CHAPTER 22
Sonya had just taken a gulp of ice water and was feeling peppier. She kept telling herself this was a good job, and she should start acting like it. It was time to turn on the charm.
“Excuse me, Halim, could you properly introduce me to your friends?” she asked with a sassy smile.
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know anybody’s name. I didn’t want these playboys getting too familiar with you. They’re real lady-killers, you know? Especially this one.”
Halim pointed to man Sonya had pegged as being the leader of the group. He continued:
“This is Hazeem al Hamar. Sheikh al Hamar, I should say.”
Al Hamar grinned smugly and nodded his head. “You can call me Hazeem, dear.”
Not the same as being greeted by a kiss on the hand by a rugged Russian man, Sonya thought for a second, before burying such ideas back down into the depths of her mind, which was easy to do because her brain was so foggy.
“And these other gentlemen are Abba, Ali and Abu. They are the brothers Ayoub. That’s a powerful family in the Middle East, but you can see they are modest men who don’t want to brag.”
A waiter came to the table and asked if the group was ready to order.
“Ladies first,” al Hamar said, gesturing toward Sonya.
She hadn’t even looked at the menu, so she flipped through it. She wasn’t hungry, and didn’t know what most of the foods were.
“Umm, I’ll just have nachos.”
“Nachos? Ha ha, of course, the American girl,” al Hamar said.
The men ordered their meals and two bottles of wine.
While they waited for the food, they switched between English and Arabic, using the latter when they didn’t want Sonya to know what they were saying. She picked up a few things they let slip out in English, including something about Halim making a deal to hire a security team from the owner of the restaurant.
When the food came, Sonya looked down at her plate in confusion.
“I’ve never seen nachos like this,” she said.
“Ah, look at that, they topped your nachos with caviar. That’s Beluga caviar. It costs about three thousand dollars per pound. I’m glad Halim is picking up the check tonight.”
The sheikh and the brothers all laughed. Halim tried to laugh too, but he only cracked his mouth open.
“It’s what they call ‘fusion’ food. A blend of Russian and American styles. The Cold War is over now.”
Dumb jokes weren’t so funny when it wasn’t Dmitri telling them. But Sonya laughed anyway.
She tried to banter with them, but she often didn’t know what to say. She worried she was failing at her job. Sometimes, she was bubbly and flirtatious. Minutes later, she would be mopey and lethargic.
After dinner and a few cocktails, they left and got back into the Hummer.
The three brothers went to their rooms at the five-star hotel they were staying in. They had high-priced escorts waiting for them, New York City’s finest ladies of the night.
But Sheik al Hamar insisted on riding with Halim and Sonya in the limousine to drop them off at their own hotel. He sat close to Sonya and put his arm around her.
He acted as if he were just drunk and being friendly, but she could tell otherwise. His fingertips grazed the top of her breasts, which formed an alluring set of cleavage in her dress.
He smelled awful. Like stale cigar smoke and whiskey. Sort of like Sultan’s Palace, but worse, like a condensed form of everything bad about that place.
Sonya was so tired and dazed from the booze and pills she didn’t know if she’d even resist if this gross man touched her more, no matter what he did.
Isn’t that all I am, just a piece of meat, just a toy for rich men?
Something deep inside of her told her to fight, to respect herself, to run from all this sliminess and reclaim her life. She just didn’t know if she had the strength to care anymore.
The Hummer pulled up to the front of the hotel.
“May I come up and speak to you for a moment, Halim?”
He’s coming up… Sonya thought.