Khalid again put a hand on Ahmed’s shoulder. “You are growing up, little brother. The child may save you as well. But for now, you are wise to put some distance between you and Father. Go. Zaid and I will do what we can to soften the news when it must come. But what of Nasiji? Is she really safe?”
With a shrug, Ahmed said, “She is with a man who seems to love her, and I would guess he is at risk more than she is. Now if you will excuse me, I have a bride who must be whisked from the country.”
Zaid reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “Take my SUV. Head to our uncle’s airport, but from there take a small plane to Cairo and then I would suggest a very fast and public jet to New York.”
Grabbing the keys, Ahmed nodded. “Thank you. We will not forget this.”
Khalid clapped his shoulder. “Go now. Zaid and I will pull Father into a discussion of politics. That will distract him, but he will be wanting you and your bride to appear at breakfast and for toasts to the future and I suggest you make certain you are in New York by then.”
Ahmed nodded. “That is a plan I am most happy to fall in with. Oh, and once Father learns I have married my American, please make sure you tell him that if he does anything to ever harm my child or the mother of my child, I will make very certain that I publicly come out in support of changing our government to a democratic one—and I will then put every effort behind his overthrow.”
Zaid shook his head. “No. No threats, brother. You still have no idea how to handle our father. You let him bluster, you let him shout—and you send the very first ultrasound of his next grandchild along with the names you have picked out. A baby will turn him soft, and he will mutter then that this American tricked you into marriage, but he will be resigned. But don’t come home until the baby is here and ready to be presented to him.”
15
Melanie stood at the back of the aisle, waiting for the music to cue her approach. Her mother sat up front, wearing a tight red dress with golden embroidery, and Melanie had gone for a soft, pink gown. She did not want to wear white, as Nasiji’s wedding planning had once decided. And this was going to be a very American wedding. George was giving her away, Sid, Terry and Angie were handling the catering—and Angie was crying right now and up front as maid of honor. Ahmed stood with his two brothers.
Ahmed’s father had refused to attend the wedding, but the sonograms of the baby—now a small bump and kicking today—had at least softened enough that he had set two hundred thousand dollars into a college fund for the child.
A harpist began to play, and the butterflies in Melanie’s stomach dispersed. The time to think about her wedding was over. It was go-time. She took the first step down the carpet set over the grass. Her mom’s garden looked beautiful, lush with flowers and decorated with lanterns, with white chairs set out for the guests and ribbons fluttering. Her servers lined up to watch the ceremony, and tears stung Melanie’s eyes.
Khalid’s wife, Casey, stood up at the front along with Angie.
And Ahmed—well, this time she had no doubt that he wanted to marry her.
The escape back to New York had been something of an anticlimax. She’d expected large men in dark suits to jump out and grab them. Instead, it had been a long drive, a long flight, an even longer flight after that and then a quick trip through customs. Once in New York, Ahmed had explained he now must watch his money for he was using his own.
“I have only a half a million to get us started. The rest, I fear, is invested in properties.”
She had stared at him. “How much is invested?”
He’d shrugged. “If I liquidate, I will only raise five or six million. If we keep the buildings, the income over time will be much better. Some of them need renovation, and I want to show you the two I am thinking of for galleries.”
She’d nodded and had swallowed hard. She wasn’t just married to a prince—a sheik—she was married to a very rich man. She hadn’t expected that. She’d taken him back to her apartment and had hoped he wouldn’t think it was slumming and beneath him. Instead, he’d settled in quite happily. And started renovating one of the brownstones he’d acquired to become their home.
Her mom had given Ahmed the cold shoulder at first, but who could resist the man’s charm? And those deep brown eyes.
Ahmed waited for her in a tailored black tuxedo, a faint smile curving his lips. They already had a name picked out for the baby, who should be along in a few months. Caius Martin Al-Qasimi. Once Caius appeared, she’d been warned that the sultan would want them to visit.
Hands shaking, she started down the aisle.
Ahmed had proven he really did have an instinct about business. He’d been right about MM Catering specializing in gallery openings, art events and business meetings.
MM Catering was going to turn a profit this year and their blend of Western and Middle Eastern favorites had started a new trend.
She’d put off a second wedding until she was certain the first one would stick.
But her mom had kept pushing.
So had Ahmed. What choice did a girl have when both her husband and her mother ganged up on her?
And the baby started to kick.
She put a hand on her stomach. She’d wanted to get to the point where she could take the time off for a real honeymoon without having to worry about whether her business would survive or not. She’d wanted time to make certain Ahmed wanted to stay around.
She was now sure of both things.
It was time to stand up in front of their families and friends and make this staying together forever official.