Sheikh in the City

It didn’t seem like a huge obligation to him. “Will it take all day?”

“In most instances, it wouldn’t.” Her tone turned wry. “But this particular party is an hour outside the city in Connecticut and the parents are insisting on an epicurean feast.”

“You don’t agree with their menu choices,” he gathered.

She sobered and said diplomatically, “It’s not my place to agree or disagree with a client’s menu choices.”

“But?” Raising his eyebrows he invited her confidence.

After a moment she admitted, “I just don’t think the average kindergartner will enjoy what they have selected. After all, certain foods are considered an acquired taste for good reason.”

Madani found himself chuckling, charmed by her honesty. “What have they ordered? Caviar blintzes?”

“Close.” She smiled and he spied a dimple lurking low on her right cheek. It lent an air of impishness to her otherwise classical features. “At least I managed to talk the mother out of an appetizer of duck liver pâté in favor of ham rolls. Even so, I’m pretty sure there are going to be plenty of leftovers. She wouldn’t budge on the veal marsala or the side of roasted root vegetables.”

“I guess this means you won’t be available.”

She nibbled her lower lip. The gesture was uncomfortably and unaccountably sexy. “I may be able to accommodate you,” she said at last. “I have an assistant I could leave in charge of the birthday party. Of course, a lot depends on the time of your gathering and what you would like to serve.”

Madani wasn’t sure if his relief came from knowing Emily would be preparing the meal for his guests or from knowing he would have the opportunity to see her again. “I can be very amenable when the situation calls for it. When shall we meet to discuss the details?”

“I’m free tomorrow morning if you are.”

He had three meetings lined up back-to-back before noon, but he nodded anyway. As he’d said, he could be amenable when the situation called for it. This one did, though he refused to explore why he felt that way.

Emily went to retrieve a business card. Handing it to him, she said, “I’m an early riser. Feel free to call any time after nine o’clock.”

The card was still in Madani’s hand and a smile on his face when he met his driver downstairs.

“I trust you had a good evening,” Azeem Harrah said.

Azeem was not only Madani’s driver, but a trusted confidant and sometimes bodyguard who traveled with him whenever he went abroad. The two men had been friends since boyhood. Azeem’s father was a long-serving member of Kashaqra’s parliament. His uncle sat on the country’s high court. He was educated and at times outspoken, but above all he was loyal—to Madani and to Kashaqra.

“Very good. The Hendersons are generous hosts and the food was…exquisite.” His smile broadened.

“I know that smile.” Azeem laughed as he shifted the Mercedes into Drive and eased the vehicle into traffic. “A woman is behind it.”

Madani grew serious. “You are mistaken, my friend.”

“Am I?”

“Those days are over.”

“Why?” Azeem challenged.

“You know why, even if you do not agree with my decision,” he said.

“That is because it was not your decision,” Azeem shot back. “I cannot believe you are going through with an arranged marriage. You!”

In Kashaqra, Madani was known for holding much more progressive views than his father, even though during the past three decades Sheikh Adil Hammad Tarim had ushered in much change.

“You know my reasons.”

“Your father’s health is fine, sadiqi,” Azeem said, using the Arabic word for friend. “The heart attack he suffered last fall was mild.”

It hadn’t seemed mild at the time. Madani closed his eyes, recalling anew the way his father’s face had turned ashen just before he’d crumpled to the floor. They’d been arguing over this very matter. Arranged marriages were not set in stone. They could be nullified under a limited set of circumstances, none of which applied to Madani. Still, given Adil’s position, he could have voided it, but his father wouldn’t hear of it. His own union had been contracted and all had turned out well. He believed the same would hold true for his son.

“My engagement to Nawar is his wish, his will.”

Azeem shook his head. He didn’t understand. Madani didn’t expect him to.

“Well, you are not engaged yet. There would be nothing wrong with a final…fling, I believe is the word the Americans use.”

Madani gazed out the car’s tinted window and let the conversation lapse. He wasn’t officially engaged. That much was true. His betrothal to Nawar would be announced later in the summer. But he was not free. Indeed, in this regard, he never had been.

Emily arrived home just before midnight. She felt exhausted and invigorated at the same time. In addition to the enigmatic Dan, two other guests of the Hendersons’ party had requested her business cards tonight. As it was, the Hendersons had paid her generously, per usual. Of course, she’d had to hire a couple of extra hands to pull off the meal and serving, but deducting for expenses, wages and other incidentals, she still had a decent sum to deposit into her savings account come Monday morning.

It took her three trips to cart everything from the catering van to her fourth-floor apartment from which she also ran her business. Then she had to move the van to her spot at a paid lot half a block away. Once in her apartment she wanted to collapse on the couch, but she spent another twenty minutes putting away chafing dishes, serving utensils and other items before she finally propped her aching feet atop the coffee table in what passed for a living room.

The stack of mail cushioning her heels drew her attention. She hadn’t had time for more than a cursory glance at the envelopes before leaving for the Hendersons that afternoon. Most contained bills. A few were junk mail. Only one was personal and would require a response. She pulled her feet to the floor and sifted through the pile until she found it. Even without opening the thick envelope she knew what was inside: an invitation to her younger sister’s wedding.

On an oath, she ripped back the flap and pulled out a square of ivory vellum. The quality of the paper and the engraved lettering had cost their parents a fortune, but then nothing was ever too good for Elle.

Emily’s younger sister could do no wrong. Even the fact that she was engaged to marry Emily’s ex-boyfriend, who had not yet been an ex when Elle first began seeing him, elicited no censure from their parents. Rather, Emily had been called on to be more “understanding” and, later, to be “happy” that her flighty baby sibling was finally settling down.

Elle Lauren Merit and Reed David Benedict, together with their parents, request the honor of your presence at their wedding…

Emily got no further than that before crumpling the invitation in her hand. Out of respect for the tree that had been chopped down to produce the paper, she decided to toss it in the recycling bin rather than the garbage. But she had no intention of honoring Elle and Reed with her presence as they exchanged I Dos, any more than she planned to give in to her mother’s urging that she don a bridesmaid gown and join the wedding party.

It wasn’t that Emily couldn’t forgive them. She wanted to believe she was bigger than that despite their monumental betrayal. No, it was the fact that neither of them had ever so much as acknowledged the pain they’d caused her or offered an apology of any sort. Quite the opposite. Elle had manipulated her illicit affair with her older sister’s longtime beau into proof positive that true love could not be denied.

“It’s destiny, Em. The answer to my prayers. Reed and I were made for one another,” she’d had the gall to claim. As if Emily was supposed to feel so much better knowing her sister had been hot for her boyfriend from the very beginning.

Reed had been neither romantic nor idyllic. Rather, he shifted the blame for his infidelity squarely to Emily.

“If you weren’t always so busy catering parties you might have noticed how unhappy I was,” he’d told her when she’d learned of the affair.

His remark had landed like a sucker punch. “I have a business, Reed.” A business he’d been only too happy to help her create and grow when it had been convenient for him.

“Don’t remind me.” He’d snorted in disgust. “You’re very much in demand these days.”

“Am I supposed to apologize for being successful?”

“No, but you shouldn’t act so surprised that with so much free time on my hands I found someone else.”

“That someone else is my sister!” she’d shouted.

He’d merely shrugged. “Elle understands me. She’s not interested in having a demanding career and working long hours. She wants to be supportive of me so that I can advance in mine.”