Marriage by Arrangement

by Sophia Singh Sasson

  “So let’s try this. I really miss street food.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  He opened the lid of the container, and Rani passed him a fork. He chose his words carefully. “No one can take Lakshmi’s place. She was my first love and you know what they say about first loves.”

  She nodded and a thought struck him. “Do you feel like you can never love someone the way you loved your ex?” The very idea of her confirming such an idea soured his mouth.

  She took a bite of her food and chewed. He did the same, knowing that she needed time to formulate her answer, just as he needed a minute to prepare for it.

  “I don’t think I ever truly loved Navin. But he was the best among the choices I had. My parents expected me to marry an Indian and I wanted someone who understood what it’s like to be an Indian American.”

  “And Navin was like that?”

  “He was. But his family wasn’t.” She paused, clearly weighing her words. “They were very traditional and it was hard for us to see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

  “Like?”

  “They asked me to stop working because they didn’t want people to think Navin didn’t earn enough to support us. They were constantly harping on my weight. My mother-in-law would make me get on the scale to prove I was trying to lose weight. She would check the food in the kitchen to see what I’d eaten. They had access to Navin’s bank accounts and constantly questioned the littlest purchases. It was suffocating.”

  Tears glittered in Rani’s eyes and Arjun wanted desperately to get up and comfort her, but her story was hitting a little too close to home for him. His sisters’ complaints echoed those of Rani.

  “At first I resolved to work it out because I don’t believe in divorce and Navin promised me that we’d only live with my in-laws for the first year so we could buy a big house of our own. As it turned out, his parents moved in with us when we did buy our house. And things were getting worse between me and Navin. He was constantly angry with me for every little thing—the way I hung my towel in the bathroom, if I sneezed too loudly, and on and on.”

  “I’m sorry, Rani.”

  She shrugged. “It’s over now. I’ve learned my lesson—that you don’t marry an Indian man, you marry his family. I wish I’d taken the time to get to know Navin’s parents before I married him.”

  He nodded. That was one of the reasons why he had agreed to marry Hema. She was a family friend and familiar with the traditions of his house. He’d been in denial about the fact that he really had no choice in whom he could marry. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t told Rani about Hema. Telling Rani would make it a little too real, too inevitable for him.

  He leaned forward. “Don’t blame yourself, Rani. It was Navin’s job to protect you from his parents.”

  She gave him a small smile. “It’s very easy to say, but you know that’s not how things work in Indian households. Navin would always remind me that I can walk away from him because I’m not blood but his parents will always be there for him. In the end I proved him right.”

  Arjun had no words. She may as well have been talking about his own parents. The parampara of his household were not just old fashioned, they were stringent. There weren’t many intelligent, educated women who would be happy in such an atmosphere. But was it enough of a reason to marry Hema?

  His assistant buzzed to let him know it was time for him to leave for a meeting. Rani stood and handed him the design folio she had arrived with. She held out her hand and he took it, holding onto it. “Rani, you are intelligent and beautiful, inside and out. Navin was a fool to let you go.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile and retracted her hand.

  As he watched her leave, Arjun realized that Navin wasn’t the only fool. He could no longer deny the fact that he was falling for her, and at the same time realized that there was no way they could be together.

  Eleven

  As soon as Arjun opened the door, Rani could tell he was stressed. They had a rare evening off from work obligations and she’d just arrived at his condo so they could go out to dinner. His eyes were focused on her but had that faraway look like his mind was elsewhere.

  He looked magazine-worthy in a perfectly cut black suit and an open-collared blue shirt. He kissed her lightly on the lips and her stomach fluttered. The more they were together, the hungrier she got for him. Part of her wanted to slow down on the hotel work and make him stay longer, and another part wanted to hurry up and get it done even faster. Ultimately, she had landed on the side of speed. The longer she spent with him, the harder it would be to give him up. They’d been together for three months now and she still couldn’t get enough of him.

  She’d resolved to talk to him today about how much longer he envisioned their affair lasting and what the terms of their breakup would be. While most of the work for his hotel would be completed in the next month, there would be follow-up items that could last for several months after he returned to India. She wanted to be prepared for the end, and to know with certainty when it was coming.

  “We still have some time before dinner.” He nuzzled her neck.

  “How should we entertain ourselves?” she murmured as she untucked his shirt. She made quick work of the buttons then ran her hands over his abdomen, feeling the ripple of muscle and coarse line of hair that ran down the center of his belly and disappeared beneath his waistband. She popped the buttons on his pants and slid them down along with his boxer briefs. He was fully erect and she touched him, gently at first, then harder. She had never initiated sex before, always too unsure of herself to risk doing it wrong. But something had taken hold of her. Maybe it was the hungry way in which Arjun responded to her, mirroring the desire she felt for him. Or maybe it was the knowledge that their time together was winding down.

  Whatever the case, she still couldn’t believe how this sex symbol was enjoying what she was doing to him.

  She had never gone down on a man before, had always felt it was awkward and a little on the disgusting side. But now, looking at Arjun’s velvety skin, she wanted to drive him mad with pleasure, to be a seductress.

  She knelt down and took him in her mouth. His low groan spurred her on until he stopped her. She looked at him. Am I doing it wrong?

  “I want to come inside you, Rani,” he said.

  She wanted that too. She was strung tighter than a guitar wire. He moved to pick her up to take her to his bedroom, but she shook her head and directed him to sit on the couch. She lifted her dress, pushed down her panties and unhooked her bra. Navin would have looked at her naked body with disappointment. Arjun gazed at her with such feral hunger, it was easy to forget the past and focus on her fantasies.

  She tore open a condom wrapper, sheathed him, and then straddled him, using her hand to guide him inside her. She rocked against him, focusing on the exact spots that pulsed inside her.

  “Rani!” His voice was thick against her neck. “Slow it down.”

  She shook her head, unable to speak. She guided his hands towards her breasts. He squeezed them lightly. “Harder,” she whispered urgently, rocking faster against him, taking him deeper inside.

  Her body trembled as she climaxed. She always orgasmed with Arjun, but this time it was different. This was on her terms and she liked that. It was the first time she’d been in command of her pleasure. It was the most exhilarating and frightening experience of her life.

  He pressed his forehead between her breasts. “Wow. When are you going to stop surprising me?”

  She didn’t answer him. Under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom, she took her leave so she could bring her quivering body under control. When she came out, he called for her to join him in his bedroom. Rani had been there a few times. Like the rest of the condo, it was minimally but comfortably furnished. There was a king-size platform bed with a navy velvet duvet. The side tables were gray and a
white-and-gray rug accented the gray wood floor. It was a quintessential bachelor pad.

  Arjun had already put his stylish Brioni suit back on. His shirt was miraculously wrinkle-free, though Rani suspected he had a closet full of them and this was just a fresh one.

  “I want you to wear this dress for me.”

  He presented her with a black lace tea dress with a cowl back that dipped down low, leaving most of the back exposed. It was a stylishly retro dress by a designer that Rani could never afford. She’d spent a fortune on the dress she was wearing but apparently it didn’t meet Arjun’s expectations.

  A familiar feeling of unease washed over her.

  “It’s beautiful, Arjun, but...”

  He put a finger to her lips. “I saw it hanging in a shop window and couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible it would look on you. I showed the saleswoman your picture and she guessed your size perfectly. Indulge me this once.”

  His phone rang and he stepped away. She eyed the dress, then slid it on. She had to admit it looked amazing on her, even if it wasn’t her style. But something about accepting the dress didn’t sit right. It reminded her of a time when she was in middle school and asked her mother if she could wear makeup. Her mother said no so Rani’s friend suggested Rani use hers. Her skin itched but she wore the makeup anyway because she wanted so badly to fit in with the girls at school.

  When Arjun returned, his gaze was so appreciative, Rani didn’t have the heart to decline the dress. He took her to Joël Robuchon. Rani had never been there before; it was the only restaurant in Las Vegas that was so expensive that RKS staff had to get special permission before they could wine and dine clients there. The decor was 1930s French, with royal blue cushioned seats, thick, dark curtains and elaborate chandeliers. The wait staff were formally dressed and fell over themselves to show Arjun and Rani to a private room that could’ve held at least ten people. The head waiter explained that Arjun had reserved the entire room and ordered a sixteen-course tasting menu.

  Rani gasped. “How will we eat that much food?”

  He leaned over and whispered, “It’s French. As my mother says, an Indian woman would be embarrassed to serve such small portions to dinner guests.”

  Rani laughed. Her mother would say something similar.

  Before the meal even started, a waiter rolled out a bread cart with twenty different kinds of bread, served with hand-churned Normandy butter. Rani chose a saffron focaccia and Arjun took a rosemary brioche.

  “I could be happy just with the breads on this cart.” She buttered a piece and held it out to Arjun. He opened his mouth and sucked on the tips of her fingers as he took the bread. At her surprised gasp, he grinned. “Now I’m regretting the sixteen-course meal.”

  She pointed to the glass of wine the waiter had poured for her. Each course came with a wine pairing. “I’m actually looking forward to having a leisurely dinner where we can talk and enjoy each other’s company.”

  “I think it’s obvious how much I enjoy your company.” His voice was low and seductive as he leaned over and brushed his lips across her earlobes.

  Her nerves instantly tingled but she wasn’t going to let him turn the conversation back to their sexual relationship.

  “When I came to your condo, you looked very serious. Is everything okay?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Solving everyone’s problems in the family can be exhausting.”

  “Being the eldest is tiresome, isn’t it?”

  “What’s it like for you?” he asked as the first course was served. The waiter described it in flourishing detail as a pan-seared foie gras with a grapefruit chardonnay reduction.

  “It’s different for me. My family is very middle class. My dad works in information technology and my mother is a schoolteacher. I don’t have an empire to run. But I know what you mean about carrying the family burden. I thought my divorce was about my life and my happiness but my parents considered it to be a family decision. They haven’t spoken to me in two years.”

  “Because of the divorce?”

  She nodded. “It’s bad enough that I divorced. It’s even worse because I’m the eldest. They fear it’ll reflect badly on the family and they’ll have a harder time finding a rishta for my brother and sister.”

  “I know these things are important in India, but I thought living in America, it wouldn’t matter so much. Divorce is pretty common here. Most of the Indian Americans I meet are quite progressive.”

  She sighed. “My parents are ultra-traditional. They immigrated almost forty years ago but are still holding on to their customs hard and fast because giving even an inch means losing too much of themselves.”

  He nodded. “I understand only too well. My parents are the same. They’ve seen a lot of modernization, which is good for India, but they’re having trouble accepting the social progress.” He took a bite of the food and then a sip of his wine. “Do you keep in touch with your brother and sister?”

  Rani nodded. “We’re pretty close. And ironically, as much as my parents worry that I’ve sullied our name and no one will want to marry into our family, neither one of my siblings will accept something as archaic as an arranged marriage.”

  Was it her imagination or did the wineglass in Arjun’s hand tremble ever so slightly?

  “There are some good reasons to have your marriage arranged.”

  Rani looked at him, an uneasy feeling creeping deep into her belly. “Like what?”

  He swallowed. “Like knowing that two people share the same family values and expectations.”

  Rani stopped midchew. Why did Arjun sound like he wasn’t just talking hypothetically?

  “Would you accept an arranged marriage?”

  “I already have.”

  Rani dropped her fork and it clanked loudly as it hit her plate. She must not have heard him correctly. “Excuse me, what?”

  “There’s an arrangement between my family and good friends that I’ll marry their daughter Hema.”

  Rani’s heart dropped to her toes. I’m not hearing this right. “You’ve been cheating on your fiancée with me?”

  Her stomach roiled and for a minute she thought the delicious food she’d just eaten would come back up.

  “Hema and I aren’t engaged. She knows I date, and so does she. Our families went into business together five years ago and our parents want to solidify our relationship with a marriage. Eventually.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me this before?”

  “I didn’t think it mattered. We decided early on that this is a temporary affair.”

  Rage boiled through her veins. “Excuse me, I decide what matters to me. I don’t sleep with another woman’s man.”

  “Rani, Hema and I are not together in the traditional sense. We’ve never been physical with each other. If I had to characterize our relationship, I would say she’s like a family member, almost like my sister. Our impending marriage is an obligation. One that I only agreed to because after what happened with Lakshmi, I’ll never fall in love with anyone again.”

  Rani tried to ignore the searing pain that cut through her heart. He had made a part of her blossom that she’d never thought existed, given her a new sexual confidence. She’d hoped she had opened his heart enough to believe that he could love again.

  The waiter placed a second course before them with some fanfare. At another time Rani would have admired the artfully presented charcuterie but she was quaking with anger.

  Arjun tried to take her hand but she snatched it away.

  “How dare you keep something like this from me.”

  “It is not relevant to our relationship.”

  “You don’t get to decide that for us! Am I just a roll in the hay for you? A sex partner?”

  “Rani, I’ve come to care for you. More than I’ve cared for anyone since Lakshmi. It was not my i
ntention to deceive you. The arrangement with Hema is not mine to share. Her parents invested a billion dollars in a partnership with me to expand our hotel chain globally. While my company is privately held, Hema’s family business is traded on the Bombay Stock Exchange. We have to carefully control our wedding announcement. Even an accidental slip to the media could have repercussions. No one outside my immediate family knows about it. It’s not something we discuss with outsiders.”

  An outsider. That’s how he thinks of me.

  Rani speared whatever was on her plate and stuck it in her mouth to keep from screaming.

  “Say something, Rani.”

  She cleared her throat. “I need to use the restroom.” She needed to get away from him. To have a minute to regain her composure.

  In the bathroom she stood in front of the mirror and splashed cold water on her wrists. Her stomach twisted into a thousand knots.

  What did I expect? He’s an Indian man who thinks he knows best.

  She’d been a fool to think she was sophisticated enough to have an affair with a man like Arjun and come away unscathed. To think herself capable of separating the physical from the emotional. What had she been expecting? That he’d fall in love with her? And then what? Forsake his family and live with her in Vegas? She wasn’t about to move to India and play the dutiful wife and daughter-in-law. There was no scenario where she and Arjun would have a happily-ever-after.

  So why was she upset? This wasn’t news to her. She’d wanted to talk to him about when their affair would end. Now that she knew about Hema, she had her answer. It was best to end it now before someone got hurt.

  “Rani?” She looked up to see Delia come out of one of the stalls. Could this dinner get any worse?

  “What are you doing here?” Rani flinched at the high pitch in her voice.

  “Mr. Rabat and I are here with a client we’re courting,” Delia replied evenly, looking Rani over. “Are you here on a date?”

  Rani shook her head. There was a good chance they’d see her with Arjun. “I’m here with Mr. Singh.”