The Sheikh's Purchased Bride (The Sheikh's Every Wish 3)

FIFTEEN

With their plans for drinks, dinner, and late-night movies out the window, Malik had instead invited his family over for dinner later that evening—apparently hell-bent on getting his money’s worth out of her performance. He watched Amie intensely the whole night, seeming to relish any moment where they had to pretend to be close to one another.

Normally, when it came to interacting with Malik’s family, Amie would get nervous; sick to her stomach with hopes of making a good impression, but tonight she felt nothing.

No, in fact, she felt completely in character. She wasn’t Amie, she was Amie Shaw: heiress, theater owner and entrepreneur.

She was playing the role just perfectly, if she did say so herself. She laughed whenever appropriate, made charming conversation with the parents, and spoke at length with Zafina about her career as a commercial lawyer.

Malik had spent most of the afternoon fussing over the food, and whatever her current feelings towards him, Amie had to admit that the meal they ate was worthy of being called a feast. The table was piled high with plates of hummus, pita bread, couscous, root vegetables, lamb kofta, and a cardamom rose petal cake that she hadn’t yet sampled but which looked amazing.

They were nearing the end of the meal when Malik grabbed Amie’s hand over the table and smiled eagerly as he began, “Father, mother, there is something we wanted to tell you and it simply can’t wait any longer.”

Zafina rolled her eyes as Sadira covered her mouth with her hand and looked expectantly at Amie, awaiting the news.

“We’re getting married, tomorrow!”

“I knew it!” Sadira announced.

Malik’s father smiled and began clapping his hands together with pride. “We had a feeling,” Mahumet said proudly, standing up to hug his son.

“Oh, Amie!” Sadira gushed. “I’m so excited for you!”

Amie merely smiled, momentarily unable to speak.

As it turned out, the “business” Malik had had to take care of the other day was actually booking a large venue and sending out a rush of invitations to dignitaries, friends, and close associates of his family. He’d also managed to book a catering service from a restaurant Amie had loved during her stay in the Middle East. She was in shock when he revealed his plans to her, and couldn’t believe he’d already taken the liberty of making the plans without even consulting her.

Still, she grinned to his family and talked with feigned girlish glee about the venue, the dress, the ceremony, and—as per Malik’s instructions—how they would be having another ceremony back in Chicago for their American friends and her family.

“We still have to meet your family!” Sadira insisted; her eyes welling up with tears. “Please, make it so. You must come back with them, all expenses paid, of course.”

“Of course,” Amie said through half-gritted teeth, shooting Malik a fierce look.

“We spoke with them last night over the phone,” Malik lied confidently. “They both gave their blessing and can’t wait to meet you.”

“We can’t either,” Mahumet said with a laugh.

As Malik’s parents explained how traditional wedding celebrations in Rabayat would last a week or more, depending on the family’s finances, Amie couldn’t help but wonder how the bride didn’t end up with the record of “Worst Hangover Ever” after a full week of partying.

The festivities, Sadira explained, would begin with a small group of friends and family, and then eventually the entire party would arrive to celebrate with the happy couple. Hundreds of guests, she insisted. Hundreds.

Amie didn’t even know a hundred people.

At the wedding, there would be a weeklong feast, complete with henna painting, music, and storytelling. Zafina informed Amie that on one of the days leading up to the ceremony, all of the men in the bridal party would attend a bathhouse and endure an intense cleaning ritual that involved slick shaving and singing.

Hearing this, Amie’s eyes went wide, but she resisted the urge to tell Zafina what men in America did the night before the wedding: strippers and beer. Somehow a clean shave and a couple of frat-house jokes seemed much more appealing.

Still, with the abrupt timing, Sadira said this would have to be a compacted version of a traditional ceremony, and she hoped Amie would still find joy in her smaller wedding. She said there would still be a procession of cars to celebrate, as well as fireworks later in the evening, but everything else would need to be cut down exponentially.

For his part, Malik’s usually curt father was all smiles and welcoming embraces tonight, giving Malik sound, fatherly advice on how to be a good husband and to lead his household with dignity. In fact, the whole family seemed elated by the spontaneously-booked wedding. Even Zafina sat back in her chair with a broad grin on her face, as though she couldn’t help but be infected by the joyous excitement in the air.

True to Malik’s fears, both of his parents made subtle digs about his former life as a man about town. His father teased that there would be no more women in Malik’s life, unless he wanted to suffer the wrath of an angry wife.

“When she’s not happy,” Mahumet laughed heartily. “Nobody’s happy! So you do your best to be a good man.”

The dinner went on as most of their other social gatherings did: light and airy with the overwhelming ambiance of family, and of course, amazing food. This time, Amie didn’t particularly care about making a good impression, but still, she stuck to her contract, acting every inch the refined and excited bride-to-be.

The only part of the evening that puzzled Amie was Zafina’s reaction. Aside from a brief “congratulations”, the sister said very little to either of them. It was surprisingly unlike her to be so fuss-free.

Since the ‘wedding’ was to take place the following morning, the entire family was staying at Malik’s palace so they could get ready together.

Later, as the happy couple were heading to their respective rooms, Zafina finally made her strike.

She approached them with her arms crossed; a smug smile creeping across her face as she cornered them in the hallway. Then she said the five most fear-inspiring words she could have chosen: “I know what you’re doing.”

Zafina raised her eyebrow condescendingly and both Malik and Amie froze on the spot. “That’s right,” she continued slowly; clearly loving every minute. “I’ve been doing some research—”

Before the sister has a chance to finish her thought, however, Malik quickly covered her mouth with his hand and instructed her to come and talk somewhere a little more private.

The three of them made their way onto the roof; a flat terrace that looked out over the desert countryside. The night was warm, with a cool breeze coming every so often as a refreshment.

Once on the roof, Zafina grinned smugly and raised both of her brows as she asked, “May I continue, brother?”

Malik gave a dismissive wave of his hand and sighed. “If you must.”

“There is nothing about this that made sense,” Zafina said accusingly. “First, I read about your affair with a high profile businesswoman, back in the States; pictures all over the internet. Then you’re calling mother and father saying no, it isn’t true, and that you’ve been seeing someone else.”

“So?” Malik asked, sounding bored. “I am seeing someone else.”

“And yet you couldn’t tell us a thing about her! You wouldn’t even tell us her name. Want to know why?”

He raised his eyebrows. “This’ll be good.”

“Because you didn’t know her name yet,” she said with finality. “I looked Amie up online. Sorry, Amie,” she said looking at her faux sister-in-law to be.

Amie merely shrugged sadly; guilt rushing through every inch of her body, but Malik kept up the act, refusing to give in to Zafina’s claims so easily.

“Amie’s mother is no doctor, she’s a cashier! And Amie doesn’t run a theater; she’s an out-of-work actress!”

“The information you found is incorrect,” Malik said easily, his voi

ce smooth and convincing.

Zafina scoffed and pulled several print-outs from her purse. “I have the proof right here,” she stated simply. “Now stop lying and tell me what’s going on.”

Amie hung her head in shame and gave way to tears. Malik quickly put his arms around her and glared at Zafina, who now looked awkward before them.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Amie,” Zafina said quietly. “I just… I don’t know what you guys think you’re doing. I’m not impressed with all these lies, and if I’m not, imagine what our parents will think.”

“I know,” Malik said in a whispered sigh. “Please, don’t tell them, Zafina. You know how they are.”

Zafina went to speak but seemed to think better of it. She gave Amie a long look and then sighed, reaching for Malik’s hand. “I’m just… so disappointed,” she said heavily.

“I understand,” he said, sounding absolutely ashamed.

Zafina frowned, as though she were battling an intense inner argument. Finally, she made eye contact with Amie and sighed. “I like you,” she said begrudgingly. “At first, I found you annoying, but damn it, I just can’t help but like you,” she swore with a laugh. “And you!” she glared at her brother. “You’re an idiot… but I love you. I’ll keep your secret.”

Malik sighed with relief and squeezed his sister’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you, Zafina.”

“I know it wasn’t always easy for you after you left Rabayat. And I understand, sort of, what you’re trying to do. I know that they need peace,” she said of her parents. “I also know they want what’s best for you and for certain they think Amie is it. But, please, at least tell me you at least love the girl?”

“Amie?” Malik repeated with some surprise.

Zafina raised her brows as though the answer should be obvious and Malik laughed.

“I do,” Malik said firmly. “I love her very much.”

The sentiment sent shivers down Amie’s arms and all at once her tears stopped; she’d learned to sense when Malik was acting, and this didn’t feel like it.

Zafina squinted her eyes as though she were feeling her brother out. Finally, she let his hand go. “Then you might not be as stupid as I thought.”

Malik laughed with relief. “Honestly, thank you Zafina. You have no idea how much this means to me. To both of us,” he corrected.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zafina rolled her eyes as she started making her way over to the staircase. “You’re still an idiot.”