Chapter Four

She glanced out of the window and then back at her silver watch.

He was late. 

Amelia was grouchy in a bridal shop. Arms and legs crossed as she sipped champagne and glared at everyone who paraded a white gown her way--her mom and cousin inclusive. 

She was wearing a black bubble Salvatore Ferragamo gown, her hair was in an upbraided bun and her face was makeup-free. 

Everything happening around her infuriated her. From the dresses to the people to the wedding setting of the room to the champagne flute they'd offered her. Her little plan to obliterate the arrangement by being on her worst behavior during the introductory dinner hadn't yielded any fruit. Both families had proceeded with preparations without proper consent from her. 

“The ceremony is slated for the 30th.” Her mom had said the next morning. “All you have to do is show up.”

To make matters worse, news of the wedding had been leaked to the public and their faces have been circulating in newsletters, tabloids, gossip columns, and celebrity magazines, for what was rumored to be the wedding of the century. She could swear that the publicity stunt had been her mother's personal crusade against her. The women knew involving the public would seal the deal.

Seeing that things were spiraling out of control, she swallowed her pride--which was rather difficult to swallow--and reached out to Zaki over the phone one week later. She fixed a meeting for 2 pm today and told him to come with chocolates. 

Of course, he said no to the chocolates but agreed to meet with her. He had no idea what would be discussed, but she had everything planned out already. They'll hatch out a plan that would force them out of the marriage arrangements with their fortunes intact. 

“What do you think of this one?” Madame Osgood asked. She was the administrator of LUSH & BROWN, a wedding boutique in the heart of LA, which was only patronized by celebrities and few elites in the society.

“It's wonderful!” Her cousin squealed, rushing to graze the fabric. “What do you think, Amy?”

Amy.

She hated that pet name since a scholarship student, named Amy, stole an opportunity she had of becoming a gold medalist at an interschool debate many years ago. 

She rolled her eyes as she thought, ‘Poor people doing the most.’

“It's ugly.” She shrugged at the dress. “It looks like something grandma Patricia would never be caught dead in, God rest her soul.” She referred to her late father's mom. “Fashion seems to be so backward these days. I hate it.”

Madame Osgood frowned. “Well, maybe if you were the least bit interested, we'll be able to select something more to your liking. You have us running around like headless chickens, looking to please you.”

“Well, isn't that your job, lady?” She inquired with a patronizing smile. “I don't appreciate the tone of your voice, especially not when you need my money much more than I do. I believe a little more respect from you is in order.”

“Ignore her, Madame Osgood.” Mrs. Rodriguez meddled. “My daughter is still being a poop. A total downer. A kill-all-the-joy bitchfestia.” 

She turned to a frowning Amelia and advised her. “I suggest you start taking Madame Osgood's recommendations very seriously because come 30th, you will be getting married to Zaki Omidyar, even if it's in pajamas.”

She groaned, pretending not to care. “You need to relax, mom. You're slowly becoming the witch in this nightmare.”

“I am just being as plain with you as humanly possible, darling. Agreed, it's going to be the worst day of your life, but at least look glamorous for it. Your fans, celebrities, the press, everyone would be watching. You have a reputation to uphold. I'll suggest you choose something worthy of the status quo, or you'll appear in church looking like his maid--less privileged.”

She thought about it for a while and her brain started to function again. “Fine, you've made a fair point. For a wedding gown, I prefer something lacy with a sweetheart neckline. Something from Monique Lhuillier, Vera Wang, Naeem Khan, anything but that travesty, please put it away.” She picked up her phone and dialed Zaki while Madame Osgood sent her people searching for Amelia's specifications. 

Her call went straight to voicemail the first time, but before she could try again, his personal aid entered the store and approached her. The moment he introduced himself, Amelia, grabbed her purse and got on her feet.

“Alright, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you old hags to it. Stick to my specifications, and I'll probably not hate it.”

Mrs. Rodriguez stood up from a plush leather chair she'd been sitting on. “Where exactly are you going?”

“I have a date with your son-in-law. Why do you think this charming servant has been sent to get me?” She smiled at the aid. “Shouldn't you be happy for me, mama?”

“You didn't say anything earlier.”

Amelia shrugged. “I didn't feel like. You've been a real witch lately so I won't be discussing the intricacies of my fabulous life with you again. Bye!”

She waved and stalked off, leaving the aid to scramble ahead, so he could get the door for her. 

“Go after them.” Mrs. Rodriguez said to Sarah. “Make sure she isn't running off to somewhere else.”

“Alright, aunty,” Sarah grumbled and reluctantly made her way out.

Outside the boutique, a black limousine awaited Amelia. The driver greeted her and before opening the door, informed her that he'll be driving her down to where Zaki was currently meeting with some investors.

The ride was thirty minutes long, yet comfortable. She was able to go over her ideas while sipping more champagne from a glass she actually liked. The car stopped in Omidyar oil & Gas and from the first floor, up to the highest one in the building, the members of staff were too eager to please. She was ushered into his office and the door was shut behind them.

She watched him going through some papers behind the desk where he sat. She was a few steps away from him and he hardly took a look at her. 

A few more seconds went by, and he reached for the glass of whiskey he'd been drinking before her arrival. “I suppose you need a parade to walk you down here,” he said in a deep voice, still not looking at her.

“I would love one, thank you. But maybe some other time.” she moved to a chair by the table.

Her lips pursed for a moment, taking in his charming features. She would've concluded that he looked much better than he was the last time they'd met, but he also looked like he hadn't gotten a good eight hours of sleep, so she didn't.

“Not even a word of apology, husband? You've kept me waiting.”

He cast her a fleeting glance. “I put a critical meeting on hold for you. I'm not apologizing for anything.”

She rolled her eyes and muttered bitterly. “Sleazy bastard.”

He dropped the glass and eyed her squarely. “My time is valuable, Miss Rodriguez. You're wasting it.”

She made a face at him. “Whatever, big shot, Zaki. Can you turn the asshole in you down a notch while I explain the purpose for this meeting and so I can see past the fog of wanting to throw something at you? Thank you.”

He relaxed back in his seat and picked up the glass again. She took it as her cue to continue. “I want to avoid marrying you. I'm too attractive, and darn too beautiful to end up with a grumpy husband.”

He scoffed but didn't interrupt. “So, one night, while reviewing everything that has happened so far, I had a light bulb moment.” She smiled, and it was ridden with mischief. “I concocted a plan that would save me from the stress of saying, I do.”

“Go on,” He nudged, vaguely interested in what she had to say.

“There would be no wedding without a groom, right? So, I thought to myself, you, my dear husband, need to disappear.”

He emptied the glass and dropped it on the table. “You're still wasting time, young lady.”

“Just hear me out.” She gritted. “I was thinking we could stage your death.”

“What?”

“You die, but as I said, it's staged. You can run off to some Island and relax. After six months have passed, I'll get my share of grandma's inheritance, and you can come back. My parents would no longer have me in their pockets, and I don't have to marry you.”

He sighed and shook his head. “No. I'm not going to die just so you can receive some inheritance in six months. This meeting is over.” 

He got up to leave, but she stopped him. “Wait a minute, you're not going die. I said--”

“I don't care what you said.” he interrupted coldly. “The answer is no.”

“Okay, fine. Scrap that.” She tried again. “How about we stage your kidnapping?”

“How about we stage yours?” He deadpanned. 

She thought about it for a moment. “No, no, no, we can't. I have interviews and photo sessions lined up for the next three months. I can't miss them.”

“Turns out that I also have businesses to run.” He got up again. “I believe we are done here. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“Hey! I'm not done.” She stomped her foot as he made his way to the door. “You don't want to be reasonable? Fine, husband! I'll see you on the 30th in a white dress and a wicked smile, prepared to make the rest of your life miserable!”

***