Dammam Desire
"Huda manages the family pearl business in Dammam. When investor Rashid threatens a hostile takeover, their boardroom battles become bedroom surrender. 'Al lu'lu' al haqiqi ma yihtaj polish' (اللؤلؤ الحقيقي ما يحتاج بوليش) - Real pearls don't need polish."
"You're making a mistake."
Rashid Al-Farhan smiled, shark-like. "I don't make mistakes, Miss Al-Shammari. I make acquisitions."
Huda gripped the boardroom table until her knuckles whitened. Her family's pearl business—three generations of legacy—reduced to numbers on his spreadsheet.
"Inta mish fahim," she said coldly. You don't understand.
"Afham aktar mima titawaqqa'in." I understand more than you expect.
The battle lasted months. Every move Huda made, Rashid countered. Every defense she mounted, he dismantled.
"Why us?" she demanded during yet another hostile meeting. "There are bigger companies."
"But none with you." His eyes swept her form appreciatively. "Your reputation is... legendary."
"My reputation is that I don't lose."
"Kul shi fih awwal marra." There's a first time for everything.
The night before the final shareholder vote, Huda worked late. Footsteps in the empty office made her heart stutter.
"Miin hnak?" Who's there?
Rashid emerged from shadows. "Working late to find a miracle?"
"Get out."
"La." He approached her desk. "Aji aqaddim 'ard thani." I came to make a different offer.
"I don't want your offers."
"You don't know what I'm offering yet." He sat across from her, thobe pristine despite the hour. "Merge with me instead of selling."
"Eih?"
"Partners. Equal shares. Your expertise, my capital." His voice dropped. "Wa shi thani."
"What else?"
"Ana." Me.
Huda laughed bitterly. "You expect me to believe you want me?"
"I've wanted you since you called me a 'ibn al sharmuta' in front of the board." His smile was genuine. "No one's spoken to me like that in twenty years."
"I meant every word."
"A'arif." I know. "Lihadha bahebik." That's why I love you.
"This is a trick."
"La." He rounded the desk. "Hatha i'tiraf." This is confession. "I started this takeover to meet you. To challenge you. To find out if you were real."
"And?"
"Inti ahla min kul lu'lu' bihathi al dunya." You're more precious than every pearl in this world.
The first kiss was warfare—biting, claiming, neither surrendering. Rashid lifted her onto the desk, scattering hostile takeover documents.
"Guli aiwa," he demanded between kisses. Say yes.
"To what?"
"Li kul shi." To everything.
Clothes fell like business deals—negotiated fiercely, concluded breathlessly. Rashid groaned at the sight of her curves.
"Mashallah." His hands spanned her waist. "Inti kanz makhfi." You're hidden treasure.
"I'm not hidden."
"From me you were." He kissed down her throat. "Li ghaflati." Due to my blindness.
He worshipped her on the boardroom table—mouth mapping territory he planned to claim forever. Huda writhed beneath him, pride dissolving into pleasure.
"Aktar," she demanded. "Rashid, aktar!"
"Amrayn." Your command.
His tongue drove her to peak once, twice. Then he rose, eyes blazing.
"Abghaki."
"Tafaddal." She pulled him close. "Khuthni." Take me.
He filled her with a groan that echoed through empty offices. They moved together like rivals finally finding rhythm—fierce and tender, competitive and collaborative.
"Inti kamla," he gasped. "Makhluqa li." Made for me.
"Wa inta made for me."
"Ana qareeb," he warned.
"Sawa." She wrapped thick thighs around him. "Aw la aji." Together or not at all.
"Bossy," he laughed breathlessly.
"Get used to it."
They crested together, the boardroom ringing with their cries. In the aftermath, tangled on scattered papers, Rashid laughed.
"Al lu'lu' al haqiqi ma yihtaj polish," he murmured. Real pearls don't need polish.
"Eih ya'ni?" What does that mean?
"You. Perfect exactly as you are."
The merger was announced a week later—shocking the business world and delighting both families. Huda Al-Shammari and Rashid Al-Farhan: partners in business, partners in life.
"Kayf ha titahammalni?" How will you handle me? she asked on their wedding night.
"Bil hubb." With love. "Wa bil sabr." And with patience.
"Ma 'andi sabr." I don't have patience.
"A'arif." He kissed her deeply. "Lihadha inti perfect li."
The pearl business flourished under their combined leadership. Some said it was their complementary skills.
Those who knew them better understood the truth: some mergers transcended spreadsheets.
They were written in the heart.