“It doesn’t matter. We had to go to Paris for some business, and now we’re en route back to Amatbah.”
“Amatbah.” She leaned back in her chair, tapping at her chin. “So how did you pull it off? Roping in the Amatbahn guy?”
Vanessa scoffed, disgust churning in her core. “I didn’t pull it off, and I didn’t rope him in. We’ve been seeing each other for a long time. That’s all.” Better to not go into all the details now about just how wham-bam the marriage really was. Even so, what she had with Amad was purer than what her mother tended toward. Wasn’t it?
“Marriage was smart,” she said, squeezing her daughter’s wrist. “Get him locked in there. The baby, too. It’s a risky move, but hey, the payoffs are larger. When he tries to divorce you, you take him for half, you hear me?”
Vanessa could only blink at her mother. Questions and insults swarmed her. Why would Amad want the divorce first? Why was it inevitable? And why did everything always boil down to money?
“Mom—”
“You know I know a thing or two, honey.” Her mother crossed her legs, adjusting her long purple shawl around her. “I’m just looking out for you. I’m happy you started looking after yourself, though. You make me proud. You’re doing a good job, honey, you know that?”
Her mother’s accolades didn’t fall quite how she’d intended them. Tears pressed against Vanessa’s eyes, and she fought to keep her voice even. This was the worst type of support she could imagine. And she just wanted to get out of here.
“You know, I really have to pee,” she forced out, coming to standing. Really, she wanted to give her mom a piece of her mind. But with emotion clogging her throat and the threat of a monsoon of tears behind her eyes, this wasn’t the place or the time.
She just needed to curl up into Amad’s chest and forget this had happened.
“Oh, lordy, don’t I know it. I peed about every ten minutes when I was carrying Chase. You, on the other hand, were the easiest pregnancy. Not so much the easiest child, but that’s how those things work out.”
Vanessa drew a fortifying breath as she walked back toward Amad. He and Gerardo were deep in conversation and looked like two business colleagues in the midst of a strategic planning session. Amad turned as she approached, a smile lighting up his face.
“There you are,” he said, easing his arm around her.
“I really need to use the restroom,” she said, looking deep into his eyes, hoping he’d catch her signal.
“Oh, sure.” He adjusted his arm to reveal his watch from the sleeve of his sports coat, and then said, “Dang, Vanessa, did you see the time? We need to be heading out if we’re going to make dinner in Amatbah.”
That was a lie, of course—they were spending the night in Dubai. But her mother didn’t need to know that.
“You should stay longer!” Vanessa’s mom proclaimed, but there was no depth to her plea.
“Sorry the visit was so quick,” Vanessa said, opening her arms up for a hug. It lasted a half second before her mom pulled away. Now that the end was in sight, she could feel composure returning to her. Still, the effects of this meetup, however brief, would probably haunt her for days. That’s how it always went with her mom.
“But what good fortune that we could make it work!” Amad concluded, lending his special charming touch.
“Great meeting both of you,” Amad said before they walked away. Vanessa waved and then grabbed his hand in a vice grip.
“Let’s get out of here,” she hissed under her breath as they strode away, her chest hurting with the repressed emotion of the visit. She needed a good cry later, but only once she was alone. She didn’t want him to see her unravel like that, in the way only her mother could cause.
She didn’t even want him to know how bad her mom really was, lest he suspect her of being the same.
Because one thing was certain.
She wasn’t her mother’s daughter.
12
Back in Amatbah, work on the fashion line consumed the tribe in a new way. Amad dove headfirst into mining his contacts for new leads. His attempts to reach out to Le Suiz corporate had failed in a huge way. His usual tactics of outreach and wooing the influencers just weren’t working in the fashion world, and the roadblocks were so frustrating that it made his blood boil sometimes.
But on the home front, everything was happy. Vanessa seemed to be finding her footing among the women of the tribe, and Amad was happy to see that she liked spending so much time in the tents. It was nice of Calla to let Vanessa help in whatever way she could—he assumed it was mostly administrative tasks, since she reported without fail every morning at ten to assist Calla. Whatever kept the pregnant lady happy, he was for, even though he didn’t understand why she was so keen to be involved when she could be relaxing in luxury.
One evening, after a particularly busy day of meetings with the tribal leaders, Amad and Vanessa finally rendezvoused in the bedroom.
“There you are!” she exclaimed as she stepped out of a long swishy skirt she’d been wearing. “I haven’t heard a peep from you all day.”
“I haven’t heard one from you either,” Amad said as he eased onto the side of the bed. He watched her flit between the stand-up mirror and the wardrobe, arranging accessories and examining outfits. “What are you up to?”