Chapter Two

“He's devilishly handsome.”

Sarah Rodriguez gushed over pictures of Zaki Omidyar--on her iPad. Much to Amelia's dismay, she'd been drooling and dropping light kisses all over his pictures all evening. It irked her that not even a single member of her family stood by her against this bizarre marriage arrangement. To worsen matters, she'd gathered from Camella's investigations that he'd been the one driving the Porsche Cayenne that destroyed her vehicle and ruined her perfect afternoon, two weeks ago. 

Reluctantly, she glanced at his pictures again. He's ludicrously handsome, alright. A lady's man. He had tanned skin, green eyes, a chiseled jawline, and luscious full lips. His dark tousled hair gave him a rakish appearance which made him seem somewhat erratic. From the pictures she saw--all in which he wore a suit--she concluded that he had the cold-hearted boss vibe going for him.

“Eh,” She turned away from the iPad again. “He's not that good-looking. Stop stressing.”

“Err,” Sarah made a face at her. “Girl, please. You're not blind, and we both know this. Just take out your hatred for this hunk, and you'll see the beauty in this situation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pray tell, Sarah, what beauty might that be?”

“You're getting married to one of the most eligible bachelors both America and Iran have to offer. He's filthy rich, so your lifestyle doesn't have to change. It only gets better, if you ask me. You get to wake up to this carefully put-together drop-dead gorgeous billionaire, every freaking day of your life, and pop out cute babies for him.”

She cut her a glance that expressed her disappointment. “I'm not in the least bit interested in all of that. And you'll know this if you spoke less and reasoned more often.”

Sarah snapped the iPad shut and flung it on the bed. “I know for a fact that you don't swing the other way, so what are you interested in, then? Animals?”

“Eww.”

“Well, then how would you explain being a virgin at 29 and not being remotely attracted to this--” Sarah struggled for the right words. “--sex on legs?!”

“Well, forgive me, if I decided not to sleep my way through half the men in Los Angeles! After the whole Liam issue, I concluded that relationships aren't just for me.”

“Liam? Liam, is the reason you're skittish?”

“Don't be foolish.” She chided emotionlessly. “Uninterested is what I am. He almost ran me off the highway and left without checking to see what he'd done. Marriage to someone like that is a terrible idea. You can't see this because your brain is the size of a peanut.”

“Whatever,” Sarah was hurt. Her face fell, and she crossed her arms, watching Amelia's hairstylist straighten out her hair while models paraded dresses for her to choose from. Sarah hoped that her cousin would at least have a change of mind at dinner once she meets him in person. Today was their first meeting, and she really wanted it to go well. Amelia getting married means, there would be peace in the mansion and her parents didn't have to worry so much about her. 

“Ugh, fine.” She groaned when she noticed Sarah wasn't losing the bitter countenance. “Sorry. It wasn't my intention to call you stupid.”

“Yes, it was.” Sarah huffed. “But I forgive you. Which dress have you selected? The models have been displaying the clothes for the last hour.”

“Oh,” She turned to stare at the array of designer gowns on the bodies of each woman, with vague interest. “None.”

Sarah sighed and signaled to the designer to end the mini fashion show. 

                                  ***

Amelia stood at the top of the stairway at exactly 8 pm, one hour late for dinner. She chose a Roberto Cavalli dress—strapless, of course, no bra—and a pair of Louboutin nude peep-toe heels that added an extra four inches to her frame. The others present at the table were tired out from waiting but had their eyes on her as she descended.

Zaki's gaze traveled the length of her legs, the curve of her waist, the bare skin of her shoulders. Then he noticed her hair--fiery red, braided in a low ponytail, and waist-length long. He'd been with all sorts of women but was never excited about redheads, and he preferred his women on short hair--another sign that this was a bad idea. Her eyes were an icy blue and her lips were delicately curved and full. He assumed her mouth must be perfect to explore, but he wasn't interested. She had minimal makeup on yet, was still gorgeous, so he wondered why on earth she'd kept them waiting for an hour. 

The house staff sprang into action, serving the food as soon as she slipped into the seat across from him. 

“Amelia,” Alfonso Rodriguez started. “I think it's only appropriate that you apologize to our guests.”

She cast a fleeting glance at Zaki and his uncle, Ali Omidyar. “Really? What for?”

“Amelia, you--” 

“Susan!” She called out for one of their paid chefs, cutting him off. “Do you have my vegetables ready?”

“Yes ma'am. I'll serve it up whenever you are ready.”

“Good.” She smiled and shooed her off. “So,” She turned back to address her frowning father. “Who's my husband?”

“Your father would get to that after you've properly apologized to our guests--” Her mother pressured. “--and him.”

“Fine.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

Alfonso sighed. Left to Amelia, that was the best they were getting, so he jumped into the introductions. “At the other end of the table is Ali Omidyar. He's an old friend and a very wonderful business associate from Iran.” Amelia leaned forward at the long table and sent him a fake smile. “Across you, is his nephew, Zaki Omidyar. Your future husband.”

She eyed him intensely. It was a shame those pictures did him no justice. If she wasn't so turned off by the entire situation, she might have actually been ecstatic at the thought of spending the rest of her life with such a god among men. Well, too bad she wasn't.

“Hii, I'm Amelia,” She said a little too brightly, sending him another fake smile. “I'm sweet, demure, fucking gorgeous, classy, and too good for you.”

“But you're in luck,” she continued, infusing her voice with lighthearted perkiness. “I'm feeling very charitable today.”

Sarah gasped.

“Amelia!!” her mom and dad scolded.

He scoffed and took a sip of his whiskey. “Your daughter lacks manners, Alfonso.”

She chuckled. “And you don't?”

“That's enough, Amelia!” Her mother warned.

“Don't shush me.” She smiled grimly. 

Ali Omidyar cleared his throat, speaking for the first time since she arrived. “Let's eat.” 

“Good idea.” Alfonso took out his napkins and everyone began to dig into their food.

Everyone else--aside from Zaki who stuck to his whiskey and especially Amelia, who was offended by the brush-off from the older men--fell into a pleasant conversation as more courses were served. Twenty minutes later, Amelia was still offended as she stabbed into her sautéed brussels sprout coated with bread crumbs, herbs, and cream. She knew they were trying to salvage whatever was left of the situation, but she wasn't done.

“Baby,” She called out to Zaki. Sarah nearly spat out her food, as all eyes were on Amelia.

“I'm not your baby.” He replied coldly.

She shrugged. “Whatever, darling. I have a question.”

He took another sip of his whiskey, his patience waning thin.

“By any chance, do you happen to own a gray Porsche Cayenne?”

His eyes hooded skeptically as he reclined back into his seat. “Yes.” 

“Hmm,” She placed down the fork, cutting her gaze to his pointedly. “Were you involved in a little accident, say about two weeks ago?”

He steepled his fingers together, analyzing the direction the conversation was headed. “Yes.”

“Mm-hmmm.” She took a sip of her champagne. “Isn't that ironic? I mean, you waltz in here acting like the moral center of Los Angeles, calling me mannerless when you lacked the decency to--”

“Amelia!” Her mother chided, but she held up a finger at her and continued.

“--checkup on me after you almost ran me off the road with your stupid vehicle!”

The thick slash of his dark eyebrows pinched together. “That, was you? You?!”

“Why so surprised, husband?”

He shook his head disapprovingly. “You drive like a fucking lunatic.” 

She chuckled. “Well you outdistanced me, so what does that make you?”

“I had a dying relative to get to. What's your excuse?” He ping-ponged flatly. 

“I'm Amelia fucking Rodriguez.” She deadpanned. “Is that good enough for you?” 

Silence. He worked hard on not baring his teeth like an animal. “Under different circumstances, I would've enjoyed the prospects of taming you through marriage, but no. I would never marry you, Amelia.” He pushed back his chair and walked away.

“No, no, no, no,” She yelled after him. “It's I who wouldn't marry a fucking scum like you, Zaki! Zaki Omidyar? What kind of made-up name is that?!”

“To your room!” Her father shouted.

“Don't fucking yell at---”

“Now!” He pounded his fist on the table. He was furious, and even Amelia knew better than to push him beyond this limit. She threw her napkin on the table, pushed the chair to the ground, and exited the dining room.

 Alfonso was so embarrassed. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ali Omdiyar after what Amelia had just done. She'd messed him and the entire family before one of the most prominent families in Iran.

“Ali,” His voice squeaked as he tried apologizing to his friend. “I'm terribly--”

“Don't be.” Ali Omdiyar stopped him. “Now that they've both met each other, I think it's time we fixed a date for their wedding. Congratulations are in order.”

*****