Dark gaze narrowed, Shayma stared at Mel for a few seconds, silent, then finally stepped back and waved her inside. “Yes,” she said as she closed the door. “They can be quite difficult. Especially men like Daveed.”
Mel looked around the beautifully appointed suite, taking in the overstuffed furniture upholstered in creamy suede, the mahogany side tables, the crystal chandeliers. She’d grown up in this lap of luxury, but it had taken losing it all to make her really appreciate it. She perched on the edge of a sofa cushion and clasped her hands in her lap. “Why Daveed especially?”
“Well, with him being who he is, the entitlement’s inbred.” Shayma draped herself elegantly over an arm chair across from Mel and folded her long legs beneath her. “He comes from a long line of desert sheikhs. Men who are used to taking what they want without remorse, without question. It was fine back in the days of old, but not so much now. And not so much in modern Al Dar Nasrani.”
A bit of the tension in Mel’s tight shoulders relaxed under Shayma’s soothing, low voice. Her English was excellent, but there was still a lilt of exotic accent that intrigued Mel and made her want to learn more. “Tell me about your country. Is it all sand dunes and Morrocan-style castles?”
Shayma snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been watching too many movies. No. Al Dar Nasrani is actually mostly tropical forests. We’re so close to the equator that we get a lot of rain.”
“Wow. Sounds gorgeous.”
“Yes. It’s quite lovely.”
Mel bit her lip and stared down at her hands, her fingers tightly clasped. “I’m sorry about this morning, with Daveed. He’d mentioned having an arranged marriage as a kid, after what happened with me and Heath. But I guess I assumed he’d ended the contract and he never said anything to make me believe otherwise.”
“It’s all right.” Shayma sighed. “It was stupid for me to come here anyway. My parents pushed for it, still believing in the old traditions even though I told them things had changed. They’re not going to be pleased when I go home alone.”
Awkward silence fell between them and they each looked around, anywhere but at each other. Finally, Mel noticed the shoes, bag and coat sitting near the door and her posture slumped. “I’m so sorry. Were you on your way out?”
“I was going to go out to do a bit of holiday shopping.” Shayma shrugged. “Would you like to join me? As a native New Yorker, you could show me all the best deals.”
“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t.” She winced slightly. “After I broke things off with Heath, my parents disowned me. I’m afraid I don’t have a penny to my name currently.”
Shayma scoffed. “All the more reason you need to come. Retail therapy. And don’t worry. I’ve got enough money for both of us.” She stood and slid her feet into a stylish pair of winter boots and tugged on her coat. “C’mon. Sounds like you and I have much more in common than I originally thought. We could both use a shoulder to cry on, eh?”
Mel had never turned down an opportunity to shop before in her life and she wasn’t about to start now. She wouldn’t spend any of Shayma’s money on herself, but she could certainly help the woman pick out her presents. “Okay. You talked me into it.”
* * *
Across Manhattan, in the cushy hotel where Heath was renting a suite while his condo was otherwise occupied, Daveed stood outside the door to the room, already late for the meeting but loath to go inside and deal with the barrage of shit his friends were sure to lob his way. According to the texts he’d received earlier, Heath’s father’s contacts had come through with more information about the firms mentioned in Aileen’s note.
“Why so glum this morning, man?” Murphy asked, gesturing Daveed inside after answering the door. “You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
“I’m fine.” Daveed tugged off his jacket then squared his shoulders and took a seat on the oversized, sectional sofa. The place was nice and tidy, if a bit modern and minimalistic for his tastes. Not that he cared much about décor at the moment. He could’ve been standing in the Taj Mahal for all he noticed. Juggling two women at once was not how he wanted to live his life and kept him in a constant state of distraction. He’d not handled things well this morning. He knew that. Running away would solve nothing. Plus, it was cowardly and it was wrong. He’d been raised better than that. But his feelings toward Mel were still so confusing. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the soft sounds she made as she’d come apart in his arms—they were all a part of him now and he carried them with him wherever he went.
But did the warmth that filled him each time he remembered their night together equal love? He wasn’t so sure. After all, they’d just met days before. They were opposites in many ways—she was an organizational wreck where he was neat as a pin; she couldn’t cook to save her life where he loved to dabble in different cuisines in the kitchen. But on the other hand she was funny and sweet and so much smarter and talented than she gave herself credit for and…
Damn. Yep. He was definitely in trouble.
His chest squeezed with affection and yearning. He inhaled sharply. Now was not the time or place for that. He had work to do and friends to help. Thankfully, Heath walked in and kept him on target.
“Nice of you to show up. Finally.” Heath handed Daveed a bottled water then slumped down into one of the leather chairs in the room.
Daveed cringed. “Sorry, man. I had some issues to deal with back at the condo.”
“Issues?” Heath shook his head. “That problem got a name? Maybe Melody?”
“And Shayma.” Daveed sighed and dropped his head back against the sofa cushions. “She showed up this morning with no warning. The two women met. It was… awkward.”
“I bet!” Murphy snorted. “Damn, dude. You always get the most interesting problems.”
“You did it, didn’t you?” Heath gave him a disgusted look. “Even after I warned you what a mess you were walking into, you slept with Mel, didn’t you?”
“She’s not a mess,” Daveed growled, coming to her defense. “And what I have or haven’t done with her is none of your business. She had nothing to do with the problems between Shayma and I anyway. It’s that damned arranged marriage my parents still insist we honor.”
Murphy raised his bottle of water in a toast. “My sympathies.”
Begrudgingly, Heath joined in. “Mine too, buddy. If anyone feels your pain right now, it’s me.”