Authors: Ellen Wolf
He knew his family hoped he would fall for her. It was no secret that their union would be welcomed by both families, bringing together their fortunes and social position. Layla would open the door for him to be fully accepted into the crème de la crème of Egyptian high society, something that was otherwise almost impossible, given the maternal side of his family. He found it absolutely infuriating and hypocritical that the same people who left his mother to care for him on her own without as much as a penny of help, dared to consider her and her background a stain on the honor of the family. Things had changed, of course, his grandmother mellowing after she realized that his mother was not someone to be talked about dismissively in his presence.
Still, he knew they were hoping for him to settle here, in the land of his father, with a suitable wife. A wife like Layla.
He had talked to her a few times, the opportunities to be alone arising often enough to make him realize just how serious their families were about the whole matchmaking business. After all, it was Egypt, where rather conservative views on dating and mingling with the opposite sex made it practically impossible to spend time with a woman without a chaperone. Yet amazingly, Layla and he were left alone to chat, the carefully orchestrated accidental meetings soon making him suspicious about his family’s plans.
He had nothing against Layla, he thought now, smiling at her across the table. She was beautiful, smart, and friendly, the perfect combination of modern and traditional values she represented making her ideal for a wife and companion. Only not for him.
Not that he was planning to get married anytime soon, he convinced himself hurriedly, absurdly aware of the girl seated next to him. For a second he felt a wave of resentment wash over him, blaming Emily for imprinting herself into his memories with such surprising power. Because it was her—and only her—face that came to his mind when he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to spend his life with someone else. Like some kind of a witch or the mysterious
Um Al Duwais
he heard of from the Bedouin guides—a lovely temptress with a soft voice and the eyes of a gazelle who lured men to their demise in the hot sands of the desert.
‘
Ms. Beggins, what are you doing for a living? Since my grandson didn’t tell us anything about you, you must excuse my curiosity.’ His grandmother’s voice was suspiciously kind. If he had learned one thing about his family, it was not to trust their smiles and flowery words that were usually covering up the true meaning.
‘
I work in the restaurant my family owns,’ Emily answered, her calm voice filling him with reluctant admiration. He knew she was nervous; he could tell by the way she sat, straight and cautious. It made him think of the gazelle, ready to bound off at any given moment. But she remained seated, whatever storm might have raged inside her hidden well under the politely indifferent mask she was wearing.
‘
How exciting,’ one of his aunts piped in, her voice carrying across the table loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘How did you meet James, then? Was he a guest in your restaurant?’
‘
What a coincidence, I think. A modern Cinderella story, I would say.’ It was Mrs. Al Jameel who answered instead of Emily, her disapprovingly pursed lips signaling her displeasure. Her dark eyes went over Emily, taking in her simple white shirt and the khaki-colored skirt that reached to her mid-calves. None of the items was a designer piece, a fact not lost on the older woman’s assessing gaze.
‘
I wouldn’t mind meeting a prince charming on any given day, dear. But they are rare to find, so I’ve been told,’ another of his aunts riposted, her dark eyes sparkling mischievously at Mrs. Al Jameel.
He knew she didn’t mean it as an affront. His youngest aunt, Salima, was definitely his favorite. Short-haired, slim, and impossibly elegant at forty-nine, she had been divorced twice and lived alone in Cairo, much to the grief of the rest of the family, of course. He might have been an outsider, but he definitely had heard enough about her audacious ways to make him like her on the spot. The feeling was mutual, it seemed.
‘
Actually, we met through friends,’ he explained calmly, a sense of protectiveness for Emily prompting him to close that can of worms before it had a chance to turn into something ugly and humiliating.
‘
I wish I worked in a British restaurant, then.’ Mrs. Jameel wasn’t giving up so easily, her heavy golden bracelets sparkling as she lifted her hand to rub her temples. ‘Here in Egypt, it’s rather uncommon for people of such different standing to mingle together.’
His grandmother must have noticed his anger because she intervened before he had a chance to say something in response, which most probably was for the best. With a slow smile, she invited everyone to feast on the prepared lunch.
Food was served on large round plates together with drinks poured by two silent servants moving noiselessly among the tables. The conversation abated enough to allow him to cool down, especially since everyone seemed to try to be nice to Emily. As if given an invisible sign by his grandmother, all rushed to include her in a conversation, not one more biting remark marring the meal.
He could tell that both Mrs. Jameel and Layla were rather uncomfortable, and for a second he felt sorry for the younger woman. It wasn’t her fault if her family and his were bent on bringing them together. To his utter amazement, Emily seemed to have sensed the other girl’s discomfort and chatted her up, both of them soon deep in a conversation.
He ate his food silently, mostly listening lazily to Emily’s voice. It soothed him into a state of almost perfect happiness, he realized, her presence at his side something natural and welcomed. Compared to other meals with his father’s family, that one was by far the most pleasant and smooth, he thought as he finished off yet another of the perfectly balanced canapés his grandmother loved to serve. Egyptian as she was, it was her point of pride to serve international cuisine, especially leaning toward French and Italian dishes. He suspected that she did it mostly to show off her cosmopolitan flair, but in the end it didn’t matter.
‘
James, it’s so good you are here, my dear.’ She was speaking again, her gaze focused on him. He braced himself for something unpleasant to come; her assessing glare telling him this was no regular chitchat.
‘
We’ve just chatted with my dear friend Aisha here.’ She smiled at Mrs. Jameel, her face innocent. ‘I was wondering if you could do us all a big favor, my boy.’
That didn’t sound good, he thought as he nodded, waiting for the request.
‘
You see, Layla is now taking some courses in business and tourism relations,’ his grandmother continued, her eyes warming up a degree as she glanced at the girl across the table. ‘She will need some hands-on experience to learn the ropes of the job, too. Is that how you say it in English?’ the question was directed at Emily, innocently and helplessly. He would be damned if he didn’t know what it was all about, but could do little except listen and wait for his turn to respond.
‘
So we both agree, why not do it in the best place possible? Our company is definitely worth looking at, don’t you agree?’ Her voice was stronger now as she was reaching her conclusion. ‘Layla could spend some time there, as an intern and observer. It would be easier for a girl to work with a man she knows and who respects her. Our families have always looked out for each other, James.’
‘
It would be very helpful, James.’ Mrs. Jameel’s voice oozed sugar, all the previous animosity wiped away as if it never existed. ‘My husband and I would feel much better knowing Layla is spending her days around you.’
It was a double-meaning sentence, and he knew it. They had tried to bring them together in every other possible way, his resistance and lack of interest frustrating them to the point of exploding. Layla’s presence in his office and hotel was nothing more than a deliberate trap, supposed to finally reel him in.
For a moment he felt almost sorry for all of them, hoping for him to come around and accept their plans. Obviously, they were quite determined if Emily’s presence didn’t stop them from insinuating their awkward plan for the immediate future. It was time to make his stand, he decided, his arm going around Emily’s shoulders with a possessive gesture of a lover. If she was surprised by his sudden display of affection, she didn’t show it, his gratitude climbing a notch higher on the scale of emotions. Pulling her closer, he met no resistance, her pliant body melting into his almost effortlessly.
‘
I think that’s a great idea, Grandmother.’ He smiled lazily, his fingers tracing an absentminded pattern on Emily’s shoulder. ‘I will talk to my directors, and I’m sure they will be only too happy to share some of their knowledge with such a good friend of our family. Unfortunately, I won’t be around much, since this time I have decided to keep my meetings to a bare minimom. I promised Emily to show her around, you must understand.’
He kissed her on the top of her head, inhaling the elusive and tempting fragrance of her hair that made him think of spring rain with primroses and violets lifting their heads to the moisture. His lips lingered a second longer, unwilling to part with the dark, silky waves that felt like velvet against his lips. He felt tempted to bury his face in them, if only for a moment. Being with Emily made all things better, he thought dazedly, the sense of well-being that penetrated his whole body uniquely joined to her presence.
‘
I’m sure Ms. Beggins will understand if you have to tear yourself away for a moment or two,’ Mrs. Jameel answered, red spots appearing on her pale face. She was upset by his display of affection, her fingers shaking slightly as she lifted her goblet of cooled pomegranate juice. ‘Won’t you?’ Looking directly at Emily, she raised her delicately arched eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you planning to do some shopping while here? Alexandria has excellent boutiques, and being James’s girlfriend, you will be welcomed anywhere, my dear.’
The barely veiled hint that Emily was in his keep, spending his money on her pleasures, irked him more than he thought imaginable. Especially because he knew how utterly ridiculous it was, after spending a great deal of time convincing her to allow him to pay for her flight.
His fingers on her shoulder stilled, as he readied himself for an answer that would put to an end the impolite inquiry. Emily didn’t allow him to speak for her, though, her soft voice carrying an air of authority as she answered, her gaze staring down a flustered Mrs. Jameel.
‘
I will have to trust you on that one.’ Smiling, she shook her head, a lock of her hair gliding over his fingers in an almost sensuous caress. ‘I’m not much of a spender, though. I guess, having to earn my own money, I have learned to respect it more.’
He caught his grandmother’s eyes going to Emily with reluctant admiration. Biting back a smile, he kissed her again, that time on the cheek. One could push one’s luck only so far, and kissing on the mouth in a traditional Egyptian home would be a definite
faux pas
.
‘
We will have to negotiate on this one, sweetheart,’ he said softly, his lips still tingling from the incredible sensation of the silky soft skin they skimmed a moment before. ‘Bargaining is one of the Egyptian’s joys of life. You can’t rob the shopkeepers of this pleasure; it would be plain cruel.’
‘
We could go together, if you wish, ‘Layla spoke up, her dark almond-shaped eyes pleading. ‘I would love to be your guide, Emily.’
Her kind words diffused the suddenly tense atmosphere, Emily’s mouth stretching in a genuine smile of pleasure. He could tell she was glad Layla reached out to her, especially since she seemed to be the only person willing to call Emily by her first name instead of the stiff and pompous ‘Ms. Beggins.’
‘
That sounds lovely,’ she agreed now, nodding at the other girl and moving away from him ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, he gave her that. But he could sense more than feel the way her soft, pliant body slid out of his embrace, the extra inch of space between them cold and vast. He longed to pull her back to him, stronger this time, so she had no illusions he meant her to stay there. It couldn’t be done, he convinced himself as he sat fighting the temptation. If she didn’t play along, he would seem pathetic and needy, both qualities neither his family nor he particularly cared for.
The meal dragged on, his impatience rising slowly but steadily. He knew that his grandmother had her reasons to keep chatting, innocently unaware of his frustration. He knew very well that it was an absolute
faux pas
to leave a meal as long as the rest of the company enjoyed it. His grandmother was counting on his pride to prevent him from behaving rudely and with disregard for the local customs. It was her diplomatic way of making sure he wouldn’t have enough time to be alone with Emily, crossing his plans to show her around the grounds before he had to leave for Alexandria the same evening.
The first meeting would be at eight. The late hour was nothing unusual in the climate when the midday hours were reserved for staying indoors and resting. A cautious glance at his wristwatch told him it was already afternoon, the window of opportunity to talk to Emily and discuss their plans shrinking fast.
He looked around and decided to forgo the rest of the luncheon, especially after he had already chatted with all his relatives, giving them a chance to talk to Emily as well. Nobody could expect him to put up with the artificially stretched out display of power, he thought, especially since he was a foreigner, after all. They could blame it on his cheeky English blood, he decided, putting down his glass and rising to his feet, his grandmother’s disapproving look on him.