The Contract (11 page)

calling him back to negotiate with him as if it was the most ordinary and sensible thing to do.

“You don’t know what I went through when I was previously married.”

“I wasn’t happily married either, Shahira.”

“Yeah? Were you raped and tortured? Were you thrown around every other day, and were you then

made to feel that you’d done something wrong because you got pregnant? Did you have to protect your

child from his own father in fear that he might be the next punching bag?”

“Oh, baby…” He made a movement to hold her but she shook her head.

“Please. Don’t. I shouldn’t have said…please forget it. It was a long time ago. I’m not that person

anymore.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Shahira…I’m so sorry.”

What else could he do? What could he say? There was so much he wanted to do. He wanted to

hold her and love her, show her how much she deserved to be loved, show her all the ways he wanted

to love her.

He also wanted to find that sick bastard and beat him to a pulp.

“I don’t think I can ever trust a man again. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I can understand how difficult it must be. I have my scars too. Different, but deep. I’ll tell

you some day. We could both be happy and have a new life. I’m willing to do that. I’ll risk getting

hurt, if you will.”

“You’re kidding yourself if you think that’s what you’re doing, Hussain. You just want to have a

convenient relationship but you won’t make any changes in your lifestyle. If you didn’t do that for

your own daughter why would you do that for me?”

Hussain didn’t answer. This was something he wasn’t prepared to talk about, not even to her. Not

yet.

“You’re right to question that Shahira, but you’re wrong to presume what I will or will not do.”

He put the light out and turned away. But it was a long, long time before he could go to sleep.

Because something was niggling at him, and he wasn’t as unafraid of what he was offering as he

pretended to be.

* * *

Dressed in a light grey suit and looking extremely handsome and distinguished, Hussain was

getting ready to leave for his meeting. He was always dressed impeccably, Shahira thought.

Obviously with his money he should’ve been, but she couldn’t help comparing him to most men she’d

known who were usually shabbily dressed. Usman could afford nothing more than polyester-mix

trousers and acrylic-mixed shirts.

“I won’t be long, but I may have to take them out for dinner, so you guys might be on your own for

most of the time today,” he warned her.

“That’s okay. We’ll manage,” She reassured him.

He nodded at her, repressing this insane urge to kiss her before leaving. As if it was something he

was used to doing, like a habit, a comforting and old routine. He had to consciously stop and shake

himself before leaving. But the feeling of having missed something, forgotten something didn’t leave

him all day.

Shahira took the kids out and they had a good time but she found herself thinking of Hussain often

throughout the day. He was kind, and thoughtful, she realized; something she wasn’t used to seeing in

men, not in her experience.

He came soon after they finally reached their hotel room around five in the evening. The kids were

delighted to see him. She felt her heart give a slight involuntary jump at the sight of him, but she

stamped out the feeling as a ridiculous notion. She wasn’t the romantic sort at all. It was the Parisian

effect, she laughed.

Hussain talked and wrestled with the kids but there was a faint underlying discomfort in the air.

Shahira left them to it and went to her room to sort out some of her luggage. Soon, however, Hussain

followed her inside, looking wary.

“I have a favor to ask.”

He must not be used to asking for favors because Shahira had never seen him look so

uncomfortable.

She waited with a small smile.

“The thing is…I do have to go to dinner with the Arabs but I’m afraid you’ll have to accompany

me. I wouldn’t have asked but one of the investors has a French wife and he insisted on bringing her

along when he found out I was here with my family and well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t, not at all. When do you want me to be ready?”

“By eight? Do you have something appropriate to wear?”

She looked stumped but he was quick to reassure her.

“Don’t worry…there’s a small Indian boutique I noticed around the corner. Why don’t you buy

yourself something?”

He gave her his credit card.

“Thank you but...” she hesitated.

“Shahira, you need something formal to wear. You can’t go in jeans to a business meeting. Please

don’t be difficult about this. It’s been a long day for me and we both know it isn’t likely to end for me

just yet. So please, go buy something while I watch the kids.”

She took the card, looking uncomfortable.

He added smoothly, “I’ve asked the manager to arrange for a babysitter for the evening. They have

reliable agencies and I’m sure they’ll send someone capable.”

She nodded. She knew she could trust him about these things, more so since she wouldn’t know the

first thing about it. He went back to the children, giving her a small nod of gratitude. Shahira bought a

gorgeous black silk sari from the boutique. It was the cheapest thing she could find and it was still far

too expensive in her opinion but she had no choice.

She dressed with care. She wanted to look nice for him. The realization gave her pause but with a

mental shrug she continued. She put up her hair in a chignon and tiny diamond studs she owned in her

ears. She was checking her reflection when Hussain walked in and for no reason, she found herself

blushing. Probably, she reasoned, because he’d caught her admiring herself like some narcissistic

teenager.

He walked up to her and stood quietly beside her for a moment. Her heart fluttered again and she

managed to look up and meet his gaze, pulse still racing. Why was she having these reactions to him?

She didn’t want to feel this way. She’d never felt anything like this before. She’d dreamed of it, hoped

for it even, perhaps, long ago. Not anymore, though. Now, she was cautious and disillusioned.

“You look beautiful,” Hussain told her with a half-smile that had her heart racing again.

“Thank you.”

He stood still, watching her till she felt her face relax into another involuntary smile. Seeing it, he

smiled too, his eyes full of promises that she was too afraid to look deeply into. Shahira left to tell the

children to behave themselves with the babysitter, who came soon after. A very pleasant middle-aged

woman of indeterminate nationality.

They left shortly after but when they reached the ground floor Hussain stopped her suddenly, as if

he’d caught sight of something. Taking her arm, he said smiling, “Just one more thing before we go.”

He was leading her to the small Cartier outlet in the hotel lobby. Shahira was a little apprehensive.

“What are we doing here?”

Hussain smiled at her and said, “We’re buying you a gift. I hope you’ll accept it as gracefully as

you do everything else in life.”

Shahira didn’t know what to do but Hussain was busy with the saleswoman and they both ignored

her as he shopped for diamonds. Shahira wasn’t amused. At last, he was happy with something and

turning towards her said, “I like these.”

He held a pair of gorgeous and huge diamond studs.

“These don’t go well with your outfit at all.”

He burst out laughing.

“You know very well, emeralds are my thing. Although, now that you suggest it, I could be

persuaded to wear them if you’ll do a little experimenting with body piercings for me.”

“No thanks. And I have mine on already. See?”

She showed him her tiny studs.

“I can hardly see them, they’re miniscule,” he said, in a deceptively casual voice. “You’re not

going to be difficult about this, I hope?”

“Not at all. There’s nothing difficult about it. It’s very simple. I can’t accept such expensive gifts

from you, Hussain. It’s unseemly.”

“Unseemly? By what stretch of the imagination is it unseemly?” He lowered his voice and said

with restraint, “I paid for what you’re wearing, have been wearing for nearly a year. What kind of

foolish attitude is this? Why do you continue to try and prove some elusive point by refusing to let me

buy you or Shahaan anything?”

“This isn’t a trifle. Please, this isn’t the place for this discussion.”

“A bit late for that.” He turned and gave his credit card to the saleswoman with a face that seemed

to be etched in stone.

“Hussain, please, I earn what you give me and all that you have given me was justified by the

contract we have, but this isn’t and I can’t accept such expensive gifts because it’s not like you’re my

real husband and you don’t have to behave like you are…or…”

His whisper didn’t quite mask his fury.

“Or expect you to behave like a wife? That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m giving you diamonds to

convince you or oblige you into giving me your favors in bed?”

She felt chagrined at hearing it put so blandly, and it sounded rather idiotic when he said it.

“I’m sorry…I can’t help what you think, and I can’t change the way I feel about these things.”

He continued to stare at her in utter silence, his eyes searching her face and when she didn’t meet

his eyes, he grabbed the box and thrust it in her face, and said shortly, “Wear them. You’re going as

my wife and you need to look the part.”

She knew he was angry. She didn’t want to embarrass him any more than she already had. So she

put them on, telling herself it was just for the night.

Hussain led the way outside in chilly silence. She tried to look nonchalant but she felt she’d done

something wrong. But of course she hadn’t, she’d done the sensible thing. She wasn’t going to

compromise her principles to make someone else feel better. Hadn’t she done that before? Hadn’t she

done it repeatedly only to be scorched innumerable times?

The valet brought the car as they approached and Hussain took the keys from him. He did not forget

or ignore his usual good grace; he came around and opened the door for her, his eyes focused

somewhere a foot above her head. She sat down, still feeling miserable.

It was a fancy restaurant and Shahira began to worry about committing a
faux pas
that would

embarrass Hussain. He pulled out a chair; she slid into it, suddenly very close to tears. Thankfully the

guests arrived; two tall, good-looking Arabs, much older than Hussain, and a Frenchwoman, also in

her forties.

Shahira greeted the woman in French, which delighted her and made the Arabs happy because they

exclaimed excitedly and inclined their heads in her general direction.

They chatted about their business, the Frenchwoman about her country, theirs and how great

everything French was. Shahira agreed on a number of things because they were true, including how

confident French women were about themselves and their sexuality. Then she heard one of the Arabs

falter, ask the other how to translate a certain Arab word into English.

“What’s that word for
lalnan-zahta
?”

“Integrity,” Shahira said, without thinking.

Everyone looked at her and she realized she’d interrupted them. She looked at Hussain, self-

conscious and chagrined to have embarrassed him; Arabs were known to be sensitive about such

things.

The Arab she’d helped out asked, surprised and delighted, “You know Arabic?”

“Yes…
na’am.”

The Arabs looked at Hussain, exclaiming why he’d kept his wonderful wife such a secret and

started chatting and asking for her assistance whenever they got stuck. Hussain seemed to be carved

out of marble, speaking only in monosyllables whenever he thought he could get away with it.

Between the French and the Arabic and Hussain’s cold demeanor, it was a long, long evening for

Shahira.

At last, when it was over and their guests departed happily, Hussain asked curtly, “Would you like

anything? Or are you ready to go home, to the hotel?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He nodded and they started towards the car. The drive back was just as frosty as the one from the

hotel.

However, Shahira was no longer feeling guilty or reprehensible. She felt quite irritated. She’d

done him a favor and she’d been good company, what else could she do? She made no efforts to

conceal her irritation; Hussain wasn’t trying to hide his either. That seemed to push him further up the

wall. He was now gritting his teeth.

The children were in bed and fast asleep. Shahira thanked the babysitter and saw her out. Hussain

was silently but savagely taking his tie off, which he threw on the chair, giving her a fuming look. She

didn’t acknowledge his anger, and taking the earrings off carefully, put them back into the box, which

she then placed on a table nearby. He paused, threw her a furious look and turned away. His jacket

came off, just as roughly and was discarded the same way. She sat down on the bed to remove her