by Jackie Braun
She took her time plating the sea bass, hoping to get control of her emotions. She could do this without making a fool of herself.
While Mrs. Patterson served the entrée, Emily dashed to the powder room just off the kitchen. There was no help for her attire, but she removed the net and unpinned her hair. Despite a vigorous finger-combing, it remained crimped in some places and flat in others. Well, it would have to do.
When she returned to the dining room, Babs had moved to make room for her. Emily took the seat next to Madani, laying a cloth napkin across the lap of cotton work pants. Fool, she thought. And that was before Babs unintentionally tossed out a verbal grenade.
“The sea bass is delightful, Emily.” She glanced around the table. “Denby and I are so proud of her and all she has accomplished. We practically discovered her and here she is five years later, making a meal for a sheikh.”
Emily’s polite smile dimmed in confusion. “A sheikh?”
“Sheikh Madani Abdul Tarim.” Babs frowned. “He didn’t allow me to formally introduce him that day in my kitchen, but I assumed you knew.”
Emily’s ears had begun to buzz. She turned to Madani, feeling oddly betrayed. “You’re a sheikh. You told me you were the owner of an export business.”
“I am. Among other things.”
“You might have mentioned those other things included being the ruler of a country.”
“I am not the ruler.” He cleared his throat and a dull flush stained his cheeks before he added, “Yet.”
“Uh-oh,” Babs said sotto voce. “It looks like I may have opened up a can of worms.”
Emily reached for her water glass. “No can of worms. I was mistaken about what he did for a living. That’s all. But it doesn’t matter. I’m only the caterer. It’s not like the sheikh owed me the truth.”
“Oh. Well, it’s a good thing you feel that way,” Babs said. Lowering her voice, as if that made any difference when other diners could still hear her, she said, “For a moment, it almost sounded like maybe the two of you were…involved.”
“We’re not involved,” Emily said.
“No,” Madani agreed.
“Of course you’re not,” Babs said with a vigorous nod. “How could you be when Madani is engaged to be married?”
Engaged!
To think a moment ago Emily had been flummoxed to discover he was a sheikh. Her throat worked spasmodically now. It was a good thing she’d already swallowed the sip of water she’d taken. She camouflaged her reaction by dabbing her mouth with her napkin. Too bad the square of fabric wasn’t bigger so she could hide behind it and give in to the tears that were stinging her eyes.
“Emily—” Madani began. Beneath the table, his fingers brushed her thigh.
But she turned to Babs. “Yes, he’s engaged. And me, well, you know me, Babs. My career is my life.”
How she got through the rest of the meal she didn’t know. But she did and with a surprising amount of dignity. She even contributed to the conversation, offering her two-cents on global trade. All the while she politely ignored Madani and the hand he periodically rested on her thigh. Dessert was served to rave reviews. Afterward, she excused herself. Her work here was done.
She was packing up her supplies when he entered the kitchen.
“Emily, I owe you…”
She rattled off a dollar amount. At his frown, she clarified, “What you owe me. The truffles cost more than I anticipated.”
“I don’t care about the money.” He was every inch the wealthy ruler when he waved a hand in dismissal of the sum. “I want to apologize.”
“For lying to me?” she asked. “Or for cheating on your fiancée?”
“I didn’t lie. Nor did I cheat.”
“You’re engaged!”
“No.” Emily’s heart lifted, only to plunge again when he added, “Not yet.”
“Please don’t tell me you think that makes me feel any better,” she whispered. “I was…and you…we nearly…”
“I know.” He heaved a sigh. “I can only imagine what you must think of me, but I did not mean for any of this to happen.”
Okay, did he think that was going to make her feel better?
She crossed her arms. “Coming by my apartment last night, staying even after my assistants left, that wasn’t an accident, Madani. Or Sheikh Tarim.” Her hands fell to her sides. “What do I call you now?”
“I am the same man, Emily. Sheikh is only a title.”
“No. I don’t know you.” She exhaled wearily. “I don’t know myself. But at least I’m not in a serious relationship with someone else and trying to pick up a little on the side.” Her eyes began to sting. “When were you going to mention her? Or were you going to at all? And here I thought you were so different from Reed.”
Madani’s heart already felt pulverized, but Emily’s mention of her philandering ex-boyfriend delivered a punishing blow. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t set out to hurt or deceive her, he was guilty of both.
“After what happened yesterday…I was going to tell you everything tonight.”
“Well, Babs saved you the trouble.”
“I mean before the dinner party.” He’d paced his bedroom, knowing Emily was in the kitchen and that he owed her the truth. He’d tried to come up with the right words to explain not only his situation, but what she had come to mean to him. But English eluded him despite his longtime fluency. He’d actually had to write out his apology, first in Arabic and then translate it. Finally he’d gone to see her. “But Mrs. Patterson interrupted me and my guests were arriving.”
“Your guests.” Her face bleached of color. “Go out and see to them. You’re the host.”
“You are more important to me,” he insisted.
“No.” Her eyes turned bright. “Please, if you care about me at all, for the sake of my personal and professional reputations, go out there before they begin to talk. As it is, they have reason enough to speculate on the exact nature of our relationship.”
He nodded. He would do as she asked. He’d caused her enough distress. “Promise me you will not leave before we can talk.”
“What is there left to say?”
“Promise me.” His thoughts turned to the real estate deal he’d struck on Emily’s behalf that morning. It had cost him a bundle, but it did little to repay the debt he owed her. “I have something for you.”
It was almost an hour before his guests left and Madani could return to the kitchen. Emily was sitting at the table drinking a glass of water.
“Thank you for waiting.”
She shrugged. “I said I would.”
“I have something for you.” He pulled some papers from the inside pocket of his suit coat. “It’s my way of saying I’m sorry.”
She unfolded the document, a legal agreement for the purchase of the building whose location she’d said was perfect for her restaurant. As he watched, her confusion gave way to comprehension. He waited for a smile, expected some joy. What he got was white-hot fury.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“It’s a purchase agreement.” He frowned. “I bought the entire building.”
“And, what, you’re just giving it to me?”
“Yes. I want you to have it. You deserve it.”
It became apparent immediately that was the wrong thing to say. “Because we nearly slept together? Gee, would I get a small country if we’d actually had sex? Is this your idea of payment for services rendered?”
Madani’s eyes widened. He hadn’t considered that Emily might view his gift in such an ominous light. “No. Don’t think of it like that. My intention was only to make you happy, and to atone for my behavior last night.”
She crumpled the papers, tossed them aside. “You lied to me, Madani. You have a fiancée!” Before he could argue, she said, “Excuse me, I forgot. You’re not actually engaged yet. But that’s semantics in my book. If you love her enough to consider proposing, you should love her enough to be faithful.”
“I do not love her! I love…I love…” He released an oath in his native tongue. “You make this so difficult.”
She said nothing, though her eyes had grown wide. Under her watchful gaze, he paced the length of his kitchen. The truth. He needed to reveal the last damning bit, that part that he’d hidden even from himself. Maybe then some of this pain would go away. He stilled, faced her.
“I love you, Emily.
“You love… No!” She shook her head and his heart ached anew.
“As preposterous as it may seem, I think I started falling for you the moment Babs introduced us.” Had that really been a couple of weeks ago?
“What about your fiancée or girlfriend or whatever? Did you just fall out of love with her?”
“I never fell in. In truth, I barely know her.” He walked to the table and smoothed out the documents. “It is an arrangement, not much different than the purchase of this building. It was brokered by our parents when I was but a boy.”
“An arranged marriage?” She appeared skeptical. He needed to believe she also was relieved to hear that he didn’t love Nawar.
“Yes. They still have those in my country. They are falling out of fashion and favor, especially among the younger generation, but…” Madani lifted his shoulders.
“Are they…legally binding?”
“Not according to the laws of Kashaqra, but morally…” He thought of his father, again saw Adil slump to the floor. In this case, Madani’s future was etched in stone. “I am obligated.”
“So you will go through with it.”
Jaw clenched, he nodded.
“I see.”
No, she didn’t. He needed to make her understand. Madani took the seat next to hers and reached for her hand. “You say that I lied to you, Emily. Yes, I did. I lied to myself, too. I thought I could be satisfied to merely spend time with you, to be your friend. But the longer I knew you… You fascinate me on every level. I have never met your equal.”
He watched her swallow before she said, “You claim to love me, yet in the same breath you spell out what the future holds for us, or rather, for you.” Her voice grew hoarse. Her eyes were bright with tears. “What do you expect me to say to that?”
“I do not know.” He’d never felt so powerless, so hopeless and lost. “Perhaps there is nothing for you to say.”
Yet he waited, masochist that he was, hoping she would return the sentiment.
Emily pulled her hand from his and stood. “An apology is all I’m due. I accept yours. But I can’t accept this.” She nodded toward the papers. “It’s…too much.”
To his mind, it was not nearly enough. Given the chance, he’d give her the world.
“Please,” he urged, rising to his feet. “I want you to have it. Opening The Merit is your dream. Let me help you make it come true.”
“No.”
Her dream?
Emily pondered that as she drove home. Was owning a restaurant all she wanted in life? She’d thought so. She’d been quite certain, in fact. Until Madani told her he loved her.
Part of her had thrilled at his declaration. God knew, it had taken restraint she hadn’t been aware she possessed to keep her true feelings from spilling out. A glance at the big picture had made it easier to hold them in. He wasn’t free. Sheikh or no sheikh, his destiny had been decided long before they’d met, and Emily wasn’t part of it.
He’d offered her the building for her restaurant as a consolation prize—one heck of a consolation prize, but a consolation prize nonetheless. Here was her dream on a silver platter. The problem? It wasn’t her only dream any longer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN Madani answered the phone early the next morning after a sleepless night, it was his mother, and her tone warned him that she was not happy.
“I have called four times in half as many days. Unless you have been stricken too ill to dial a telephone, I will expect both an explanation and an apology.”
“I have no excuse, Mother, so I can only apologize. I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“As your mother, I expect to worry. It comes with the territory.”
“Well, then, I hope your mind is now at ease.”
“It would be, but you sound unhappy.” Leave it to Fadilah to decipher his emotions from the opposite side of the planet.
“I am not unhappy,” he lied, and poured more coffee from a brass cezve. “Preoccupied would be a better word choice.”
“Hmm. Nawar is preoccupied as well,” Fadilah replied, misconstruing his meaning. “Or so her mother tells me. Have you spoken with her?”
He chose to act obtuse. “With Nawar’s mother?”
“Not with Bahira,” she chided. “Nawar.”
Madani could count the number of times he and his betrothed had spoken over the years, either in person or on the telephone. None of their communications had been spontaneous or terribly personal. And none had occurred in recent weeks.
“No. But I trust she is well.”
“Yes. I met with her and Bahira for lunch the other day to discuss the menu for the feast. We want it to be extra special given its significance this year. That is the reason for my call.”
He sipped his coffee, barely listening. The mention of menus had him thinking of Emily. “I’m sure whatever the three of you decide will be fine.”
“Normally I would feel the same way, but Nawar has made an interesting suggestion.”
The comment snagged his attention. “Regarding?”
“She said as a way to pay homage to Kashaqra’s growing recognition abroad—thanks in part to your efforts to promote our artisans and craftsmen—the menu of the final feast should be international with a sampling of foods from around the globe.”
Food…now Emily was definitely on his mind and, though he knew it was pure folly, an idea began to germinate.
“How does Bahira feel about Nawar’s suggestion?” he asked diplomatically.
“Bah!” Fadilah spat. “Bahira is too narrow-minded. If it were up to her Kashaqra’s borders would be lined with barbed wire fences to prevent outside visitors, and television and the Internet would be banned because of their corrupt influences. She does not welcome simple change much less that which breaks from tradition.”
“And you, Mother?”
“I believe in honoring the traditions that have been handed down through the centuries. In doing so, we honor our ancestors. But I like Nawar’s idea for the final feast. Besides, the calendar year contains three hundred and sixty-four other days during which our people can dine on what is familiar.” He pictured his mother’s mouth turning down as she shrugged.
“So, am I to cast the deciding vote?” he asked.
“You give yourself too much credit,” Fadilah chided. “I’ve already had my head together with the palace chef about the menu.”
Madani swallowed. His mother adored the portly Riyad’s preparation of regional dishes, but having eaten at some of the finest restaurants abroad, Madani was well aware of the chef’s failings when it came to other types of cuisine.
“It’s nice to be needed,” he inserted dryly. “So why was it necessary to reach me?”
“Nawar thought you might have some favorite dishes that we could include.”
He thought of the sea bass and the caramel trifle he’d dined on just the night before. “I do, but Riyad is not experienced enough to do them justice.”
“He can learn.”
“Or perhaps he can be taught.” Foolish or not, the idea grew. He gave it voice. “There is a chef here with whom I’ve become acquainted that I may be able to persuade to help with the feast. This chef is very skilled with a variety of cuisines.”
“Riyad won’t like it…” his mother began. Then, “Oh, very well. If we are to serve your favorite dishes it makes sense to have them cooked to your liking. Hire whomever you wish.”
After the call ended, Madani scrubbed a hand over his face. What he was thinking was absurd, insane. Assuming Emily agreed
with his plan, and that was far from a given, he would be putting himself in the excruciating position of being with her without being with her.
Perhaps it was just as well that she hadn’t said she loved him, too. That would make it all the more difficult to subjugate his feelings and mask his emotions around his family. But his pain would be worth it if Emily agreed to earn from him what she’d refused to accept as a gift.
Emily was meeting Donna for drinks, hoping to repair their damaged friendship. She locked the door’s dead bolt and tucked her keys in her purse. When she turned to leave, she nearly ran into Madani’s chest.
“Hello, Emily.”
God, he looked good. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, confess her true feelings and beg him to find a way out of his arranged marriage. For that matter, she wanted to slug him a good one for being so seemingly perfect that she fell for him.
Instead, after silently cursing fate, she steadied her rioting emotions, rallied her pride and said with forced indifference, “I’m just on my way out.”
He nodded. “I should have called.”
They both knew why he hadn’t. She wouldn’t have agreed to see him.
“Well, I need to be going. Whatever you came to say will have to wait for another time.” Such as the next millennium.
Emily started toward the elevator. When he fell into step beside her, she opted to take the stairs instead. No way was she going to tempt her pathetically weak resolve by spending even a short ride to the lobby in a confined space with him.
“It can’t wait, Emily. I must leave soon.”
“Oh, that’s right. Back to Kashaqra and your almost bride-to-be.” The accusation echoed in the stairwell.
“Yes,” he agreed flatly.
Emily gritted her teeth. So now he was all for being open and honest. “I fail to see what that has to do with me.”
“I assume you have not changed your mind about accepting the building.”
“No.”
“Then I have a business proposition to make.”
That stopped her. She turned and stared at him. “I don’t understand?”