“Ella,” he said. She melted at the sound of him saying her name. “It’s not what you think.”
Ella nodded, too paralyzed by him to say anything.
“Nadia has a problem,” Karim said.
Ella blinked, not understanding why he chose those words. She wouldn’t exactly call a baby a problem. Besides, it wasn’t just Nadia’s problem; the baby was both of their responsibility.
“She’s got a drinking problem,” Karim said finally and rested his head against the seat.
Ella looked at him with wide eyes, not quite believing what he had said. “A drinking problem?”
Karim closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, a drinking problem, a partying problem; whatever you want to call it.”
“You mean,” Ella paused for a second, trying to process her conflicting emotions. “You mean she’s not pregnant?”
Karim’s gaze snapped back up to meet hers. “Pregnant?! No! Wherever did you get that idea?”
Ella felt more confused than ever. She looked around the limo and tried to organize the thoughts in her head. “When you said, back on the island, that the marriage was a sham, that it wasn't a marriage of love, that you had made a promise to her...”
Karim looked at Ella. “You remembered all of that?”
Ella looked at him and hit him lightly on the arm. “Yes. I make it a point to pay attention to my clients, believe it or not! Why did you say all of that?”
Karim looked at Ella with all seriousness. “We made a deal. Her parents were on her back to get married and mine were on my back to stop working so hard and settle down. We agreed that we would get married just to calm them down. Besides, we are from two of the most powerful families in the Middle East. The union will benefit both us and our families in many ways.”
Ella sat and listened, hanging on his every word. “We actually talked about dating, but we realized it wasn’t for us. Neither one of us felt that way about the other. So we agreed just to put on the show, stay married for a couple of years—without being involved, of course—and then get a divorce. By then our parents would have found other things to worry about. And any financial gains that we would have from the union would remain intact. It was kind of a win-win.”
“But…” Ella said, prompting him for more.
“But you’ve seen her. She’s so difficult. I mean, she was difficult when I knew her in school, but nothing like this. It’s because of the partying. She's getting more reckless, and it has turned her into someone I don’t want to be around at all, let alone get fake-married to.”
Ella sat back as she tried to absorb all of this information. Karim wasn’t in love with Nadia. Nadia wasn’t pregnant. The families didn’t know the wedding was a sham, and Nadia was a ticking time bomb. It was an awful lot to take in.
“I don’t understand, then.” Ella looked at Karim with a confused expression. “If there’s no love and no baby, why does she care who you spend time with?”
“Because we have a deal.” Karim looked out the window as the car sat in the thick afternoon traffic.
“I promised Nadia I wouldn’t tell her family about her drinking and partying if she promised not to tell my family about our arrangement. You see, I was the one that came up with the idea for the wedding, not Nadia. And she has been holding it over my head ever since.”
“Oh,” Ella said, finally seeing the whole picture. “So you have to do everything you can to keep up appearances until the big day?”
Karim nodded. “Yes,” he said. “And that includes cleaning up Nadia’s messes and putting up with her nasty attitude. But only until the wedding. Then we can go our separate ways. We only have to be in the same room once a year for our anniversary celebration, as is the custom in our country. No one will be suspicious if we aren’t together throughout the year. But until the wedding, we can’t let on that we are really living separate lives.”
Ella looked at Karim and her heart swelled with emotion. She felt so bad for him, stuck in this predicament. She knew that he didn’t have any feelings for Nadia, except perhaps obligation because of the promise he had made her. And he was in so deep. He was going through with the wedding to secure the family fortune and he couldn’t let his family down now.
She reached over and touched his hand without thinking. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Karim felt her touch and shive
red as the warmth of her hand shot through his body. He pulled his hand back quickly, knowing exactly what that feeling was and not allowing himself to go there. He had already been having a difficult time fighting his feelings for Ella. And now, with the wedding just three weeks away, the last thing he needed was to lose control.
Ella opened her mouth in surprise, realizing what she had done. She pulled her hand back into her lap and turned toward the window. The slow city traffic lumbered by as the limo made its way up Fifth Avenue. A steady rain began to fall and Ella was reminded again of their trip to Eleuthera. Just sitting in the limo with Karim, the smell of his cologne, the rain, it was all almost too much to bear.
TWELVE
A few minutes later, the limo pulled over in front of the Plaza Hotel. Ella jumped out even before the driver could come and open her door. Djaron hopped out and opened an umbrella, holding it over her head as she dashed up the steps and to the landing under the awning. She shook herself off and smiled at Djaron as he closed the umbrella.
A doorman appeared dressed in a red jacket and black pants. “May I help you?” he said to Karim who had just walked up the steps to join Ella and Djaron.
Djaron broke in on behalf of his employer. “Yes, we are here to view the ballroom for the wedding of Sheikh al-Qadir bin Zayed.”
The doorman smiled politely and escorted the group up the red carpet, through the brass doors, and into the main lobby of the Plaza Hotel. Ella had been inside the hotel dozens of times for her business, and still, every time, she was taken aback by the grandeur of the architecture.
The main lobby opened up to reveal a large staircase to the left and an atrium dining room to the rear. Banks of elevators flanked the back wall and a long, gleaming counter lined the right of the interior. Enormous windows filled the room and looked out onto Fifth Avenue. Tourists, guests, and celebrities—even royalty like the Sheikh—visited the Plaza every day.
The doorman led them straight over to the concierge desk on the right side of the lobby where a middle-aged man dressed in a black and gray vest and a jacket with tails smiled at them tightly.
“These guests are part of the Sheikh al-Qadir bin Zayed wedding,” said the doorman. Ella was impressed that he remembered Karim’s name, but then she remembered that staff at the Plaza were trained to remember every detail about their guests.