Azim smiled at the woman and touched her cheek lightly, whispering back in Arabic. The connection between them was so electric, Amie almost started to feel jealous. The last relationship she’d had was more than two years ago, before she moved. She’d actually ended it, not because he was a cheating jerk or because their goals were different; simply because she was moving and his job didn’t allow him to follow her. Since neither of them thought they could handle a long-distance relationship, it ended. Since then, she’d had a brief two-month stint with an extra she’d met on an independent film, but that hardly counted. They only kissed a few times; not exactly “lifers”.
Amie refocused her attention on the magnetic couple before her, offering a broad smile to the woman at the center of the group.
“Amie, this is Azim’s wife, Galina.”
“What a beautiful name,” Amie said, and gave a small curtsey to the woman. “Your husband is full of questions.”
“Aren’t we all?” the woman said with ease; her voice soft and young. “Malik has been a window of secrets about you. We were so worried when he decided to stay in America. If we’d known he was going to meet someone as lovely as you, perhaps we all would have slept better.”
“It sounds like Malik has some wonderful people looking out for him,” Amie laughed. “Thankfully, there’s no more need for worries. My love is right where he should be.”
“It’s good you’re so confident,” Azim said with a chuckle. “Because you’re about to meet some very important people in Sheikh Malik’s life.”
Amie’s eyes felt like saucers as she laughed with surprise. She turned to Malik for guidance and in return he only offered her a playful wink.
“They’re harmless,” he whispered with a smile. While he sounded as confident as could be, she couldn’t help but notice his grip got a little tighter around her arm.
The man who approached was also elderly. He was short—shorter than Amie—and wore a green robe and gold chains around his neck. He regarded Amie briefly before speaking to Malik in Arabic; a huge grin forming on his lips.
The young woman standing next to him was absolutely breathtaking. She wore a red gown with quarter sleeves and deep-plum eyeshadow with smoky black, winged liner. She had brown eyes and perfectly-arched brows.
“Father, this is Amie.” Malik turned to his faux-fiancée then gestured towards the man. “Amie, this is my father, Mahumet.”
Mahumet looked her over carefully; with purpose. He turned back to Malik and narrowed his eyes before finally giving him an approving nod. “As-salaam ‘alaykum,” he said smoothly, then took his leave from them both.
Amie smiled and returned the nod; completely unaware as to whether doing so was an acceptable custom or not. After all, if Malik was a sheikh, wouldn’t that make his father some kind of king or something? She gave an awkward smile to the young woman still standing in front of them and the woman also gave her the once-over; her final expression not at all approving.
“He said ‘Peace be upon you,’” she said harshly. “Assuming you don’t speak Arabic?”
“No, but thank you. Now I know who to turn to for a fantastic translation.”
Azim and Galina both offered a polite chuckle, but the woman before them just looked bored.
“Oh, Zafina, please!” came Galina’s hearty laugh. “Give the poor girl a chance. She’s his fiancée, after all!”
“You remember my sister,” Malik said quickly.
Sister… Check.
“Well, we’ve never had the pleasure,” Amie winced.
“Yes,” Malik said through gritted teeth. “But I’ve told you all about her, haven’t I?”
Zafina laughed at that. “So nice to meet you, Amie. I’m sorry to say that while Malik has told you all about me, he’s hardly said a word about you.” She continued sizing Amie up, adjusting her head covering slightly as she did. “In fact, the subject of your engagement came up at quite the opportune time.” Zafina raised her hand to her mouth as if to say Oops! and laughed once more. “Pardon me. I mean, came up quite suddenly.”