
“What’s happening?” Zara whispered, hugging Maryan and leaning into her.
She wasn’t given the chance to smooth over Zara’s fear.
Burak opened one of the sliding doors and disappeared through. A few slow and tugging heartbeats later, he returned with someone else.
Maryan recognized Faisal instantly.
So did Zara.
“Daddy!” She shot up from her chair and bounced eagerly, her excitement unmistakable.
Faisal broke off from chatting with Burak, a wide and brilliant smile breaking over his ruggedly handsome face.
He dropped down to a knee and opened his arms to Zara.
Zara looked up at Maryan, her eyes asking if she could go to him. She wasn’t about to stop the father-daughter moment from happening. She had her qualms about Faisal, true. And at some point she planned to bring them to his attention. But there was a time and place for everything. Here and now wasn’t it.
With a smile and a nod, Maryan gave her blessing.
Zara beamed and didn’t wait for any other confirmation.
“Daddy,” she squealed, and ran to him.
Faisal caught her, laughing and pretending that Zara had the strength to topple him.
“Zara,” he breathed into her hair, hugging her close. “I missed you.”
They remained like that for a long while. Maryan hung back, seeing no reason to interrupt their reunion. It didn’t matter that her heart was in knots when Zara clung to her father. Faisal had to disentangle her small hands from the back of his neck to get her to look at him. She strained to hear Zara’s whisper, pushing off her heels to lean in and eavesdrop over the dull ringing in her ears.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Zara said quietly, her head dropping low. Dejection coming off her in waves. Any joy she had displayed at seeing her dad disappeared.
“I’m sorry. I know I promised to be here when the plane arrived, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere else.” He pulled Zara into his arms again. From over Zara’s shoulder, he finally looked at Maryan.
She could have sworn his eyes widened a fraction.
And he stared a long time. Too long. To the point of making her squirm, and not with an unpleasant and unwanted feeling.
In reality, his staring couldn’t have lasted for more than a few seconds, and yet his gaze seared through her. She hugged her arms around her middle, feeling the oddest sensation of having been branded, which was ridiculous because she didn’t know him. She couldn’t presume through one look that he would somehow desire her.
Of the handful of times Faisal had come to visit his daughter in Los Angeles, Maryan couldn’t recall anything more than pleasantries exchanged between them. It wasn’t as though their worlds collided regularly.
He lived and worked in Istanbul and was an excessively wealthy bachelor.
They couldn’t be more different.
While she struggled to balance paying off her student debt, her rent and her car loan, he had more money than most people ever saw in their lifetimes. And no matter how close she felt to Zara, she had always known that one day her job as nanny would come to an end. Envy that Faisal had the rest of his life to spend with his daughter coated her thoughts and cooled the flare of attraction warming her lower belly. At least most of it by the time Faisal broke eye contact and concentrated on comforting Zara.
Maryan tightened her arms over her flip-flopping stomach.
Faisal stood and clasped Zara’s hand as he walked her back over.
“Are you okay?” Maryan asked, her attention lowering to Zara.
The little girl bobbed her head, but with a sullen air.
She opened her mouth to ask again, her heart stuffed in her throat, when Faisal spoke and redirected her focus.
“Nice to see you again, Maryan. Sorry for arriving late. I’ve been working through a business deal that’s been stealing too much of my time.”
She supposed his charmingly sheepish smile was meant to be an apology.
Disappointment dropped like a stone in her stomach and squashed the beginnings of a silly crush on him.
She should have been grateful. Catching feelings for him wasn’t on her agenda. Instead of gratitude, she felt empty. Until the anger flooded in, fast and abundant.
It took everything in her to accept his handshake. She exhausted her energy pushing the fiery emotion down and packing it away. Later, she vowed. When they were alone, just the two of them, and where she couldn’t hurt Zara with any harsh words to Faisal.
“I hope you can forgive me?” he said.
He had made his daughter wait—made her believe that she was forgotten. That she was unwanted and unloved...
She looked down pointedly at Zara and then up again, finding herself no less immune to his thoughtful brown eyes. Those striking gray hairs swimming in with the rest of his long night-colored curls. His flaring Nubian nose, sculpted cheekbones, clean-shaven square jaw, and too-wide, too-full smiling mouth.
Maryan swallowed at the first blush of renewed heat coursing through her body, humming a siren song she didn’t like at all. Not for one second.
She snatched her hand away before she realized what she’d done.
Faisal lowered his hand slowly, confusion written openly on his face.
Zara piped up then with perfect timing, “I’m hungry.”
“Good, because we’re having lunch together,” Faisal told her, his befuddlement erased and his devastating smile back with a vengeance. “I have everything prepared. We’ll leave now and make it in time before traffic plagues the streets.”
