Ameer
Book 5 in The Brothers Ali
By
USA Today Bestselling Author
Celeste Granger
Note from the Publisher: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or references to locations, persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental. The characters, circumstances, and events are imaginative and not intended to reflect real events.
Ameer – The Brothers Ali Book 5
Copyright 2020 Celeste Granger
All Rights Reserved and Proprietary.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or format without written permission from Publisher. Send all requests via email to [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
Want to be in the know? Subscribe to my newsletter to be a part of Celeste Granger's Tangled Romance!
https://www.prolificworks.com/discover/author/32447/celeste_granger
Follow me on Facebook @ https://www.facebook.com/TheCelesteGranger/
Want to join my reading group, Reading with Celeste? Follow the link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1943300475969127/
Acknowledgment
Greetings, reading family. Here we are again. Can you believe this is the last Ali Brother? I have such mixed emotions about this being the last one. I feel like I was just writing the first words on Basel, and here we are, writing the first words on Ameer. It happened so quickly. More than anything, though, I am so grateful that you all embraced the Ali Brothers. Your reviews, inboxes, messages, and comments have made writing this series all worthwhile. I could never thank you enough for your unwavering support of my literary journey.
I also need to express a heartfelt thank you to my literary support team. Thank you, Alpha readers, editors, graphic designers, and ARC team. I can’t do this alone. I appreciate you. Last but not least, thank you to my family and friends who continue to pray for me and lift me up. I couldn’t do this without all of you rocking with me.
I want to give a special acknowledgment to Mr. John A. White, who I hope to honor in this fictional work with a word of truth. While visiting family in Atlanta, we visited his driving range. As a left-hander, it is difficult to find golf clubs sometimes. But Mr. White was kind enough to give me a set of clubs that were simply perfect for me. Thank you again, Mr. White, for your kindness and generosity of spirit.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to those that understand real love can’t be forced. It has to flow naturally from one soul to another.
Chapter One
“See you later, mommy.”
“See you later, Messiah,” Siobhan (pronounced Shi-vawn) Greer smiled, hugging her son tightly. When he pulled away from her, it hurt every time. But Siobhan knew she had to let him go. He was a big boy now, six years old, and starting the first grade. He couldn’t have his mom embarrassing him with little boy hugs and kisses. She didn’t get a chance to kiss him, Siobhan thought as she stood to her petite height. She also knew if she called after her son as he ran with the other children into the school building, she would embarrass Messiah beyond reproach. It might take him years to forgive her for such a blatant embarrassment. So, she said it quietly. Love you, big man, as she watched him disappear inside the building. It was the first day of school, and it was much harder for Siobhan than she imagined it would be. She stood there long after Messiah was inside.
“Did I miss him?” A male voice from behind startled Siobhan out of her daze.
Siobhan jumped nearly out of her skin at the unexpected sound. But once the initial scare wore off, she knew the voice.
“Yes, you did,” Siobhan sighed, spinning on her heels. “I’m not sure why you bother.”
“Because,” Tyrese Rogers replied, following behind Siobhan as she quick-stepped towards her car.
“Because what, Tyrese?”
“Because,” Tyrese paused, “he’s still important to me,” he explained. “I still care about him.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Siobhan quipped. She didn’t bother listening to anything more Tyrese had to say. She’d heard it all before, and it was the same story every time. His actions never changed, and Siobhan was tired of trying to understand. Tyrese didn’t put up much of a fuss; instead, taking a step back when she opened her car door, standing there watching her climb in. Siobhan didn’t give Tyrese a second thought, sticking the key in the ignition and turning it over. With a quick look in her side mirror to make sure no traffic was coming, she pulled away from the curb, leaving Tyrese standing in his tracks.
Siobhan drove in the direction of her studio, Move with Me, and tried to forget that Tyrese nearly ruined Messiah’s first day of school for her. She wanted to distance herself from the thoughts that tended to be pervasive when she allowed her mind to wander back to that dark place. Siobhan navigated through the Atlanta streets, turning up the radio in an attempt to drown out her thoughts. When a song she knew came on the radio, she sang it at full volume even though she didn’t know all the words for real.
The music was enough to get Siobhan to her dance studio. She experienced sound not just with her ears but with her entire being. Move with Me was her place of peace and solace. She’d been teaching dance for the past eight years, having studied professionally with the Alvin Ailey School of Dance and touring with them for several years. Dancing was how Siobhan expressed those emotions too hard to describe with words. It’s also how she dealt with her pain. The studio was empty as she walked in, closed the door behind her, and turned on the lights. She didn’t have a class for about an hour. She already had on her leotard and tights underneath the stylish jogging suit she wore for drop off. The only thing Siobhan needed was the music. After turning on the stereo, she approached the barre. The musical selection didn’t matter, she could dance to anything, and she did. The wall to wall mirrors gave Siobhan the visualization she needed as she warmed up – plie, pirouette, assemble’ and repeat until she felt her body responding. Then, Siobhan didn’t need the barre anymore. She let the music move her and let everything else go. As the music shifted and changed, so did Siobhan’s movement. When the music became melancholy, sad, and slow, her movement mimicked the sound she heard, dragging, exaggerated, pained. As she got lost in the music, those haunting thoughts returned.
Siobhan had been there from the very beginning when having a baby was just a thought in her sister Safiya’s head. It had always been there, though, since they were little girls. Safiya dreamed about having a house, a husband, at least 2.5 kids, and a white picket fence. When Siobhan was dreaming about dancing on Broadway and traveling the world, Safiya wasn’t the least bit interested. She wanted what she wanted. And Safiya got most of what she wanted. She did have a house with a white picket fence and a husband that loved her. The next thing, naturally, would be achieving those 2.5 children Safiya always desired. But that’s when the dream started turning into a nightmare.
Siobhan danced harder, trying to drown out the memories, especially those that were coming because she knew the end, and the ending made her sad. She didn’t want to be sad today, not today. So, she danced, pouring all of herself into the way her body moved. She didn’t want to think about it anymore, so Siobhan danced.
Ameer Ali parked in the underground garage of Ali International. Although valet service was readily available to him, Ameer instead parked his own car. He had always been privileged. As the youngest son of the Ali empire, Ameer had never known struggle, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t cognizant of the advantages his name and lineage afforded him. He was more than aware, and as such, didn’t take his privilege lightly or abuse it, for that matter. Ameer activated the button
that closed the convertible top, then climbed out of the Mercedes Benz SL, black two-seater, and then closed the driver’s door behind him. As he strolled away, Ameer hit the button on the key fob, and locked the vehicle. It was a short stroll from the car to the elevator with his briefcase in hand. The heel of Ameer’s designer shoes could be heard striking the cement floor as he made his way to the elevator bank. He was alone as he waited for the car to arrive.
“Good morning, Mr. Ali.”
Ameer hadn’t heard her walk up because her shoes were soft-soled. But there was nothing quiet about how cheerfully she greeted him. Cheri Jones, part of the secretarial pool for the company, greeted Ameer with enthusiasm. Her perkiness was contagious and put a smile on Ameer’s face. She sauntered up next to him, her eyes trailing up until she could see his face. The smile on her face brightened even more as she gazed upon his profile. But she didn’t dare let Mr. Ali catch her staring. Cheri righted herself, turning her head and looking forward. But she was so full of energy, energized even more by her nearness to him, she vibrated. She couldn’t keep still, bouncing ever so lightly on her soft-soled heels. For Cheri, whenever the elevator arrived, it would be too soon. Ameer Ali, like the rest of his brothers, was dreamy, and Cheri, admittedly, spent plenty of time daydreaming about him. He was so fine.
But the chime did sound, marking the elevator’s arrival. Like the perfect gentleman Cheri knew he was, Ameer stepped aside and extended his arm in front of the door until she successfully crossed the threshold into the elevator car.
“Thanks so much, Mr. Ali,” Cheri said charmingly. Her heart was beating so fast, just being near him, she could hardly breathe. But she would take all the palpitations there were to have a private moment with Ameer when there were no other secretaries or women or anything else around vying for his undivided attention.
“You’re welcome,” Ameer replied. He glanced in Cheri’s direction when he stepped in the elevator and quickly glanced away. He smiled politely and then turned towards the door. He could see how Cheri looked at him. One would think Ameer had grown accustomed to women sizing him up, looking at him as though he was edible, but he would never get used to it. Usually, Ameer didn’t mind riding on the public elevator to get to the executive floor. But with Cheri eying him, he was decidedly uncomfortable. The floors couldn’t click by fast enough. When the elevator reached the lobby, Ameer considered getting out and taking the private elevator up. But before he could step out, several people stepped in as soon as the door opened, moving him further back, closer to Cheri. She couldn’t have loved it more. Ameer kept his eyes straight ahead, and his body closed to avoid any accidental contact. He’d been working in corporate America long enough to know that the slightest perceived infraction, encroachment on an employee’s personal space, could lead to unmitigated cries of sexual harassment. Although Cheri would have probably enjoyed any contact from him, Ameer refused to open himself up to that. So, he kept his distance, and at the first opportunity, moved away from her. Cheri balked, her eyes trailing after him.
Not wanting to be stuck on the elevator alone with her again, Ameer got off two floors earlier than he was supposed to and took the stairs. Some extra cardio never hurt. Opening the door onto the executive level, Ameer smoothed out his custom suit and made his way to his office.
“Good morning, Mr. Ali,” Geneva Lynn, Ameer’s executive assistant, greeted.
“Good morning, Geneva,” Ameer smiled genuinely.
Just as she did every morning Ameer came into the office, Geneva got up from her desk right outside his office and followed him into his.
“Shall we start with your morning’s agenda, sir?” Geneva asked, closing the office door behind her. She enjoyed working for Ameer. He was no-nonsense, never asking her to do anything that was below her title or give her things to do that he was responsible for. He was respectful, and always referred to her professionally whether they were in mixed company or alone. Too many of the other executives Geneva worked for in the past got too comfortable with her position, calling her by her first name as though her job was less meaningful than theirs; crossing personal and professional boundaries as though it were their place because of their title and taking her professionalism for granted because after all, she was just a glorified secretary, right? Mr. Ali never treated Geneva that way, and she appreciated him.
“Yes, please,” Ameer replied, extending his hand, inviting Geneva to sit as he positioned himself behind the desk. She followed Mr. Ali’s lead, taking her seat and crossing her legs at the ankle as she waited for Ameer to sit down. When he opened his calendar, Geneva knew he was ready. As an environmental engineer and Director of Environmental Affairs for his family’s company, Ameer’s job was to synthesize chemistry, ecology, geology, biology, microbiology, and mathematics to create solutions that would serve to protect and improve the health and wellbeing of all living organism while preserving and improving the quality of the environment. Ali International was vested in natural resources and ensuring that not only were they protected but also used in such a way that those indigenous to the regions where natural resources could be found benefited from what their natural environments offered.
“At 9:30, you have a telephone conference with Seeding Worldwide to discuss the logistics and roll-out plan for planting 10,000 trees. At 10:30, you have a face to face conference with the mayor regarding the pollution measures that were recently submitted. And at 11:30, you have a meeting with Basel to go over the budget for your division,” Geneva continued unabated. “I only penciled you in for a half-hour lunch as you have a meeting at 1:00 p.m. with the Ambassador of Ghana. I anticipate that the meeting will last at least two hours. I have left your 3:00 p.m. slot flexible just in case it runs over.”
Ameer looked up from his calendar. “Anything else?” When he smiled, Geneva smiled.
“Just one more thing, Mr. Ali. A reminder that I am scheduled to go on vacation next week.”
“What am I going to do without you?” Ameer asked. He meant it jokingly, but there was a grain of truth to what he said, and Geneva knew it.
“I have everything laid out for you in specific detail. I have emailed it to you and updated your calendar. One of the ladies from the secretarial pool will substitute for me, so you don’t have to worry about bringing anyone on. I will debrief her fully regarding your expectations and how to support you.”
“You mean, handle me, don’t you?” Ameer chuckled.
“Well, support, handle, whatever gets the job done,” Geneva smiled. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll hold your calls for your meetings,” she said, lifting in one smooth motion from her chair. “Anything else, Mr. Ali?”
“No, I think my day is covered.”
“Excellent,” Geneva said as she turned and walked towards the door. All Ameer could do was shake his head, the smile remaining on his lips. Geneva was his backbone. He would miss her, even if she was only going to be gone for a little while.
Chapter Two
There was a rapid knock on the door. By the time Ameer looked up, the door was opening.
“Are you ready for me, little brother?”
“Wassup, Basel,” Ameer replied. “I was going to come to your office.”
“Hey, no worries,” Basel answered, striding the few steps towards his younger brother’s desk and lowering his tall frame into the chair in front of it. “I needed to stretch my legs,” Basel affirmed. “You doing alright?”
“Yeah, man,” Ameer replied. “Geneva’s got me on lockdown.”
“For sure,” Basel chortled. “She’s good for that.”
Ameer had no choice but to laugh with him. Geneva didn’t play any games, and all the brother’s appreciated her for it.
“So, let’s talk budget,” Basel said when their mutual laughter died down.
The two brothers talked budget for more than an hour: completing line items for Ameer’s department, reviewing expenditures and earnings. Once the budget was established for the next fiscal year, th
e conversation shifted to Ameer’s philanthropic endeavors suited explicitly to his department.
“So, how is the annual school drive coming?” Basel asked. For the past six years, Ameer and his department ran school drives where students were provided with backpacks full of supplies, the schools they chose were given new computers for incoming students. Programming was established for Engineers on the Rise, a special pet project for Ameer being that he’s an environmental engineer and the Ali son who followed in his mother’s footsteps.
“It’s going good, man,” Ameer replied. “We’re actually going into the schools tomorrow, Renaissance Elementary, Middle and High School. We will have one distribution team for each school, and I’ll be vacillating between all three. They are geographically close in proximity and operate as one governed body with scholars matriculating from one to the other. So, the work we do with the scholars in elementary will expand as they move to middle and then high school,” Ameer explained. “So, we’re excited about it.”
“What time are you all going to the schools?” Basel asked interestedly.
“We plan to be there at 7:30 for morning drop off. That way, we can interface with the parents, especially regarding the engineering program,” Ameer replied.
“I know Aya would love to participate,” Basel answered.
“We can use the help, bro,” Ameer added.
“Then count us in.”
“Appreciate that, Basel,” Ameer commented.
No worries, little brother,” he replied. Basel got ready to stand up as all business had been handled and decided there was something else.
“So how are you feeling, Ameer,” Basel asked.
“I’m good,” Ameer replied. Yet, when he looked at Basel, his brother didn’t seem to accept his response. That notion was confirmed with Basel’s next question.
Ameer (The Brothers Ali Book 5) Page 1