“Agreed.” Mel looked through a display of earrings and necklaces on the counter, asking the question that had been bugging her since that morning. “Do you love him?”
Shayma frowned. “Who? Daveed?”
Mel nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“No. I barely know him.” She took her card back from the clerk then grabbed her handled shopping bag. “But my parents expect me to marry him. So, here I am.”
“That seems very old-fashioned to me.” Mel followed her back outside, the brisk breeze welcome on her heated cheeks. The fact Shayma didn’t have feelings for Daveed sent an unexpected thrill through her before she tamped it down. “Why would they want you to be stuck in an unhappy marriage with a stranger you didn’t love? Believe me, I know what that’s like. My parents honestly can’t stand each other. They only stay together for appearance’s sake. It’s all a huge strain on my mom.”
“Sounds terrible.” Shayma glanced over at Mel as they crossed the street and headed back toward the Plaza Hotel. “My parents aren’t in love either, but at least they’re friendly toward each other. I think with them it’s less about the emotional side of things and more about tradition. Arranged marriages are the norm where I’m from, so they think that’s the way it has to be, especially when it comes to the royal family of Al Dar Nasrani.”
As they weaved through the thick holiday crowds, an idea occurred to Mel. Risky, yes, but then she was all about taking risks these days. “You should call them.”
“My parents?” Shayma frowned over at her. “Why?”
“To tell them you’re not going to marry Daveed.”
Shayma laughed out loud at that. “Really? And what do I do when they threaten to disown me?”
Suddenly feeling lighter than she had in days, Mel linked arms with Shayma and grinned. “Then we barg
ain. And believe me, after what’s happened in my life over the last week or so, I’m something of an expert on bargaining.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
They continued on toward the hotel. Chattering and making plans about what Shayma would say and how she’d counter her parents’ threats. When they reached the hotel entrance, the whole phone call was planned out.
Mel let Shayma go and smiled. “All right. Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Will you come upstairs with me? For moral support?”
“Oh, well.” Mel checked her watch. It was still early afternoon, despite the gray skies above. Besides, it wasn’t like she had a job to get to yet and all she’d do back at the condo was sit and stew about Daveed. “Okay. If you need me, I’m there. Lead the way.”
* * *
By the time Daveed heard the scrape of Mel’s key on the lock on the door, he’d worked himself into a fine funk. He sat slumped on the sofa, staring at their woebegone Christmas tree and wondering how in the hell he was going to sort through the mess his normally staid and orderly life had become.
“Hey,” Melody said as she walked into the condo and shrugged out of her coat, her tone cheerful as a day at Santa’s workshop. “How’d your meeting with the guys go?”
He didn’t look at her, just stared at one of the crooked glass ornaments on the tree. The meeting would’ve gone a lot better if Heath had actually assigned him some work. Left without a task, he felt rudderless and adrift in foreign waters. His life revolved around a set schedule, around a purpose and a goal to achieve. Right now, the only things he had accomplished were brooding himself into a dark and dangerous mood. Dangerous not because he would hurt anyone or anything, other than himself, but because it seemed to push all of his roiling emotions that much closer to the surface. Instead of answering her question, he grunted in response.
“That good, huh?” She chuckled as she headed into the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “You want one?”
Daveed gave a slight shake of his head.
“Well,” she said, returning to flop down on the other end of the sofa. “I’ve got good news. On two fronts.” When he stayed silent, she continued. “First, I’ve dealt with your Shayma problem.”
This, finally, got his attention. Slowly, he turned to squint at her through the shadows. He’d purposely left the other lights in the condo off, leaving the room in a dim, golden glow of twinkling lights from the tree. An outward manifestation of his murky state of mind at the moment. Gaze narrowed, he frowned at her. “What?”
“Shayma. Your arranged marriage. You’re off the hook.” She opened her water bottle and took a gulp. “You’re welcome.”
Confused and at his wit’s end, he shifted slightly away from the tree to face her. “That’s impossible. There’s no way my parents would allow the marriage contract to be broken.”
“They would if the bride’s family pulled out first.” Mel gave him a coy little wink over the top of her bottle. “Listen, Shayma and I spent the afternoon together, shopping for her Christmas presents and getting to know each other better. She told me that she doesn’t want this marriage any more than you did. She was only going through with it because she was afraid her parents would disown her. So, I helped her brainstorm an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“Which was?”