Her heart sank. Was it one of the actors from the play the other night?
Suddenly she felt even more disgusted than before. Maybe Zafina was right, maybe Malik really did hate the theater. Maybe he only went there when he needed a favor done.
Amie hated where she was; that place where she was disposable to someone. Where she was just a girl to be lied to, and to be used as a lie. Was this just bad luck, or was this the complicated web she’d created for herself?
She could feel Malik’s eyes on her but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I need you, Amie,” he said sweetly, grabbing her hands and tilting his head down to try and look at her face.
It was as though the man before her had suddenly realized she would be emotionally immovable, no longer done in by his charms, when he tried another tactic.
“I’ll pay you double.”
Her heart sped up.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s one million dollars,” he said, as if daring her to say no. “One million because you are that talented an actress and I am that desperate a man. Please see this through with me, Amie.”
She sneered as she thought it over. One million dollars was a lot of money, for what was admittedly a morally reprehensible job. Still… she could use it. Ridiculously so.
She stared at him with fire in her eyes; fiery anger for him making such an offer, one he knew she couldn’t say no to.
Amie sighed audibly and finally nodded. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll honor the wording of my contract, which clearly I need to re-read. I will be your prim and pretty little actress,” she mocked, “but the moment the job is over, I’m done. I’m leaving the night of the ceremony, and after I get my money, I never want to see you or hear from you again. Understand?”
He looked sullen; the hurt wildly apparent as his features fell into sorrow. He stared at her for a moment, blinked, and then nodded silently.
“If,” Amie finally added, “that’s what you want.”
She stared at him, searching his face for any emotion other than sadness. Part of her still hoped he would change his mind and let her look at him the way she used to.
This was not going to be her happy ending, however, as he quietly affirmed: “Yes. It’s what I want.”
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!”