Qabul—I accept.
She was supposed to say it three times, and Ahmed had said he would nudge her when it was time to speak. Her mouth was dry at the thought of having to say anything. She was certain the sultan or one of Ahmed’s brothers was going to step forward, yank off her veil and denounce her as an imposter.
The cleric, or whoever he was, started to speak, but Ahmed interrupted. “This is my wedding. I will ask it be in English as well, for it is my intent to live in New York after this with my bride.”
The cleric—an older man with a long, graying beard—turned a worried look to the sultan. Ahmed met his father’s stare. The old man’s eyes narrowed, but he gave a nod and a wave of his hand. Melanie wanted to pull off the burka herself and run away into the night. Instead, she kept her head bowed, thought of the most miserable things she could and let the tears flow.
That at least had the sultan shifting on his feet and Ahmed’s brothers swapped uneasy stares, but the ceremony went on.
The ceremony was more about what the groom would give the bride. It was mostly a formality, but was meant to ensure the bride’s security. The most important thing was to sign the contract. The cleric or whoever he was gave a speech, droning on about honoring women. Nasiji’s father was supposed to be here. A table had been set out with the marriage contract. The sultan signed first on behalf of Nasiji’s father, then Ahmed signed. Melanie’s hands were shaking when she was supposed to sign and she scrawled her name. After she had, Ahmed’s brother, Zaid, shot a worried look at her and then at Ahmed.
The two swapped hard stares.
Suddenly, it all seemed to be over. Ahmed took her hand and pulled her with him. Now there was supposed to be a party and guests and food and drink and music. Instead, Ahmed would be running away with her.
She glanced back, saw Ahmed’s brothers shaking their heads and Ahmed’s father—for once, he looked like a worried old man. But he pushed back his shoulders, turned and walked away.
She glanced at Ahmed and muttered, “What now?”
14
Ahmed could not believe he had done it—he had married his sensual American.
In Sharjah, as in much of the Arab world, the wedding wasn’t just one rigid ceremony where the bride and groom stood for a few minutes and recited vows they were expected to memorize. The wedding usually started with the official announcement of the proposal, and then there were meant to be parties, similar to the bachelor parties he had been to in America and the bachelorette parties he had heard of. The ceremony was almost an overlooked technicality, an excuse for food and wine and gifts.
He’d just done away with all that.
But did Melanie believe she was his wife in truth—and in his heart?
He could not stop to find out. They needed to leave. He did not want his father to discover this trick. The sultan would be insulted and furious, and Ahmed did not want Melanie to face such a thing.
He pulled Melanie with him, up to her room. “Pack quickly,” he ordered.
She glanced at him. “What about you?”
He shook his head. “I have everything I need with me.”
Stepping into her room, she pulled off the black veil. “And a passport? Money for tickets? Or did you plan on taking the family plane or stealing it?”
He cursed. He had not thought of money. He was too accustomed to just taking whatever vehicle was close at hand. “You are right. We cannot take the sultan’s jet. It would be too easy for my father to turn it around again. Wait here.” She started to protest, but he slipped out of the room and made his way to his room.
He found his passport, slipped what jewelry he owned into his pocket—a ring, gold cufflinks, diamond and sapphire tie pins—and grabbed his wallet. He would leave all the credit cards, but he had the money from the investments he had made on his own. Trouble was, that money was in an American bank account, and he would not be able to access it until they got to New York.
Walking out of his room, he ran straight into Khalid and Zaid. Khalid put a hand on Ahmed’s shoulder. “What have you done?”
Ahmed brushed off his brother’s hand. “You mean to father’s plans?”
Zaid gave an exasperated sigh. “Ahmed, you need to fix this mistake.”
“There is nothing to fix. Melanie is not a mistake,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
Khalid groaned and asked, “What happened to Nasiji?”
Glancing from Khalid to Zaid, Ahmed shook his head. “She is gone. She did not want to marry. Neither did I.”
“So you marry an American you barely know?” Khalid let out a breath. “This is worse than you kissing Congressman Ritchie’s daughter and mistaking her for a woman well over the age of eighteen.”