Yeah, busy trying to make trouble.
Ginni bit down on the thought. "This won't take much time, and it's about Jasmine."
Dropping his arms, he leaned forward and jabbed a finger in Ginni's direction. "You may not know, but as her father, it is my right to have Jasmine's marriage declared null and void. She did not have my consent to marry!"
"Yeah, but I've been doin' my own research on the laws. A marriage isn't valid unless both the bride and groom consent, meaning Jasmine wasn't gonna marry Nasim ever. But we're getting off topic. I'm here to ask if you ever want to see your grandson."
Ahmad's mouth fell open again. The red drained from his face. Amal said something to him, and he shut his mouth with a snap. Ginni dug out her phone—thank everything the robes allowed jeans underneath—and pulled up the text from Jasmine, the one with the attachment of the ultrasound.
"That's why Jasmine ran off with her Eric. He's the father of her child, and Jasmine couldn't in honor give the baby boy she's having to the wrong father. So instead of tossing the blame around or even thinkin' about ending Jasmine's marriage, why don't we focus on the good here? Like this little guy who's on his way."
Sheikh Ahmad stared at the image. He glanced from the phone to Ginni to Amal. "This is not a trick?"
Amal shrugged and sipped her tea.
Leaning back in his seat, the cushions squeaking underneath him, Ahmad rubbed a hand down his beard. "A boy—a grandson."
Amal smiled and nodded. "Just what you need, is it not? You have idiots for cousins and nephews—now you have a child coming who could be raised properly.”
Sitting up, the sheikh waved to Ginni. "You must do that text thing you do. Tell Jasmine to come home. She must have her child born in Dijobuli."
"Lemme get a photo of you grinnin' like this, so she knows you're meaning what you said." Ginni snapped a photo and texted it to Jasmine. It took another five texts to convince Jasmine this wasn't her father trying to get her back to Dijobuli just to end her marriage to Eric. By the time she had it sorted, Sheikh Ahmad was muttering that he must learn this texting thing, Amal had eaten all the pastries, and Ginni was itching to be gone.
Sheikh Ahmad insisted on gifting them with a few trinkets—rings that set Sheikha Amal's eyes glowing—and Ginni kept trying to turn down the gold bracelet the sheikh insisted she take as a gift for the birth announcement of his grandson. They left him planning the child's education and future.
Back in the limo and heading for Zahkim again, Ginni pulled off the veil and sat back in the limo. "Now's when I could do with a drink."
Amal opened a hidden compartment in the divider between the driver and the backseat. "I keep it stocked in case Nasim ever travels with me."
Ginni dug out a dark ale, popped the top, and took a long drag. She glanced over and saw Amal studying her, dark eyes bright. Ginni ran a thumb over her cheek.
"Got something on my face?"
With a chuckle, Amal pulled out a sparkling water and opened it. "You care for Nasim—you would not have done this if you did not."
"He's easy on the eyes and more than a sweet guy. But…well, I'm not sure I'm good for him. Look at all the fuss I stirred up. And all I meant to do was help Jasmine out."
Amal sipped her drink. She dug at the label with her thumbnail. "Nasim—you must understand something about him. He was greatly hurt by his mother leaving. But one day he will understand she had to." She stopped pulling at the label and fixed a stare on Ginni. "Jena loved Nasim's father—Nahyan Al Zayed Said. Ah, he was much like his son—charming, a good man. But poor Jena could not bear to stay after he died."
Ginni wet her lips. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because what Nasim needs to have in order to make peace with his mother is to understand what a great love can inspire. He must know that, in order to know the heartache of its loss. You, Ginni, must be prepared to give him that…or you must go away."
Ginni sat back, the ale now sour in her stomach and on her tongue. "I…I'm not sure I know much about great loves."
Head tipped to one side, Amal studied her. "We shall certainly learn soon enough. And here we are at the border again. It looks as if a fuss is going on."
Glancing out the window, Ginni saw the bar down across the road and more soldiers—in their sand-colored uniforms and black berets—than had been here earlier. Amal didn't seem bothered, so Ginni tried not to be until the door opened and a whole lot of Arabic flooded over her.
"They want you to go with them," Amal said.
"Yes…come, come!" One of the soldiers waved for Ginni to get out.
Ginni glanced from the solider to Amal. "Is this bad?"
Amal shrugged. "We shall see, won't we? We really must have your chart done soon to see what is in your future. Now, go with the soldiers, or you will make them unhappy, and that is never good when a man has a gun."
Ginni climbed from the limo and then watched Amal wave goodbye as the car pulled away and headed into the desert, dust stirred up behind it. Stomach jumping, robes fluttering in a light breeze, she turned to the soldiers, all young, dark, and most of them good-looking guys. Well, the Leeland charm had worked before—why not again. She put on a smile and propped a hand on her hip.